And so, just like that, I’m back in 2011, the year I finally discovered the Kinks, the flame
rekindled, courtesy of a BBC strand on the band. What does it this time is a
documentary called I’m Not Like Everybody Else, which has interviews with
both Ray and Dave Davies, and Mick Avory and Pete Quaife and music clips. End up
singing Shangri-La for days. Oh, that particular gift that Ray has with
major and minor, minutiae and melancholy, every tiny triumph pricked by irony, a
herald to defeat, every loss resigned to, ‘every everything’ as my friend the
late and great Grant Hart might say. It’s all there in the writing and the
delivery. And that intelligence, that he plays down a lot. Of course, you’re a
poet, Ray, but so much more than that.
And Dave. And Dave. What can I say? The cheekiness of the ten-year-old
has never left him. Disarmingly honest, I fall victim to his charisma once
more. His artless manner allows him to call his brother a ‘manipulative arsehole’
and get away with it.
So, the first Kinks song I remember hearing, and loving, was
Celluloid Heroes(released in 1979) (probably the first time I'd heard the word 'celluloid'), because it was played a lot on Radio Caroline. It is
such a tour de force and a typical Kinks song, in that it was atypical and unlike
the rest of the music of the time. Full of melodrama and bathos, it told a
story, it had a message – the power and the transience of fame ('Success walks hand in hand with failure along Hollywood Boulevard') and the price
you might pay for it, how the glamour is merely an illusion. I presume I did hear the 60s and early 70s tracks on the
Golden Oldies shows at the time but I never really connected any of them with
the band who made Celluloid Heroes.
I feel as if Ray Davies is an old soul. That, even as a
young man, he could understand and imagine what it might be like to be a
middle-aged man, or an old man. And then capture it in a character in a song,
who, even if slightly ridiculed, is ridiculed with affection and compassion (Mr Pleasant, A Well-Respected Man). He moves on, innovates, changes
tack but he will still be looking at the scene in the rearview mirror, then
encapsulating it in song – such as Come Dancing, Working Man’s Café(Ray
solo). I’m like Ray. I was nostalgic by the age of
11. Dave says ‘If something good happens, Ray will construct a situation to make
it go wrong.’ The thing is Dave just accepts something good has happened – its face
value – but Ray is already looking the gift horse in the mouth or maybe even
remembering the Trojan horse.
And Dave Davies is a new soul. He seems to regenerate, be able
to leave and leave behind without rancour or regret. And maybe he doesn't even register the fact that he has left anything behind. He's moved on. His moment is everything.
It’s as if he lived the life a CBT counsellor advised me to, carpe diem,
without ever pausing to consider the past or the future but ready to connect
right here, right now. It would probably be uncool of me to quote a John Denver
song at this point but, if you have ever read any of my blogs, you’ll know that
being thought uncool does not give me sleepless nights: ‘I can’t be contented
with yesterday’s story/I can’t live on promises, winter to spring/Today is my
moment, and now is my story/Who cares what tomorrow will bring?’ (Today – John Denver)
I think I used the phrase ‘emotional intelligence’ to convey
Dave’s writing and performing, perhaps in my blog comparing Dave’s role in the
Kinks to George Harrison’s in the Beatles, and Dave’s solo career to George Harrison’s.
Dave's music is transparent, immediate, accessible and stirring but, if you started to
analyse the lyrics, you would find they don’t make total sense – it’s more a
tide of feeling that carries you along (Strangers). Sometimes it’s like
magic (Flowers in the Rain – Dave solo). Don’t get me wrong (to gratuitously quote Different Drum – Stone Poneys, written by Mike Nesmith), Ray has that
emotional intelligence too and can create a song that’s sublime, subtle,
simple, beautiful, of its time and of all time (to paraphrase the late, beloved
Glenn Frey, speaking of the Eagles), like the incomparable Waterloo Sunset, but he’s also a consummate
craftsman. When he paints a portrait or a landscape, any detail can be
extracted and enlarged, and reveal more about the scene. Or say, if it were a
character in a movie, there would be a backstory complete enough to satisfy
Dustin Hoffman. The tune will be as contagious as Covid. Dave is more of an Impressionist. He paints in broad
brush strokes.
