Siouxsie and the Banshees – Israel

siouxsie and the banshees israel polydor 150x150 Siouxsie and the Banshees   Israel

 

 

 

 

 

There was a time when you knew where you stood with a Banshees’ lyric. In the days when they were adorned with Nazi armbands and provocatively goose stepping around London clubs, they could pen a lyric such as “Too many Jews for my liking” for ‘Love in a Void.’ As recently as 2005 in an Uncut interview, Siouxsie stated, ” I have to be honest but I do like the Nazi uniform. I shouldn’t say it but I think it’s a very good-looking uniform.”

And so what to expect from a single called ‘Israel’, not on any album, carrying the image of the Star of David on it? It wasn’t the first time Siouxsie had used the image. Following her Nazi flirtation, the band started attracting a far right contingent at their gigs resulting in Siouxsie wearing t shirts with the Star of David emblazoned on them as a riposte. Additionally, the song ‘Metal Postcard (Mittageisen)’ was incorporated into their set dedicated to the memory of anti-Nazi artist John Heartfield. The attempt at some sort of rapprochement with Jewish culture seems to have been finalised with this single.

However, it would be unwise to venture what the song is actually about based on the lyrics. If you wanted to be kind, you could say that Siouxsie has learnt nuance and subtlety; if you wanted to be cruel, you could argue that Coldplay would be quite happy to sing lyrics of such vagueness. There are images of “little orphans in the snow” and “veins on the stained glass”; there are biblical and fairy tale allusions of turning “blood into wine” and princes and kings “now hidden in disguise”. There are lyrics that seem to concern themselves with religion and sectarian divisions but they melt away under analysis like the snow the orphans are playing in. It’s almost as if, having played the provocateur early in her career, Siouxsie doesn’t want to risk causing anyone offence and thus has penned lyrics of mind numbing banality. Contrast this to the lyrics penned on ‘Arabian Knights’ which couldn’t be any clearer (“Veiled behind screens /Kept as your baby machine / Whilst you conquer more orifices / Of boys, goats and things /Ripped out sheeps eyes-no forks or knives.”). Indeed she has claimed she wanted ‘Israel’ to be the Banshees’ Christmas single which makes some kind of sense when you hear the bells ring and the use of Christmas colours, “Red and green reflects the scene” (although, of course, they are also the  national colours of Palestine). And that is the frustration with this song: all meaning slips nebulously through your fingers until there is nothing left to cling on to.

It is left to the music to elevate the pretentions of the lyrics: from Severin’s sonorous bass, to the ghostly choral backing effects, to Siouxsie’s mournful lead vocal and, above all, John McGeoch’s heavily echoed guitar spiral that dominates a sound held together by Budgie’s ceremonial drumming. It is a music that allows us to dream, that takes us somewhere exotic,  that allows us to ask questions about what we are hearing. It is just unfortunate that like the country in the title there are far more unresolved questions than answers.

Daily Playlist 03/04/2014

The Thorn In My Side Is Gone – American Music Club

Silent Air – The Sound

This Summer – Herman Dune *

The Ballad of Easy Rider – Fairport Convention

Hey Captain – The Broken Family Band

Crumb by Crumb – Rufus Wainwright

Dirtywhirl – TV On The Radio

Knock On Wood – Prefab Sprout

Here Come De Honey Man – Herbie Hancock

Feed The Enemy – Magazine

Cooking – Scritti Politti

I Stand Corrected – Vampire Weekend

* “If you think that they are right and you are going insane

It’s just the lithium fucking with your brain.”

Clipse – Hell Hath No Fury

Clipse Hell Hath No Fury 150x150 Clipse   Hell Hath No Fury

 

 

 

 

 

Clipse have long been characterised as the doyens of cocaine (w)rap, a term which does scant service to the ingenuity of their wordplay and the stripped back nihilism of the music on this, their greatest album. Their interest in words can be traced back to their origins: originally known as the Full Eclipse Crew, they then changed their name to the gun referencing Full of Clips Crew before settling on Clipse. The brothers, Gene (Malice) and Terrence (Pusha T) Thornton started selling crack in their Virginia neighbourhood as teenagers whilst, at the same time, trying to gain a foothold in the local music scene where they met Pharrell Williams who, impressed by their lyrical skills, wanted to work with them, thus beginning a long partnership with The Neptunes production team who have never been better than on this album.

