Thursday, 9 May 2013

Opinion8: Career-defining Roles


What I mean by this term is an actor you always call a character name. For instance, Buffy, Grissom, Dawson. This doesn’t mean that the actor hasn’t been any good in anything else, just that they will always be known by this particular series of performances, as this construct, this personality. It informs whatever else they do simply because it’s so recognisable. In a way, it can have a negative long-term effect on a career. It usually occurs in a series as this gives the audience time to identify with the character, to love them, and associate the actor with the role over time. If a series is well written, well observed, intriguing, it tends to throw up more than one of these characters. Buffy (and the spin-off Angel) is a case in point. I would say that not only will we always remember Buffy but also Faith, Angel, Giles, Willow and Xander.

1. Buffy (Sarah Michelle Gellar) in Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Quipping, kicking, hair-tossing her way through Sunnydale (aka the Hellmouth), SMG will never get a better role than that of this ex-cheerleader vampire hunter, falling for a reformed vampire in the process (yes – way before Bella) and saving the world (a lot). Joss Whedon created an, I hate to say it, icon. An inspirational heroine.

[The only bad thing about Buffy and Angel is that they may have somehow spawned the dreadful, poor-copy TV and film dramas that followed. You know the ones I mean – The Vampire Diaries, True Blood and the incredibly dull, anodyne, humourless and po-faced Twilight franchise. Buffy the character and Buffy the show are everything these are not – sexy, funny, entertaining, gripping, postmodern (quick to cite other teen shows like Dawson’s Creek, with wit and sarcasm) and occasionally erudite.]

2. Kate (Evangeline Lilly) in Lost
Another great female role model. Ok, she was wanted for murder ... Sexy, tough and able to rock sweat-stained T-shirts. The love triangle between her, Jack and Sawyer kept us as enthralled as whatever the hell was going on on the island. Confident, conflicted, convicted, it might be a while before Evangeline gets a part to compare with this. Again, many of the other characters were beautifully realised (Naveen Andrews as Sayeed, and Terry O’Quinn as Locke, in particular).



3. Sebastian Flyte (Anthony Andrews) in Brideshead Revisited
Impossibly romantic, incredibly charming, fatally flawed Sebastian. Astonishing to think it was Jeremy Irons (who played the rather dull follower, Charles) who went on to become the movie star. Is it because we’ll always imagine Anthony Andrews with Aloysius under his arm? The novel was amazing source material but the filmic production values also helped. Nostalgia – it ain’t what it used to be.

[Saw an ad in a brochure once for ‘nostalgic fridge magnets’. I wonder what they are exactly and imagine a couple stuck on a fridge. One says to the other ‘Remember that last fridge we were on, mate?’ Other replies ‘Yeah. That was a great fridge’.]

4. JR Ewing (Larry Hagman) in Dallas
Need I say more? Well, a little. Cunning, recidivist, charming, cruel, with a twinkle in his eye and just the right word to send poor Sue Ellen back to the bottle. He made being a cad look easy. The ‘Who Shot JR?’ storyline had everyone hooked in the 80s and was resurrected in the excellent new Dallas. I’m glad he had a chance to reprise his role and teach the young bucks a thing or two. Rest in peace.


5. Captain Mainwaring (Arthur Lowe) in Dad’s Army
On endless repeats on BBC2, the charm of the character is that he takes himself and the situations so seriously, even when they become completely ridiculous. It’s not often you laugh at and with the straight man. Just the right blend of bumbling and self-importance to create bathos.









6. John Carter (Noah Wyle) in ER
He’ll always be Carter to us, the junior doctor with whom we entered the exciting world of ER. A sort of Everyman, experiencing everything, from the acerbic mentoring style of Peter Benton, to a romance with Abby, drug addiction, a refugee camp in Africa, and so on. The writers really put him through it. The longest lasting character (there long after Doug Ross and Mark Greene had moved on), he provided continuity and stability, traits evident in his on-screen persona.





7. Gil Grissom (William Petersen) in CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Attempts to replace Grissom with another character have not been that successful. Laurence Fishburne was an interesting choice and worked well for a while. I like Ted Danson too but unfortunately he brought with him my least favourite character, the ever-smiling Finn. Grissom was a dysfunctional manager, possibly on the autistic spectrum, obsessed with entomology, usually seeing the trees rather than the wood, flawed but dogged and strangely likeable.

 
8. Joey Potter (Katie Holmes) in Dawson’s Creek
One of those girls-next-door (usually tomboys with crooked smiles and good at the one-line put-down that is sarcastic but not scathing) desired by every boy, a desire that the tougher ones express by calling the girl by both Christian name and surname. Involved in one of the classic ‘will-they-won't-they?’ on-off romances (with Dawson, the movie-loving, eponymous protagonist played by James Van Der Beek, who’s also struggled to escape his character in this), while also adored by Pacey (the lovable Joshua Jackson, the one who gets to use both names – ‘Joey Potter’).

Bubbling under:
Lex Luthor (Michael Rosenbaum) in Smallville
Laura Ingalls (Melissa Gilbert) in Little House on the Prairie
Captain Kirk (William Shatner) in Star Trek
Steve Austin (Lee Majors) in The Six Million Dollar Man
Stuart (Aiden Gillen) in Queer as Folk (UK version)

Other TV Opinion8 blog is on Must-See TV.


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Monday, 15 April 2013

Dave Davies and George Harrison: Parallel Lives Part II


Both were the youngest members of the band and the lead guitarists. They may even have played the same guitar.

