Now that's an album cover, isn't it? I'd have bought that from the charity shop even if I hadn't recognised the artist. Don't you just want to be there, standing out on that street in the early 70s twilight, waiting for the world to take you somewhere interesting? No? Just me then.
Apparently the image is based on a Rene Magritte painting from the 50s...
Lovely too, but I prefer Jackson's homage...
9. Jackson Browne - The Late Show
My love affair with the 70s continues. It is now my favourite decade, musically. It's aged a lot better than the 60s, the 80s, even the 90s. In my humble opinion. Particularly American rock and pop, much of which seems timeless from that decade. Not the case quite so much in the UK: both glam and punk are sounding a little creaky now, much as I still enjoy them. But let's not get started on The Bay City Rollers.
It's an age thing too. I tried getting into Jackson Browne 10, 15 years ago. Bought myself an Essential Collection or somesuch. A couple of the songs hit their mark, most notably Running On Empty, but I don't think I was ready. And now I am. Picked this "classic" album up in a 5 for a quid sale a few weeks back and haven't looked back. It's a time machine I can use to escape the horrors of 2017 back to a simpler, more innocent time. I mean, it's not like there was a psychopathic con man in the White House back in 1974...
What?
Oh.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Forget all that. Just listen to the music. That smoky, late night piano. Those gorgeous harmonies (including Don Henley and Dan Fogelberg). The plaintive steel guitar. The car door slamming towards the end. Who'd ever think a slamming car door could sound so good?
I realise that's a pretty bold claim in March, but, boy, do I like the new Jens Lekman LP, Life Will See You Now. I've had it on almost permanent rotation in the car all week (along with one other new album which I managed to fit on the same CD and I'll be mentioning here soon). Usually when I take a new album to the car, I give it time to grow: one spin, then back to something more familiar, revisiting it later. But this one, I've had to fight to get it out of the CD player. 10. Jens Lekman - How We Met, The Long Version
It's been 10 years since I bought a Jens Lekman album, no fault of the artist because I very much enjoyed 2007's Night Falls Over Kortedala; all the fault of my pathetic inability to keep up with all the artists I enjoy. Good pre-release buzz about this record reminded me about Jens, and I'm glad I plunged back in, because there's so much to enjoy here, starting with lead "singles" What's That Perfume You Wear? and Evening Prayer. I will warn you not to listen to any of the other tracks from the album on youtube though as someone has uploaded a bunch of them slowed-down for some reason... and they sound pretty ropey.
Discussing my love for the album with my pal Steve last week, I made the mistake of comparing it to recent John Grant masterpieces... knowing full well Steve isn't really into John Grant. Lyrically, there's certainly that same attention to quirky detail you'll find on a John Grant record (as Evening Prayer ably demonstrates) as well as an obvious love of upbeat, poppy electronica. But there's much more to love here even if you're not a John Grant devotee (a.k.a. you're clinically insane), from a gorgeous duet with Tracy Thorn, Hotwire The Ferris Wheel, which goes all Pearlfishers / Paddy McAloon towards the end (I should have led with that, shouldn't I, Steve?) to the main track I'm concentrating on today, which is the first song this year I've fallen head over heels for on first listen. I love the attention to detail here, how Jens speeds through the creation of the universe and the beginnings of life on earth... only to slow things right down at the moment he asks the girl he fancies to "borrow your bass guitar...not that I needed one". And just listen to the trumpets!
With the exception of Kenny Wednesdays, I haven't done a first name Top Ten in quite a while. So...
There are actually very few Emilies in my record collection. The only artists I could find were Emily Robinson from the Dixie Chicks; French singer Emily Loizeau, whose songs appear to have been recorded by everybody from Shelby Lynne to The Mountain Goats; Emily Barker & The Red Clay Halo; Emily Kinney (above), who you might recognise as Beth from The Walking Dead, but she writes some pretty cool songs too; and a not-half-bad cover of Asleep by The Smiths by Australian actress Emily Browning, from the soundtracker of Sucker Punch.
But when it came to songs about Emilies... there were LOADS!
I feel like I'm contractually obliged to include this. Not being a true muso, I never really got The Floyd. Nothing against them, I just never really saw what all the fuss was about. I probably appreciate the Syd Barrett stuff a bit more... although I prefer the David Bowie and Martha Wainwright versions of this song, if I'm totally honest.
Emily Shore was a young English woman who died of consumptiom at the age of 19 in the early 1800s. Her diaries were published over 50 years later, and a century or so after that they inspired Brett and Rennie Sparks.
Excellent track from Luke's 2005 album, Broken (And Other Rogue States). Great live version I found on youtube in which Luke duets with his wife, Melissa Mclelland.
Art goes solo on this one: peerless romantic nostalgia from Paul.
I wandered empty streets Down past the shop displays. I heard cathedral bells Tripping down the alley ways, As I walked on. And when you ran to me Your cheeks flushed with the night. We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight, I held your hand.
John Grant did an excellent cover of this with The Czars.
Second best song I own about a long lost teenage girlfriend called Emily... from the former Rialto frontman.
Took off our ties straight after school For lager and limes and shooting pool Underhand cigarettes to compilation cassettes...
1. Art Brut - Emily Kane
I miss Eddie Argos. I don't know what he's up to these days, but we need him back.
I don't even know where she lives.
I've not seen her in 10 years, 9 months, 3 weeks, 4 days, 6 hours, 13 minutes, 5 seconds. Other girls went and other girls came,
I can't get over my old flame. All my friends think I'm insane,
I'm still in love with Emily Kane. There's a beast in my soul that can't be tamed,
I'm still in love with Emily Kane.
