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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If I had two claims to fame, that I would peddle in North America to court celebrity, then the first is that I have shaken the hand of the future British King, Prince Charles and the second is that I went to the same school as Carson, the butler in Downton Abbey. The latter spoke beautiful English. That, I know, would have a bunch of Americans cooing that they ‘loved his accent’. Well this compliment can be returned because on a Thursday afternoon as I was sweeping the drive (welcome to rock n’ roll) and BBC Radio York interviewed Bennie Pete, the leader of The Hot 8 Brass Band. Bennie has a delicious Louisiana drawl acquired from being a resident of N’Awlinz.
Bennie was on the Afternoon Show promoting their gig at the Pocklington Arts Centre that evening. Pocklington is 15 miles east of York and is a small town of 8,500 folk who mainly use this little town as a dormitory whilst they work elsewhere. Around it is farming land and so if it had an economy that drove it then that would be it. Also within it is a prestigious private school that boasts William Wilberforce as one of its former pupils. He led a campaign in the first half of the 19th Century that led to the abolition of slavery in the British Empire being passed by an Act of Parliament in 1833. He’s not unknown in the USA as I actually cycled past a small town in Ohio called Wilberforce, named after him whilst heading to Nashville via the route of the Underground Railroad in 2015.
So listening to Bennie and his Southern tones I still had to pinch myself that Pocklington could attract such international acts. In fact, Pocklington Arts Centre some time ago had become an important venue for Americana acts to visit whilst in the UK and I was so grateful that I didn’t have always have to troop to Manchester, London or Newcastle to see my heroes or heroines.
Hearing Bennie on the radio and then later that night on the stage made me think how special and unusual this place was and that I should write down its magic and the way it brought American music to East Yorkshire. Bennie between songs talked about their tour and how each venue was a new discovery in the UK. When the band pulled into Pocklington and saw its small market square, little shops and general mid 20th Century feel they were bemused. They were used to checking into a hotel and then using the Sat Nav to get to the venue for a sound check. To stroll across the street was a novel experience and they liked it. They also liked the packed 197 seat venue that danced, whooped and shook as they brought their jazz funk to this sleepy town. In fact we surprised ourselves!
Staying in Pocklington is what 95% of what the artists do, even Rosanne Cash, who’d wanted more upmarket accommodation in York was to be found eating fish and chips at one o’clock in the market square after her set. Such is the footfall of Americana legends to Pocklington that Rodney Crowell couldn’t be fitted in because Jim Lauderdale was booked for the night that he had spare on that tour.
If these Americana artists get together back in the USA I wonder if they talk about Pocklington Arts Centre? I think they might – not least because we’re thrilled and grateful that they brought their talent to us.
For me personally, I got to sit, my then 17 year old daughter, in the audience as Chris Smither captivated the audience with his wondrous Train Home album and not only could he play and sing but that insistent foot tapping was haunting. Lucinda Williams needed a bigger venue up the road but she brought her catalogue to an adoring audience as she reeled off the highlights of her recording career. Tift Merritt alternated between acoustic guitar and piano playing her own uplifting soulful Country. Albert Lee told us of his touring with an icon, Don Everly and lastly would Laura Cantrell remember a bloke rambling on about riding a heavily laden bicycle up 1900 feet to Panguitch Lake, Utah on a cold September morning listening to “Queen Of The Coast”? I’d like to think so because I will always treasure her impersonation of someone riding a bike.
John Moreland’s fourth album Big Bad Luv is the kind of slow burner that even on first listen you know contains a few years of pleasure up the road as you continue to discover further delight in the attitude, melodies, voice and not least the profound and expressive sentiments.
The music is crafted with Tchad Blake, who’s produced the Black Keys, U2, Bonnie Raitt and The Artic Monkeys (to barely scratch the surface), on the controls. The sound is understated rock with a blues tinge and so definitely Americana. On his web site they reference The Band and some of that quality and vibe is to be found not least with the organ on, maybe the album highlight, “Love Is Not An Answer”. It is the strong and handsome yet whiskey mellowed tones that captivate as he interprets his world-weary observations. This at least is my take on the verse content but Moreland himself says:
“At the very least my songs have been a way to exorcise negative feelings so that I can move on. And hopefully they provide that same experience to listeners”
‘Lies I Chose To Believe’ hooks you with a great melody but what an opening line:
“I’ve gone and lost my faith in photographs
Curse those martyrs that mark my past”
We’re in the presence of a poet as well as a tunesmith and no wonder Jason Isbell name checks this new album on Twitter. “Sallisaw Blue” starts apace and references Oklahoma, his current domicile as well as explains where the Big Bad Luv reference comes from (a neon sign!). A great start with a rolling gait before we take it down to “Old Wounds”… ‘don’t forget to love me in damnation’ may give you a clue as to the song content if the title didn’t. The lighter arrangement of “Every Kind Of Wrong” is acoustic with occasional tasteful slide. “No Glory In Regret” sees Moreland accompany himself also on acoustic guitar and he sings:
“God’s been making deals
While we’re down here spinning our wheels
And using up our little share of luck”
Whilst all eleven of the tracks engage and the album certainly remains strong for the duration the record finishes with “Latchkey Kid”. This beautifully reflects on his previous life as that child with the key but lately:
“And when I look into the mirror, now I see A man I never knew that I could be”
A real pleasure
(Lastly, this is definitely the album sleeve of the year so far. Love it and maybe I’ll search out the vinyl!)
On December 15th 1972, for a cost of 60 pence, I was sat on an elevated platform (where the Orchestra usually sat) , next to the stage, at Leeds Town Hall where after an opening set by The Average White Band on strolled the band of the moment, Wishbone Ash, debuting their earlier April release – Argus. This record not only became an album of the year but also became one of the seminal rock guitar albums for anyone born in the 50’s.
As they reached their third album then the ‘sound’ had been honed and the twin guitar passages and harmony vocals became their signature. It helped to have the Production and Engineering skills of the team behind the then stellar Deep Purple at the helm. Add lyrics about medieval warriors complemented by fluid and intoxicating guitar solos then you have the ingredients for bliss. Rock can often rely on the shock and awe of electric guitar and a driving beat to become memorable but this album’s longevity also leans heavily on melody and some exquisite musicianship best illustrated by “Leaf And Stream”.
It wasn’t an era when ‘progressive’ rock bands sought singles but “Blowin’ Free” would maybe their ‘greatest hit’ and the delicious chorus is pure summer apparently written about a Swedish girlfriend of band member Martin Turner. If there was ever a BBC Radio 2 record that you could imagine a few million blokes of a certain vintage telling the wife to shut up as he cranked up the radio on the weekly car trip to Tesco then this is the one.
Today the band still tours in two guises – one is led by lead guitarist Andy Powell, who flourished – every 17 year old’s air guitar fantasy – a Flying V back in the day and the other incarnation is led by original bassist, Martin Turner. I’ve seen both and if you have the chance to see either then you will be rewarded. The band has had many line ups over their career but only these two members tour playing the catalogue. However, whilst that may in theory damage the authenticity then I believe that the enthusiasm, energy and slavish note perfect adherence to the original wonderful records of new members can make the experience better.
