Joe Innes, We Are All Fossils, Simeon Hammond Dallas

The Harrison

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.

You can find a blog on Benedict Benjamin here. 

Grant Hart Live: Milton, Sputnik, Burroughs, Amtrak and Apollinaire

William S. Burroughs

Links in song titles as usual.

Last time we saw Grant, he played a blistering show with the Burn Burning at the Monto, Water Rats. It was amazing to hear him with a full band again but tonight he’s solo once more, again promoting The Argument, his musical take on William Burroughs’s truncated version of John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Grant is not afraid of a concept or a broad canvas or a mythical theme. The songs on this album I think of as those ‘details taken from a painting’ postcards you get and I was hoping to hear a good few tonight. I wasn’t disappointed. Haven’t got the album yet and heard that Grant had some to sell but never saw any.

The Miller at London Bridge

The Miller is a pub a stone’s throw from the Shard side of London Bridge, easy for us to get to from South London. Big, rambling and full of nooks and crannies, with the pleasant and efficient bar staff all in Hallowe’en-themed costumes. The gig takes place in an upstairs room with a stage, a couple of tables and a few bar stools. See some familiar faces from previous Grant gigs. Learn that there are two support acts and Grant should be on at 10pm. I usually like to cut to the chase but my sister is less jaded so we go up to listen. Had a brief chat with Grant while they were playing but forgot I had cotton wool in my ears and couldn't hear him properly. Grant, ever the joker, claimed he had come as the infamous, elusive graffiti artist Banksy – no one knows what he looks like. He looks well, still has tons of thick black hair, some pulled back in a ponytail. If he dyes it, he’s doing a great job.

Early days

Bold Things from Ireland start the warm-up. They collect the firewood. Their songs are pleasant enough. They have a lot of tall twenty-something fans who stand right in front of us. Next up are Le Deux Furieuses. (I think it should be Les Deux Furieuses, girls.) They light the taper. They look distinctly art collegey but after a deal of preparation, involving back projection and a carved and lit-up pumpkin, we’re smacked by a sonic onslaught, which would probably have terrified the fans of Bold Things but which is welcomed by die-hard Hüsker fans. I end up quite admiring them and I think they’re surprised by the crowd’s positive reaction.

Grant today

When Grant eventually takes the stage to stoke the flames, he’s a little frustrated by some problems with a borrowed amp and is unimpressed generally as they are unable to turn off a strobe effect that’s giving him vertigo, saying something like it’s great if you enjoy taking it up the ass every night (don’t quote me on that) but, after jokingly offering people their money back (the audience demurs, won't be pulled down by the undertow, buoys Grant up with its enthusiasm), the show goes on. It must be so difficult travelling, using the equipment to hand, organising everything yourself, dependent on the goodwill, courtesy and commonsense of venues and other bands.

I’m not going through the whole setlist; I’ll post it at the end, just mention certain songs. Suffice to say that Grant could play and sing some of these songs perfectly in his sleep and it’s always good to hear them. You know the ones I mean.

'Hey, are you sure you're not taking my picture?'

There’s something about the next three songs that reminds me of the rhythm of the sea – constant but ever-changing, the same but always different, waves crashing against a beach; the way a lyric or refrain is repeated/altered. 

You’re the Reflection of the Moon on the Water

Always a rousing opener: inspired by this comment from a monk about a possible candidate for the next Panchen Lhama, ‘He is the reflection of the moon on the water but he is not the moon’, i.e. something lesser than the real thing, the truth but not the whole truth. The verses are variations on this theme: the insistence and repetition reinforce the point, like the sea rushing headlong to shore, the fourth line of each stanza a diminishing of the first three, like the backwash of the tide.