It's not that Ray isn't optimistic. He's a realist. Listen to Real World. How else to explain it? Ray sees the wood and the trees within
them. Dave sees the trees. And guess, what, I'm back to Different Drum.
Dedicated to John Gosling, 1948 - 2023. Rest in Peace.
Travelled to The Harrison in King’s Cross
where we saw Benedict Benjamin* in 2017, to check out a band that headlined
then but who we didn’t like at the time, Joe Innes and the Cavalcade, because I
try one song, Fables, on Spotify and love it. Sometimes you’re just not in the
right place or time to appreciate a piece of music but never say never as one
day you may be ready. Suddenly it clicks,
you’ve got it, instant and intense. More on Fables, possibly my favourite song so far this year, here. And who knows – perhaps in some distant future I’ll come to
appreciate drill or even Rufus Wainwright.
* This is how we’ve been discovering new music of late. We
go to see one act then prefer the one we didn’t come to see so found Benedict
Benjamin (Had What You Had, My Feet Have No Need for the Ground) when he played back-up to Mandolin Orange at the Borderline. Then went
to see him at the Courtyard when he supported Ciaran Lavery, who we loved even more. I’ve never been to a gig before where I’ve
loved every single song. Try Train, Tell Them All, Wicked Teeth.
Joe Innes
The only problem is that Fables is five years old and we
didn’t like the newer numbers as much. The Folkroom is in the basement of the
pub and the 'Folkroom Fortnightly' gig is free but you are encouraged to contribute, buy a cd or both. Chances are you will want to anyway. The pub is rammed with suits, office
staff blowing off steam, everybody shouting to be heard over everyone else. The
din is appalling. We’d meant to eat there as we did before but all the tables
are taken so had to order soup and sit outside. It’s February and I'm freezing. We’re both wondering why we
do this to ourselves, without saying so, when we could
be in our nice warm house watching old episodes of Silent Witness on UKTVPlay. The soup is warming and after this we go
down to the Folkroom. It’s a cute set-up, with a cosy ambience, fairy lights,
etc.
Simeon Hammond Dallas
The first act is Simeon Hammond Dallas. Her record company
asked her to change her name as they thought it was too long. She didn’t, stuck
by her principles, and in fact made it longer, and was duly dumped. Everyone
here commends her for this with some elderly gents going ‘Oh how dare they ask
you to change your name?’ etc. And it’s paid off as she now has a new album
out and a launch party in April. The single is Wild Woman which I don’t like as
much as Black Dog. A lot of her songs concern bad break-ups or bad boyfriends.
It occurs to me that she’s had possibly twice the number of relationships I’ve
had and is probably half my age so I’m a little jealous. Great voice. She cheers
us up. Catch her busking by the London Eye some time.
We Are All Fossils
Halfway through the first song of the second act, We Are All Fossils (Jakob Deist Oelofse according to the cd sleeve), with Marc Halls, we know why we do it, because music is so amazing. The combination of
the guy’s voices is so beautiful it almost has me in tears. Looking them up on YouTube later I love Aether and Honey Drop. The latter reminds me of the vocal
harmonies of early Fleet Foxes (when they were still playing student unions) and
before them the Eagles. I buy a copy of the album, The Optimist. Check out the title track, which is absolutely amazing, trenchant and moving, The West and the lovely new single
The Merry Go Round is available to download (at time of writing) at https://weareallfossils.com/.
Joe Innes and the Cavalcade
Then it’s time for Joe. He starts alone, playing new songs that I greatly prefer to the in-between songs I heard on the internet. These
tackle something a number of singer-songwriters tend to focus on at one
time or another, stopping music and trying something else (occupational hazard is the term I'm searching for).
Whether it's facetious or not, Joe claims to have tried skateboarding.