In fact I can well recollect, sometime in the early Noughties, spilling my pint at Fibbers in York as I punched the air when the chorus came back in on “The King Will Come”, a slow burning anthem with some intricate guitar passages.
If the combined talents as musicians and songwriters elevated this album to iconic status then the twin leads of Any Powell and Ted Turner set the pace but the insistent and complimentary bass of the other Turner is not to be under estimated – listen to how it drives and solos on “Sometime World” and then note its rough and attractive tones on “Blowin’ Free”. Sticks man, sorry I’ve slipped into Sounds 1974 mode err… I mean, drummer, Steve Upton has his subtleties as well as brawn as witnessed on standout “Warrior”.
As another rock band of the era opined then be good to yourselves, put this album on NOW!
– For the former Member of Parliament for Thurrock (1987 – 1992)
Well the bad news is that I’ve watched the 52 episodes of House Of Cards and finished Season Four with nothing left. However help is at hand as those nice people at Netflix unleash Season Five at the end of May. Given the surreal politics all over the world at the moment and not least in Washington DC then this epic story about a US President, which involves murder, betrayal, sacrificing others, money laundering, occasional sex and attempted assassination makes complete sense. Until it comes out then I’m watching Better Call Saul.
The politics drags on and is so dull that the lovely BBC led on the sacking of the Head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation tonight. Frankly who in the UK cared? Given that we are in the middle of a General Election campaign then somehow you’d think that the FBI, an institution that about 70% of the UK population couldn’t identify, wouldn’t be the lead item unless you obsess about Donald Trump.
We visited Skipton on Saturday and enjoyed the market. Boy was it cold, I had to buy a hat (not much hair I’m afraid) and yet today it was scorching and shorts were worn and more importantly the hood was down on the Morgan. I cannot remember the temperature fluctuating so dramatically in a day or two.
Skipton should be a sleepy farming market town in the Dales but it still surprised with the market stalls. One selling old vinyl LP’s – where else can you get an old Millie Jackson album for £3 and Asian vendors with their young lads, beside them learning the trade, selling just about anything. We bought plums and strawberries. After this excitement we went on a barge trip on the Leeds Liverpool Canal where we learned about its mill history during the Industrial Revolution. The trip home was via Ilkley where we stopped off at the sensational The Veggie for lunch. Frankly, if everyone went there for a meal then it would be a threat to future meat sales. Wonderful place… oh, that Portobello mushroom burger was beyond bliss.
The present Mrs Ives still can surprise (and worry me) after 30 years of marriage. I had had breakfast when she appeared in the kitchen and emptied a recently boiled kettle of its water and refilled it? So I enquired as to why you’d throw away recently boiled water rather than just re-boil it? Apparently re-boiled water has a detrimental affect on the flavour of her coffee. Yup, me neither…
So it has been a while since our foreign travels and I have thought about producing a Journal post. So what’s happened since then then? It seems like a busy time of house letting, painters and roofers. Sadly the tenant who I wrote about in a previous Post, where I played the role of an inadeqaute agony aunt, didn’t resolve her problems and they both left, which was very inconsiderate for our revenue stream!
However, on another level then It seems that life has returned to normal with an Election in the news, whether British or French. Picking up on another Post that I have written, then the worst thing about it is the media saturation and the BS we’ll have to work our way through until June 8th, in fact I think most folk know how they are going to vote this time and so bothering with the hustings is a waste of time. I feel that it can only ramp up with hysteria in the intervening days and if the campaign has no exciting things for the media to write about then I imagine we’ll be latching onto ‘Armageddon’ like comments from anyone in Europe about our future.
Of similar pleasure was a trip to the dentist for a chipped tooth. This occurred in the IKEA cafeteria, which was scant reward for good behaviour. Instead of having the meatballs and chips I had a piece of grilled salmon with a risotto. (My daughter’s boyfriend had the 15 meatball option and a hot dog at the Exit on his departure – I well remember when I could stick this stuff away with no weight implications). I avoid the dentist and can see no reason for check ups – pain or mechanical problems lead me to his seat. The injection for numbing the gum does feel like he’s inserting something like the blunt end of a metal coat hanger into your cheek. Let’s hope the teeth now behave or I will contemplate moving away from consuming solids.
Yes, the sign is not a protest poster but a sign from the Council. Read it slowly!
One of Anna’s many delights is that when I pick a concert to go to then she likes the fact that most of the audience are younger than her. This is often a reality born out of my taste in music. More of the edgier stuff, with a younger audience, is not her bag and this observation about age is likely to continue for her. We went to one of our favourite venues – Pocklington Arts Centre – to see The Blues Band. I had seen them twice previously – both times in Southend in another life and over three decades back.
Paul Jones, lead vocalist, of Manfred Mann and BBC Radio 2 fame was 75 and looking well on it. However for all the modern marketing that makes you cynical about how many ways they want to empty your pocket then old men have a neat line. Shamelessly he plugged a band or solo CD’s as they played every song. They then all disappeared at the long interval into the foyer to flog and sign them at £12 a piece. Concert merchandise is not new but they are usually a pleasing side benefit for the audience rather than the main reason for the band being there! I spent some of their set adding up the number of seats, number of CD buyers, CD costs and number of nights to work out that Paul was well into four figures of profit by the end of the tour. Let’s home he gets the very best Care Home. An unlovely experience frankly.
As an update on my reading then I am ploughing through Roy Jenkins biography of Gladstone, the 19th Century Prime Minister. It is 650 pages of close print and is not an easy read. I was saying to Anna that it is a brilliant cure for insomnia because after about four pages then the eyelids become leaden and sleep beckons. To borrow a phrase, more associated with Crimbo, then I have another 40 sleeps before I finish it.
I suppose I am back into vinyl, in a small way, mainly because of the complete nostalgic pleasure in thumbing through LP’s and the very size and feel of it. I like the practicality of CD’s and the quality of sound, however a heavy vinyl LP played on a good sound system is audio nirvana. So the strategy has been to collect a few second hand albums that I didn’t have the money to acquire when I was a teenager and also look out for a few new things that were special.
Record Store Day, now in its 10th year generates special releases. These are limited editions that make them scarce and sad old men hover around the shops on April 22nd every year to spend lots of money and then wander out into the daylight with crazed and happy faces clutching albums by Uriah Heep and Budgie. (Yes, I was sorely tempted).
In fact I jest as there are also lots of young people enjoying vinyl – in Week 48 of 2016 there was a greater value of vinyl sold than downloads in the UK. If you’d added the value of second hand vinyl sold as well then digital downloads would have been hit out of the park. Of course streaming is the main way of accessing music nowadays but if I relied on it in Acaster Malbis, with our appalling broadband, then I wouldn’t listen to much.
