A Yorkshireman of a certain age who likes most genres of music and most makes of old car. Travel is a joy, not least to escape the British winter. Travel by bicycle is bliss and if I’m not lost in music then I’m lost in a daydream about a hot day, tens of miles to cover and the promise of a great campsite and a beer. I like to think I’m always learning and becoming wiser. However, on the latter point evidence is in short supply.
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Girls Night Out (Reba McEntire, Carly Pearce, Jennifer Nettles & Gabby Barrett) / Mama He’s Crazy (Lainey Wilson & Dolly Parton) / Why Not Me (Megan Moroney) / Grandpa (Tell Me ‘Bout The Good Old Days) (Cody Johnson & Sonya isaacs) /Rockin’ With The Rhythm Of The Rain (Ashley McBryde & Shelly Fairchild) / Young Love (Strong Love) (Ella Langley & Jamey Johnson) / Have Mercy (LeAnn Rimes) / Love Is Alive (Gwen Stefani & Blake Shelton) / Had A Dream (For The Heart) (Wendy Moten & O.N.E. The Duo) / I Know Where I’m Going (Mandy Barnett, Shelby Lynne & Emily West) / Let Me Tell You About Love (Carl Perkins & Raul Malo) / John Deere Tractor (Rob Ickes, Trey Hensley & Molly Tuttle) / Cry Myself To Sleep (Wynonna Judd & Trisha Yearwood) / Love Can Build A Bridge (Jelly Roll, K Michelle & The Fisk Jubilee Singers)
Naomi Judd and her daughter, Wynonna, had considerable success from the mid 1980s to 1991 before disbanding. Wynonna then pursued a solo career whilst Naomi dealt with hepatitis C, joining her daughter for occasional reunions. Success meant 14 number one singles and numerous awards including five Grammys. Such was their profile that their lives became a soap opera in the US tabloids, as personal strife seemed to define their relationship. Naomi had climbed a literal mountain in pushing the Judds to pre-eminence. Their story has the usual episodes of fortune but also a lot of tenacity, resilience and ambition. The tribute is overdue and, sadly, was kick started when Naomi died by her own hand in 2022. This release is a partnership with the US National Alliance of Mental Illness.
Wynonna and Naomi Judd
The Judds were coached, crafted and produced by Brent Maher and Don Potter, not least their signature harmonies. (Potter also played guitar and arranged the songs.) Their sound was ideal as radio friendly country pop. It’s easy to comprehend why the duo have a special place in the history of country music and the hearts of millions of older fans. Naomi strove for a decade to get the break and when it came it came quickly. It must have been a remarkable feeling to suddenly find yourself rich and top of the charts at the age of 38 after previous penury.
There is alchemy present in the Judds’ legacy: the commanding and expressive voice of Wynonna (who took all the lead vocals), Naomi’s harmonies and excellent songs split between uplifting movers and ballads and their acoustic foundation. Keeping it simple and country was a winning formula and their legend was assured. The selection here includes the major hits and most arrangements are broadly faithful to the originals, helped by having Maher back producing it show cases the Judds’ original sound. There’s nothing here that doesn’t do justice to the project except Meg Moroney’s version of the iconic hit Why Not Me. She doesn’t have the voice or phrasing.
The contributors are galactic but I particularly like, the roots/bluegrass with Rob Ickes, Trey Hensley and Molly Tuttle on John Deere Tractor and Gwen Stefani and Blake Shelton on Love Is Alive, seeming to be completely in sync; Stefani has the perfect pitch for the tune. Young Love (Strong Love) finds the ideal voice with Ella Langley. Chet Perkins with Raul Malo really rock and pick the hell out of Let Me Tell You About Love. Perkins may seem a surprise contributor however he played guitar (along with Mark Knopfler on the track he also contributed!) on 1989’s River Of Time album. However, the radically different sounding Love Can Build A Bridge with Jelly Roll and K Michelle make it the best track of the collection and it would sit comfortably in 2023’s charts. Wynonna sings on her own album with Cry Myself To Sleep and it’s considerably more electric and bluesy than the relatively chaste original.
If you’re a Judds fan this is a very enjoyable record; even if you’re new to the duo, then this may help you understand their importance to 80s country music.
Chris Stapleton can do no wrong. Since the Kentucky born songwriter went solo and started to release Grammy nominated albums (alongside duets with Justin Timberlake, Ed Sheeran and Adele) he’s become sizzling hot property in the Nashville music machine.
You can therefore imagine my excitement when Country Music People was offered an exclusive pre-release streaming link for the new record. Words such as ‘confidential’ and ‘embargoed’ were writ large on the email with a link promised to only one person. Being the lucky recipient I radioed back to the mothership, advising that ‘the eagle has landed’. During my training I never imagined a mission so exciting.
The good news is that Stapleton doesn’t veer off his well trodden path and uses the same producer and key band members to back him. He composes or co-writes the songs himself, often with his wife, Morgane, who lends her voice here and there. His yearning and powerful rasping roar is a sound of enormous beauty, pathos and dismantling sincerity. He’s captured millions of followers with these pipes and their release isn’t anytime soon.
Despite the fawning of the country music industry this record is predominantly the poppier end of Southern rock with large doses of blue eyed soul, which explains the enormous commercial success as Stapleton, via cross over, reaches a much larger audience. Country wise then What Am I Gonna Do, Trust,The Day I Die, Crosswind and It Takes A Woman are true to the genre (often with cloying sentimentality.) However, Hall & Oates could perform Think I’m In Love With You and pure rock is evident on the thunderous outings South Dakota, White Horse and The Bottom.
Lyrically the 14 track selection are mainly love songs that take the perspective of a forlorn lover who’s eternally grateful for the affection of a woman he places on a pedestal and forgives his multiple failings. When he slips those tropes he can delight; with the Outlaw romp of Crosswind he’s an 18 wheel trucker “picking up speed on a mission to feed” and “trying to keep all the rubber on 65”. The bass lines, from J T Cure, are worth the price of entry alone.