Anyway, the usual upshot is the other thing is not a success or not as
fulfilling or simply the wrong thing so here they are on stage once more
which is lucky for us. I know the industry is hard and have written at
length on how great talents lie undiscovered, some of them playing to
smaller and smaller audiences when by rights they should have the world
at their feet. You know who I mean: the Jackie Levens and Grant Harts
of this world, now sadly lost to us. But what's important is that they
kept producing music to the very end. If that's what you do, it's what
you do. Grant always told me that acclaim didn't matter to him. And it
was just as well. Anyway I have written on this elsewhere.
The Cavalcade* join
him after a couple of songs. I really meant to pick up the setlist after but
forgot. What surprises me is that people leave before and during his set.
What’s wrong with them? It’s baffling. Some tracks we know from Spotify like
Moscow and Half Gone, both slightly bitter and lovely, the latter containing my second favourite
lines from a song at the moment: You buy
everything you break with me/I just put it on the tab),* oh and: You'd make a terrible nurse/It's like you're ripping off a plaster/So slow that it hurts and even an allusion, possibly accidental, to one of my Dad's favourite Pink Floyd songs. *Apologies
for not knowing the names of the members of the Cavalcade. They deserve
a mention here as they're fantastic, so please supply if you know. *All-time favourite is: Men
looked like Jesus in crushed velvet flares(The Osmonds by Denim).
That band that Brian Wilson had ...
There’s some stage
banter about the latter (and later a bit of stage banter about stage banter),
that Joe has told a Cavalcader the way to remember the intro is by thinking of
the late Tom Petty’s Free Fallin' and it is rather similar. They joke around and
start playing Free Fallin'. My only criticism is that he doesn’t tell us what the songs are
called. The guy behind us requests Fables but not loudly enough and I
understand why – it’s hard for a member of the audience to call attention to
themselves and then be ignored so we do that very English thing of saying
something, hoping it’ll be heard but not putting ourselves out there in case we
look like idiots. I don’t know. Perhaps if he’d called louder and we had all
joined in … But it’s almost as if the band had already decided to pack up; I
hope this isn’t because they’re demoralised by people leaving. The sound that
Joe and the Cavalcade make together is a sort of ragged perfection. Brilliant. Also recommend
Sweetheart Revolution 1 that I now sometimes wake up singing. And the only song I liked the first time we saw them, God Only Knows I Tried (such a pretty intro, weirdly when I type 'Joe Innes God' into YouTube, it suggests 'of war' as the next words) with its Brian Wilson/Beach Boys reference, from the album: Brian, I'm a Genius Too.
I have to applaud The Harrison and Matt (Glover?) the man who hosts the
Folkroom for organising these brilliant fortnightly shows. Thank you all for continually reaffirming my faith in music.
Anyway,
any changes/mistakes in the blog, people, let me know. I hope to
publish this simultaneously (doesn't this sound grand? 'publish
simultaneously') with a short appreciation of the song, Fables, which
you can find at: secretsquirrelshorts.blogspot.com.
Almost unbearably pretty, delicate,
like a perfect, intricate cobweb spun across your path on a summer’s day, ephemeral, evanescent, something that cannot last, that a casual hand or gentle breeze might
accidentally sunder. An evocation of another era, the innocence of all our
childhoods. Suffused with sadness, regret, longing, tenderness, but also the
understanding, forgiveness and acceptance that accompanies the passage of time. It reminds me in a way of Fleetwood Mac's Say Goodbye, written by Lindsey Buckingham.
A wistful but philosophical meditation
on young love, from the vantage of the present, with Dave’s voice
even more affecting as it breaks slightly reaching for a note, as if
what he feels can't be restrained by his physical ability, that it
transcends something so corporeal. A melancholy refrain gives way to
a chorus that gently takes flight, never soaring but remaining in
harmony with the simple restraint of the song. It refuses to
aggrandise the sentiment into something it’s not.
More Artful Dodger than Oliver in Dead End Street, wicked boy
The video of this on YouTube was my
first sighting of a grown-up Dave. I only started liking the Kinks,
as you can tell from these blogs, in 2011. And the fact that he was
so much older than the wicked boy I had seen in Kinks videos,
physically almost frail (post-stroke), increased the song’s
poignancy, as a reflection on a youth that was over and the exuberance, purity and intensity of first love.