So I saw that Brandy Clark was releasing a live album for Record Store Day. Breezing into the local emporium – Vinyl Eddie’s – I asked if they would have this on the day? Sharp intake of breath that was code for ‘this is York and why the hell would we stock a Country album even by Johnny Cash, let alone Brandy who?’. They found it on the internet and said it was a US only release but they might know a man… So digging the garden on Sunday I got the call saying that Brandy was in town.
Bliss. An acoustic album with Brandy and her guitar/vocalist accompanist, Miles Aubrey, recorded Live in Los Angeles in September 2016 was mine. Brandy is now making her way as an important Country music artist after long years paying her dues on the way up. The two albums came a long way into her music career and have both been remarkable with blissful traditional country melodies, lyrics that tell stories about love, cheating, drinking and the Country music ‘full nine yards’ of chaos and always a lot of humour, which is a hallmark of much good Country music.
Brandy has earned her time in the spotlight after being a ‘go to’ songwriter. Her credits will be found on the albums by Miranda Lambert, Reba McEntire, Kacey Musgraves, Sheryl Crow, Toby Keith, Keith Urban et al. It was time that she grabbed the mic and had the super trouper pointed in her direction.
So now by herself then each album has gold on it but the highlights are where she finds a sad scene to sing about. On Live From Los Angeles two of the best Country songs ever to have graced these ears appear on each side. “Hold My Hand” tells the story of being at an event with her beau when his beautiful and confident significant ex appears and her partner is embarrassed and uncomfortable. She offers advice that in order to tell her of the fact that he has moved on and is also confident of where he is now, and who he is with, that he should show this by holding her hand.
Since “You’ve Gone To Heaven” is 4½ minutes of heartbreak – a cataloguing of the events and emotions that have befallen a family since her father died. Her beautiful voice on a wonderfully paced and sparsely arranged song just crushes you.
There are other great tracks on the album from her first two albums and all each probably worth a blog.
Through my last web post then a few old friends came back into view. Clare Currer (Sales Administration) seems to have maintained contact with old colleagues but after a spell out of kitchens then the lure proved too great and she is back with Roundel albeit working from home, well done for swinging that one.
Similarly it was lovely to hear from Sharron Street (Customer Care) but no information on her life today or more importantly what colour her hair is at the moment (Shazza forgive me)!
John Asty (8E17 & Installation) subscribed to the blog and is now a runner and pounding the pavements no doubt to get fit for half marathons. Look after those knees mate!
Which brings me to Simon Barlow (PD Sales Administration & Installation) who has posted on Facebook that he was about to run his 10th London Marathon. I couldn’t but be impressed. (This event is part of the Ives family workload as my youngest daughter works for adidas and will be working in t’Smoke for the event to support their sponsorship).
I think he has been as lean as this for many years but it still comes as a shock to those who knew him at Moores.
I contacted Steve Thompson (Human Resources) who I’d not been in touch with since leaving Moores. He seems chipper although not pleased to be reminded about his football team, Norwich City. Apparently he’s left them now and looking for his next career – let’s hope that falls into place quickly.
Steve Johnson (PS Sales) is still on this amazing South America tour that has already taken him to Antartica, Chile, Bolivia and Ecuador. He’s now on the Galapagos Islands along with other scaly creatures… He’s a superb photographer, entertaining blogger and his images are excellent. It may be worth a look at his blog on Wine, Dynamite and Penguins
Curry night brought together Caron Reed (PS Sales), David Cook (PS Sales), Jim Brady (PS Sales Administration, PS Sales & Installation) and Andy Parker (PS & Retail Sales). Caron is the full time mother of two little girls – four and 11 years old, which sounds too much like hard work. David keeps getting younger and spends much of the week on the golf course. Jim, as reported, is flying along with his elderly care business (it was good to meet up with someone actually working!) and Andy is now thinking of retirement at the advanced age of 55 years (!) after running and owning an IT services company that worked in secondary education.
Please let people know about this page on my website and if you have a story to tell then write in below.
Lastly… competition time. Anyone name this former colleague?
2016 was notable for the death of Rock and Pop legends and depending on your record collection then someone you probably collected shuffled off this mortal coil. This year has been collecting casualties and in March Chuck Berry left us.
Chuck joined the celestial choir at the not too rock ‘n’ roll age of 90 and so maybe his departure wasn’t tragic. However as social media usually explodes and BBC Radio 5Live gets teary over icon departures then Chuck’s legacy to popular music simply puts the others in the shade but didn’t move the needle on the gauge of popular media emotion.
John Lennon, who was well placed to note a tune and social phenomenon when he saw one, said, “if you tried to give rock and roll another name, you might call it ‘Chuck Berry’”.
Charles Edward Anderson Berry started his recording career in 1955 and was in on the ground floor of the birth of rock ‘n’ roll but maybe he more than the other panoply of greats left the most important future Rock imprint for others to copy. From a start in the blues he developed a unique sound, which was exciting to the kids of the day. His songs usually featured an epic guitar riff and his lyrics told the story of American teenagers desires – cars, dance, romance and consumer culture.
Recording abound of his songs by The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Presley, David Bowie, Bruce Springsteen, ELO, Rod Stewart, AC/DC, Linda Ronstadt and others too many to mention. The classic songs include “Johnny B. Goode”, “Rock And Roll Music”, “Maybelline”, “Roll Over Beethoven”, “No Particular Place To Go” and “Sweet Little Sixteen”.
So for me he was vital for the Rock of the Seventies and frankly didn’t music finish after that? I loved the tunes, the novellas and the tongue in cheek humour and all gloriously compiled in just under 3 minutes. If I had doubts about his importance then endless encores by any band I may have seen could often include a Chuck Berry number, after all it was likely to be the ultimate crowd pleaser. (In fact, when I saw The Blues Band in Pocklington on April 21st they played “Nadine”)
In 1978 on my Laker flight to the USA and back I bought some records – old habits die hard as I still view this as part of the American experience – and I collected this $2.97 gem that still lurks in the collection along with several other Chuck Berry releases.
If I was picking my all time favourite then it isn’t on this album – “You Never Can Tell”, not least because of its moment in Pulp Fiction.
Imperial Bedroom – Elvis Costello & The Attractions
When this gem was purchased by a pal (Neil Smith) in 1982, as was the habit, it was soon transferred to a C90 cassette and lived in the car. Elvis Costello was, at the time, very much the future of rock ‘n’ roll.
After his arrival as part of the Stiff Record Label explosion in 1976 then I was a fan. Vituperative Rock ‘n’ Roll meets Punk in short 3 minute tuneful burst coupled to his staccato delivery of lyrics with brilliant rhyming couplets and caustic observations of anything and everything. For me it always worked better for me on record rather than live. I well recollect seeing him at Southend’s Cliffs Pavilion and frankly not catching a word as he breathlessly tore through his set at a pace that was definitely Punk. I saw him once again after that but I wondered why I had shelled out my hard earned cash twice.