Dave says:
‘Somebody had loaned me a custom-built Guild guitar that had once been owned by George Harrison. In those days we carried our own instruments and when we arrived at the airport in LA all the bags arrived except for that guitar.’ Dave went on to buy a Gibson Futurist, aka the Flying Vee, for $200. I think the moral of this tale is ‘Don’t lend Dave your guitar.’



And they loved their guitars:
In Kink, Dave writes of a girlfriend:
‘She was terribly jealous of that guitar, the way I held it, the way I cared for it. She always thought I loved it more than I did her.’

George told Beatles Monthly:
‘I believe I love my guitar more than the others love theirs. For John and Paul, songwriting is pretty important and guitar playing is a means to an end. While they're making up new tunes I can thoroughly enjoy myself just doodling around with a guitar for a whole evening. I'm fascinated by new sounds I can get from different instruments I try out. I'm not sure that makes me particularly musical. Just call me a guitar fanatic instead, and I'll be satisfied.’


Collaboration
It seems that Dave and George had similar attitudes when working with others to create a song. The result was more important than who did what.

Two quotes from Dave illustrate this:
Lola was written in a similar way to You Really Got Me. We got together in Ray's front room, and Ray had the basic idea of the song, the skeleton idea … and I just started playing E in the bottom position, moved it up to A, leaving the E string open and in the chord. Ray said, 'Ah, that's great. Let's put that in as well.' [As a songwriter] Ray has a very firm idea about what he wants to do, and I try to accommodate him as best I can, but I think in certain areas, on certain songs, there's a lot more collaboration than people realise. Although Ray and I don't get on particularly well, there's a lot of empathy and unspoken energy that goes toward the finished product.’

'I think a rock 'n' roll record should start off being a song and should end up being a song. I think that everything around it should be complementary to it, or help it to evolve, rather than get in its way. I've always tried to keep that in mind as a guitar player. Rather than say, 'Let's start with the guitar and a 16 bar solo.' It's the song that's important, and the individual parts add to it.'

Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner described George Harrison as:
‘a guitarist who was never showy but who had an innate, eloquent melodic sense. He played exquisitely in the service of the song.’

‘George Harrison and I were once in a car and the Beatles song You Can't Do That came on, with that great riff in the beginning on the 12-string. He goes, "I came up with that.” … He said, “I was just standing there and thought, I've got to do something!” That pretty much sums him up. He just had a way of getting right to the business, of finding the right thing to play. That was part of that Beatles magic – they all seemed to find the right thing to play.’

This is true of the Kinks too. Ray knew that he could rely on Dave to play something apposite and in tune with the spirit of the song. To me, it seems that although George and Dave weren’t writing as prolifically, they used their energy and creativity to contribute to the compositions. They understood what Aristotle meant by ‘The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.’ For some reason, I’ve always had that quotation backwards, that the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.

Recognition
I’m sure they experienced similar frustrations when their songs did not make the final album cut, with both only allowed a couple of songs per LP. In the case of the Beatles, this was instrumental in the decision to split.

In 1969, McCartney told Lennon:
‘Until this year, our songs have been better than George's. Now this year his songs are at least as good as ours.’
Thanks, guys.

This is certainly a situation that Dave could relate to. In Kink, he tells of occasions when a song of his would be slated to appear on an album, then mysteriously disappear at the last minute. Thanks, bro. Whether this was the result of Ray’s insecurity or a real belief (as with Lennon and McCartney) that his songs were better, we’ll never know.

Now I’m thinking that one reason Dave’s songs didn’t get released might be that he was reluctant to fight his corner. I know it seems unlikely given his reputation as a battler but perhaps Dave lacked confidence in his own ability. I say this because the three songs I want to consider here in relation to George’s aren’t even indexed in Kink although he mentions She’s My Girl, another song recorded but not released. Or did Dave fail in advocacy of his songs because they were products of his pain at the time and too personal?

By the late 60s/early 70s, both George and Dave have reached a pinnacle of sorts. I’ve chosen to highlight three of their songs from this time to try to showcase what’s so special about their writing. It actually makes me angry that Dave’s songs get so little recognition from a wider public (or even from Dave) when so many less deserving talents reap so many rewards. Was it ever thus? I’ve already trashed most modern music in my first blog and don’t want to come across as reactionary but everything seems so generic and formulaic these days – the same beats, the same rap interlude (I really enjoy getting aggressively harangued by a sexist man), the same inane lyrical content, the same tiny scrap of a melody, repeated endlessly. I know there are exceptions but even today’s modern-day ‘rock’ bands all seem to be one-trick ponies recycling soundalike riffs from yesteryear in a completely pedestrian manner (Arctic Monkeys, Kasabian, the Kaiser Chiefs, etc.). Ok, enough with the rant already.

Immediate, fresh, beautifully heartfelt, Dave’s strange pronunciation of the double rs in sorrow and tomorrow adds to the poignancy of his vocal, which is wistful, yearning, the verse resigned:
I wish that you'd have known/ Of all the plans I had in store for us/ Laughing, dancing, travelling the world on our own
the chorus raging:
And this man, he weeps tonight/And his head is bowed with sorrow/But what can you do, sitting there/And you let him cry tomorrow/Yes, you'll let him cry tomorrow/Yes, you'll let him cry tomorrow
Both this and Mindless Child of Motherhood were B-sides, the former paired with Drivin’, the latter with Shangri-la. I’m not debating that both A-sides are great but I actually think the B-sides are better. At least one deserved to be an A.