Pretty boy
Every time I heard this song I used to cry,
particularly if I were watching Dave sing it live at those unforgettable Satsang events, detailed in Dave Davies Breaks My Heart (Again): Satsang I and Dave Davies: Satsang II: April 2012: You Only Live Twice. It’s like a
snippet from someone’s diary, personal, intimate, authentic. I’m
not sure that Ray could write a song like this because he has too
much self-awareness. Dave has an emotional intelligence that, put
into song, can transcend some of Ray’s writing. And here there’s
something unadulterated, a truth, something that Ray perhaps can't
access as easily (or chooses not to access) because his intelligence,
his craft, get in the way, advising an ironic distance; he has too
many options, too many personae, too many angles and ideas. He sees
each side. And Ray rarely opens his heart like this. He keeps his
heart under wraps, keeps it safe. Here Dave shares an experience,
private and precious, at once individual and universal, lets his
guard down, exposes his vulnerability. It was this song that made me
like Dave. I went on to love the dis-ingenu Dave of the early
Kinks, always more Artful Dodger than Oliver, the wicked boy.
Today as I'm sifting through these photographs of you/Never thought I'd feel this way/All these memories keep calling me to you/How I wish they'd go away/All these visions just remind me of better days/And I miss you most of all/When I see Flowers in the Rain/I see you laughing as we run across the fields/Through the thunder and the rain/Finding shelter in each other's arms that day/All the things I didn't say/All these words keep going round and round in my brain/And I miss you most of all/When I see Flowers in the Rain/Wish I could do something about it/Life can be cruel, no doubt about it/In life's many mysteries/It just wasn't meant to be, oh no/I miss you most of all/When I see Flowers in the Rain.
Another pretty boy
Ray’s style is more masterful, more
knowing, more constructed, an artifice, in words and music. There’s truth and power but
it’s one step removed. His songs make you think as well as feel.
But when they’re simple and seem heartfelt, you know it’s a
decision, the reflection of a thought, that this is how he meant them to sound although early Kinks songs had
a similar immediate charm. I would say that Ray is probably a deeper thinker than Dave generally (and I'm sure that Dave would take issue with that), that Dave doesn't always consider before he acts, is more impetuous in life. And the result is songs that don't always make sense lyrically, don't necessarily follow any standard template but seem to arise organically and have an added impact because of that, for instance, This Man He Weeps Tonight and Mindless Child of Motherhood. I'm not going to say Ray's work is not emotionally affecting because I'm moved by so much of it, from the super successful (Waterloo Sunset- unbelievably, this seems to be the first time I've mentioned this fantastic song in any of my Kinks blogs, as if I didn't appreciate its consummate artistry) to the, to non-Kinks fans, relatively obscure (Get Back in the Line), not to mention the incredibly rousing I'm Not Like Everybody Else (this live version is particularly amazing). But he will never let his guard down
(in his work at least). Dave is unguarded. There is an honesty and
directness in this and many other Dave songs. It’s as if the song were born, rather
than carefully crafted, although I know it wasn’t. There's something uncomplicated,
unostentatious, sincere, instinctual that we react to instinctively.
Dave then
This song is almost like when you pick a scab off a cut to reveal fresh skin
underneath. It’s still tender but it’s healed, it's new. Love is lost; love
is found; we lament, but scars fade and life goes on. Dave moves on, often burning his bridges behind him.
So, how can I fall out of love with Dave, when songs like this still touch me? And that’s not nothing. It’s
something: to be moved by a tune, a lyric, a delivery, all of which
are in their way, Dave’s way, immaculate here. Flowers in the Rain is a direct call from Dave's heart to our hearts to which our hearts cannot help but respond.
Looks so innocent but is probably about to say something totally incendiary
First of all, I have to say it’s simply crass to use a band
member’s untimely demise as a platform to attack a band as Gersh Kuntzman
does in this vitriolic diatribe for the New York Daily News, in which he calls the Eagles a horrific band. Why he is then astonished by the strong reactions of already
grieving fans amazes me. It seems that the New York Times agrees,
recently publishing an article on how to speak of the dead, partly as a reaction to these anti-Eagles tirades, the gist of which is summed up by this comment: 'Hey, it’s ok to not like the Eagles. It’s also ok to shut up about it for a few days
when one of them dies.' Try to remember some of us are heart-broken.