Imperial Bedroom was Elvis’ 5th album after his recording career started in 1977. Always a tune and wordsmith then this album was different as we saw a real maturing of the talent. From the electric buzz that introduced the album then you can detect that the production and arrangements are a significant shift from the earlier output. Geoff Emerick, of Beatles fame, was at the production helm and comfortable to add strings, accordion, brass, National steel dobro, harpsichord in arrangements that gave a clue as to Elvis’ future genre hoping output. In fact “Loved Ones” is a Beatles arrangement to the core and “All You Need Is Love” horns on “Pidgin English” are familiar.
The album heralded a move from the four-piece sound but as Costello was leading the arrangements then they never lose his indelible ‘sound’.
“Beyond Belief” gives us the first lyrical glimpse of his genius:
“History repeats the old conceits
The glib replies, the same defeats
Keep your finger on important issues
With crocodile tears and a pocketful of tissues”
However for all his cleverness then the ability to slip back to the mundane boy girl tribulations of “Long Honeymoon” show his deft touch:
There’s been a long honeymoon
She thought too late and spoke too soon
There’s no money back guarantee on future happiness
However the music is the brilliance and “Man Out Of Time” brings a dramatic change of pace with its screeching guitar intro and it is here the contribution of The Attractions becomes clear with Pete Thomas’s drumming and Steve Nieve’s keyboards. For the bassist, Bruce Thomas, then look to Almost Blue with his jazzy touches. In fact the early success of Elvis Costello cannot be divorced from the Attractions such was their technical competence, maybe Elvis’ continual reinvention made it a stimulating place to be for the band.
His vocals cannot be underestimated whether coming at you full force or the little boy lost of “Town Cryer” (at this stage in his career it had the most beautiful timbre).
Not a duff track in sight. Important and brilliant.
The fourth release by Shinyribs of I Got Your Medicine comes with a decision of whether to buy this superb blue-eyed soul rocker or use the money on a ticket to see them live. That’s because this album creates a fierce desire to grab a beer and find your dancing shoes. I can’t help you, it’s a tough call.
The band leader, vocalist and all round tour de force, Kevin Russell, knows how to deliver a song and if you give him brilliant female vocal backing (Sally Allen & Alice Spence), feel good horns and a tight rhythm section (that can seriously damage your back) then you have a very good time on your hands.
I seriously love the fact that you don’t have to work too hard to inhabit this superb 1970’s retro soul and rock album. It has great personality and if you’re seeking earnest provocative new music then it’s not here, but hey! I’d recommend you start your weekend and give this a spin.
The first sign that you may start dancing in your seat is “Don’t Leave It A Lie” offering self empowerment to those who’ve been inhibited for too long. The Little Feat swagger is well evident but the later appearance of a flute and ukulele are more of a signature of this well oiled machine. “Trouble, Trouble” sees Kevin lead the band with a soulful vocal and receives a great complementary back up vocal from the ladies. Shinyribs can take the tempo down a notch (and let’s face it all dancers need a slow one to catch their breath and have a chance to smooch) and with “I Knew It All Along” tell the story of unrequited love and the realisation that she’ll never be his. “Hands On Your Hips” continues his love lorn ways with the love of his life starting to stray. These are both classic 70’s soul ballads the like of which you’d have heard before on AM frequencies in a town near you.
The Shinyribs are not averse to a cover and pick Allen Toussaint’s “A Certain Girl”. For this listener, however, it is too soon after the Country Pop nailer by Joy Lynn White of “A Certain Boy” and loses out to the novelty achieved with their coquettish background call and answer chorus but you be the judge.
Special mention must go to the band who seem more than accomplished and have the feel of Leon Russell, Tower of Power & Dr John rolled into one. That’s definitely a team you can believe in. Each track is worthy and I could have mentioned any: such are the quality of the tunes and arrangements. However, all good things come to an end and Shinyribs bring the 48 minute outing to a close with the gospel call of “The Cross Is Boss” that leaves you swaying and clapping in the aisles as the singers lead you home. Hallelujah.
I couldn’t shift the words ‘Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC…’ by The Beatles out of my head as we flew into Miami and then took a taxi across to Miami Beach in biblical rain. BOAC doesn’t exist anymore and neither does the USSR despite some residual expansionary plans by Russia. We were here for a day before heading up to Fort Lauderdale to meet our Royal Caribbean cruise liner.
Miami Beach is a strange combination of big hotels, old Art Deco buildings, enormous wealth, Jewish communities, multi million $ yachts, sandy beaches, people who are young, old and quite a few gay men. It also has a brilliant selection of super cars cruising up and down Ocean Drive. Ferraris, Lamborghinis & Bentleys proliferate but we were told these were rental cars, which nicely fits into that false facade that the area presents.
The very American way of life soon hits you – TV adverts aimed at older people for blood thinning drugs or solving constipation. Fox News with impossibly attractive and coiffured women discussing dull proposed educational initiatives by certain States. CNN preoccupied, as if like a rabbit caught in the headlights, trying to pull apart or denigrate Trump in every newscast. The sudden vocabulary that assaults you with words like ‘intentionalities’. Back on the streets a high presence of police cars and prices that meant that we paid $50 every time we sat down to eat basic fayre (and we ain’t no fancy eaters y’hear). Lastly there was Anna leaping into a four lane highway to retrieve dollar bills, fluttering downwards, thrown from some high rise balcony only to be told that she should keep them. The $5 sorted out her holiday spending money nicely, I told her.
After two nights of reasonable sleep as we tried to cope with the jet lag then we were ferried up to Fort Lauderdale to ‘The Serenade Of The Seas’ for 11 nights cruising around the Caribbean.
The ship, built in Germany and launched in 2003 is still quite serviceable and our Deck 4 cabin included a porthole but with not a lot to see as we sped at 20 knots toward Antigua. There appeared to be more lists of prohibited behaviour on the ship than in the Old Testament and mainly about not consuming your own alcohol. Buying Royal Caribbean booze is eye wateringly expensive ($16 for a glass of Rose?) and so our smuggled on board wine and Scotch needed to satisfed most of our cravings in the cabin until we alighted at former parts of the British Empire and found a bar. Our fellow 2,179 travellers were 72% Americans, many north of 65 years old (oh so, you’ll were amongst your own then Tony, I hear you muse…) and with appetites that make perambulation a significant challenge due to their girth and our worrying suspicion that they were attempting to die in transit by an excessive consumption of omelettes, bacon, ice cream, mash potato and waffles. The food is clearly why many are on the ship and so ‘fill your boots’ is the mantra three times a day (and in between). This unbelievably is prepared by 140 cooks out of a total staff of 850. One officer commented that these 36 different nations spoke one common language – broken English!
There are other ages and nationalities amongst the passengers on board but one Brit did turn up for dinner one night in a Tottenham Hotspur home shirt – I just hoped it was hiding the flail weals on his back after a damn good whipping for letting our nation down sartorially.