George’s songs suffered a similar fate. 
Plaintive, mournful, Dave sounds like he might actually weep singing this. Simple and effective, imbued with pain and hope, this was only available on acetate until the 2011 Hidden Treasures album.
Cause you're living with a man/Who will find no understanding/Do you mind if I laid down and cried?/Do you ever know the way/That I feel for you each day?/So are you ready girl?/Are you ready?
Asked whether he can feel the frustration in the songs on Hidden Treasures, Dave replies:
‘In a way, but after all these years it has a charm because of that. I couldn’t stand listening to it at the time. Is Are You Ready? on it? I love that song. I hated it for years. It’s about Sue again.’

When Dave sings, it doesn’t sound like a typical Kinks record at all. His voice is instantly recognisable and his songs have a totally different feel. I think that’s a good thing, much as I love Ray, because it adds to their appeal. This reminds me of the Byrds. Dave’s compositions seem to spring from raw emotion, which he can no longer contain, and so releases in a burst of cathartic song. I wish I had the know-how to describe the musical phrasing, time signatures and everything in this amazing song. There’s a very good high-quality version on YouTube in which you can hear all the things I can't express. Dave is angry and despairing:
How long must I travel on/To be just where you are?/Mindless child of motherhood/You have lost the thing that's good
I love it even though I have no idea what the phrase ‘mindless child of motherhood’ means. It doesn’t matter.

Delicate intro, then each time George sings the title, the guitar lets loose with a cry of its own, a strangled sob if you like, each slightly different to the last, before a sustained solo and final burst of wailing. Eric Clapton played lead guitar on this although he wasn’t credited on the album.

Wiki facts: 136 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, 7 in the 100 Greatest Guitar Songs of All Time and 10 in the Beatles 100 Greatest Songs. A Guitar World poll in February 2012 elected it the best of Harrison's Beatles-era songs.
But still not deemed good enough to be released as a single.

George explains the genesis of the song:
‘I wrote While My Guitar Gently Weeps at my mother's house in Warrington. I was thinking about the Chinese I Ching, the Book of Changes... . The Eastern concept is that whatever happens is all meant to be, and that there's no such thing as coincidence - every little item that's going down has a purpose. While My Guitar Gently Weeps was a simple study based on that theory. I decided to write a song based on the first thing I saw upon opening any book - as it would be relative to that moment, at that time. I picked up a book at random, opened it, saw 'gently weeps', then laid the book down again and started the song.’
I look at the world and I notice it's turning/While my guitar gently weeps/With every mistake we must surely be learning/Still my guitar gently weeps


Follows a similar pattern to While My Guitar – a pretty guitar introduction, matched by the more insistent, louder guitar refrain that follows. This song is really optimistic and open, the tone reminscent of Dave’s song Wait till the Summer Comes Along. Dave’s supposedly down but still looking on the bright side. George says:
‘Here Comes the Sun was written at the time when Apple was getting like school, where we had to go and be businessmen: 'Sign this' and 'Sign that'. Anyway, it seems as if winter in England goes on forever; by the time spring comes you really deserve it. So one day I decided I was going to sag off [bunk off] Apple and I went over to Eric Clapton's house. The relief of not having to go and see all those dopey accountants was wonderful, and I walked around the garden with one of Eric's acoustic guitars and wrote Here Comes The Sun.’
Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter/Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here/Here comes the sun/Here comes the sun, and I say/It's all right

Something (1969)
Finally George scores an A-side but having said that, the song was still originally handed to Joe Cocker, who released it first.
There’s a build of momentum, a gradual ascent, the guitar parts adding colour and texture before the peak of the bridge, which arrives like a tiger bursting through a paper hoop.

Wiki facts: The Beatles version topped the US Billboard charts and went top five in the UK. Covers by over 150 artists (including Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, James Brown, Shirley Bassey, Tony Bennett and Eric Clapton) make it the second-most covered Beatles song after Yesterday. Harrison’s favourite take on the song was apparently James Brown's, which he put on his personal jukebox.


The song's lyrics were taken from the title of a song by fellow Apple artist James Taylor, Something in the Way She Moves, and used as filler while the melody was being developed. The song's second line, ‘Attracts me like no other lover’ was the last to be written; during early recording sessions for Something, Harrison alternated between two placeholder lyrics: ‘Attracts me like a cauliflower’ and ‘Attracts me like a pomegranate’.
George's delivery is impassioned:
You're asking me will my love grow/I don't know, I don't know/You stick around and it may show/I don't know, I don't know/Something in the way she knows/And all I have to do is think of her/Something in the things she shows me/I don't want to leave her now/You know I believe and how
George tends to consider the bigger picture; Dave considers the actual picture; Ray is examining a flaw in the frame but more of Ray's delectable talent in a later blog.

Philosophy and religion
Dave and George both embraced yoga, became vegetarian and developed a mutual interest in Hinduism, Indian deities (My Sweet Lord was written in praise of Krishna but the singing of Allelujah allowed it to appeal to Christians) and Eastern religions and philosophy in general but, as usual, this blog is already too long. At the Satsang weekends, Dave emphasises inclusivity and although his beliefs might be based on Eastern concepts, he also calls on ‘Master Jesus’ and sings a version of Hare Krishna, in which everyone participates. George says:
‘All religions are branches of one big tree. It doesn't matter what you call Him just as long as you call.’
I don't think it could be put any better than that and it seems a good line to end on.

[Dave covers Give me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth), which has been released on the tribute album Songs from the Material World: George Harrison.]
[Another blogger also considers some of these similarities.]

[Thanks to KindaKinks site and Wikipedia.]



Wednesday, 13 March 2013

Opinion8: Protest Songs

A blog that lists 8 of the best/worst/most common of any example, including songs, movie clichés, movies, best characters and so forth, some with explanation, some needing none.

So, here are my eight favourite songs with a message, songs that highlight an issue, a condition or a cause.Links to the songs in the titles.