Bernie Leadon, Randy Meisner, Don Henley, Glenn Frey – Eagles
I’ve already written a blog riposte (‘Kick
’em When They’re Up'), to a similar wave of ‘cooler-than-thou’ journalism,
which extended across most of the British broadsheets and in this,
there’s a link to the idiotic article that inspired it (trashing Fleetwood Mac
and the Eagles and any band who dared to have longevity as if their still being around was an affront to the world).
They invariably act like these bands were always dinosaurs and should be extinct by now. But to longtime fans, part of the appeal is their endurance and the fact that the songs, which were fresh and exciting when you first heard them and immediately memorable are now like old friends who you don't see that often but always get on well with when you do. They're as familiar and comfortable as the flannel shirts Don and Glenn wear onstage.
Heartfelt thanks to those, like Bob Lefsetz, who wrote moving
tributes to Glenn. It's a shame that for every positive, there's a negative, like the aforementioned Kuntzman and a
venomous piece from the Houston Chronicle that I can no longer access.
Jeff Bridges, The Dude in The Big Lebowski
Kuntzman's is the typical hipster's response; it runs along
these lines: ‘The Coen brothers are cool, therefore their films are cool, their characters are cool,
therefore the Dude must be cool (and Jeff Bridges of course), and the Dude
doesn’t like the Eagles therefore the Eagles can't be cool, therefore, in order
to be cool, I have to dislike the Eagles’. Do we care what these people think? Probably not as it’s their loss but it’s still incredibly
aggravating when someone is ignorant enough to dismiss a band’s entire oeuvre. For more on my dislike of the Coen Brothers, see Inside Llewyn Davis.
With Don Felder
The Eagles don't need to be rehabilitated for the modern age or
regarded from an ironic distance like people have a tendency to do with Abba (which is always so condescending). This sometimes happens when bands are inordinately successful. They exclude themselves from the cult of cool. Or cool of cult. There's always more cultural cachet to be had from supporting a little-known or even vaguely obscure artist and believe me, I'm crazy about a number of artists who fit the latter category, from Benedict Benjamin to XC-NN. I can see the cult in cultural. There aren't many people who want to believe that their taste is run of the mill and mainstream and there's an understanding that once you attain this universal popularity, you are somehow no longer worthy of it. You know the build 'em up to knock 'em down approach.
So, to rebut some of his assertions. Don't get me wrong, I
know he has a right to his point of view, as much as I have a right to
disagree.
1 The Eagles were a lousy band (or 'horrific' as he puts in the title)
This is a statement designed purely to provoke attention and
response. Surely no one who's heard Hotel California can really think this? Even if you think you don't know it, you know it.
2 The Eagles produced 'pop pap'.
To label One of These Nights, a song that could set my heart
racing, it was so exciting, so atmospheric, 'pop pap' just beggars belief. It's possible that
GK's childhood was a lot less mundane than mine. Either that or he has no imagination.
Has he ever heard Outlaw Man (listen to that banjo), No More Walks in the Wood, Waiting in the Weeds,
Doolin' Dalton? Pop pap would be Calvin Harris and his ilk.
3 The Eagles have too many songs with 'easy' in the titles.
Well, this does seem to be his point. Delve a bit deeper.
There are plenty that don't.
Jackson Browne
4 Jackson Browne’s version of Take It Easy is sexier than
the Eagles' one.
This is plain crazy. Only a man could have written this. Ok,
I know that JB was a ladies man in his day but sexier than Glenn, who simply
oozed pheromones? I don't think so. I always thought of Jackson Browne as
sensitive and thoughtful while Glenn was master of the snap retort, every hair
toss replete with unabashed sex appeal. More on this in Glenn
Frey, Cowboy Casanova and in this appreciation of Timothy B. Schmit. Plus only Glenn could have delivered these immortal
lines: 'It's a girl, my Lord/In a flatbed Ford/Slowing down to take a look at
me'. Or have the humour and self-awareness to sing in Already Gone:* 'Well, I heard some people talkin' just the other day/And they said you were gonna put me on a shelf/But let me tell ya/I got some news for you/And you'll soon find out it's true/And then you'll have to eat your lunch all by yourself'. * Already Gone was written by Jack Tempchin and Robb Strandlund but the lyrics seem to be quintessentially Glenn.