Those were my ten favourites (well, nine and one contractual obligation), but I easily had enough Emily songs for a Top Twenty-Five. Perhaps I'll do a volume 2... once I've covered every other name in my Big Book of Baby Names. Suggestions are always welcomed...
This series is all about the albums I might have included in my end of year Top Ten for 2016 had I got to them in time. The weird thing is, I did buy Ultrasound's Real Britannia the week it came out and because I love their previous two albums, 1999's Everything Picture and 2012's Play For Today, I fully expected to be writing about album #3 in my year end list.
The problem is, it came out in early December, which didn't really give me time to properly listen to it. I'll admit, I panicked and shoved it into rotation in the car, then became frustrated when it didn't immediately leap out screaming LOVE ME, LOVE ME, LOVE ME. I resigned myself to the fact that if I did include it in my list, that would be more down to past glories that current adoration, and I pushed the album to one side.
Then came the January wilderness when I often get time to catch up on music I've not given enough time to in the pre-December crush. That's when I found myself revisiting Real Britannia and discovering its hidden depths. It might not be as immediate a record as its predecessors, but there's a hell of a lot to love... even if it is only 6 tracks long.
The album kicks off with a roaring indie guitar anthem about cross-dressing (something of a recurrent theme for the band), extremely timely in its suggestion that the era of tolerance and acceptance is at end for anyone remotely different: "there's a twister on the way".
Up next, a direct reaction to that: God's Gift, a Jarvis Cocker-esque rallying cry for mis-shapes and misfits everywhere...
We feel the need before we come to the dance
We come in peace, we fall to pieces
We smash and grab and then we smoke some fags and leave
A complete change of pace follows with a slice of righteous Riot Grrl action, Soul Girl, composed and sung by bassist Vanessa Best: giving regular lead singer Tiny both a rest... and a run for his money. No Man's Land channels 80s nuclear war paranoia (also timely now Trump's got the briefcase) and then comes Asylum, where music is the perfect escape route for us all...
Everybody's got an axe to grind in my town
They'll steal the light out of your eyes if you let them
So I just put my headphones on
Surrender to the song
Asylum
All of which brings us to the final track... or Side 2, as it would once have been known. I've seen Blue Remembered Hills called a "prog Epic" and compared to the latter half of Abbey Road because of its length (over 20 minutes) and the fact that it's made up of more than 6 different tunes, seemlessly woven together in Tiny's autobiographical confessional which starts thus:
Oh please
I feel like a boy band feels
Lame
As crippled as Mel C’s Tears
Chauffeur me
Cradle me
Mum and Dad
Save us from the secrets of love
And after that, it gets really good. Supposedly inspired by both Dennis Potter and Ken Loach, Tiny recalls the childhood of a "big fat cuckoo" from Wakefield (a town I pass every day on my way to work). It starts happily enough with "Shorts and scuffs and beans for tea" until his father has a nervous breakdown and heads down south, never to return, leaving Tiny feeling "just a waste of space". Bullying, drugs, nascent sexual encounters, more cross-dressing, Noggin The Nog: it's all here, yet the raw honesty of Tiny's words never become depressing. There's actually something hugely inspirational in it, even when the lyrics turn from personal woes to the poisoning of the outside world.
And those who thought they were innocent times
Nostalgia made them go blind
For all those modern lovers
And now we view the world of Top of the Pops
As something falling like rocks
On Savile’s shit stained covers
Yet despite this, Blue Remembered Hills is a song about not letting our good childhood memories be destroyed by darkness. Its message seems to be not to give up on nostalgia. There were good times, amidst the bad. There always are.
The endless sun
Cross country runs
The glam rock beat
The 3 day week
The waist high grass
The P.E. class
The Oxford bags
The woodbine fags
The past is a shining sea that’s drowning me
So I get my kicks from those who fall like me
Into the deep blue
You know what, Real Britannia might not be as immediate as Ultrasound's first two albums. But give it a little bit of time and it reveals its true identity: it is their masterpiece. It's Real and it Rules. I just wish they hadn't released it in December, because this really is one of the best records of 2016.
Buy it so Tiny can buy some more fetching onesies.
Despite the dodgy sweater and the fact that it's his surname, this week's Kenny is so good, I'll name him twice.
4. Gerard Kenny - New York, New York
I didn't know a lot about Gerard Kenny beyond his big 70's "hit" (well, it got to #43); however, he has been on my bucket list for a while. Yes, other middle-aged men have bucket lists that include skydiving into the Grand Canyon and getting stuck in an elevator with Gillian Anderson. My bucket list includes catching up on music by Gerard Kenny, Bert Jansch and The Staple Singers.
As previously established, I love a well-hammered keyboard... and Gerard even throws a broken window and a choral climax into this loving homage to his hometown (written after he'd moved to England). What's not to love?
On further investigation, I was delighted to learn Gerard wasn't a complete one "hit" wonder. He also wrote Barry Manilow's I Made It Through The Rain (as featured recently in My Top Ten Inspirational Songs, Volume 1) and... wait for it, wait for it...
He also wrote this:
Which kind of makes a mockery (if such a thing were possible) of that old Little Britain sketch where David 'Dennis Waterman' Walliams promises to "write the theme tune, sing the theme tune"... what a disappointment.
(Oh, and before you go, do yourself a favour and watch the video to I Could Be So Good For You. It is the best / worst thing you will see all week. It's good to have a nice, healthy cringe on a Wednesday.)