1 Bullet and a Target – Citizen Cope
Vital, immediate, intelligent, heartfelt, you can't beat Citizen Cope. There’s so much going on musically when you listen carefully. I particularly love the syncopated handclaps.
‘Mrs Dalai Lamas/Another sister's shootin' heroin tomorrow/Amputees in Freetown, Sierra Leone's/The church wasn't honest/The state put the youth in a harness/Creatin' hostility among us/Teacher said no college/Still the kid's gonna get a check/With a couple of commas/People wanna bomb us/More people gotta scatter and run from us’
The second to last line quoted I heard as ‘People want Obamas’ which I think is even better.


2 For America – Jackson Browne
Passion and disillusion, a fiery combination. Lights the touchpaper every time. Jimmy Guterman calls it ‘both a prayer and a love song, which damns 'a generation's blank stare.’
‘I have prayed for America/I was made for America/Her shining dream plays in my mind/By the rockets' red glare/A generation's blank stare/We better wake her up this time’

This version reminds me of how I used to listen to Bob Marley songs, taped off the radio, playing on a small radio cassette recorder I insisted on carrying round everywhere, even on country walks, to my Dad’s dismay. A song that transcends age, gender, class and race with consummate ease, that is as at home on my radio cassette as it is at the ATP Tennis Players’ Party in Monte Carlo.
‘Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery/None but ourselves can free our minds’

Love the spirit, love the lyrics, love the tone, Prince’s show and tell, with urgent vocals and laidback beat, is totally compelling.
‘In France a skinny man/Died of a big disease with a little name/By chance his girlfriend came across a needle/And soon she did the same/At home there are seventeen-year-old boys/And their idea of fun/Is being in a gang called the Disciples/High on crack, totin’ a machine gun’
A plea to us all to recognise the suffering of others and stop feeling sorry for ourselves, his gentle strumming and what sounds like a lot of echo on his voice somehow make this even more convincing.
‘In the all-night café/At a quarter past eleven/Same old man sitting there on his own/Looking at the world/Over the rim of his tea-cup/And each tea lasts an hour/And he wanders home alone’





Beginning with the ambient sound of a relaxed gathering, to set the scene. They say a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down and Marvin's honey tones and a gorgeous tune do the trick here. It sounds like peace, if peace had a sound.
Mother, mother/There's too many of you crying/Brother, brother, brother/There's far too many of you dying/You know we've got to find a way/To bring some lovin' here today yeah/Father, father/We don't need to escalate/You see, war is not the answer/For only love can conquer hate/You know we've got to find a way/To bring some lovin' here today, oh (oh)

Oh for the days when people used to protest properly, peacefully, over things that actually mattered.
‘Well, come on all of you, big strong men/Uncle Sam needs your help again/He's got himself in a terrible jam/Way down yonder in Vietnam/So put down your books and pick up a gun/We're gonna have a whole lotta fun’

More of a lament than a message song but simple, melancholic and conducive to contemplation.
‘Has anyone here seen my old friend Martin?/Can you tell me where he's gone?/He freed a lot of people/But it seems the good die young, yeah/I just looked around and he was gone.’








Extract from another blog, bemoaning the lack of ideas in most current chart music. This blog can be found here.
The charts are full of these so-called songs, which consist of one refrain, sung or played over and over ad infinitum, often this refrain being a sample from an older song (so not even an original tune), usually with all the passion or feeling leached out of it, so it sounds as if it’s been sung by an auto-tuned automaton (again the Black-Eyed Peas are a perfect example with their soulless rendition of ‘Time of My Life’) and then some extremely childish rap with clichéd rhymes, for example, ‘it’s the girls on the coast, I like the most’, or words repeated ‘I see my friends, friends, friends’ or mingled with uninsightful lyrics, such as Jlo’s ‘Let me introduce you to my party in the club’. This nonsense spreads like wildfire. It’s infinitely depressing to me to think that this is all anyone wants to hear: songs with the singer boasting about how sexy they are, how they’re going to rock the club, or repeating their own names, etc. There are occasional exceptions, such as Beyoncé’s ‘Halo’ but they really only serve to prove the rule. Sometimes there’s a snatch of a pleasant-enough tune but the mindless drivel of words that accompanies it is like Chinese water torture - it infiltrates everything until it’s ubiquitous and erodes my will to live. Nobody wants to hear real sentiments or ideas any more. Gone are the days of wordsmiths and tunesmiths like Neil Young or Gordon Lightfoot. Or rather gone are the days when writers of such calibre could achieve mainstream recognition while expressing different takes on society or challenging ideas. In the 60s and 70s, it was considered a virtue to write something deep, moving or politically resonant. Now it’s a very difficult climate for intelligence or authenticity. There are musicians out there who are creating worthwhile songs, whose lyrics have integrity, like Citizen Cope, but the market is on the decline.

Other contenders
Ohio – Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
For No One – Barclay James Harvest
What's Going On – Marvin Gaye
Vietnam Cowboys – Ray Davies
Angola (Wrong Side of the Law) – Ray Davies
Give Me Love, Give Me Peace on Earth – George Harrison
Old Empire – Nova Mob
A Gallon of Gas – the Kinks
Dead-End Street – the Kinks
Shipbuilding – Robert Wyatt
Flag Day – the Housemartins
One in Ten – UB40
Get over It – Eagles
Goodnight, Saigon – Billy Joel

Wistful wish-fulfilment
Harvest for the World – Isley Brothers
Give Peace a Chance/Imagine – John Lennon
Earth Song/Heal the World – Michael Jackson




Friday, 1 March 2013

Dave Davies and George Harrison: Parallel Lives Part I


I’ll confine the first part of this blog to the early- to- mid-60s to make it more manageable.