You’re the reflection of the moon on the water/You’re the reflection of the moon on the water/You’re the reflection of the moon on the water/But you’re not the moon

You are the scent of the sea on the night wind/You are the scent of the sea on the night wind/You are the scent of the sea on the night wind/But you’re not the sea

You are the shadows from the light of a fire/You are the shadows from the light of a fire/You are the shadows from the light of a fire/But you’re not the light

You are the sound of the rain on the dry earth/You are the sound of the rain on the dry earth/You are the sound of the rain on the dry earth/But you’re not the rain

Sputnik 1

Is the Sky the Limit?

Grant dedicates this to Lou Reed (RIP) as ‘another satellite’ song – the song was built around the beeps from Sputnik, Lou Reed’s is of course Satellite of Love. I’ve got to love a song that uses the word ‘apogee’. Another charming, infectious melody; insistent, repetitive – an ocean tide.

Is the sky the limit?/What is the apogee?/

Is the sky the limit/For me?/

I only wish to love you/For you to notice me/

Now I dread how limited I can be

Golden Chain

This is the gentler ebb and flow of a calmer sea. Becalmed.

The earth it hangs on a golden chain/
The earth it hangs on a golden chain

Paradise Lost

The songs he plays from The Argument are liberally interspersed with older material throughout the set and work as standalone tracks as well as to illustrate aspects of the story, as if you simply focused in on a character and his thoughts/intentions. Grant is able to slip between viewpoints and in and out of musical styles.

This quote from Pitchfork sums it up:

But the great thing about The Argument is that, not only does it make a Hüsker Dü reformation seem like an evermore remote possibility, it makes the whole prospect that much more undesirable and unnecessary. 

California Zephyr

Upbeat song about riding the rails. It’s such a romantic thing to do, not ride the rails but name your trains, and so evocatively too. Unfortunately using Amtrak is anything but a romantic experience. Only did it once and there was a twelve-hour delay!

Then a cab to the Bay Bridge Inn/

They check you out while they check you in

Milton by way of Burroughs by way of Hart

Shine, Shine, Shine

That fairground organ on the album track – let’s get on the merry go round. A sparkling Christmas bauble of a song.

We enjoy the life ideal/Running naked through the fields/

There’s no shame/No secrets unrevealed

Remains to Be Seen

Another song rife with connotations and literary allusions and a lilting refrain. It’s ostensibly about the remains of Apollinaire but with Grant, there’s always another level (and I’m not talking defunct British boyband). Here’s a little extract from a chat I had with Grant when this song was new:

I had been reading the life story of Apollinaire, … in the context of like viewing somebody at a funeral or ‘all that’s left’, only an outline … when they circle the body and things like that and I didn’t change anything … on … the studio recording of it because it’s nice that it bear those other meanings as well.

Supposing, too much to assume/Saying nothing but speaking volumes
Silence broken with shattering sounds/Books for no one, where are they bound?

So Far from Heaven

Grant asks the audience to ‘pucker up’ to whistle along and it’s fantastic how many of them can a) whistle b) know the tune c) actually whistle in tune. Grant has been playing this live for ages so I was surprised that it was part of the Paradise Lost project.

What is it you’re seeking?/What would be your prize?

Is it no fair peeking?/If I look past your disguise

Someone requests Letting Me Out but Grant reacts as if he’s called ‘Let Me Out’ and says ‘The door’s over there’.

2541

During this, an over-enthusiastic fan sings along off-key and very loudly (I find the two usually go together at gigs) and Grant notices and has to choose something that the guy doesn’t know next.

Oh well I put down the money/When I picked up the keys/

We had to keep the stove on all night long/So the mice wouldn't freeze

A shy woman asks my sister to pass Grant a note for her. It says ‘Please play All of My Senses’. His response: ‘Boring’. There are some songs Grant must be sick of performing (the die-hard Husker fans inevitably ask for the same ones and occasionally he obliges) but this isn’t one I’ve ever heard him try live.

Another song he never plays, out of respect, because it’s hard to separate the song from its provenance, is Diane but for those who called for it at the Miller, here’s a fantastic version from Sao Paulo. Sends chills through me.