Having released a previously well received album, ‘Lord Willin’, in 2002, it was anticipated that the follow-up would arrive the following year. However, numerous record company changes and contractual problems meant that ‘Hell Hath No Fury’ would not appear for another four years – a lifetime in rap circles. If the William Congreve referencing title didn’t make you aware how frustrated and angry the pair were with the delay, then the music and vocals contained within would.

The first track, ‘We Got It For Cheap (Intro)’, starts with a warped, repetitive mambo beat over which a dealer is selling his wares immediately establishing the predominant theme which is taken up by Pusha T: “Fear him as soon as you hear him / Upon my arrival, the dope dealers cheer him….” There is little doubt that the brothers are intimately acquainted with the drug world they portray here. In ‘Wamp Wamp (What It Do)’ we are told,”17 a brick, yeah, go and tell ‘em that /I got the wamp wamp when I move it its still damp /Mildew-ish when I heat it, it turn bluish /It cools to a tight wad…” By the time we get to ‘Keys Open Doors’ (the keys, of course, are kilos of cocaine), the dope is safely stored in the fridge awaiting distribution: “Open the Frigidaire, 25 to life in here / So much white you might think your holy Christ is near / Throw on your Louis V millionaires to kill the glare / Ice trays? Nada! All you see is pigeons paired.” And away from the fictionalised world of the album, the real life friend and manager of the band was imprisoned for 32 years for being the head of a 10 million dollar drug ring.  Alongside the vast quantity of songs about drugs, there are occasional glimpses of the violence required to sustain this lifestyle. In ‘Chinese New Year’, they decide to supplement their drug money with an armed robbery: “I’m at your door, your eyes are like why are you here / Judging by my steel I got something to do here / Give up the money or the angel cries two tears / Front of your crib sounding like Chinese New Year.”

So what is it then that differentiates ‘Hell Hath No Fury’ from other macho braggadocio about drugs and violence? Firstly, I think it’s the literate imagery used throughout, for example the idea of a gun firing  two bullets likened to an angel crying two tears with the associated religious imagery of angels shedding tears in heaven for this man’s subsequent death. You can go to virtually any song on this album and find dense, literate imagery – Pusha T and Malice can write, that’s for sure.

Secondly, there is real humour here. They may be writing about drugs and violence but there are times when it is difficult to suppress a chuckle. When Pusha T likens his skills to cooking up cocaine to that of Bet Crocker (an American equivalent of Mary Berry), you can envision a reality cooking show where rappers compete to see who can make the best crack.Then, on ‘Mr Me Too’, there is the slapping down of Lil Wayne for his blatant attempts at imitating them: ” Wanna know the time? Better clock us / Niggas bite the style from the shoes to the watches.” There are the knowing references to Miami Vice’s Tubbs and Crockett , The Wire, The Fonz and even the Cookie Monster, Ernie and Bert. There is the sheer stupidity and joy of the chorus to Chinese New Year which goes, “Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat / Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat,” where, vocally,  they try to replicate the noise of fireworks or guns.

Thirdly, behind it all, particularly in older brother Malice’s lyrics, you get a sense that he, at least, understands the superficiality and cost of this lifestyle. In the very first song, he says, “And to little brother Terrence who I love dearly so / If ever I had millions never would you push blow, never”; in the next song, he reveals the guilt he feels over his lifestyle choices, “Mama I’m so sorry, I’m so obnoxious / Big home, palm trees, and watches / Mama I’m so sorry, I’m so obnoxious / My only accomplice is my conscience”; and by the final track the confusion and paranoia of a life dependent on crack is plain for all to see, “Look over your shoulder, something is near / And I’m so scared, when I’m alone I’m so scared / Now it’s inching closer, trouble is near / But nothing’s there, when I look nothing’s there / I’m outta my mind, I’m runnin’ from guilt, but / It’s right by my side, there’s nowhere to hide.”