With this voice he can soothe any heart, touch you with raw emotion and he’s been helping grown men to express their feelings since 2015. Resistance is futile; this will rightly soar up the US country charts and sit there, unassailable, well into 2024.
A constant news strap line is the ‘cost of living crisis’ and inflation, of course it’s true. However, I believe it’s also been a ‘fill your boots’ opportunity for savvy businesses. Many price increases seem excessive relative to the costs experienced. How many things once cost a £1 and now cost £1.50? As we know there is only one direction of travel on price movement and even if the components or ingredients are commodity price based and can fluctuate up or down then the products never seem to fall in price. It’s seldom talked about apart from the grabbing stance of banks that never offer savers the same upward escalation of interest rate changes on savings than they impose on loans or mortgages. The test is just to work out the percentage uplift of goods; does it bear a resemblance to quoted inflation levels? Whilst inflation calculations are an average (of small and large increases) the rises you’ll find on many products outstrip inflation times over. It’s scandalous and yet not covered in the news?
It’s been a while since I cycle toured and hopefully another opportunity isn’t far away next year. With Anna away and the end of Summer Time in sight I decided to pack up my touring bike with the usual touring weight and head up north for an overnight stop. The plan was to return the next day. If this went to plan the knee would cope and I could check out bits of kit that haven’t been used for a couple of years.
I chose a hilly route up to Helmsley and then to Great Ayton (toward Middlesbrough) to a hotel I’d booked. I’d rest up overnight and cycle back on the Sunday. In Helmsley I lost a phone signal for route guidance and passed through the town heading north uphill into bleak open moorland with a certainty I was on the right road. The upshot was that Google Maps failed me with poor reception and was telling me that there was a route ahead but not telling me it was over an often waterlogged and patchy forest track.
My Garmin satellite navigation device completely failed as the device had developed a memory problem. I was now passing no settlements only odd farmhouses some distance from the main road. This was a main road that was occasionally barred by metal gates! So with falling daylight I ended up pushing my bike along a track and if that was difficult it got worse when I came across a forest clearing where loggers were cutting trees and had turned the track into a muddy quagmire with their heavy equipment.
A nice view but not off a rough track with daylight falling!
The operatives, still working, looked up from their work as, late on a Saturday afternoon, I appeared asking if I was on the right track to Great Ayton? Bemused they proverbially scratched their heads and said I had only two options from here: return to Helmsley or go to Kirbymoorside. I not only had the challenge of finding my way with only their directions to help, unclogging my bike mudguards that were stopping the wheels rotating with thick mud and cycling in complete darkness!
A Happy Ending
A
I carry lights and in the darkness and falling temperatures I fell into Kirbymoorside and at 7pm bowled into a busy pub (and hotel), The King’s Head, asking if they had a spare room for the night? Fortunately they did and sanctuary was found. This experience was after 55 miles and climbing 3,632 feet with a heavy bike carrying over 20 kilos plus myself. They had one free room and so I was in luck. The room was £90 (plus the lost cost of the other one I had booked and paid for in Great Ayton!) but noting I was a single occupant they threw in my steak and chips for free. Whilst always dangerous the whole trip was exciting and the ride back to York the next day was uneventful. Oh yes and the knee survived.
In other news then the outings continue with a trip to the cinema to see Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour, “Do I Love You” (The Frank Wilson classic 45) about the Northern Soul scene by John Godber at Pocklington Arts Centre and as for live music a visit to Selby to see Kiki Dee/ Carmelo Luggeri with Anna and then to Hull to see 70s jazz rockers Soft Machine with the Mighty Jessney.
Camelo Luggeri on multiple guitars and the ageless Kiki Dee at Selby Town HallSoft Machine at Wrecking Ball Music and Books, Hull
Lastly I’m enjoying the podcast ‘The History oF England’ by David Crowther. He goes through events slowly explaining in a very accessible way. At the moment I’m listening to the profound events that led up to the English Civil War in the mid 17th Century. This War led to the Parliamentary democracy we know today and a subsequent Constitutional Monarchy: in the UK’s case a ceremonial/figure head arrangement without, frankly, any power. In all this Charles I was executed! I wonder whether all this is taught in schools today? It wasn’t when I was in school (probably not long after the 17th Century!) This seems a set of events that are fundamental to the political system we enjoy (!) today.
He’s been around for some time albeit this appears to be his debut long player. Hailing from South Indiana, gaining a degree in Microbiology and Chemistry, he spent time as a scientist working for Mars before a damascene moment when he decided that songwriting was his destiny and not a corporate life. Joining writing rooms in Nashville he worked up songs for Trace Adkins, Old Dominion and Tim McGraw and never gave thought to be a solo performer. We should be glad he did as this is a stellar release and delivered with a voice that has sonorous tones, authority and when in full roar conveys compelling emotion.
The place to start is Father’s Son, a heartfelt tribute to his recently departed father. A brooding atmospheric ballad with his vocals accompanied by strings and an acoustic guitar high in the mix. It ends with some spoken word: presumably by his father. Grief Is Only Love made me think how observant this analysis is. I’ve never heard it articulated as this before. This is Wilson’s state of mind as he looks back on the loss of his father. Never mawkish he manages to imbue both songs with an exceptional sense of loss and pride.
The production values are exceptional and varied with different rhythms making this an interesting listen over the 22 tracks. It’s often layered and you notice, on repeat listens, strings, choruses and percussion in the background elevating the whole experience. He’s a fine guitarist as well and he experiments with extracting sounds that give the songs edge or bite.
There are many shades of rock throughout often giving it a thunderous sound. In interviews he talks of an eclectic taste from Randy Travis, The National, Willie Nelson, Johnny Mellencamp and Nirvana. With that cocktail it’s obvious it leans toward some rock moments and I would urge you to watch the video for Holler From The Holler that was used as part of a national domestic violence campaign. The story told there, when accompanied by this crashing and moody tour de force, is truly something that’ll stop you in your tracks, it did me.