5 You can't like the Clash if you appreciate the Eagles.
Hmm, I'm pretty sure that I bought a Clash album and an
Eagles album on the same day. They're not mutually exclusive. Although the
Adverts are my favourite band from the punk era. Yes, and that was a totally
gratuitous nod to the One Chord Wonders, simply because I could and more people should.
Bernie Leadon
6 There's an implicit assumption that, if it weren't for the
Eagles, people who the author deems more deserving (because they have a
smaller following or because they're less marketable) like Gram Parsons and
Gene Clark would have been more successful. This is a fallacious argument. I
would propose the opposite. For many, the Eagles were a ‘gateway’ band into
obscurer terrain. Bernie Leadon’s My Man was in fact a tribute to Gram
Parsons. If it hadn't been for the Eagles, I might never have listened to Poco
or Gene Clark. It doesn't really matter who came first or who was more successful. And I expect there are those who believe that with the Eagles, it's all about the money. I appreciate their honesty - even when they were young, they admitted they wanted to make a lot of money. Because of this and because of funny items like this spoof of band members talking: 'Henley: Uh, I think what Glenn was trying to say was that sure, the
album came out just fine, but do you not remember the torture it took us
to make it? How Azoff had to ply us with $100 bills in a trail from our
houses to the studio?', people have assumed that the music is secondary. They don't seem to realise that these are jokes but even so, doesn't it somehow make them cooler? For instance, this from the same cruel but funny article: 'Schmit: I can’t afford Eagles concert tickets. Henley: Well, I can. And trust me. You’d stay in your seat the whole
time. Every time you turn your head away from the stage, you’ve wasted
approximately 27 dollars.'
Joe Walsh
7 'This diatribe has one caveat: Joe Walsh. The greatest of
all Eagles always kept his soft-rock comrades at arm’s length'.
Another thing you’ll notice about these carping critics.
They always make an exception for Joe Walsh because they think he’s a
card-carrying rockstar (complete with drugged-up past) with street cred because
of his previous cool (read 'bad') behaviour, and his skill on the guitar. All
the hipsters think Joe is cool – partly because he used to smash things up. Sure, he
adds something but he’s not the Eagles (no offence to Joe fans, who are legend and legion), neither is Timothy B. Schmit (much as I
like him now). They’re the Johnny-Come-Latelys, the New Kids in Town. Although I do make an exception for Don Felder. Whatever people say now, he'll always be an Eagle to me.
There were some straightforward but perfectly crafted country rock songs, but country rock itself wasn't even a proper genre then and what there was had little purchase on the music scene until the Eagles arrived. There was
(the) Buffalo Springfield then Poco, but their reach was limited. And that's not to
mention the influence the Eagles have had: Fleet Foxes, Jayhawks, Golden Smog and so
on, all building careers on the template of exquisite harmonies, contagious
melodies and something to say. Protest songs are now sadly a thing of the past but I love it when a writer cares about a cause or a situation. although I focus on some of my favourites here, in a list that includes Jackson Browne's tour de force, For America.
And there's so much wit and so much self-awareness in the title of their comeback tour: Hell Freezes Over. They simultaneously don't take themselves seriously while being deadly serious and cashing in on their previous pledge.
The trouble is that the Eagles are too successful and this
kind of unprecedented achievement leads people to carp and moan. Once, when I
was younger and more arrogant, I used to like to say that I thought the Beatles
were overrated, in order to provoke a reaction. Now I think it's sort of great that I like some of the same music as my Dad and can take him to see the Eagles or Fleetwood Mac.