We were 0.35 miles (return) from the main dining room to our cabin, including seven flights of stairs; we expected to lose weight although temptation for cake, ice cream, pancakes, eggs over easy, hash browns, hot dogs, creme brûlées etc. is a terrible thing isn’t it!
We opted to share a table at dinner the first night and out of the eight of us then we included Texas, Georgia and Sweden amongst the diners. The couple from Sweden own two small islands, he sold Volvos and they were both proud of Abba (not typical Swedes then…) The Texans are really a retired peripatetic Californians on their 23rd cruise who are on the first of back to back cruises on the same ship. We got to chat and sit with Norma and Bob quite a bit and they were delightful and not without a little humour. The folk from Georgia had a captivating charm and turn of phrase: whilst discussing cruise food and ‘desserts we have known and loved’ then Don declared – “If you had a piece of Melting Chocolate Cake on your forehead then you’d beat you brains out with your tongue trying to reach it”. I knew what he meant and how delicious it must be.
Amongst other distractions then the internet was not to be one. I’m went cold turkey and seemed to cope. Like a teenager then much of my life has become controlled by my iPhone and waking moments are spent ensuring that I haven’t missed that vital promotional email from Tesco (that I always delete without reading) or seeing which person I loathe on Twitter has posted their latest recidivist bile. The gym came back to compensate for incarceration whilst at sea but that was further away than the dining room!
Antigua
Antigua was our first sortie off the ship and our first step onto the Leeward Islands. I felt that we’d see some sandy beaches, very verdant countryside and maybe some signs of a less prosperous and laid back life… and we did. It’s a small place with a population of just over 80,000 and the economy is based on tourism although several pineapple trees were pointed out to us, along with bananas and other local produce. It was hilly – short and sharp inclines and drops. The road surface was rutted as we wove and bounced along the byways in our little Nissan mini bus.
The first stop was at the highest church on the island. They do appear to be a God fearing people and so there were quite a few churches. Here we got off the bus to look at the small building. Anna became engaged in conversation with a gentleman who was requesting $1 as a donation for his failing roof. I joined his immediate congregation and brought the conversation around to a former religion popular on the island, namely cricket, and not least the other omnipresent Being who was born and bred here, Viv Richards. The gentleman claimed to be a cousin of the said man, I was so impressed that I thought about a selfie but then thought maybe not.
I found in general that cricket is still popular in the West Indies but there are other sports that frankly offer the best an opportunity to move to the United States, particularly, basketball and American Football. The other sport is football in Europe. Both continents offer lucrative professional careers for the talented and so the national cricket team doesn’t get the most able West Indian sportsmen. Cricket is a very poor relation and the best West Indian cricketer (Chris Gayle) doesn’t even play for the national team whilst he can play One Day cricket in India and Australia and earn a fortune.
Of course the British brought some colonial misery to add to the islands history but we have left their best tourist attraction, which is Nelson’s Naval Dockyard. Here the fleet was repaired and restored in the middle 18th and early 19th Century amidst terrible British mortality due to yellow fever, heat stroke and a general inability of Europeans to cope with the climate. Our inglorious history predictably involved using slaves we’d probably kindly shipped across from west Africa. Anyway this restored complex now helps make the island money and appears to be their No. 1 attraction. I enjoyed the actual museum as well, within the Dockyard, with its artefacts and graphics, not least about Horatio who did a three year tour of duty out here mainly keeping the cheeky Yanks away from the islands with mixed success. It wasn’t war (we’d lost that) with the Americans but mainly we didn’t want them trading with the islands as before, that apparently was a privilege reserved for nations that paid taxes as our colony (and quite right!)
It is worth talking about the Caribbean population that includes many ethnicities but the vast majority are descendants from Africa (90%?). This means that they were originally shipped by Europeans, in inhumane conditions, across an ocean to spend the rest of their lives in servitude. As regards the British colonies then it wasn’t until 1834 when an Act or Parliament abolished slavery. However that still left a lot of
people of African descent a long way from their (or their forbears’) homes and still working in jobs with minimal reward as the only option for survival. I think that some Jamaican politicians still talk of reparations but we, white tourists, faced no aggravation (obviously as we brought hard currency) but it is humbling to think on their past.
There are odd plaques that refer to the past and the eventual independence of the islands, mainly in the 1960’s and 70’s, which refers to the journey these folk have made.
Sorry to include a photo of some squalor. I know these are poor places and I am lucky to be wealthy compared to these folk but on other later islands we saw more pride and care over their immediate surroundings. This is why if you were compiling a tour of islands to visit in the Caribbean then you might not pick this one. Although it seems fair to end by mentioning that Antigua promotes its beaches rather than its sights.
St Lucia
Well after being frankly being very underwhelmed by Antigua then apprehension was the word for St Lucia. A nice man in the ship’s theatre with an out of focus PowerPoint had advised that St Lucia (current population of 185,000) had changed hands 14 times between the French and British before coming to rest as a British Colony in 1814. However whilst the French didn’t leave their language they did leave the place names. In addition (for you pub quiz devotees) then it is the only country with a female name in it. His other information was to do with his repeated enthusiasm for the banana plantations. Funnily enough we were not.
So in bright sunlight and sweltering heat of 29 degrees we disembarked at the port in Castries and clambered on board a very long wheel base Land Rover and, proverbially, took to the hills. Again an island of steep hills and hairpins but wider roads, more prosperity and a greater pride in its appearance although worryingly the 16th highest murder rate in the world. Crystal, our guide, reserved her longest explanation of events for the 2016 T20 Cricket World Cup Final where you may remember England lost due a desperate last over of bowling from Ben Stokes. We heard her out and all then, I suspect, on the bus enthusiastic about English cricket made a mental note about the size of her tip at the end of excursion.
What a green and plentiful place – lots of bananas, coconuts, pineapples, cashew nuts and other exotic fruit. This all added up to a significant agriculture business with plenty of employment. In Crystal’s running commentary then Hershey took 90% of the cocoa production but apparently the UK were appreciated for our importation of bananas. They also had quite an industry in oil extraction of various plants. Tourism ranked top. She also noted, giving the British some credit, for the 1834 abolition of slavery. Frankly it seems a pitiful achievement but other nations were slower: it took the US another 31 years (and a civil war).
The open top Land Rover was fun with the wind on our faces and sun on our heads as we flew along. However my hat blew off and so, talking about island fruit, I returned to the ship looking like a ‘Guernsey Tom’ – not a good look but Anna was able to see me in the dark with the lights switched off for a couple of nights.
Yes so thumbs up for St Lucia. The guide was a fun delight including throwing herself off from the top of the waterfall. The driver, Bubbles, was one hell of a driver managing to persuade a very heavily laden Land Rover up and around some very demanding inclines. This island was lush, organised, great folk, beautiful to see and no little fun.