Moving away from americana he goes country with All The Wars From Now On. A folky tale suggesting that old men should fight wars ‘because they’re old enough to know better’ and they’d show polaroids of their grandchildren to each other and play cards instead. Henry is completely sentimental about a special relationship with a stepson and he mines all the Nashville tropes deliciously.
This is a wonderful hour and a half and one for me to ponder as the end of year lists grow closer.
For all the ex-Moores folk out there then I thought I’d just write up an update. The ‘community’ that is Moores is still thriving and I’m either attending concerts with old colleagues (Charles Greenwood, Steve Jessney and Mark Sutcliffe), out riding my bike (Nick Feasey and Tim Mandle), visiting in Abingdon (Martin Appleyard), occasional dining or drinking (David Cook, Mark Granger, Peter Thorndyke, Andy Radcliffe, Greg Smith, Joe Cannon, Jim Brady, Peter Lawson and David Moore) or sharing nonsense on social media or Strava (Gill Allison, Christian Backhouse, Richard Bywater, Tim Docwra, Richard Fitzmaurice, Danny Gallacher, Janet Lumb, Chris McDermott, Mary Moore, Jo Stocks and Jon Thelwell.) It seems a good tally and the bonds are such that no one ‘works at this’ and it’s 16 years since I left Moores. I’m grateful for these old friends.
(I’m sure there’s others who randomly appear on Instagram or some such occasionally.)
Of specific note was a delightful get together in Arkendale. Andy took time out from a busy work schedule but the rest of us are retired and easily fitted this into our diaries!
Messrs Radcliffe, Greenwood, Thorndyke, Cook and Ives – September 21 2023
I can’t imagine if I’d be able to fathom the prospect that over 40 years after our first meeting in Essex we’d fly out to Spain for a few days of sightseeing, beer and tapas.
We’d started as ambitious yet unproven young men with no track record other than a belief that we could rise up corporate ladders. Whilst this was in the background our main pre-occupation was misplaced vanity, enjoying a good time especially if it involved the company of the opposite sex, live music, beer, playing practical jokes on each other and avoiding the washing up in shared accommodation.
From this revelry to today we’d conquer serious illness, get elected to Parliament, ride a bike solo across America, and quietly assume a senior financial position looking over major acquisitions of international brands.
Neil, I first met in 1974. Early recollections are listening to his Joni Mitchell Court & Spark cassette in my Triumph Herald as we negotiated the Manchester traffic on our way to lectures on Aytoun Street at Manchester Polytechnic. On arrival I’d scour the pavements for ring pulls. There were plenty and I’d push these into a parking meter to obtain parking for the day. Neil and I were put together by the college in digs in Heaton Moor.
Neil
Here we completed our respective degrees before Neil pursued accountancy and I started a career in purchasing. Both our jobs took us south and here we again shared accommodation in Basildon. From here I eventually went north to start a master’s degree and Neil continued, to this day, in corporate finance. My re-appearance in his life probably had a 30 year gap despite being his Best Man at his wedding to Ruth. Today they’re nicely established and partially retired in North London where Neil’s also plugging his EV into a lamppost and saving the planet.
Tim probably appeared in my life in 1979, along with Paul, sharing a house in Billericay (to which I eventually escaped to my own house in Basildon.) Tim also worked at the Ford Motor Company albeit at another plant. Tim’s continuing passions then and now were Wishbone Ash and the Conservative Party. On both counts I was dragged in, as I too liked Andy Powell (one of the two twin lead guitars) and Maggie Thatcher. Tim’s fledgling Tory career was already underway with energetic involvement in various embodiments of the party. By the 1980s he found his way into Parliament to represent a constituency east of London. Before retirement a life in recruitment was his occupation. West London is now his domicile where the Daily Telegraph is his constant companion along with an unhealthy love for Liverpool FC.
Tim
Paul also worked for Ford and luxuriated in being a very authentic Yorkshireman. I think ‘no nonsense and blunt’ is a fitting soubriquet. From an engineering start Paul wasn’t likely to stand still and found his way into sales where he spent his working life travelling the world and being sat in front of senior global players selling ‘solutions’. Yes, whatever that may be! Paul found a bride, Jacquie, and now has four children who he’s enormously proud of and whose age range means he’s still ferrying them from Berkshire up motorways to university or visiting them in their careers in West Australia.
Paul
So after some negotiation at the beginning of the year we elected to move away from the occasional London lunch to Andalusia. We found our own way there and regrouped early in the evening for the first of three delightful dinners. The newly created WhatsApp group (‘The Essex Four’) buzzed happily with updates on travel progress and arrivals.
Conversation at the dinner table rotated around politics (and Tim’s unwavering assertion that he was right and we were wrong), what we’d do as regards sightseeing and who’s round it was. Anna and Katrina did, thankfully, dilute the political content with their later arrival. There had always been a plan for them to fly in. First to stay with other friends along the coast and then for us join up to get the train to Seville. With flights booked they ended up at a loose end when our other friends couldn’t be in Spain at this time.
Sightseeing involved an enormous climb to the Gibralfaro fort where Tim had to bail out toward the top due to feeling frail after a late night drinking at a jazz club. He did show the spirit of 1980 by keeping from his bed past 1 am. We’d abandoned him at the club claiming weariness and I, personally, was still disappointed after a heavy drubbing at table football.
The winning duo… bastards
Tim never contemplated a bike tour due to the possible perception of showing solidarity with a Green agenda by the absence of fossil fuels in our tour of the town. Paul kept him company in the old city and in effect took ‘one for the team‘ by visiting the Picasso Museum. The artist was born in the city. On other cultural exploration Tim opined that all cathedrals ‘were the same’ and side stepped a visit to the architecturally magnificent Catedral de la Encarnación Málaga. Sadly he was correct and I soon stopped listening to the audio guide as we worked our way through numerous saints and endless chapels. However, it is an impressive building.
Evening catering was delegated to Tim and he recommended two of the three night’s venues. It soon became apparent that his communication skills with serving staff merited this leadership rôle. Carmen, a pretty young waitress at our first pre-dinner drink stop, was referred to as ‘a sweet girl’ and at our last restaurant the waiter was brought to heel by ‘my dear boy’.