Less suspicious

The Main

A crowd pleaser. This sounds like and works well as a sea shanty (on the 'high' main) while the lyrics also tell a story about drug dependency (mainlining), with a litany of red-light districts – Reeperbahn, Christiane, Pigalle (coincidentally always the location of our hotel whenever we travel) – and references to De Quincey and Christ. As the makers of Every Everything no doubt discovered, Grant is knowledgeable on many subjects but what astonishes me is the way he’s able to crystallise ideas and images into lyric and melody.

There was life on the corner/And death all around/…

Reeperbahn, Christiane, Pigalle, all the same/On the main, the main, remember your name

The song I wanted him to play (I Knew All about You since Then) is a great example of this talent and his Mary Poppins-style approach – a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down. Trenchant put-downs in wordplay encased in a sunny little tune so you’re suck(er)ed in without realising.

Letter from Anne-Marie

This was my belated alternative request because Grant couldn’t play the original one, for very good reasons. This video is from the actual night.

With her family far and in a family way/Well she told me that she missed 'em
It's hard to keep in touch/With just the US postal system

Grant changes the lyrics each time, this time he sings ‘useless social system’. It’s one of the things I love about him – a gig can go in any direction at any time – he keeps it fresh and the night is entirely dependent on his mood and how he interacts with the audience.

Green Eyes

Still shimmeringly pretty even when slowed down and infused with bitterness as in this ‘mid-life crisis version’ from Zurich.

It's a great big world/There's a million other guys

I feel so lucky when I look/In those green eyes

Grant’s voice still has that pure tone, clarion-clear (as in this version of Don’t Want to Know if You Are Lonely; a burst of breathless energy); he still has that facility to fashion a memorable tune, his lyrics still blend the everyday with the erudite and I’m left pondering that eternal question. Bjorn and Benny put it better:

I've often wondered, how did it all start?
Who found out that nothing can capture a heart
Like a melody can?

Have guitar, will travel ...

Mercurial, maverick, articulate, undaunted, Grant Hart may be coming to a town near you – catch him if you can. 

The Argument is available on Domino Records and from Amazon of course.

Setlist from the Miller, London 31 October 2013

You’re the Reflection of the Moon on the Water

Admiral of the Sea came in here somewhere

California Zephyr

Is the Sky the Limit?

(From The Argument)

Shine, Shine, Shine

(From The Argument)

Awake, Arise!

(From The Argument)

Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill

Remains to Be Seen

Never Talking to You Again

The Main

You Are the Victim

So Far from Heaven

(From The Argument)

Letter from Anne-Marie

Golden Chain

(From The Argument)

Pink Turns to Blue

Underneath the Apple Tree

(From The Argument)

Green Eyes

She Floated Away

Big Star 'Third' at the Barbican + Ray Davies

Bought tickets for this a while ago because we fancied that Mr Ray Davies might grace it and us with his presence. Time went by; names were finalised and Ray wasn’t mentioned. Now I wasn't a huge Big Star fan. I was only aware of ‘Thirteen’, for instance, because Daryll Ann had covered it, and of ‘September Gurls’ via someone my Dad worked with. On recommendation, I listened to a few more tracks on the ubiquitous YouTube and enjoyed them, particularly the ballads, many suffused with a melodic melancholy worthy of the Kinks themselves, a simple eloquence in arrangement and lyric, such as ‘The EMI Song’.  However, I tried to get into Third without much success. Loved ‘Holocaust’, liked ‘Blue Moon’, ‘O Dana’ and ‘Nighttime’, didn’t mind ‘Take Care’ and ‘Jesus Christ’ and, apart from the covers, wasn’t particularly enthused by any of the other tracks. I know this must rankle with longtime aficionados so I apologise. I thought the songs were possibly too slight, too fragile to sustain the weight of an orchestral interpretation, that they would be like sandcastles overwhelmed by the tide or rowboats overcome by the vast power of the ocean. I was wrong.