I’ve already written a little about Dave’s guitar in the Kinks and the vital presence he was live and now I’m going to focus on his vocals and his songwriting.

I’ve been wondering whether there are parallels in Dave’s contribution to the Kinks with George Harrison’s to the Beatles: both lead guitarists, both great guitarists, neither of them as prolific in output as the main songwriter/s in the band. I would argue that some of the songs they did write had more emotional intensity. It’s an interesting jumping-off point for a reconsideration of Dave’s role in the Kinks.

I read in a recent article that George only managed to get about one song on each Beatles album. Whether this was his choice, I don't know. With Dave, it seems to me that he was probably discouraged by the facility and ease with which Ray turned out songs and possibly by the sheer number he came up with. Plus what demotivated Dave would motivate Ray.

I was going to write that one difference was that George only ever sang his own compositions with the Beatles but fact-checking proved me wrong. He did sing lead on at least a couple of Lennon and McCartney tunes (I'm Happy Just to Dance with You, Do You Want to Know a Secret); Dave sang on more of Ray’s songs than this and both Dave and George sang lead vocals on a number of covers. It’s not exactly clear how the decision about who would sing what was made. A few times in X-Ray, Ray mentions that he thought Dave’s voice would suit a song better or that he wrote a song for Dave, for instance, he says:
‘We recorded Come On Now [I love the version on the Picture Book set that I was lucky enough to win at the first Satsang weekend, when Dave gets the words wrong and has to restart twice, with laughter and comments in between], which I had written for Dave to sing as the B-side of our next single, Tired of Waiting for You’. 
This is par for the course – the track Dave sang (or wrote) would be the B-side even when it was exceptional like I’m Not Like Everybody Else, also originally written for Dave. Later Ray might change his mind about who should sing as he did with the latter.

Anyway, I’ve started to digress onto Dave’s vocals so let’s go.

Dave was crucial, especially in the early days, with his signature guitar sound on songs like You Really Got Me (discussed in more detail elsewhere) and his powerful lead vocal on original songs and the aforementioned covers that were then a staple of Kinks sets. Ray realises that certain of these fit Dave’s ra(n)ge and the urgency of his delivery, for instance, the rock/blues numbers, Milk Cow Blues, I’ve Been Driving on Bald Mountain, Beautiful Delilah and the Ray songs of the same ilk, such as I Don’t Need You Any More, all of which he interprets with exuberance, with his own potent feral amalgam of anger and sexual energy. Of course Ray also sang covers but not to the same extent and not with the same gusto.

COVERS
The moods and lyrics of these songs gel perfectly with Dave’s raucously fervent vocals. He may sometimes get the words wrong (remembering words is not his forte) but you never doubt his intent and he brings a credibility to some of these blues/rock standards that I don't think Ray could.

Milk Cow Blues (Sleepy John Estes)
‘Well I've tried everything to get along with you/But I'm gonna tell ya what I'm gonna do/I'm sick of all your crying, gonna leave you alone/If you don't believe I'm going/You can count the days I'm gone/I'm gonna leave/Gonna leave your lovin' baby, oh some day/Well if you don't believe I'm going/Watch me leaving you this way’
Again, who sings which bit is not set in stone. In 1965, I said before that Ray has yet to find his roar while Dave manages to smile and sneer at the same time – he wants to express the frustration in the lyrics but can't hide his delight at getting to sing on TV, so his demeanour and his performance are part-menace, part-glee (with classic hair toss) and pure exultation. Ray comes in and Dave never resumes the lead vocal, a pity as there’s some shameless one-upmanship from him in the 1966 performance. Dave’s voice is hoarse, strained, intense, real, an animal unleashed. His guitar and Mick’s drumming driving the song at points (can hardly hear Pete’s bass, although this song usually depends on it so it’s possibly just this recording), with a final flourish at the end, not that the self-involved French crowd seems to appreciate or notice it. Why is it that the French TV crews always show the audience at the expense of the band? It’s true of tennis tournaments too – the French are so obsessed with themselves that they really think we would rather see a French child or woman in the crowd than the actual tennis players.

Beautiful Delilah (Chuck Berry) 1964
That high rasp in his voice and the way the band race through the song adds a rush of excitement.

Naggin' Woman (Jerry West, Jimmy Anderson) 1965
‘So stop your naggin' woman/Nagging me right off my face/Well baby if you weren't naggin'/Honey you'd be so sweet’

I’ve Been Driving on Bald Mountain (credited to Shel Talmy) 1964

I’m a Lover Not a Fighter (J. D. Miller) 1964
The beginning of the true rock vocal, that fine serrated edge. Dave the Rave lets loose.

Good Golly Miss Molly (John Marascalco/Robert ‘Bumps’ Blackwell, 1958)

EARLY RAY SONGS
I Don’t Need You Any More 1964
Dave’s distinctively rougher-edged lead vocal – is that Ray’s as counterpoint? It doesn’t sound like Ray. Very Beatles-ish, especially the bridge. Dave seems to come in a couple of words into each line, as if for emphasis – he seems to really mean it. His vocals reinforce the bitter triumph in the lyrics.
‘Well I don't need you honey/'Cause things just ain't the same/Since you've been going out with other fellas/Things have really (have) changed/Well I needed you once/But now I'm standing alone/I don't need you any more.’

