CROWDED HOUSE - Together Alone (1993)

The 1990s was a big decade for the Beatles. Aside from the brief ‘Anthology’ complementing sort-of reformation, you could feel their presence all over the UKs pop music. Britpop modelled itself on the Fab Fours mop-top mod image and Oasis in particular fooled a nation into believing they were The Beatles natural airs. The truth as usual was far more complex; Oasis in fact pedalled a brand of lad-rock far closer to 70s Rolling Stones or even Slade than any of the pop finery The Beatles ever offered. Those ‘All You Need Is Love’ string sections Noel Gallagher was so fond of didn’t make such a strong case for me. The Beatles were always all about great melodious songwriting, musical inventiveness and most of all diversity. By the later albums a rocker, followed by a baroque flavoured ballad, then some psychedelia and even a dash of 1920s kitsch could all easily sit on the same side of an album. A good number of acts were ploughing this versatile furrow but, predictably, it wasn’t the bands shouting the loudest in claim of that achievement who actually managed it.

Crowded House were one band who did. In much the same way as The Beatles, they’d enjoyed big hits with tunes like ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’ and ‘Weather With You’ that pushed all the right commercial buttons in a very uncomplicated, easy on the ear manner. But they too were developing musically and by this, the album of their career, they’d mastered the art of the intelligent, ambitiously crafted and executed pop album to perfection. ‘Together Alone’ is pretty much the Crowded House masterpiece. It’s a record that flows with the unfolding musical narrative of a complete unified piece from start to finish. Starting with ‘Kare Kare’, an introduction that eases the album in like a long forgotten dream in the back of John Lennon’s mind all layered spacey production but propelled by some quietly groovy bass lines. It’s the start of a journey through dispatches of love and relationships in states of torment and rapture, often in the same song. ‘Distant Sun’ encapsulates this perfectly and remains for me one of the greatest love songs ever written. Neil Finn is singing from the perspective of someone who doesn’t pretend to know what the object of his affections wants but is rendered into a state of submittal by his feelings; a state of desire which you feel is only partially reciprocated. The anguish evident by the uncertainty he feels is blatantly apparent as Finn near enough breaks down in his delivery before pulling back to his default setting of just offering love. This is an incredible work that both reflects the anger of Lennon but also the reflective beauty of a McCartney love song.

Everywhere you look there’s stuff to cherish. ‘Locked Out’ is an out and out rocker with an infectious hook. ‘Private Universe’ takes the listener and its subjects to a place where “it feels like nothing matters”. Here too there’s evidence of another strong influence, that of Peter Gabriel. It’s in the atmospheres, the textures of those choppy layered guitars and sustained notes, played for mood rather than dazzle very much in that David Rhodes or Daniel Lanois idiom you’ll hear on Gabriels albums. There’s more than a suggestion of World Music to some of the drumming too. This is music built to last; to this day I’ve only got to utter the words “I don’t feel too well” for that gorgeous aching mandolin figure from ‘Pineapple Head’ to play in my mind, before the swirling lift of the chorus part raises my spirits. That’s the trick that Crowded House pull off here time and again, the hope. Anyone can wallow in melancholy or misery but to effortlessly temper the mood with swathes of optimism, not many can pull that one off with such ease. ‘Nails In My Feet’ is another reflective relationship study with an aggressive electric guitar part in the middle that changes in a flash to a temporary beautiful resolution; “and it brings me relief” indeed. When the album closes on the title track, with a chorus of what sounds like an African chant (another Gabrielesque touch) resolving the previous tension on a celebratory note, the only reaction is just to pause and consider what an amazing piece of work this is. Then listen to it all again; this is music that pulls the happy/sad, major/minor strings of the musical language with awe inspiring dexterity.

Essex Boy Rating: 10/10

PETER GABRIEL - Peter Gabriel 1 (1977)

The 1970s was a big era for artists who had previous success in a band or collaborative set-up stepping out and finding their feet in solo endeavour. In so doing these first individual long players could often throw up real curios in the catalogue, particularly if the subsequent career found its own unique style or niche. Paul Simon’s first post-Simon & Garfunkel release pointedly drove very close to the folky template of his duo work, yet later he would gain real distinction with a fusion of African and Brazilian sounds married to his studied songwriting. Lou Reed went the other way after the Velvet Underground, first releasing a rather over-produced debut solo album that bore little Velvets resemblance and would go on to sit uncomfortably alongside the best of his catalogue. As lead singer of the early 70s incarnation of Genesis, Peter Gabriel was pitched midway between David Bowie and Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson in his role as flamboyant frontman. A cocktail of freaky, fluorescent-eyed alien shaken with a flute-wielding, flower-headed, long-haired English eccentric. Period pundits would have had Gabriel’s own post-Genesis work propelling him to stardom on the back of the over-the-top characterisations and theatrics.