Finally, there is the music in which these words are wrapped. There was a conscious agreement between Clipse and The Neptunes that the production should try to revise some of the early sonic experiments of Mantronix. As a result, everything feels stripped back and encased, coiled up, ready to pounce. The synth soundscapes are restrained but form a threatening backdrop to the beats and rhymes. Unusual instruments like accordians, kettledrums  and harp suddenly appear, frequently forming a main component of the song. There is a real tension and darkness in the music that matches the lyrics perfectly.

From Congreve to cocaine, from the making and taking of the drug to the paranoia it can induce, this is as artful an album as you will get anywhere, irrespective of genre.

              

Daily Playlist 16/01/2014

No Dice – Beirut

Your Own Back Yard – Dion

Broken Radio No 1 – The Fatima Mansions

Mineral – Buffalo Tom

Lazy Rain – Smog

Heart of Darkness – Sparklehorse

Merge – Grizzly Bear

Murderers, The Hope of Women – Momus

You’re a Big Girl Now – Bob Dylan

Miami – Randy Newman

Sweet Gospel Music – Prefab Sprout

BH Rock – The Paradise Motel

Really – Nellie McKay

Love of an Orchestra – Noah and the Whale

Everybody – Delta

Summer Breeze – Emiliana Torrini

Poison Girls – Persons Unknown / Crass – Bloody Revolutions

 Poison Girls   Persons Unknown / Crass   Bloody Revolutions

 

 

 

 

 

The germ of this split single lies in the arrest of anarchists Ronan Bennett and Iris Mills on trumped up charges of conspiracy to cause explosions with persons unknown. After 18 months of imprisonment where they were subjected to numerous indignities, they were found not guilty of all charges and finally allowed the freedom they should never have lost. During that year and a half, friends and supporters of Bennett and Mills took on the name of Persons Unknown to help publicise and fund their cause. Both Crass and Poison Girls played benefits for Persons Unknown and, following their release, Bennett penned the copious liner notes for this particular single.

Poison Girls were a misfit band from the start. At a time when female visibility in bands was generally restricted to the glamorous and young, Vi Subversa, the lead singer, formed the band in her mid forties (she is currently 78 and living in Spain). With a honeyed voice that has echoes of Marianne Faithfull, Lesley Woods and Eartha Kitt, Vi uses the phrase ‘Persons Unknown’ to encapsulate all ordinary people whom the authorities may choose to brand with that nomenclature: “Housewives and prostitutes / Plumbers in boiler suits / Truants in coffee bars /Who think you’re alone.”  The suggestion is that any of us could end up like Bennett and Mills, accused of a crime we did not commit and vilified by press and government. Throughout the song, Subversa makes the point that society encourages people to live lives of isolation making it easier for the authorities to exercise control: “Habits of hiding /Soon will be the death of us /Dying in secret from poisons unknown.” The only response to this is to try to reclaim power from the state by not being scared to speak out about what we feel is right: ”Survival in silence / Isn’t good enough no more /Keeping your mouth shut / Head in the sand.” The music is swaying, circular, woozy: it reminds me of the music of a carousel, albeit a carousel powered by electric guitars. In the course of the song, Subversa covers the whole gamut of society from “accountants in nylon shirts” to “cleaners of lavatories” but,above all, it is a call to arms challenging each and every one of us to cast aside the social conventions imposed by the state that shackle us: “Flesh and blood is who we are / Flesh and blood are what we are /Flesh and blood is who we are /Our cover is blown….”