Barbados
Barbados (population 280,000) was the next port of call and we’d decided that bouncing around in a bus/truck for four hours on each island
should be rationed to preserve the pleasure and so we got a taxi into Bridgetown, the capital, and declined the various excursions available around the island. We found a working town but on a Saturday it was also a shopping/market day and the place was fizzing. First job, however, was finding wi-fi to FaceTime the children and not least Katrina who’s 26th birthday it was. We found her sipping champagne at some swanky place in the centre of London with lots of her friends. That’s my girl, well done!
So on into town and we saw lots of fruit and veg stalls with items I couldn’t recognise and all the women shoppers also seeking bargains in clothes, hair products, groceries etc as we ambled around the streets. It was vibrant and colourful and interesting to see how they conduct their day to day lives. However after a couple of beers we were back on the ship and thinking where next?
The Captain announced a couple of things over the PA every day and sadly thought he was a comedian as well as the ‘Jolly Jack Tar Numero Uno’. (He’s Norwegian for Heaven’s sake and we know humour is not a national attribute!) Disembarkation comes with his advice to take a camera should you arrive back late for embarkation. This is because you will be able to take an excellent shot of the ship as she sails away. Not quite as funny as one female comedian who did a stand up show and picked on the audience. She was quick because when one innocent volunteered that his name was Duncan she shot back “Duncan? As is in donuts?”
In fact there was a programme of entertainment on the ship and you can select from a singer/guitarist in a pub, staged theatre shows or reggae near the pool at various times during the day and night. We liked all the staged productions with dancers and singers. They were well done but I truly loved the band who accompanied the theatre productions. Five in the brass section along with drums, keyboards, guitar and bass. On one evening the chaps bowled up to the centre bar and played a selection of jazz. I think this was the type of music they would ordinarily play for themselves. Quite fabulous.
Grenada
We literally had a pit stop in Grenada (110,000 population), the southerly most island in the Windward Islands. We disembarked at 7.45am and were back on for 1pm. This is because of the long next sail to Bonaire. So Pumpkin, our driver and guide squeezed us into the Nissan bus and again we headed toward the centre of the island up a mountain. It was so fertile an island that we saw eucalyptus, papaya, nutmeg, bamboo, bananas, turmeric, ginger, cocoa, cinnamon growing in such a lush setting. I felt had I dropped a piece of paper it would shortly become a tree.
Our first stop was Douglaston Plantation employing 65 people on 200 acres. Here we touched and smelt various spices in a demonstration. Next we went into a rain forest park with a lake. That was pretty enough but on our way there we had to drive through a crowd of about 100 teenagers and youths mostly off their faces on whatever and many covered in mud. They were toward the fag end of an all nighter. They were in the road over a 150 metre stretch and still dancing on this country lane to a sound system that made the bus vibrate. Quite odd to wend up and down these little empty roads in dense tropical undergrowth for a long time to suddenly get to above 1000 feet and come across this party with obviously wrecked kids.
Pumpkin, his name and not my imagination, touched on the US invasion in 1983 and explained that after four years of Marxism after a coup and a build up of Cuban troops (and influence) then the US invaded to kick them and the regime out. It came to a brief war and USA soldiers and Cubans lost their lives. (Frankly Reagan wasn’t going to tolerate Cuban mischief and expansionary ambitions in his ‘backyard’). The suspicion was that Grenada would provide an excellent Soviet/Cuban launchpad for Marxist insurgency in Central America, not least as a refuelling stop with a new military capable airstrip under construction at the time.
Pumpkin said Grenadians were grateful to the US and lauded Ronnie but went out of his way, unprovoked, to suggest Obama was terrible as a President! More celebrated by the locals was the fact it was 43 years since they gained their independence from the UK – we saw quite a few pictures painted on the walls commemorating this event in national colours. Grenada for all its fertile lands is very poor and tourism is the major earner not least from American tourists. Apparently unemployment is 28% with little welfare support but apparently very low crime. None of this is helped by the necessity of considerable rebuilding of the island after phenomenal devastation to housing and crops caused in 2004 by Hurricane Ivan, including 39 deaths. It seems to me that processing some of these amazing agricultural products should be the next step and so increase the value of the exports.
So after a visit to an old British/French fort we were deposited back at the ship and the next decision, before the buffet, was a tip. Clearly as a Yorkshireman then this pains me. I recognise service but where it becomes frankly begging or harassment then I’m not happy. Pumpkin was well worth the $10 we handed across. However, on the trip we went to see a waterfall. Very nice but no I didn’t want to pay to see someone jump off the top of it, no matter how many times you shake the tin aggressively at me. Also thank you for the compliments as you walk beside me along the path back to the bus strumming a guitar (badly) whilst singing about my great generosity of spirit and high standing in society but no it isn’t worth $1 for this 20 second serenade. These are poor places and we chipped in regularly, over and above the excursion costs, for guides, drivers, spices, church roofs, samples of mango etc but I found some of it wearing.
Album of the trip was I Got Your Medicine by The Shinyribs. They were new to me but I was detailed to review this for Americana Music Show podcast and actually thought it was a stormer! A soul rock throw back to the 1970’s. I pedalled many a mile in the gym to this.
Bonaire
Next we were headed to places that I may have heard of but they simply hadn’t registered with me. The first was Bonaire just off the coast of Venezuela with a population of 19,000 and a beach life existence for the residents. It was actually part of The Netherlands rather than a colony still. Due to this then the infrastructure was in a lot better condition and made getting around easy.
This Dutch island of diddly squat size is completely flat, arid and has wild donkeys wandering around the scrub – as the guide said “India has cows that roam free then we have donkeys”. I did wonder if he-aw he-aw he-aw he always said that. This proliferation has something to do with the fact that they once needed and bred for hauling stuff around and when they were replaced then they were released into the wild to fend for themselves… and this they did!
The island produces salt and aloe vera but like the other islands makes its money out of tourism. The tourists either scuba dive, snorkel or sunbathe. Even Dutch Royals visit the island every year to show their faces and greet the natives. Given the entertainment options then we chose to cycle round part of the island in the midday sun (dodging donkeys) on electric bicycles. We ended up cycling over 20 miles albeit with considerable help from the bikes into a persistent gale. (Some of us were jolly pleased to work on their suntans).
The slaves up until the 19th Century helped harvest the salt that accumulated in vast ponds. Salt in these times was a precious commodity sought after for food preservation. Given this mineral and its value then the Spanish and Dutch fought over the island many times. In the burning sun against a white glare then it must have been a hellish job for the wretchedly unlucky Africans. There wasn’t a lot to see but our Belgian guide showed us his parent’s property rental ($3,000/week), the brick huts the Dutch kindly built for their slaves when there was talk of rebellion and bought us a beer. As you can see the sea was crystal clear and oh so blue.
Less unfortunate as regards the salt ponds were the migratory flamingos who used the pools to find salt water shrimp. At 7.30 pm we set sail again.