(No he didn’t eat it all)
Ungenerously he did criticise Paul’s choice of restaurant despite its Tripadvisor near 5 star rating: well earned not least for a magnificent, beautifully lit, view of the cathedral. Tapas was our main pursuit and given the cost of €31 each, with a tip, then we either didn’t eat enough or drink enough! On the latter then the local white wine had a thorough examination suggesting we neglected the food.
The cathedral, from our table
Conversations reminisced between Paul’s famous stream of visitors to our house from South Yorkshire (attractive women, steel workers and the like) and one famous prank where at 3am we crept along to outside a bedroom with a sailing boat foghorn klaxon to awaken Tim who unsurprisingly came to imagining World War 3 was underway. Paul warming to the cultural aspect of Malaga talked about Bath and Seville in some detail thus bewildering Tim who introduced Graeme Souness (Liverpool FC player and ex-manager) into the conversation as his name approximated to Sulis, the local goddess of the thermal springs that still feed the spa baths at Bath. Obviously the alcohol helped this nonsense.
In all these stories there was a hint of sadness as another housemate, Jason, had passed away in 2017 at the young age of 57. Glasses were raised not least because of his active role in all our youthful stupidity. His crowning glory was buying frogs legs and offering up a ‘chicken sandwich’ to Peter, another housemate. Peter, ever enthusiastic for a free sandwich was a lot quicker to accept the kind offer than to finish it when the protein content was divulged as he munched away.
Jason
My hotel was different to the others and I saw maybe more of the city as I trooped in between the two. The centre has tall old buildings, marble pavements and such interesting life whether restaurants, cafes, shops, tourists and churches along my amble. A treat.
On the last morning I volunteered a visit to a car museum – The Automobile and Fashion Museum. This was sensational with some important cars to behold including a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, a gull wing Mercedes and a DB7.
There was ladies fashion but that mainly consisted of mannequins displaying dresses to mollify the bored female visitor I suspect. Naturally Tim didn’t participate despite the preponderance of comforting gas-guzzlers and a welcome return to the 20th Century.
So it was one last quick lunch and then hand shakes, we haven’t progressed to hugs yet, and then Tim and Neil departed toward the airport to return to London. I headed to Seville and Paul to Valencia with his wife. Making memories is the important thing in life and this was a fine few days.
We spent a few nights in the Derbyshire Peak District staying in Bakewell. It truly is a beautiful place and with a bicycle it becomes an idyll. The roads can be busy and steep but any evening drink is well earned. Whilst there we saw some friends and relatives who passed through.
Well Dressing in the PeaksCatherine, Jeff, moi and Anna
Factfulness is a book I can recommend. Written by a Swedish professor and (medical) doctor it, illustrates our general ignorance of what’s happening in the world by posing quizzes that you and other educated readers will get wrong; then he urges people to get the facts before deciding that everything is terrible and we’re doomed. One key prediction is that the population of the world won’t keep growing exponentially. He draws a parallel between Swedish family sizes in the 19th Century and what it is today. He sees that in 21st Century developing nations, where large families are the norm, they will eventually start to have smaller families, as happened in the West, as education, equality, health care and material wealth improves/increases.
As a sports fan I avidly listen or watch football, cricket, cycling, Formula 1 or whatever. Two very irritating bits of the vernacular that I endure through gritted teeth are the repeated use of the word ‘brilliant’. ‘Brilliant’ is Mozart, a cure for cancer or painting the Mona Lisa It’s not stopping a football, riding up a hill or merely running between the wickets. Frankly, I feel this is all part of dumbing down of who can provide a commentary on sport nowadays. The talent pool is wickedly low I think. Another irritant is the adoption ’super’ happy or ‘super’ pleased etc. This surely came to these shores by foreigners unable to remember the word ‘very’?
My father had a rough time, I recollect, when his musical heroes hit an age where their death’s quickly followed. It seems, as I am now his age, that I am experiencing a growing rate of attrition: Sinead O’Connor, Robbie Robertson, Tony Bennett and Don Williams have just passed. I think I’m in for a sad decade ahead.
The following photograph illustrates nearly 36 years of marriage. This line up greeted me in the bathroom.
The arrangement was collated by Anna who felt I had, ruinously, and wrongly, bought a surplus roll on deodorant at Lidl; such a heinous act needed bringing to my attention. I have to admit this mistake was mine; I already possessed two unused deodorants. My defence? It had only cost 55 pence. The days can be long in Acaster Malbis for women in their sixties.
Just as I was reeling from this incident I departed to the Cotswolds to lead a tour running from between Oxford and Bath and taking in Blenheim Palace, Stonehenge and other sights in between. My small party included folks from Virginia and Florida. The weather was staggeringly hot hitting 33°C on one day. My US guests were very tolerant of a bus with no air conditioning! It’s always interesting to learn what foreign guests like about our country and one guest was captivated by sheep. (I know, me neither.) As a parting gift I found a small wooden sheep in a Bath toy shop to give to her, much to her delight.
Oxford Bodleian LibraryBlenheim Palace
From here I hopped up to Monmouth to meet with Anna and my sister for a couple of days wandering around the Wye Valley. It’s a beautiful part of England on the Welsh border that I only discovered when I cycled from Land’s End to John O’Groats a couple of years ago.
It would be remiss of me not to share some optimism. My team, Leeds United, look to be on the up as their player problems have been resolved and the new manager gets a grip. I’ll not be getting too giddy but hope abounds.
All Eady’s albums are always excellent, crafted and well played, in addition I always find them lyrically interesting. On Mississippi he says the music came before the words and “Since the vibe was important for this one we knew that was the only way to do it and capture the energy. I couldn’t be happier with the way it turned out.” This meant recording it live, including the harmonies. Gordon Quist (Band of Heathens) produced this tight yet loose-limbed blues funk of an album that hits a groove from the start and will have you sashaying around the room: be careful you don’t spill your drink.