Wonder Where My Baby Is Tonight 1965



DAVE'S EARLY SONGWRITING
First a comparison of Dave’s One Fine Day 1964 with George Harrison’s Don’t Bother Me 1963
Both of these are completely charming and haven’t received much attention.
Dave’s early songs were perfect for the infant Kinks and for the time, great little pop songs with a Merseybeat feel, I Believed You (1963/4) and One Fine Day (a crime that this wasn’t recorded by the Kinks or Dave; Shel Naylor’s voice has a  similar jagged edge but I would still love to hear Dave sing it) – a song as energetic, fresh, irrepressible and irresistible as Dave himself. Simple but effective and similar in tone and story to George’s initial input with the Beatles, Don’t Bother Me, a song that George himself dismisses but which I think is on a par with or even superior to what Lennon and McCartney were writing at the time, just as One Fine Day compares favourably with Ray’s I Need You, admittedly only a B-side (ok I know many of you love it and Ray does too but I find it pedestrian). Lost girlfriends are the subject of the songs but the jaunty tunes suggest the boys are pretty philosophical about their losses.

Weirdly the vocal on I Believed You doesn’t sound like either Ray or Dave. It sounds more like George.

Got My Feet on the Ground 1965
A song credited to Dave and Ray that Dave races through with such a burst of breathless optimism that the first line at first listen sounds like ‘La la la la la’ when in fact he is singing words, just failing to enunciate them in his hurry. A breath of fresh air in comparison to some of the material the Kinks did release: Everybody’s Gonna Be Happy and Who’ll Be the Next in Line. Not that Ray wasn't writing truly beautiful songs at this time that never got further than demo stage: I’ve Got That Feeling, Tell Me Now So I’ll Know. Perhaps there were simply too many to go round..

Wait till the Summer Comes Along 1965
I know my summer'll never come/I know I'll cry until my dying day has come/Let the winter roll along/I've got nothing left but song.

I think it’s always difficult in a band when one person is a prolific composer as Ray was. Dave’s situation reminds me of Grant Hart’s in Husker Du, with Bob Mould churning out tunes constantly and therefore believing he had more of a claim to tracks on an album, while Grant wrote much more from emotion as Dave does.

In the beginning, Dave was obviously having way too much fun to knuckle down to songwriting. It wasn’t something he felt obliged to do, Ray being the one who reacted to the pressure from the record companies and the pressure he put on himself. Neither have Dave and responsibility ever been on great terms so it was natural for him to leave this up to Ray in the 60s when there were so many other distractions (sex, drugs and alcohol). Ray was asked to provide a song for each episode of a six-week series called Where Was Spring:
‘I had the brief for a song on a Thursday, wrote it on Friday and it went out on Saturday’.
It’s almost as if he welcomes the opportunity to work to this gruelling schedule. I can imagine what Dave would have said if asked to deliver songs like this, probably something ruder than this:
‘I don’t function that well being pushed. Being inspired, I can go on forever.’ (Dave in Uncut interview).

Ray seems to thrive on pressure, rises to the challenge, even seems to welcome the task of exercising his ingenuity within certain constraints. Dave is the total opposite. While Dave might rail against the confines and mores of the system, Ray works within it, slyly subverting and denigrating it. Dave has a knee-jerk negative reaction to anything restrictive and once things get difficult or too much like a chore, he bails. Telling Dave to do something (especially when he was young) would probably ensure that there was little chance that he would do it. He would see any limits (time, studio) as an attempt to circumscribe his imagination but also, he was far more conscious, still single and carefree, that he was missing out on other opportunities. He had other, more hedonist priorities: making the most of his new-found fame and promise of wealth. Obviously Ray was married with all the responsibilities that entailed while Dave had so far escaped that fate although I’m not sure it would have made much difference. So the idea that Dave should make a solo album to capitalise on his popularity and good looks was destined to fail.

Dave grumbles:
‘It stirred up all the emotions about Sue and I didn’t want to do the bleeding record. I felt I had to do it out of duty rather than out of joy, fun and excitement. They were very exuberant times and there I was, traipsing into the studio to force this stuff out.’

You can imagine that Dave regretted each minute spent cooped up in that small studio, trying to create to order, minutes and hours he could have spent on the town. He has no misgivings about not completing the record but his pent-up feelings for Sue and the situation resulted in some beautiful, heartfelt, soul-searching songs, full of anguish. Being a social animal, he misses the band. But perhaps it wasn’t a bad plan, to give Dave a platform for his creativity, which could be stifled under the barrage of Ray’s new songs. There seemed little space on Kinks releases for these impassioned gems, each wrested from Dave’s soul merely to languish on a B-side. Perhaps this relegation was a punishment for his refusal to complete the album.


George Harrison traversed a similar trajectory, his first Beatles A-side being Something in 1969, with the exquisite While My Guitar Gently Weeps and Here Comes the Sun unbelievably deemed not to be A-side material. I’ll compare these with Dave’s songs from the same era in Part II.

Inspiration
As Mick says in the Imaginary Man documentary, Ray could write a song about anything. For him, it was more of an intellectual process, springing from an idea, whereas for Dave it was primarily cathartic, a release. Dave needed to feel passionate before he was driven to express himself, hence all those rage-filled, melancholy digs at (the much-maligned in song) Sue: Susannah’s Still Alive, This Man He Weeps, Crying, Love Me till the Sun Shines, Funny Face.

It seems like I'm only beginning to scratch the surface so more on the above in Part II plus Eastern religions, mysticism, karma and the lighter side of the comparison.