A quick first listen to ‘Peter Gabriel 1’ must have confirmed these theories. Grand opening track ‘Moribund The Burgermeister’ is part ELO’s ‘The Diary Of Horace Wimp’ (I know it came later, it’s just a reference point) and part BBC Radiophonic Workshop ‘Dr Who’ monster music with its scary/funny voice effects. Not in any way a bad tune, quite epic in its 70s way with a story of mysterious mass disturbance, but if Gabriel had made a video to accompany this tune it would surely have to have featured Tom Baker and an unconvincing green menace done up in bubblewrap! With the next song though, the real mission statement of the album is definitively revealed. ‘Solsbury Hill’ is not just a Peter Gabriel classic but one of the most enduring songs of the 1970s. A big hit at the time, it’s a gently bouncing stroll through a catchy folk-rock declaration of breaking away and freedom. Best of all it makes its points using little more than lolling rhythm, infectious acoustic guitar pattern, a decisively sung vocal and crucially, a great original song. And therein lies the focus of the whole album, perhaps the one aspect of his arsenal that Gabriel had undersold in the democratic Genesis setup; he is a seriously strong songwriter.

Seemingly determined to prove his range he covered numerous styles here. The out and out rock of ‘Modern Love’ would have been no surprise to anyone familiar with ‘The Knife’ or the more aggressive moments on ‘The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway’. But how about the straight faced barbershop outing ‘Excuse Me’ or a sincere, and accurate, Randy Newman pastiche like ‘Waiting For The Big One’? Not everything works; there are a couple of quite bland rock tracks in a mould that he would never return to. His long standing belief that ‘Here Comes The Flood’ isn’t captured to full effect is correct; guitarist Robert Fripp plays a key role throughout and it’s on his own ‘Exposure’ album that a more believable version, with Peter Gabriel on vocals, is to be found. In the oncoming years Gabriel would always indulge his love of studio innovation, experimentation and creative production. Never again would the basic strength of songwriting be the main focus of his albums. Arguably ‘So’ returned to the immediacy found here a little, but even then that fat 80s production and the ground breaking work put into the videos would leave more of an impression. Here is Peter Gabriel establishing a solo career with one question put to bed immediately, can he write songs outside of Genesis that are both musically stylish and strong on melody and feel? Yes he can.

Essex Boy Rating: 7/10

BELLE & SEBASTIAN – If You’re Feeling Sinister (1996)

More than the difficult to locate debut album, this was the record that propelled Belle & Sebastian into a wider recognition. A militant following planning well timed purchases of 45s could gain most acts of an indie persuasion a healthy singles chart position but Belle & Sebastian’s impact went a little deeper. Their fans organised themselves enough to wrestle a Brit Awards vote that, presumably, couldn’t see any threat to the nationwide exposure about to be bestowed upon its latest pop product. I personally found it delicious that Belle and Sebastian beat Steps to the Best Newcomer award or some such thing at the Brit Awards around this time. Isn’t it obvious that a band writing literate, melodic pop music with dexterous production and instrumentation is better than a band of stage school muppets doing Bee Gees karaoke? Well I thought so but there was still quite a storm about it at the time, the problem appearing to be that most of the people who liked Steps hadn’t even heard of Belle & Sebastian (and I know from years of DJing Essex weddings that if people haven’t heard of something it doesn’t really exist). I look back on it as a rare example of mainstream musical justice, like those once in a blue moon moments that a genuinely great record is number one. Sorry pop pickers but Steps just weren’t tackling subject matter like predatory catholic ministers pouncing on the troubled and vulnerable who were “into S&M and bible studies”. Instead they covered ‘Tragedy’ and did a song about counting on from the number 5. They couldn’t write a song that referenced Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic ‘Don’t Look Back’ because after all, that was before any of Steps were born and weren’t all the normal people watching the film ‘Titanic’ around this time anyway? Everyone was happy in the end though as Steps were honoured with a Brit Award the following year and the witty counts even thanked Belle & Sebastian for not being a nominee during their acceptance speech.