Crass’ ‘Bloody Revolutions’ is the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ of anarcho-punk. Around the central musical, and symbolic, motif of La Marseillaise, this 6 minutes and 24 seconds packs in five distinct musical movements, linked only by lyrical content. After an initial collage of sound, comes the dull thud of monotone bass and drum over which Steve Ignorant intones, “You talk about your revolution, well, that’s fine /But what are you going to be doing come the time? / Are you going to be the big man with the tommy-gun?”  There is little question that this is a reference to The Clash’s ‘Guns of Brixton’ and ‘Tommy Gun’ although only later in the song does it become apparent that it is also a critique of their perceived posturing. But Crass are far more concerned with wider issues than mere rock star ‘revolutionaries.’ Not for them, the adoption of left wing credentials: ‘Bloody Revolutions’ is an attempt to put a metaphorical bomb under the notion of left wing revolution:

“You talk of overthrowing power with violence as your tool
You speak of liberation and when the people rule
Well ain’t it people rule right now, what difference would there be?
Just another set of bigots with their rifle-sights on me.”

Ignorant’s vocal style and delivery have always been problematic for me as they seem to encapsulate the worst sort of yobbish, aggressive, faux Cockney punk and in the second part of the song it is at its worst as he barks in stentiorian style, like a man on the corner selling the Socialist Worker Ignorant so clearly despises. And then a thing of wonder occurs: Ignorant shuts up, a beautiful guitar emerges from nowhere and the fantastic Eve Libertine takes over vocal duties, sounding as though she’s channelling the voices of Maddy Prior initially and then Poly Styrene. In the final part of the song, over militaristic drumming and La Marseillaise,  Joy de Vivre hammers home the message by speaking the final lines:

“Nothing’s really different cos all government’s the same
They can call it freedom, but slavery is the game
There’s nothing that you offer but a dream of last years hero
The truth of revolution, brother………………. is year zero.”

Just like Crass themselves, ‘Bloody Revolutions’ is an unholy mess and yet it somehow works. Within the confines of a pop song, there is an intelligent argument posited whether you agree with it or not. The shouty, barking, male lead is counterbalanced by a beautiful femininity. And whatever you think of Crass’ politics, they put their money where their mouths were. From the proceeds of this single, they established the Wapping Autonomy Centre as a central meeting place and venue for anarchists. The fact this closed due to the disagreements of the different factions of anarchists only highlights the naive idealism at the heart of this band.

 

Daily Playlist 12/11/2013

Pink Glove – Pulp

Demons In Her Dancing Shoes – Richard Thompson

Ode to Booker T – Young Marble Giants

Please Stop Dancing – The Magnetic Fields

Circuit – Delta 5

Pride – Manchester Orchestra

At Home He’s a Tourist – Gang Of Four

My Little Rainbow – East River Pipe

Beautiful Place – Babybird

Straight Life – Black Box Recorder

Anvil – Tapes ‘n’ Tapes

The Kerry Baby – Pete Wiley and the Wah! Mongrel

Miss X – MC5

Skip the Youth – Frightened Rabbit

Taxi For Ms Corday, Please

manics 150x150 Taxi For Ms Corday, Please

 

 

 

 

 

The Manic Street Preachers promised they would crash and burn after just one album. Unfortunately for us, they continue to make records with ever diminishing returns. Thus speaks someone who was an enormous fan of the band and, like any fan, continues to buy their product (for that is now what it has become) out of loyalty and love for what once was. I have had too many musical marriages which should have ended in divorce long ago. However, that debut album encapsulated all they would ever do – the railing aginst big banks, royalty and the US; paeans of love to themselves; and the genius of duetting with porn star Traci Lords on a song about abuse to women. Watching James, Sean and Nicky plod through a couple of new songs from a new album (inevitably heralded as a return to form) makes one yearn for the torn t shirts, the terrorist balaclava and a time when Nicky Wire really was wired.