He’s from Mississippi and so it’s a short step from his crafted americana output to some blues-lite, a step he’s occasionally made. Still to the forefront of the sound is his authoritative baritone and the familiar use of harmonies on the chorus. Way Down In Mississippi opens the album and the deft grumbling bass, a distorted guitar picking licks, a shuffling and liquid drum rhythm plus delicate electric piano is the platform he uses to talk of his youth and his early musical influences whether church gospel, bluegrass or blues. A sumptuous start.
Band of Heathens musicians back him throughout plus David Jimenez covering all guitar sounds. They all fit like a glove and Courtney Patton (his wife) and Kelley Mickwee, who often resides in the Shinyribs band, harmonise. A great illustration where this all works perfectly is Once Upon A Time In New Orleans. Here they also perform alongside a trumpet solo being blown by Branden Lewis, a regular in the New Orleans’ Preservation Hall band. It’s not all bright blues and bouncy but soulful is Mean Time and Getting Even where Eady takes time out to reflect on life. Trevor Nealon’s tasteful keyboard solos shimmer above an insistent snare or Jimenez picks some tasteful licks with the volume dialed down.
The whole 38 minutes is a tonic and evidence of a supreme craftsman at work.
The BBC reports a small advertisement was placed in the Hackney and Islington Gazette newspapers for the services of a company called Hackney Diamonds (in London Hackney diamonds means broken glass.) In looking at the font, layout and mentions of Rolling Stones records you might deduce that it isn’t a glazing firm. Follow the links and you’ll establish that the Stones have a new album slated for September. This will be their 31st.
As if by some coincidence I came by a copy of the Rolling Stones’ eponymous Mono debut in 1964. This gem came via son-in-law Matt’s grandmother, Janet. She asked him if he wanted some old LPs she was getting rid of. Folding notes changed hands and I was the proud owner of this lively and early rock n’ roll and blues set. I’m relieved that this wasn’t a sound that Janet liked as the LP hadn’t been played much; it’s in terrific condition nearly sixty years after her purchase. She liked The Beatles and sadly all those LPs Matt received show all the hallmarks of wear and neglect.
No mention of the band’s name on the cover…
The line up has, obviously, Jagger, Richards and Watts but on bass is Bill Wyman who left the band in 1993 and Brian Jones who died in 1969. When asked why he left the band Wyman commented that when Jagger and Richards went into a periodic hiatus, possibly due to Richards serious drug issues, he didn’t have any income and had to look elsewhere for money. When informed in the early nineties that he was required for band practice he advised them he’d left! Jagger and Richards always had a steady income from the royalties they made as songwriters.
Richards met Jagger when they bonded over LP ‘s Jagger was carrying under his arm on Dartford’s railway station platform. One was by Muddy Waters and the other was by Chuck Berry. In 1961 American black blues music was not popular or widely played in the UK or even the USA. It’s easy to imagine the bond they must have felt when they met this way. In fact in later years many US blues artists who were very much the architects of British blues or rock credit the interest and later promotion of their sound by British bands like The Rolling Stones. It’s only after the British interest American white artists picked up on the sound of these originals. It’s arguable that without British interest Muddy Waters, BB King, Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker et al might never have reached a wider audience or even made it off the Mississippi plantations where, at least, Waters and King worked.
So it comes as no surprise that blues legends Willie Dixon and Jerry Reed are covered here along with Chuck Berry. Other soul songwriters, Holland, Dozier and Rufus Thomas are similarly covered. The latter’s Walking The Dog is so fabulous that it’s impossible to sit in your seat without gyrating. What the Stones achieved was to take an established song and to interpret it faithfully but often faster and with a greater excitement and incendiary vitality.
The sound is bright, vibrant and a complete toe tapper. Not only do the band sound tight with a dense sound but Jagger’s unique drawl stand out over and above the complementary sound of Jones’ harmonica. Keith Richards’ guitar playing is sophisticated and note perfect: by 21 years old he was the real deal. I’m A King Bee is epic as the two sit over an incessant beat. The danceable energy is palpable and you can imagine the excitement if you played the record loud, or even better saw them live. I’ve tried to imagine how revolutionary this sound must have been after the smoother and harmony laden fare of other chart toppers such as Billy Fury, Brenda Lee and The Ronettes or The Searchers in 1964. Chuck Berry’s sound is now well known with his signature riffs and rhythms but the band lay into Carol with the addition of hand claps throughout and Richards expertly replicates Berry’s picking.
You can hear the template for their later original compositions with similar bluesy arrangements but Tell Me sounds like 60s British chart music with acoustic rhythm guitar and a pop friendly tune. Over the five days it took to record these twelve songs there’s only one exclusive band composition. I could only wish that today I could come across such a remarkable album with not a wasted second of sound. The album sat proudly at Number 1 in the charts for 12 weeks. This was a clear statement of intent and the Stones had truly arrived.
New music from the Stones has been sparse of late and as they all approach their 80’s it’s easy to understand, not least with Watts passing, but their last album Blue & Lonesome, released in 2016, was a superb blues cover outing. Clearly they haven’t forgot or lost the love for their roots. It’ll be interesting to learn if Hackney Diamonds is more throw backs or a continuing paean to rock music. Either way I’ll be in the queue to find out.
His 2022 release The Hometown Kid was worthy of many ‘end of year’ lists. It didn’t make mine because I felt I hadn’t listened to it sufficiently but I knew it contained a selection of great tunes and interesting lyrics. In the intervening year Lee has continued to build a growing reputation and this is his eagerly anticipated fourth release. It’s very good.
Here Lee throws his lot in with an acoustic sound that’s less country and more roots in arrangement and instrumentation. It’s unfussy and allows Lee to delve deep into some heartfelt and reflective lyrics. Drink The River declaims his on going search and failure for a ‘pot of gold’ by concluding that he ‘can’t drink the river to dry the land / Or bury the ocean beneath the sand / But I can love you’. Musically there is considerable craft in the varied and alluring melodies that make each song something to return to.