So we’re sitting in the food hall eating overpriced cakes and sandwiches when Robyn Hitchcock comes in, instantly recognisable by the white hair and colourful shirt. Nice to see they make him buy his own dinner. Naturally don’t bother to speak to him although ‘Heaven’ is one of my favourite songs (hence this gratuitous link) and I would have loved to ask if Ray has been around backstage at all. Then – they have these long tables like a school dining hall – we were descended on by the musicians who would later be playing – so do we acknowledge that we know who they are? Of course not. We pointedly ignore them.

Wander out into the open to avoid being stalked by these annoying famous people and to get away from a curious squat doppelganger gazing at me from the mirror in the Ladies. Am accosted by someone from the Jackie Leven list, also here for Big Star. We join him and his friend for a while before the show begins. Neither has heard anything about Ray coming along and they seem to think it unlikely. Our hopes fade but Ray had hinted that he would be here on Facebook. However, can't see him having the time or inclination to learn any Big Star songs and they wouldn’t suit him anyway so if he sings, it’ll have to be ‘Till the End of the Day’, the song on See My Friends that he and Alex collaborated on – I certainly won't complain as it’s one of my favourites, – I particularly like this version at the beginning of this 1972 concert; Ray is so masterful and yet so camp (complete with breathless pant between words and then a curtsy), holding the audience in the palm of his hand as he promises, rescinds, delivers – it’s brilliant. As for the end of the song – the hair, the screams, Kurt Cobain anyone? Forget what I said in an earlier blog about Ray being a pussycat; by 72, he's found his roar.

I must admit that I hate the idea of See My Friends though. Why would I want to hear anyone other than Dave sing with Ray? Paloma Faith’s version of ‘Lola’ is horrid, no inflection in her tone; Metallica turn the emotion in ‘You Really Got Me’ into rage, reducing it to something far inferior; Mumford and Sons don’t destroy ‘Days’ and ‘This Time Tomorrow’ but neither do they add anything in particular; to me, it’s as if all the songs are being stripped of what made them special. Anyway, I'll hold my tongue for the moment.

The concert starts and is actually pretty good fun. There’s an obvious camaraderie between the musicians and everyone is very appreciative of each other and of the audience although the second track, ‘Kizza Me’ is so raucous, it nearly frightens us away.

The hall is a manageable size and even in Row P, we’re not too far from the action, the only problem being that the conductor blocks the vocalists.

The first half stand-outs are: Mike Mills, ‘Jesus Christ’; Ira Kaplan, ‘O Dana’; Sondre Lerche, ‘Femme Fatale’; Jody Stephens, ‘Blue Moon’; Django Haskins, ‘Holocaust’ (chilling and affecting; you can hear ice in the instrumentation, the little boat must have reached the Arctic); everything the Posies guys do, always had a soft spot for them since they sent me a copy of the lyrics of ‘Grant Hart’ so that I could show them to Grant – he was duly pleased.

There’s an ebb and flow throughout, with each artist bringing something different to the mix.

First half setlist

Nature Boy – John Bramwell

Kizza Me – Mitch Easter

O Dana – Ira Kaplan

For You – Jody Stephens

Nighttime – Alexis Taylor

Jesus Christ – Mike Mills

Big Black Car – Jon Auer

Take Care – Ira Kaplan

Stroke It, Noel – Norman Blake

Femme Fatale – Sondre Lerche

Downs – Robyn Hitchcock

Dream Lover – Sharon Van Etten

Blue Moon – Jody Stephens

Holocaust – Django Haskins

You Can’t Have Me – Sharon Van Etten

Kanga Roo – Brett Harris

Thank You, Friends – Various

The names are simply who sings the lead. My typing’s too slow for me to list all the musicians.