Friday, 18 January 2013

Jackie Leven: 'To see a world in a grain of sand/And a heaven in a wild flower/Hold infinity in the palm of your hand/And eternity in an hour'*


Poster for Two Tiny Selves benefit
the first of all my dreams was of
a lover and his only love,
strolling slowly (mind in mind)
through some green mysterious land

until my second dream begins —
the sky is wild with leaves; which dance
and dancing swoop (and swooping whirl
over a frightened boy and girl)

but that mere fury soon became
silence: in hunger always whom
two tiny selves sleep (doll by doll)
motionless under magical
foreverfully falling snow.

and then this dreamer wept: and so
she quickly dreamed a dream of spring
— how you and i are blossoming.
(e e cummings)

you find me living in forbidden worlds (Forbidden Worlds)
I don't know how to describe what Doll by Doll sounded like to me when I first heard them. Perhaps poetry’s the easiest way to do it, hence the preponderance of poetry extracts in this review.

Uncharacteristically smiling
But visually … . Imagine one of those soaring aerial shots of Middle Earth (aka New Zealand) in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, sweeping over snow-topped mountain ranges, dipping into lush valleys, swirling through towering forests, from the fantastical Rivendell or Lothlorien to the grim Mordor, you’re halfway there, you have an impression of the vast vistas of a Doll by Doll soundscape – rich and barren, monumental and minute, extreme long shot and extreme close-up. They weren’t just a rock band to me, perhaps because I didn’t see them live, having only learnt they existed after they had ceased to (as explained in my first Jackie blog but at least I wasn’t as late to the party as I was to the Kinks), until they reformed for what I thought was one glorious night at the Borderline in 1995 (apparently they played gigs in Norway and the North of the UK too), but maybe because they didn’t slot into any particular category (New Wave? Post-punk? Straight rock?) – the best music never does. They allowed me a glimpse of a different life, extremes of experience I was still too callow to have encountered but dared to hope I one day would. Perhaps they didn’t achieve commercial success because there was just something so uncompromising about them. They weren’t about to make themselves more palatable to the masses (as the Fleet Foxes did). Theirs weren’t delusions of grandeur.

The thing about Doll by Doll is that they didn’t depend on image, and I loved them through listening to cassette tapes made by my friend (am I really that old?) so had no idea what they looked like. In fact, as I mentioned previously, they looked intimidating – they weren’t part of the floppy-haired, fringed-scarf brigade. They had no uniform. They weren’t constructed to appeal to teenage girls (except weird ones like me who got into them too late). Perhaps that’s one reason they never achieved mainstream success. They never appeared to court it. Too musically accomplished to fit into even the post-punk aesthetic, they were a bona fide rock band without any poodle pretensions.

Ok, more than that – there was total commitment and scary intensity in their music. You never doubted for a moment that Jackie meant what he was singing. I never needed to know what they looked like. Once you heard the music, you knew it wasn’t relevant. I just found this quote from Jackie:

I didn't have a conscious aim in the sense of a manifesto. But I think I wanted to be a severe writer. I like things that are severe. That doesn't mean I like harsh music or harsh art. But I love it when someone puts you into that intense moment of what they're doing. I can't live without that in my own writing. Nothing would ever shake me from that intense, severe thing in the song.

This makes it sound like listening to Jackie or seeing him live was a dark and frightening experience when in fact, it was totally joyful, intimate and full of humour.

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
*(William Blake, from 'Auguries of Innocence')
This is what Jackie and Doll by Doll did so well. I can't say it any better.

I bought all the records (Remember, Gypsy Blood, Doll by Doll, Grand Passion) (there were still record shops in those days) and immersed myself in their blend of poesy and power chords, rage and rhythm, delicacy and dynamism but didn’t hear any more of Jackie until I discovered The Mystery of Love in 1994.

As we remember him
flowers unfold without being told (The Perfect Romance)
It seemed that Jackie had effortlessly shaken off the persona of unadulterated and almost completely unknown Rock God to metamorphose into the poetry-quoting, men’s group-attending singer-songwriter of the mid-90s. Now I know more about the trauma, pain and heartache he experienced and rose above along the way but Jackie always had that alchemical ability to transform tragedy into something astonishing. Although gone, he is far from forgotten as this memorial show proved. I thought he could cheat death, could intone ‘and death shall have no dominion’ and the Grim Reaper would dissolve into ashes like a staked vampire in Buffy. If only.

there is a land beyond the spoken word (More Than Human)
And his solo work proved just as uncategorisable as Doll by Doll. He would variously be labelled Celtic folk, folk rock, singer-songwriter, but labels only diminish him because his scope was simply too broad to be so easily encompassed and because each term conjures up an image of something that is far removed from Jackie (perhaps a bleeding heart liberal or someone over earnest and politically correct – anyone else heard the Hitler’s Henchmen story?), that cannot begin to describe him.

[He has left his mark in literature too, his song ‘Standing in Another Man's Rain’ being misremembered by Ian Rankin for the title of his latest book, ‘Standing in Another Man's Grave’, the Rebus character, a Jackie Leven fan.]

when the neon universe was winking to an end (Stripshow)
And so it came to pass that one night in November, when TFL had decided to shut down the Northern Line, some of the faithful made our way by other means to The Castle Rocks on Finchley Road to attend a memorial concert to Jackie Leven, all proceeds going to Macmillan Cancer Support and Cancer Research UK. This was the second tribute get-together of the week, the first being in Botley, where Jackie lived (visited last year to remember and celebrate with like minds), which was a little too far to travel for one night. I hear it was also a great success. I didn’t really know whether I could bear to hear Jackie’s songs without Jackie’s voice. It couldn’t be the same, of course it couldn’t but in the end it didn’t matter. The passion of the performers and the power of the songs prevailed.

I was never part of the Church of Leven and normally I’m anti anything that deifies a human being yet when I think of Jackie and Doll by Doll, Biblical imagery comes naturally (I’ve already used ‘and so it came to pass’ and ‘faithful’, I can't seem to help myself). Jackie inspires a sort of (ir)reverent devotion and brings out the religious in me. This gathering, the performers, the friends, fans and family, are here to sing Allelujah for Jackie. There’s a spirit of camaraderie, solidarity among musicians and audience alike because we have this one important thing in common.