Complementing the words many songs are wistful. However, Even Jesus Got The Blues is brighter where fiddle, banjo and mandolin dance away. Jason Roller on various stringed instruments with Eamon McLaughlin on fiddle provide a great foundation and it’s McLaughlin’s wistful violin that provides this strong lachrymose thread to the sound. The subject of cancer is touched here and Lee talks of its devastation in Merigold. Elephant on Jason Isbell’s 2013 Southeastern talks of the illness and it’s impact: this seems a very similar song. Throughout there are parallels with Isbell, who he’s opened for, in the voice, arrangements, emotion and sentiment.
Lightening the severity briefly Lee ends the album with a song John Prine might have written, Property Line. He sings of a couple of situations, where boundaries should be respected, including the error of chatting up a tall lesbian’s ex-girlfriend with subsequent violent consequences!
There’s something that exudes quality and class here and he’s building up to be important. However, you come away feeling that this album is more of a commiseration than a celebration; for me a little less shoe gazing and a quick sweep of the horizon would have made it five stars.
Considering I write three record reviews a month for Country Music People I post very few ‘Records Of The Week’ on my site during the year. I simply don’t think many of the albums I write a review for the magazine are worth your time. They’re often not bad but I will never think to listen to them ever again.
One of the liberal things about my editor is that I can write what I want: I could never waste time on false platitudes or misleading the magazine readers. I’ve bought too many records, historically, that some erudite scribe has praised to the high heavens only to play it once as it’s so poor. Below is a review that I wrote; it’s highly uncomplimentary and is the most extreme illustration of my disdain but not necessarily an outlier of some of my negative write ups.
I did approach the editor before placing my quill on the parchment to suggest that this shouldn’t be reviewed. (Fwiw, I have some of their earlier and much better records.) He disagreed and knew what I might write. Enjoy!
The Millers have been pre-eminent in Americana for decades and it’d take a paragraph to list their awards and who’ve they’ve played with or produced. So approaching their fourth collaboration wasn’t maybe the worst writing project to turn up through my inbox? Wrong.
You can’t polish one or add glitter to it and the lasting impression is of an understated plodding low energy affair without a memorable tune. The songs with a Buddy lead vocal are the better ones (e.g. Tattooed Tear and I’ll Never Live It Down) but the majority of Julie’s vocals are something I wouldn’t care to listen to again. Her nadir is the execrable I Been Around where over a muffled guitar and plodding beat she releases her inner Yoko Ono (but maybe less in tune.)
Miller arranges the songs with occasional interesting instrumentation and it’s always well produced. Niccolo has a light acoustic arrangement that was worth half a star. Lyrically I Love You informs us that their love ‘is stronger than cement, too strong to ever get bent…’ It must have taken a couple of days to work this poetry up. And don’t get me started on the epic The Painkiller’s Ain’t Workin’. A more sparky electric affair that mines some deep mental states that may be personal but who wants to pay for this cathartic four minutes?
Their copious PR emits the sentence that this is ‘a deeply soulful collision of mournful gospel, dusty country, cosmic blues, ecstatic R&B and anything else that crosses their mind.’ Frankly, ‘collision’ tells you all you need to know. It gives me no pleasure to be so mean but life’s too short and money’s too tight to waste on this.
Err… so I didn’t ride my bike back from Béziers to York. I had a twinge in a knee after some local rides around Carcassonne. A knee injury had kept me off the bike for the first four months of this year and I thought discretion was the better part of valour. When I got back home and did some cycling I concluded that the cartilage was probably alright and the problem was elsewhere and less serious. However I had to make a decision in France and I don’t regret the decision. The scenario I dreaded was being a long way from a connection to an airport with no bike box and needing to abandon.
Leaving France had other conflict. Our Chinese car had a flimsy rear parcel shelf that I detached when we collected it and I never put back into place as I carried a large box or luggage in the rear compartment and there was no need to restore it. On handing back the car to Alamo I subsequently got an email telling me that they were going to debit €1,500 for the ‘broken’ tray/shelf. They would then find how much the replacement costs and return the balance! Given that I’d not broken it and that I’d barely touched it I was a little vexed. My error was not putting the back seats back up and placing the shelf back into place. Obviously the tray must have been damaged, in a minor way, by a previous driver.
So I called up the airport car rental office from York the next day and had a conversation with the chap ‘on the desk’. I dreaded trying to have a conversation as this was quite a technical conversation and English wasn’t their first language. My contact was a nice chap and although the language barrier didn’t help I managed to explain the facts. The upshot was that a day or two later they emailed advising they’d drop the claim. Phew, Tony était un garçon heureux.
So back in Blighty there wasn’t a convincing excuse to not continue with a project alloacted earlier in the year by Anna of reorganising my office with all its LPs and CDs. I scouted about the internet to see what furniture was out there and then worked out what I needed. My Swedish friends, IKEA, came up trumps and several hours were spent indulging in the joy of flat pack furniture construction but I’m pleased with the results.
Listening to The Ashes cricket on TV or the radio has been enthralling. It’s been an exciting series with England always pressing and, frankly, providing all the excitement whilst the Aussies appeared to hang on and tough it out. Clearly the first two Tests were decisive for the Aussies and the result and overall they won the Ashes but drawing the series was the very least the English enterprise deserved.
Something that has to be done but makes my heart sink is renegotiating my Sky subscription. The charges rise during the contract and Sky offer new lower deals in the interim and if you don’t go ‘through the treacle’ of haggling then you can end up paying nothing like the market price. Independent surveys confirm that you have an 84% chance of Sky reducing the cost by picking up the phone. A few months ago I took exception to a Sky monthly broadband charge of £35.50/month. This they wouldn’t properly reduce and so I moved it to PlusNet for £22.99/month. So I girded my loins to discuss my TV subscription currently at £78/month (including Sports, Ultra HD and Netflix.)