Glenn Frey, RIP Outlaw Man
Yes, as Bob Lefsetz mentions, they lived the American Dream,
but they also analysed, deconstructed and dismantled it in songs like Hotel
California and The Last Resort, showing how quickly it could turn into a
nightmare. Henley’s lyrics roll off the tongue because they sound so natural
but they’re still clever, polemical, insightful (surely there isn’t anyone too
soulless or too secure to identify with the sentiment in Wasted Time?), or
incisive, dismissive, satirical (Get over It: 'Victim of this/Victim of that/Your Momma's too thin/And your Daddy's too fat'). They’re not glib. But compare
them with the subject matter of chart songs today – see my blog on ‘Modern Music’ – they raise issues, are often poetic and thought-provoking. They’re not about
having a party or waving your hands in the air or being sexy in the club. So, you might say music is changing but subject matter, melody, scope are all decreasing. No longer do we have pop songs about boys being molested on school trips. Name that tune.
I’m not saying that I love every Eagles song – there are
some on each album that I consider Eagles by numbers but these very tracks are
other fans’ favourites: Busy Being Fabulous, Chug All Night (well maybe not
Chug All Night) and so on.
And I'd like to ask: When does the Dude lose his 'coolness'? And surely, if everybody thinks he's cool, he's now too mainstream to actually be so. But what I meant to say was that Eagles music is timeless and will hopefully move and entertain future generations. They're not this week's fancy or last year's trend. They are much more than this, they are beyond cool and, as Glenn said, 'a band for all time'.
Every time I start to listen to an Eagles song now, I get all choked up and I know I'll feel this way for some time. I really wish I didn't have to write this but
Song composers: Charley Mason, Joey Patulka, Ali Zuckowski,
Julian Maas, Robin Grubert
Singer: Conchita Wurst [Conchita Wurst is the female alter ego of Tom Neuwirth.] [Quick Kinks connection. Another contender would be Ray
Davies’s ‘Oh, What a Day It’s Going to Be’, performed here by Mo and Steve
(whoever they might be). I think this is the closest Ray ever got to the Bond
oeuvre, for overblown passion, bordering on the histrionic.] Conchita: 'I'm just a singer in a fabulous dress, with great hair and a
beard.' Conchita: 'It's just art.''
I didn’t encounter the phenomenon that is Conchita until this year, not
being a huge Eurovision fan, when I caught the Eurovision’s Greatest Hits
programme. In 2014, Conchita Wurst won the Eurovision Song Contest for Austria,
with ‘Rise Like a Phoenix’, her victory a testament to tolerance and a tribute to her inordinatelydisarming personality and incredible charisma as much as her voice and the song (and to persistence as it looks like this was her second attempt at Eurovision; in 2012, she narrowly missed out on representing Austria with 'That's What I Am' and specialises in delivering inspirational, life-affirming songs, such as 'Unbreakable' and 'You Are Unstoppable', with total conviction, although ‘Rise Like a Phoenix’ is the only one that sounds like it should be played
over Bond credits).
I think there’s a real case for ‘Rise Like a Phoenix’ to be the theme for the next film in the Bond franchise. I’m by
no means the first person to think so – just search on YouTube for ‘Rise Like a
Phoenix 007’ and you’ll see what I mean. You could even call the movie Phoenix,in the tradition of the one-word title. Ok, there’s no tradition yet but
who says there can't be? We had Skyfall and now Spectre. It even sounds
like a Bond title, making reference to a fantastic, mythical creature (much like Conchita herself) rising
from the flame (you only live twice and all that). Oh, I'm so annoyed. Someone's just released a film called Phoenix.