Aruba
Next morning we woke up in Aruba. This is part of the Netherlands remaining empire and is a small island but with over 100,000 people on it just 15 miles off the Venezuelan coast. Again like Bonaire tourism is a major dollar earner contributing 75% of its earnings with some agriculture and petrol refining tagging along. It is quite a prosperous place and you feel that as you visit the capital, Oranjestad. The Spanish and Dutch fought over it for a couple of centuries and the place, which has few natural resources, was used for livestock breeding, including horses. They were quite useful for conquering South America.
We strolled around and found a Starbucks and caught up with our email (nothing from Tescos regrettably) and then looked around the town noting that all the brands were here but at a high price. In every cruise port we visited there are high end jewellery shops – watches, diamonds, rings etc. In addition there are salespeople on the ship promoting these shops. They do this by invitations to seminars on the ship, handing out ‘shopping maps’ when you disembark, discounts for shopping, invitations to shops ‘which will be fun and involve complimentary champagne’ and then a whole TV channel in your room that babbles on about opportunities and bargains for 24 hours a day. I would be worried about parting with serious cash in some of these countries to later find a problem back in the UK. I think maybe for some, with money to burn, then this is part of the holiday.
Oranjestad is an attractive town and well organised with a lot of Spanish and Dutch influence in evidence. The present Mrs Ives left me on one corner as I used the free wi-fi to, in effect, disappear. I looked up concluding that I had been abandoned and so returned to the ship, but found no wife. So I went back through the security checks and all that hassle back into town to the very corner where I last saw her. However no wife! At this point I was imaging a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean involving her abduction and my sailing to Florida alone. So eventually after a look around I returned to the ship. I asked Security if she had embarked? She had, in fact she was so worried about our parting that she’d gone to lunch on the top deck by herself. As you were.
So there were two days left to sail back to Florida. The present Mrs Ives worked on her tan before some serious retail therapy at a Miami mall
and Terminal 5 at Heathrow, by which hangs a story… We were meant to fly from Miami to Philadelphia and then onto Manchester. Our Miami flight was delayed to a time that meant we missed the Manchester connection. Apparently there was wild weather between both places.
The drama meant standing at the check-In desk whilst the staff sought out Plan B for us, the last thing we wanted was to wait another day in Miami. This they did and we flew from Miami to London and then onto Manchester adding 4½ hours to the return time. Having not slept since Lord knows when then keeping awake on the drive back across the M62 was tricky but we managed to get home.
(Must add that I saw some interesting films on the flights of which ‘Manchester by the Sea’ was brilliant – surely the rightful Oscar winner (?) but ‘Whiplash’ was good).
So a splendid time was had by all. I now know a lot more about the region and its people and could actually tell you where these islands are in relation to North America, South America, Puerto Rica and Cuba. Tourism is the way forward for these islands but you deep down hope that they can develop other ways to make a living that are sustainable and self fulfilling for the residents. Travel broadens the mind and I returned broader in more ways than one!
So the week started with the ‘Forces Sweetheart’ celebrating her 100th birthday. Judging by the BBC programme then she also appeared to be in quite decent nick for a very senior citizen. In summarising her importance then Barry Humphries commented that she ‘was a voice of an era when civilisation was under threat.’
I like that but also I like the fact that to sing to the troops she went to the other side of the world – Burma in 1944. No Jumbo 747 into an International airport and then a stretched air-conditioned limo to a venue but a brutally hot, time consuming and dangerous journey into the jungle to stand on a soap box and belt tunes out beside a bloke on a piano whilst you hoped the look outs were concentrating on the perimeter rather than the music. She is simply the best of British.
Raising some money for York Carers Centre has been productive as I took my talk on my bike ride across the USA to a couple of ladies evening groups in Harrogate and a home gig in Acaster Malbis with the local branch of the Yorkshire Countrywomen’s Association this week. The talk lasts under an hour and I take the folk chronologically across the country – mountain ranges, camping, churches, deserts, bears, mustangs and the full 9 yards (as they say over the pond). The greatest interest seems to lie in my talking about dealing with saddle sores! This became known as the ‘Knaresborough’ problem. This was because I didn’t mention some serious discomfort as I cycled in the daily blog but obviously mentioned it to my wife in Face Time conversations. She then told anyone from Knaresborough who appeared in her shop. My arse was the talk of the town! Anyway more evenings in the diary.
So if Vera is a heroine then PC Palmer also was at the Houses of Parliament. He lost his life to a terrorist who stabbed him to death. This
tragedy was compounded by two other innocents losing their lives. In addition the terrorist was shot. We have a daughter who works in central London and this is far too close for comfort. I feel so sorry for those families who will not see their loved ones again.
The politicians talked of the horror but ‘life will go on’ and the worrying but frank admission by the Mayor that no city is ever completely safe. Stand by for vigils, bouquets of flowers and other actions that will not solve the problem but may ease the grief.
Against this numbing catastrophe then we buried, with literal honours, another former terrorist who oversaw the murder of many innocent men, women and children as well as British soldiers. I genuinely accept and believe that we must look at his defining contribution to the ending of the Northern Irish conflict and his critical subsequent political leadership. His cause was about the errors of colonial miss rule and the resentment it developed such that murder seemed, to the IRA, the only solution.
The London Islamist terrorist no doubt had the roots of his vile beliefs created by partially the colonial and western mistakes in the Middle East and he was prey to others who poisoned his mind and created the belief that killing your own countrymen, he was British, would promote their cause. I doubt, however, he would have had a former US President fly several thousands of miles for his funeral with the great and the local good. Confusing isn’t it.
So the week started with attending a Speed Awareness course. This £85 bargain was because I went through a sleepy village at 36mph instead of 30mph and apparently put other lives in mortal danger. It had few redeeming features apart from my avoiding future higher insurance premiums, but it was Blog Gold.
Gavin, our workshop leader did enquire of the 22 other criminals as to whether “has anyone here been on a Speed Awareness course before?” and saw three quarters of the attendees put their hands up. At this show of hands he grinned from to ear to ear and said “welcome back!”
From here the course’s star turn, Elaine, proverbially ‘took the floor’. Gavin was going through administrative chores and he touched on the freedom to go to the toilet as and when required:
Gavin: “If you go to the toilet then what do you all have to do?”
Elaine: “Wash your hands?”
Gavin: “No, come back”
Gavin did however bite his tongue when required…
Gavin: “What are the implications of driving too fast in terms of safety in residential areas?”
Elaine: “You might hit a cat?”
Gavin: (long silence as he composed himself)…”no I was thinking about not hitting children or the elderly”
Gavin: “Why are there less safety issues as regards accidents on motorways?”
Elaine: “Less pedestrians”
Gavin: “Err… hopefully no pedestrians”
Gavin “So we’ll all agree that alcohol is not to be taken if you are driving. What else goes with alcohol?”
Elaine: “Kebabs?”
Gavin: “Err… no, I was more thinking of drugs”
He wasn’t awfully lucky because as he went on to explain stopping speeds and the laws of physics (that explained that the greater the speed the longer the stopping length). He confidently asked “if anyone knew any physics?” hoping this selection of nurses, retirees, farmers and van drivers would know nothing only to find a physics graduate in his midst. This thankfully shut him up!