‘If You’re Feeling Sinister’ doesn’t quite edge it over ‘Tigermilk’ for me but the general critical consensus seems to believe it’s better; I say it’s a close run thing. Opener ‘The Stars Of Track And Field’ isn’t quite such an epic beginning as that found on the debut, it comes close but I’d stop short of calling it a classic. Belle & Sebastian settle into their baroque-pop template with this album, ‘Seeing Other People’ is a fine example of this with its swirly keyboard patterns winding through minor chord progressions as the lyrics smartly convey the floored reasoning of a couple convincing themselves they’re not in a relationship. ‘Me And The Major’ has wild harmonica that vamps up the folk-rock levers while the fey vocal delivery of the title track plays right into the hands of those who’d dismiss the band as precious; it’s a very good song mind. This is a record that works from start to finish as a unified whole and I have to say the closing ‘Judy And The Dream Of Horses’, despite an all round tweeness, is a really powerful ending. I can remember feeling a little frustrated at the time that some great singles I’d heard on the radio weren’t included here but I respected that too; the band firmly sticking to that 60s tradition of keeping singles as singles so fans got value for money and the pop charts got some decent music. Britpop had blanded-out depressingly by 1996-7 leaving a huge gap for Belle & Sebastian to move into, they were badly needed. This long player required a little more effort of the listener but it complemented a portfolio that was already boasting some legendary EPs; the timelessness of the sound and the superior nature of the songwriting has seen it age extremely well.

Essex Boy Rating: 8/10

GORILLAZ - Gorillaz (2001)

Here’s an Essex boy made good and no mistake. Undoubtedly Damon Albarn changed the whole 1990s UK music landscape with Blur; that he didn’t rest on that laurel but went on to an even greater palette of musical expression with this venture is nothing short of genius. To be aware of the tools required to attract a new 21^st Century pop audience is astute; to execute the project without a trace of dumbing down or blanding out is a miracle. It’s a good job he did wrap this up with the Gorillaz identity though, completely removing his direct involvement as far as most people were concerned. You can’t imagine Damon being able to put out a song under his own name which basically calls up the A1/M1, from South to North, wondering if there’s “anyone there?” For all I know it could well be a dig at what he saw as a lack of anything challenging musically coming down from “up north”, but had he done that in 2001 under his own name then that whole Blur/Oasis feud thing would’ve re-surfaced in a way that most people had terminally tired of. Done this way, I don’t recall anyone noticing (which maybe makes it a pointless gesture but there you go).

Coming back to this album, it’s been a few years since I first listened but what occurs now is just how much I really bought into the Gorillaz idea back in 2001. Asked at the time and I’d probably have expressed my admiration for this album but stated firmly, as a Blur fan, that I couldn’t wait for their new release. I mean that seems pretty stupid now, it’s totally clear that any work Albarn was involved in with Blur around 2000 (remember ‘Music Is My Radar’?) carried on seamlessly into this project. The first two tracks ‘Re-Hash’ and ‘5/4’ alone are all Damon vocals, choppy guitars and a fairly standard indie-rock beat. No major changes at all in fact, it makes you wonder if this record was initially conceived as a solo project with the Gorillaz concept coming quite late on. It isn’t until the fifth track that a rapper, or the suggestion that Albarn is anything other than at the centre of all this, appears with the classic debut single ‘Clint Eastwood’ but what a classic it still is. A statement in all but name of Damon’s newfound musical liberation from Blur as the rap boasts “finally someone let me out of my cage!”

The tunes do slowly develop the ideas of a Dub, Hip-Hop, World, Electro-Punk mish-mash that Damon seems to have wanted to develop but his ear for strong melody, even when experimentally feeling through some kind of jazzy-space-rock avenue on ‘Double’, always ensures that this isn’t a difficult listen. ‘Rock The House’ could fit like a glove onto a compilation of classic late-80s ‘daisy age’ Hip-Hop and by the time you hit the grooveadelic anthem of ’19-2000’ Albarn’s nailed it. Having to tone down his flair for beats and funky bass after an artistic breakthrough like this album, just to appease the dance-phobic Graham Coxon in Blur, must have been an unwelcome challenge. It’s little wonder they split really, ‘Gorillaz’ is a breathtaking eclectic triumph.