However, The Manics are merely replicating what bands have done for decades, grimly clinging on to past glories because this is all they know, because the thought of becoming a taxi driver (although, let’s face it, James already looks like one) and have passengers comment on your previous incarnation are too dispiriting. For the most part, bands are only capable of writing one or two great albums. Radiohead released a great pop album in Pablo Honey, followed it with the stunning, bleak beauty of The Bends and then vomited up the mucous monstosity that was OK Computer, admittedly with a couple of pretty songs on it but also home to the progwank Paranoid Android – possibly the worst title ever for a song and one on which Muse seem to have based their whole career. Nowadays, the band takes periodic leaves of absence while Jonny faffs around with his film soundtracks and Thom prances around with my good friend Flea. And that is the other problem with bands who still exist but are long past their use by date: they are like the hydra so we not only have to put up with the band’s sub-standard offerings, we also have to endure various members’ solo projects. History is destined to repeat itself, we are told, and instead of Yes and ELP, we now have Radiohead and Blur, with Thom Yorke seriously contemplating his navel whilst Damon Albarn, that cheeky Mockney, becomes ever more Zelig like in his collaborations. And that is not a compliment.

The bands that are most fondly remembered are those who got out at the top of their game, although it was usually circumstance that forced this rather than the sort of deliberate plan The Manics talked but didn’t walk. Television released just two official and peerless albums before drugs and guitar rivalry saw the plug pulled and the picture go blank. Unfortunately, nearly 15 years later, service was resumed but by then the world wasn’t watching. The Sex Pistols released just one corruscating rock album before Lydon’s parting shot of, “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated.” It’s just a pity he didn’t have the bollocks to put PIL out of its misery after the brilliantly conceived and executed Metal Box. There are those that so nearly got it right. The Clash should have cut the crap and ended on Combat Rock. Even after Eno left, Roxy Music continued to make strange and beguiling albums but they should have heeded the siren’s call and stayed put in their Country Life.

And then there are the few bands who were capable of more than a couple of good albums and left at the top of their creativity. No-one did it better than The Beatles. Watching them rehearse and record Let It Be fills you with wonder and astonishment that after nearly a decade of being the biggest band on the planet, they were still capable of pushing boundaries, lyrically and musically.   In the same way that Lennon and McCartney’s relationship disintegrated, the fissure between Morrissey and Marr meant that The Smiths never had an opportunity to develop middle aged spread but left a legacy of four lean and poetic studio albums. Drugs and divorce led to the severing of The Cocteau Twins but each EP and album is a glass candle grenade.

These, though, are the exceptions to the rule. If you are in a band that has made a couple of acclaimed records and you suddenly find yourself impelled to record a song on which you collaborate with Flea, Robert Plant or African Burundi drummers, do us all a favour and become a taxi driver – you’re far more use driving me to St Pancras Station than being a pretentious twat so full of themselves I have to hear the story of how your latest song was written whilst listening to sand settle in the Sahara following a storm. Taxi!

 

What A Way To End It All

Instead of my usual playlist, here’s a game you can all play related to the above post. Here’s a list of the last albums bands should have released before splitting up. Feel free to agree / disagree / add your own.

Manic Street Preachers – The Holy Bible

Radiohead – The Bends

Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here

The Clash – Combat Rock

Roxy Music – Country Life

The Go-Betweens – 16 Lovers Lane

Fairport Convention- Full House

Public Enemy – Fear of a Black Planet

Public Image Limited – Metal Box

Alice Cooper – Welcome To My Nightmare

Siouxsie and the Banshees – Juju

Steeleye Span – Commoners Crown

Cockney Rebel – The Psychomodo

The Rolling Stones – Black and Blue

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark – Architecture and Morality

Echo and the Bunnymen – Ocean Rain

Jesus and Mary Chain – Darklands

Primal Scream – XTRMNTR

Patti Smith Band – Wave

Sleater-Kinney – Dig Me Out

The Stone Roses – before they got a record contract

Pervy Porridge

Jimmy Tarbuck 150x150 Pervy Porridgerolf harris 150x150 Pervy PorridgeWilliam Roache 150x150 Pervy PorridgeDave Lee Travis and Savile 150x150 Pervy Porridgemax clifford 150x150 Pervy Porridgefreddie starr 150x150 Pervy Porridgestuart hall 150x150 Pervy PorridgeJim Davidson 150x150 Pervy Porridge