After 30 minutes on the phone it was reduced to £67/month with a £20 ‘admin charge’ for 18 months going forward. I mentioned I’d seen the package at £46/month on the internet. (In fairness it wasn’t like for like but it was close.) I was advised this wasn’t Sky Q through a satellite dish ie. my arrangement but through streaming on the internet and was another department. “Transfer me to this department please…” Mark after another long wait came through and costed it on Sky Stream and said my like for like package would cost £70/month with a £39.99 ‘admin charge’. “OK Mark transfer me back, I’ll take the £67/month”. “Oh, I can’t transfer you back but I can make that change for you”. So I could hear tapping and he came back and said “In fact I can do it for £57/month.” “Seems good but is it on Sky Stream?” “No, it’s on Sky Q”. I thought what’s not to like? So he proceeded to implement this change and then came back and said “I’ve seen a deal on Sky Sports and can knock another £2 off to make that £55/month and no ‘admin charges’”.
Frankly after over 57 minutes on the line I was delighted but it’s an arrangement that favours those who have the energy and tenacity to go through all this faff and palava. Those who probably can’t afford it are still paying a higher monthly charge.
When I was working as a tour guide in the south west in June I came across ‘Just Stop Oil’ protesters blocking a road in Bradford-on-Avon. It was lunchtime and they caused a traffic jam, which was a pain to innocent folk trying to go about their business. Protesting is legal but laws get changed in Parliament; so contact your MP. Stopping people going about their everyday business including getting to hospital, providing care or the difficult business of making a living in a world where moving around is vital is unacceptable to me. More to my taste is the other tee shirt.
I was sad to see the death of Sinéad O’Connor. Nearly all the obituaries of the media concentrated exclusively on her crusading and fragility. She was indeed an outspoken critic of the Catholic Church and various other conservative Irish attitudes and laws. However, the reason we’re talking about her was because she was an exceptionally unique talent. I have 10 of her albums and whilst knowing of her ‘wild child’ persona the reason I and others elevated her to icon was not because of her politics or convictions but because of her outstanding catalogue.
For the record it’s nice to record a family photo taken in The People’s Republic of Reddish of the family on a recent visit by my niece, Victoria, and great nephew, Henry, from Savannah, GA.
Sophie, Harry, Matt, Victoria, Anna, Ann-Marie, yours truly and Henry (Thank you Katrina for the snap)
It seems I’ve been constantly on the move over the last few weeks. The beginning of June saw my leading a tour of nine cyclists across Hadrian’s Wall. I wasn’t on a bicycle and had the dubious delight of getting used to driving a mini bus, with a trailer attached, down narrow country lanes. I was solo as the guide and the initial workload was overwhelming with considerable bike preparation and a busy Friday night in Whitley Bay.
The first sighting of Hadrian’s Wall (on your left) at Banks
This resort offered no parking and a tight deadline to meet and greet the guests as well as unload the bikes into the hotel. It all peaked at trying to find a bike shop in Carlisle on a busy Saturday lunch time with an hour and half available (as the lunch break) to sort the hydraulic brakes out on a bike to pacify a guest who, not unreasonably, expected his bike to stop when he applied the brakes. (This was his second bike after the original one had pedal problems.) Such was the condition of the bikes I was up against it from the start. The tour got better but bewilderingly I had to respond to my employer afterwards about a complaint about my treatment of a guest. If I’d been asked in advance ‘who has complained about you?’ I would never have identified this guest or the issues they reported. The events were known to me and distorted/exaggerated and gave no thought to how mean and unfair they were. I responded to my employer giving my understanding/explanations. With this interpretation and previous track record they were satisfied and the matter was closed. (In fact I scored 4.4/5 for ‘the guide’ on the tour overall with the guests who responded.)
The van in question with the trailer that I managed to break the jockey wheel off…Lanercost PrioryTalkin TarnRiver Tyne
From here Anna and I disappeared up to the far north west of Scotland to spend a week in a crofter’s cottage on the coast near Kinlochbervie. The last thing we expected was a heatwave! The weather up in the Highlands was fizzing and it was nearly too hot at night to sleep as the foot thick walls gave back the day’s heat overnight. The last time I was up here in the summer it was single figure centigrade and the rain was coming horizontally!
We’d brought bikes – mine a regular one and Anna’s electric. We had a great time together cycling up the NC 500 with the motorcycles and Belgian camper vans. The terrain was lumpy to say the least! From here we stopped overnight in Edinburgh with great friends, Peter and Jude, for some splendid hospitality before returning to Yorkshire.
Next I was en route to Oxfordshire to join a tour with 18 Americans on a ‘high end’ cycle tour around the Cotswolds. This time it was two guides with the mighty Mick who possesses considerable bike maintenance skills. We got off to a great start with the guests by presenting some home made cake by Anna at our first stop that they loved: they love the unique personal touches and one guest made a lovely video showing his appreciation for Anna.
Hidcote Gardens
I can’t pretend I’ve worked so hard for a week with so little sleep than around Bampton, Burford, Moreton on the Marsh, Bourton on the Water, Tetbury and then Bath. The rewards were enormous with such kind and generous folk who were unfailingly upbeat, interesting and kind. All this was heartening and restorative after my demoralising Hadrian’s Wall tour.
As I write we’re lodging in a large house in Carcassonne with both daughters and son in laws. Sophie is expecting in December and this has been exciting family news that we’re thrilled about.
Initially, before the family flew out, we flew into Perpignan and drove down to Figueres in Spain, the home of Salvador Dali, His work and thoughts are all around the town and whilst I know little or nothing about his art his take work is often remarkable and contemporary so many decades after his death.
No relation
Picking up the car rented at Perpignan was a typically French experience. Three members of staff for Alamo were in the car park greeting customers or not. One was busy running around and the other two were at a dais looking at their mobiles and talking to each other. I was with about three other customers expecting something to happen for about 10 minutes as they ignored us. Eventually I approached to ask if they had a car for me? One of them sparked into action and said she’d take us to our car. It was a surprise.
Apparently this car is made by the Chinese company who own Volvo. Why give it the name of an upmarket handbag?