Golden Lady I
This song seems to have been written with Bond in mind, with all the requisite elements – the lush soundscape and accomplished arrangement of an archetypal Bond theme. Reminiscent of those glorious John Barry
anthems, immortalised by Dame Shirley Bassey, ‘Goldfinger’ (lyrics: Leslie Bricusse/Anthony Newley; coincidentally this and another Bassey classic, 'This Is My Life' (Bruno Canfora/Antonio Amurri/Norman Newell) were sung by Tom Neuwirth on a talent show – there's evidently an affinity over and above their fashion sense; Shirley's version rocks) and ‘Diamonds Are Forever’
(lyrics: Don Black; here's The X Factor's Aiden Grimshaw’s more electronic take), with all the heightened melodrama and emotion of the thwarted
diva destined to rise resplendent. I gather that Barry used to
‘Bondify’ (my term) the other artists' songs so that they fitted his
aural vision for the Bond canon. All the themes have a particular feel, an elusive essence that is as hard to define as it is easy to recognise. It’s as if ‘Rise Like a Phoenix’ has already
undergone this process; it's already perfect. [John Barry composed many unforgettable movie themes – the
incredibly touching ‘Born Free’ which I never hear without shedding a tear, the
gorgeously romantic and evocative ‘Out of Africa’.]
Golden Lady II
With the subjects of
metamorphosis, transformation, self-realisation and adversity overcome as well
as the promise of retribution, it could fit any movie script but is perhaps
particularly apposite to a Bond narrative. Like other Bond numbers, it can be
appreciated and understood on a personal and a universal level as a hymn to
resilience, resurgence and self-empowerment. Bold, fearless and unrepentant. Hearing and looking at
Conchita, you can't help but be reminded of Gloria Gaynor’s paean to individuality
‘I Am What I Am’ a little, in particular, the line ‘I am my own special
creation’. The lavish orchestration and Conchita’s perfect vocal
delivery emulate and almost exceed those Shirley Bassey numbers but the lyrics
and Conchita’s unique image (although there are some parallels with Dame
Shirley here too, as can be seen in the pictures) – magnificent, figure-hugging
floor-length gowns, the old-school glamour of the night-club siren, combined
with full make-up (her
make-up video on YouTube has had three million views; Shirley didn’t shirk
on make-up either) and beard – help to reinvent and revitalise this tried and
tested template for a new era. A daring blend of the familiar and the
innovative that challenges the norms, just as any movie franchise should after
fifty-odd years.
Make-up tutorial
'Waking in the rubble/Walking over glass/Neighbours say we're
trouble/Well that time has passed/Peering from the mirror/No, that isn't
me/Stranger getting nearer/Who can this person be?/You wouldn't know me at all
today/From the fading light I fly'
A sweeping string intro before a muted piano accompaniment
to Conchita’s at first deliberately portentous and subdued vocal, building excitement and the sense that something is about to happen. Cue the chorus.
Not one to shirk the make-up
'Rise like a phoenix/Out of the
ashes/Seeking rather than vengeance/Retribution/You were warned/Once I'm
transformed/Once I'm reborn/You know I will rise like a phoenix/But you're my
flame'
Conchita exudes mystery and sex appeal as well as an engaging blend of strength and vulnerability. Her utterly commanding interpretation makes the most of the majestic chord change for the
obligatory soaring and triumphant crescendo of the chorus: proud,
fierce, conveyed with defiant dignity. Or even dignified defiance.
‘Go about your business/Act as if you're free/No one could
have witnessed/What you did to me’
The suspenseful strings here could easily be lifted and used as build-up
to a thrilling Bond set piece.
The next Bond villain?
'I rise up to the sky/You threw me down but/I'm gonna fly'
The finale is suitably grandiose and simply glorious. Conchita's control is absolute.
When asked if she would like to play a Bond girl, Conchita replied:
'No, that would mean
nothing to me. But I would love to play a Bond villain, who fights to the very end.'
To be continued I hope. A Radio Times poll has Conchita as an overwhelming
favourite to sing the next Bond number. She scores nearly 82 percent, with her
nearest rival on about 2 percent. That’s a pretty convincing win.
[I’m a bit confused about my reaction to Conchita. I’m a straight woman (though sometimes wish I wasn't) but
I find the Conchita persona completely captivating even though she’s a man (yes
pronouns don’t really work with Conchita), dressed and made up like a woman
(hyper feminine and always elegant) with a beard. Of course, Conchita is really
a gay man in drag (Tom Neuwirth) but still I wonder, is it just me? Or do some
people’s charms simply override usual gender preferences? I sort of fancy
Conchita but I don’t fancy Tom.]