Essex Boy Rating: 9/10

SPOON - Transference (2010)

Spoon have been around for longer I know, but for the past ten years (the whole of the 21^st Centuries first decade) they have been releasing a steadily improving series of fantastic guitar pop albums. Pretty much from 2002’s ‘Kill The Moonlight’ they have just got better and better. ‘it’s unusual for a fairly textbook indie-band set up to be so highly rated by me during this period, a time when the whole genre just got so tedious with people like Snow Patrol and Razorlight that I generally felt nothing but hatred for it. But whereas a band like Athlete would just grunt their mid-tempo 4/4 way through some grade one guitar chords and emotion-by-numbers lyrics, a criminally under-rated band like Spoon has consistently struck upon genuine inspiration. With a combination of concise, witty and not in the least over-emphasised lyrics and a sound that calls upon some dramatic musical structure, occasional funkiness and something your standard indie band can’t get close to, soul, Spoon set a guitar pop standard that few have even bothered to recognise, let alone match or take inspiration from. And so it goes that they remain a relative underground pleasure, none more indie, and this 2010 release appeared on the horizon with eager anticipation from me and basically nobody else I know.

It did appear to get a little more fanfare in the press than before and there has been the vaguest hint that the band themselves have pushed it that bit harder in the UK (well they’ve been over here three times this year and even done a festival). Sorry to say though that this was not the album that Spoon needed that extra push with, however bigger exposure for the two albums before this and things could have been very different. ‘Transference’ isn’t a bad album by any stretch but, by the bands own admission, this is the record that they jammed into being in the studio and as such, it lacks some of the carefully constructed moments of pop brilliance we’ve enjoyed before. There isn’t really an out and out killer single here and there are one or two tracks that feature some slightly featureless extended instrumental sections. There are some very good songs where Spoon play to their strengths; ‘Is Love Forever?’ is short and choppy but its great lyric and unanswerable question give it some weight: “some ex-girlfiend, call her Heather, whispers to me ‘is love forever’?” There’s nothing wrong with a ham-fisted rhyme you know! Overall though I think there’s just that bit of magic missing that they had before. Not a backwards step then but a sideways one, there’s still enough here to suggest that Spoon might yet cause a stir in the future if they scoop up something a little tastier.

Essex Boy Rating: 6/10

CHET BAKER - Chet (1959)

If you’re familiar with the Elvis Costello classic ‘Shipbuilding’, Costello’s own version of it, then you’ll already know of the genius in the trumpet playing of Chet Baker. Know the tune ‘My Funny Valentine’? Does it arrive in your head played on a mournful trumpet? If so that’s Chet too, probably his most famous recording in fact. It doesn’t appear on this album, I’m just trying to set the scene a little. When it comes to iconic, melodic Jazz playing trumpeters then Chet’s your man. It’s not just Costello who was the high profile admirer; turns out Cricketer Andrew ‘Freddie’ Flintoff has Chet on his iPod so I’m in good company with this one!

It seems to me there are two dominant styles of Jazz trumpet; those who kick out, bop, improvise and rattle out more notes than it’s possible to keep up with and then those whose restraint and feel for the melody can make them seem so laid back you fear they’ll fall off their stall. The bulk of Chet Baker’s stuff definitely falls into the latter category, although from the start of the 60s to his 1987 death the only thing constantly knocking him off his perch was a massive drug addiction. In his 50s prime his playing had so much feel and mood, such weightlessness and space that his playing is pretty much the most soulful sound you’ll find in Jazz. It’s comes over moody and remote, darkly penetrating the smoky fog of time with his heart wrenching sound. Killing you softly with his song if you will. When Chet Baker plays ‘September Song’ on this album you know straight away what song it is, he instantly owns it effortlessly playing the most dazzling, virtuosic instrumental version I’ve ever heard.

That’s the way all through this album; minimal backing, just delicate drums, a touch of deep double bass here and a little haunting cello there. Occasionally Chet just drops out altogether as flutist Herbie Mann takes a few bars. As with all great song interpreters it’s the tune that rules, this isn’t about showmanship but purely recording beautiful, beautiful music. I can think of few other sounds as resonant as when Chet just holds a single note with sustain, hanging in the air as it starts to vibrate from side to side. That’s exactly what all the best Jazz players are trying to do anyway, find the notes within the notes, the blue note! Chet could do that in his sleep and it was incredible to hear him do it.

Apparently the Chet Baker back catalogue is erratic due to his signing numerous ill advised recording deals because a need for cash would override artistic integrity. This is my first album by him but I know there will be more; I once heard the ‘Chet Baker With Strings’ album on vinyl so I know that’s one I’ll want to own in the Essex Boy Library at some point so watch this space. After all, so what if his essential stuff was confined to the 1950s? If there are several Chet Baker albums of this quality knocking about then we should just be grateful for that. Hey, how many quality Kenny G albums are out there exactly?

Essex Boy Rating: 8/10