I enjoy the second half better though. This is like a mini Big Star hit parade so we get ‘Thirteen’ – I think I would have felt cheated if they hadn’t played this. Great vocals from Skylar Gudasz. Mike Mills rocks out a rendition of ‘September Gurls’; his voice is perfect for it. Shamefully, many of the songs are new to me

Second half setlist

I’m in Love with a Girl

Thirteen

Give Me Another Chance

I Am the Cosmos

There Was a Light

You and Your Sister

Daisy Glaze

The EMI Song

The Ballad of El Goodo

September Gurls

Apologies if I got any of these titles wrong. Couldn’t take down names of who sung which in the dark. Will accept corrections/additions.

And just when you think that Ray’s cried off, they talk about Big Star rarely doing covers and you know it’s his cue. He’s a miniature tsunami, raising the energy level a notch and sweeping us along with him, upturning the boat. He gets the biggest applause of the night and effortlessly steals the show, smart in a jacket and shirt although his hair looks like he’s been pulled through a hedge backwards. Talks briefly but sincerely about his acquaintance with Alex Chilton and appears eminently affable. People stand for the first time although only we remain on our feet to dance. I thought this picture was particularly topical as we’re about to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee and host the Olympics. Not sure why Gary Barlow (apposite initials) was chosen to organise the concert and not Ray, 'jubilant' as I was when Take That went to number one after having had more than a little 'Patience'. Somehow this return to triumph gave us all a sense of vindication on their behalf after their years languishing in the chip shop wilderness (some selling, some buying) watching Robbie's career perpetually in the ascendant. Did they ever dare think 'Our day will come'? Anyway, there was some validation for the Kinks as one of their songs was mentioned in the Archbishop of Canterbury's address, proof of entry to the pantheon.

With Ray Davies:

Till the End of the Day

The Letter

Showstoppers both.

I don't know how Ray fits so much into his schedule (he really is a workaholic) but I like the fact that he finds time for this. It doesn’t really matter why he chooses to take part, whether to reinforce the respect (and adulation) of his peers, out of a general need for recognition and admiration, out of respect for Alex Chilton and Big Star, out of pure altruism, out of a desire to be perceived as purely altruistic, the all-round good guy next-door. It’s the ‘taking part’ that counts although of course Ray also wins in this instance, always important for him.

Encore

Back of a Car

All in all, a great spirit of togetherness and celebration among the musicians and a heartfelt appreciation of Big Star’s oeuvre, conveyed to the crowd on waves of their own enthusiasm and love, inspiring those of us relatively unfamiliar with the songs to investigate further.

Next stop: Bob Mould, Come Dancing, Citizen Cope.

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Writing this while listening to Rufus Wainwright’s version of ‘Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered’. Although I think he’s a terribly interesting character, like something out of a fantasy, I have trouble liking his usually rather whiny and drawled delivery but for some reason, the way he slows this down really works and it seems totally heartfelt.

The lyrics seem to encapsulate his personality and personal trajectory in the same way that ‘Yesterday When I Was Young’ (hmm never thought I would like Charles Aznavour) seems to describe Helmut Berger (surely the ‘German film star’ from the Passions song). And when Frank Sinatra sings this, it’s about the girl rather than Frank but not so with Rufus. When he sings, it’s all about Rufus. Definitely.

The thing is every time I hear it, it makes me want to cry because I quite envy Rufus. His experience, his emotions, his lessons, his tireless charm, his mercurial spirit.

The soft confessional tone of ‘I’ve sinned a lot etc’, the self-awareness and arrogance of ‘But I’m like sweet seventeen a lot’, which he is, make my heart melt.

However, just watched Pal Joey and can't quite believe that they made a film, with Frank Sinatra, with these songs that he delivers like no one else (‘My Funny Valentine’ and ‘Bewitched’ – God bless Rodgers and Hart) and wasted an opportunity to have him sing them. It’s criminal.

For more on Helmut Berger, see this week's passion: helmut berger as konrad in visconti's conversation piece.