Oh by the way, Elaine, a nurse, was caught speeding when she was visiting a friend with a dog wheel chair (the contraption animals with non functioning rear legs use). As she ruefully commented that it was a cruel blow when she was on a mercy mission. This is true because even I couldn’t make this up. I am not keen to re attend anytime soon unless they can confirm that Elaine will also be in attendance.
So this week I finished reading Prisoners of Geography by Tim Marshall.A very interesting analysis of geopolitics, which also made it into the top sellers listings. I need now to find a book to enable me to sleep with one eye open, my wife is studying a number of dark subjects. On Anna’s beside table I list for you 10 of her current, past or future reads – Bone Field, The Impossible Dead, Standing In Another Man’s Grave, The Drowning Man, Dead Lane, Orphan X, Unguarded, The Hunt, The Woman In Cabin 10 & Her Every Fear.
Lastly, the Grim Reaper took Chuck Berry and James Cotton. Chuck, as they say needs no introduction, but apart from a worrying interest in under age girls he did bring a more articulate form of rock n’ roll to the world. Not only great tunes well constructed but great lyrics that painted a picture of teenage America in the late 1950’ and 60’s. They told of young love, cars, dancing, travel and who can forget C’est La Vie from Pulp Fiction as John Travolta and the dangerous boss’ squeeze, Uma Thurman, dance to it.
James Cotton was the Blues harmonica player with Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and many others including solo work. Given that these originals just about drank themselves to early graves then James clocked up 81 years, which is still soon I know. I love his sound but in 2015 when I cycled down America I eventually turned east when I hit New Orleans and cycled along a very empty and quite dull parched coastline. I had seen only one other cycle tourer in 2,000 miles when a cyclist came into view barrelling along toward me. Immediately recognising each other as fellow tourers we stopped and chatted. Andrew Alli was heading to New Orleans to meet friends and play blues harp. He had a Blues band. As I’d been to the home of the Blues in the Mississippi Delta I told him about my trip and favourite artists. Given he played harmonica I raised my love of James Cotton to which he told me that he’d met him. Before I shook Andrew’s hand I asked if his hand had also shaken James’? He had and so in one way or another I have touched Blues royalty.
‘Walking across the sitting room I turned the television off’… These words from Supper’s Ready on Genesis’ fourth album Foxtrot came into the hire car as I drove through Cleveland, Ohio with Dave Truscott besides me. Woa! early Genesis on US daytime radio, what a find, I thought. Sadly Dave, a buyer for B & Q who I’d brought across the pond to see some American kitchen cabinetry wasn’t listening but continued to talk over it and so I turned it down and, like a good salesman, listened to his pearls of wisdom.
My trip with Dave was sometime in the early Noughties but this album came my way in 1972 and thereafter I was devoted to Genesis until Peter Gabriel left. I heard them perform this live at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, London on January 18th 1974 (I’d first seen the band, second on the bill, in Bradford on October 11th 1972) and it was so epic that I can even remember the location of my seat in this theatre and who I went with. I’ve seen a lot of live music and so for this to stand out is quite something.
At this stage Genesis were a quintessentially English Progressive rock band with that ponderous, multi instrument, textured and thoughtful brand of music delivering songs that talked about science fiction scenarios (“Get ‘Em Out By Friday”), medieval kings and queens (Time Table) and the usual mixed gibberish of images and heroes (“Watcher Of The Skies”). However it was the seven part Side 2 of “Supper’s Ready” that I’d be begging Kirsty to let me take to my Desert Island and not least the one record I would retrieve from the waves.
Within this sublime 23 minutes we experience the driving and varied percussion of the master sticks man Phil Collins, long before he went on to become a balding latter day Cliff Richards. The prominent and occasionally stabbing bass of Mike Rutherford, the near classical keyboard fills and themes created by Tony Banks with a selection of weapons including the mighty Melloton and the epic swooping and melodic guitar of Steve Hackett that created a whole sound rather than just a riff or a fluent lick or two. And then the incomparable Peter Gabriel with a large selection of vocal styles on one album. I’ve read the band resented that Gabriel became the media’s favourite given the fact they all composed the music and he just sang it but how many blokes were wearing fox’s heads and red evening dresses on stage or then shaving his head down the middle at this time as well as dominating the stage? Within this track we have lyrics that were brilliantly evocative of battles, the devil, God, supersonic scientists, Winston Churchill – all nonsense but each song evoked a picture, a story and even euphoria as we climax with:
‘Lord of Lord’s,
King of Kings,
Has returned to lead his children home,
To take them to the new Jerusalem.’
Progressive rock got a bad name from trendy music journalists as the decade elapsed and the ability to play your instrument became a badge of shame but frankly some of this stuff is amongst the best of British popular music. The technical proficiency of the musicians as well as the creative talents to compose meant that it was as varied as a piece of classical music but with a willingness to fuse acoustic, pop, rock, classical and folk. Joyous.
On podcasts I had heard Rag n’ Bone Man (Rory Graham) over the last few years but it wasn’t until the release of his album Human, and the accolades rolled in, along with Russell Crowe tweeting about him that I started to take an interest. Fifteen years plying his trade on the English south coast in various guises meant that he’d more than paid his dues when he eventually got in the studio for this project. This experience helps him comfortably interpret a number of styles effortlessly. Rory has a voice that lends itself to soul, rock ballads and the blues. It is a voice that has a gravelly bottom end with a compelling presence and the potential to blow down a building should he choose to let it rip.
What’s a rag and bone man? In post war Britain horse drawn carts used to patrol residential areas collecting scrap and surplus detritus. Originally it had been bones and clothing but latterly it wasn’t unusual to see a poor bedraggled horse lugging metal scrap.
Rory has writing credits on all tracks and given the rock/pop/soul confection then it pleases throughout but there are some highlights over and above the standout Human with its driving beat. Human was co written with the voice behind Ben’s Brother and it explains the quality of the song. Other songs have pop song writing royalty on them but you feel they helped rather than dictated. There must be a word of praise for the production of Mark Crew and Jamie Scott. They really ‘got’ Graham and whilst all the arrangements remain contemporary it is sympathetic and showcases.
Where the backing is simple and he can interpret a great melody then these are the moments when you’d turn it up or tell everyone around you to be quiet. Grace has a piano, guitars and strings in the mix but they compliment each other rather than compete. Skin, has the feel of an Adele song. Against a muffled drum Graham leads the song into a chant and a choir backs him as he opines about love lost. However the one for the multi star rating in my iTunes library will be Die Easy. Anyone bringing straight spine chilling unaccompanied vocal Delta blues music to the top of the charts will always have my attention and devotion.
The big question for Sony will be whether Rory can repeat the success with the next album. Human is a triumph but some great voices have had epic arrivals and then somewhat swift departures – Macy Gray and Duffy come to mind.
Tony Ives’ Blog 