The Castle Rocks
The Castle Rocks interior is adorned with posters for previous gigs, an illustrated record of its musical heritage. I recently learned that this beautiful, rambling old building is going to be pulled down.

The performers are (not necessarily in exact order of appearance, apologies if I’ve missed anyone out):
Gerry Foster and Joe Shaw, Kevin Hewick,Tom Burgess, Steve and Lucas Chapman Smith (father and son) and then Two Tiny Selves.


i hear it in the deep heart's core
Enjoyed all these performances but Kevin has me in tears with The Fountain Is Red, the Fountain Is White, a favourite of mine that I used to request but which I never heard Jackie perform live. Although heart-breaking to think I’ll never hear Jackie sing this in the flesh, it’s great to hear someone else’s interpretation and very touching.

Of note are Tom’s version of Farm Boy and Steve and Lucas’s Some Ancient Misty Morning (although this Jackie version is sublime). They also play a song that sounds like a tribute to Jackie (at least I hear the lines ‘Sweet Jackie’s Gone’); Joe Shaw tells me it’s called ‘Jackie Leven’s Gone’ but I can't find a version of it anywhere and I’d love to hear it again.

Then the main event:

then the main event: two tiny selves
(Joe Shaw and David McIntosh from Doll by Doll and Kevin Foster and Cody)
The focus is on Doll by Doll songs but the band mixes it up by playing some new tunes. Joe plans to move into more rhythm-based tracks. Joe’s vocal delivery is powerful enough to stand in for Jackie, who I prefer to think of as unavoidably delayed.

Classic Doll by Doll
setlist
(taken from the band’s so some titles might be shortened)
Up; Stripshow; Epicentre; Good Thing; Hey Sweetheart; The Human Face; Roses Are Blue; Don’t Look Down; Main Travelled Roads; Palace of Love

It’s amazing to hear some of these songs again and difficult to single out any for particular attention but here I go:
Stripshow (They could have played the whole of Gypsy Blood and I wouldn’t have complained – it really is an album that needs to be reappraised as a classic) (Jackie exposes the underbelly of the city, revealing its minutiae; elegiac in tone and instrumentation, ‘the city was bursting into flower for the spring’, tenderness and strength intertwined. It’s a great city song, not as romantic as Lloyd Cole’s Downtown, more akin to Simon and Garfunkel’s My Little Town; you get the sense that Lloyd’s only playing at walking on the wild side before hotfooting it back over the tracks while Jackie is submerged in the urban wilderness. Never a dilettante, our man.)
The Human Face (Brilliant delivery of an awesome song)
Don’t Look Down (A Joe Shaw song I presume?) (I would definitely like to hear some of the Two Tiny Selves material again)
Main Travelled Roads (Suitably epic)
Palace of Love (Visceral. I never thought I would dance, well it was more like head-banging. which I haven’t done except in jest since I went through a thankfully brief thrash metal phase in the early 90s, to Palace of Love, the typical climax of a Doll by Doll set. Where do you go from here? Savage, abandoned, pure.)

There are a couple of ladies going wild dancing at the front. We assume they are huge Jackie fans but in fact, it turns out they’ve never heard of him or Doll by Doll, just out celebrating a birthday.

Really we need to leave because there’s no tube station nearby so we have to get a bus to another bus stop and another bus in order to catch a tube to Charing Cross before our last train leaves at 12.10. We are still in The Castle at 11.30 I’m sure. If we miss the last train, there is now no nightbus to Sidcup. We have to get one to New Cross (not the best place to hang out in the early hours of the morning) and then another from there and will still have a way to walk home. But then Joe comes back on stage and starts playing Poortoun and we no longer care.

I suggest my sister ask for Endgame (quoted at the beginning of an earlier blog), a song she's always loved (me too) and a Joe Shaw composition, but he claims not to remember it. How can you forget such a beautiful song? Next time, I hope.

encore
Poortoun; Call Mother (both great choices for an encore and rapturously received)

(Jackie famously thought encores were a pointless affectation. Why walk off and wait to be called back on? He would simply play until the place closed which meant we were even less likely to make the last train.)

But there was no time for Gypsy Blood, Teenage Lightning, Natural or Figure It Out. Or Universal Blue, Marble City Bar, Single Father and The Garden. Jackie was so unbelievably prolific:

One of the many superb Leven albums
Some years ago I noticed that I was writing a lot more songs than I was ever going to record and get released, especially in these times where you can only release one studio album every eighteen months. As I am a writer of genius, this began to worry me more and more. So I went to see my Cooking Vinyl boss, Martin Goldschmidt, to ask him if I could make more records. He said no. I said to him 'Look, The Beatles once released four albums in one year, and nobody said to them, hey that's too many records in one year'. Martin said 'Jackie, this is not 1967 and you are not The Beatles'. We talked some more and we agreed that I could make records under a different name - that name is Sir Vincent Lone.

So this night was about the music but of course Jackie was a raconteur extraordinaire as well so here are some Leven tales I found on YouTube.

The benefit raised £950 and was a fitting tribute and memorial to a much-missed musical genius. We remembered; we celebrated; we danced. What more could we ask?

Just listening to Jackie on YouTube in another of his incarnations, John St. Field, a song called Soft Lowland Tongue and am surprised to see that it’s had over 3,000 views. He really does have a soft lowland tongue on this, so young and gentle.

if you could look inside my heart (Exit Wound)
... you would still see Jackie.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
(The Lake Isle of Innisfree/William Butler Yeats, 1892)