In fact the naming of Chinese cars is something that frustrates me, not least, the appropriation of the ‘MG’ mark by a Chinese company who bought the brand about a decade ago. All over the world you’ll find these bland, look-a-like hatch backs selling off the back of this heritage British marque with simply no meaningful connection to the original cars. Anyway back to the holiday…
Carcassonne has seen us all flop although I have directed my touring bike up into the hills south of Carcassonne. It’s surprising that in a kilometre or two you leave the traffic busy urban streets to not seeing a car for over an hour as you meander up in the hilly countryside to over 400 metres altitude with nothing but the heavy din of the cicadas as a constant companion.
After the offspring depart we’re off to Béziers. Looking forward to it.
The Coronation came and went with seemingly the only news legacy, a week later, whether the Metropolitan Police over stepped the mark by hauling off the Republican malcontents before they could kick off and be a pain on early morning American TV coverage. The Westminster Abbey ceremony was simply archaic, irrelevant to the 21st century, albeit fascinating and beautifully presented. This ceremony was about assuming the enormous responsibility for his subjects but our monarchy was emasculated in the 17th century in terms of power and whilst nominally the head of the legislature it’s just a ceremonial matter nowadays.
Don’t get me wrong I felt the Queen was a vital and impressive national unifying figure who I’d known all my life. Her departure was bound to throw up questions of relevance. I think Charles was ahead of the game by reducing the ranks of Royals to a senior core. Also I like the marketing of the family in a leadership role of promoting community, unity and service. On the latter that is beyond question and the King and Princess Royal have done immense good over their tenure.
It’s to be expected that the Commonwealth will change from containing countries that are ‘subjects’ to a loose band of nations with bonds forged out of colonial occupation, bloodshed, white emigration, immigration to the UK, dependency and economics. Somehow hauling out ever again gilded horse drawn carriages and wearing crowns will look plainly weird. Like most then I wouldn’t raise a finger to displace the monarchy and their retinue but I am not overly engaged with it.
Negotiating a Knighthood in the last century
Since Australia and New Zealand life has been inevitably busy before more holidays and tour guide jobs. The garden due to a combination of rain and heat exploded and brought into play my only gardening skill: cutting things down and putting them into the recycling bin or behind a hedge (where no one can see it all). My other outdoor skill of painting fences came into play and myself and Cuprinol’s Rustic Brown became reacquainted for several hours.
Outings included some guide training in the Cotswolds. The Cotswolds Tony, really? Yes I know, heaven knows how I got lured down there to have to drive a small bus and bike trailer through busy Bath. In the party will be twenty Americans which should provide some comedy gold for the blog although they may know the area better than me. The Mighty Jessney through his celebrity as the voice of the blues on Vixen 101 got tickets five rows from the front at the Arena in Leeds to see Joe Bonamassa. Upholding his rock n’ roll lifestyle when asked to present ID whilst collecting his ‘guest list’ tickets he flashed his bus pass! The concert was magic nevertheless.
Joe Bonamassa, blues rock maestro clutching his Epiphone
Another wonderful day was spent at Lords for some cricket with two very old college (Ealing Technical College ’73 and ’74) friends. John is a member of the MCC and this enabled us to wander around the ground; to the areas that the great unwashed seldom get access to. I had be washed for the day and was instructed to wear a jacket and tie. Such sartorial elegance is usually reserved for wedding and funerals. I can now add first class cricket. We picnicked and whilst John unpopped the fizz to go with his smoked salmon sandwiches Kevin revealed enough cheese for all four days of the game. I’d brought pork pies. In our reminiscing about old times and our shared digs the disappointment was palpable that no one could remember the landlady’s cat’s name. (Mind you what do you expect at our age.) Mrs B force fed this moggy choice cuts of meat and the suspicion is that as the animal’s joints started to seize it was due to his indulgent diet.
Lastly there are a number of things that make me spit. This includes the Favourite Eldest and my first wife. They insisted I produce a wad to send off to Ancestry.com as part of a DNA test. Anna has done a deep dive into her and my family’s lineage and it’s fascinating. Anyway added to all this is that there are a lot of nations and ethnicities I need to refrain from being rude about in future.
Lukas Nelson & The Power Of The Real – Sticks and Stones
Lukas Nelson may have been a recording artist for over a decade but it’s only recently that he’s become a commercial success after some excellent albums. His stature is also helped by his involvement in the box office smash film A Star Is Born, whether song writing or co-producing the music soundtrack. Recent releases have been lighter shades of rock with great musicianship; he can really cook up a storm on six strings. I can’t recollect him recording traditional country music up until now despite his gold-plated family heritage.
These 12 self penned tracks eschew the chart Nashville country sound and place the album in the 60s or 70s with instrumentation and lyrics. The arrangements are crisp and short. Nelson now has the stature to make a call and Lainey Wilson joins him on More Than Friends. Given how Wilson’s own career is currently soaring she’s quite a catch. The song has the pair of them playing lovers over a chugging rock arrangement; their voices blend well.
The whole album engages from the Southern rock start of Sticks and Stones to the Hank William’s pastiche Icarus. The songveers in parts a little close to Hey, Good Lookin’, but I can forgive any song that manages to incorporate Greek mythology into a lyric. The latest single, Alcohallelujah, has a rousing chorus (and I note father Willie has been dragged out to knock back a shot for the Instagram promotion.) It’s a summer song with a feel good vibe and catchy chorus. Wrong House is beautifully left field as the protagonist, off his face, ends up repeatedly in the wrong house and needs to ring to get a lift back to where he belongs. The rhythm is rapid with a call and response chorus and some aching guitar signatures. Top drawer.
Not all of it races along and Lying is a slower regretful love song. Nelson’s voice is fabulous as he accompanies himself on acoustic guitar. All Four Winds has a Glen Campbell sound with a trailing harmonica providing a long lens cinematic sound before he starts picking some exquisite acoustic guitar. The View is another plain arrangement with Nelson and an acoustic guitar. The lyric refers to the gaze he places on his love.
It’s unimaginable that this won’t rightly receive a lot of critical acclaim. It’s a wonderful release and heartening for the genre that a major artist releases something as authentic and crafted as this.
Tony Ives’ Blog 