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have an idea for a new sitcom where Jimmy Tarbuck, Max Clifford, William Roache, Jim Davidson, Freddie Starr, Rolf Harris, Stuart Hall and Dave Lee Travis are serving their time in an open prison. The opening scene would be a prison guard showing the men to their cells in the newly opened block called Savile Row. The show would be scripted by Ronnie Barker’s son and be called either ‘Pervy Porridge’ if on the BBC or ‘Up the Shitter’ if on Channel 5. New cast members are imminent.

I think the world will stop spinning, at least for people in the UK, should Sir Terence of Wogan ever get caught up in the tsunami of sexual scandal that has engulfed comedians and light entertainers of a certain age. So many household names have been arrested in relation to allegations of sexual abuse that the public now, more or less, expect anyone on TV during the 1970s and 1980s to be the next front page story.

But surely it is unreasonable to expect such a narrow strata of society to be the only culpable party? Apart from the stupendously stupid Gary Glitter, who went to get his computer fixed with a hard drive full of child porn, no rock stars from that era have been targetted. And yet, surely, when we consider sex with underage fans, rock stars, by their own admission, have been leading the way for decades, whether singing about the joys of underage sex (Hello, Alex Chilton), actively participating (Hi, Mr Berry, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me? Oh both)  or a mixture of the two (Way to go, Motley Crue).

King of the Pervs surely has to be Chuck Berry, who not only transported a Sweet Little 16 year old girl, no make that 14 years old, across state lines for immoral purposes but also installed cameras in the women’s toilets of his restaurant so he could subsequently play with his ding-a-ling whilst watching the videos he had made. Jerry Lee Lewis thought it a good idea to marry his 13 year old cousin and we should probably draw a veil over a secondary reason as to why he may be known as The Killer. Ted Nugent has even admitted to being a serial paedophile with his marriage ending due to his numerous flings on tour, often with underage women (Courtney Love evidently gave him a blowjob when she was 12). Don Henley of The Eagles drugged and fucked a 16 year old. Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler even adopted his under age girlfriend so he could fuck her. And that’s just a small sample of our American cousins (that’s cousins in the loosest sense, Jerry Lee).

Now Operation Yewtree is not going to concern itself with Americans but it is difficult to believe that British musicians have not behaved similarly. Some are lucky not to have been already incarcerated. Bill Wyman of The Rolling Stones admitted to fucking Mandy Smith when she was 14 and yet the police were not interested in pursuing the case.  Leaving aside the fucking of girls with sharks, Jimmy Page got his roadie to kidnap a 14 year old girl and then kept her imprisoned while he fucked her.  Make no mistake about it, the list of English stars will rival that of Americans and it won’t be long before well known names of 70s and 80s rockers will be added to the names of light entertainment as the branches of Yewtree grow and extend over spring and summer.

There is a moral witch hunt being waged here which, by design or not, takes headlines away from the economy, austerity measures and the privatisation of the NHS. It comes as no surprise that it was the morally repugnant Daily Mail which broke the Jimmy Tarbuck story. This leaking of names feeds into the prurient interest of the general public and by targetting high profile names, the police know they will gain the requisite publicity which demonstrates they are doing an efficient job. Americans appear to forgive or forget the sexual peccadilloes of their stars. The French are used to sexual scandal and shrug their shoulders ( hell, in Roman Polanski we keep a paedophile as a personal pet to taunt the Americans). But the British appear horrified, surprised and upset that some of their national treasures are being paraded through town with a sign around their necks that reads “PAEDOPHILE”. When they run out of comedians to entertain us in their twilight years, don’t be surprised when they come for your music heroes, a final encore which will see their music removed from playlists and record stores. Now, can someone tell me where I can get a copy of ‘Rock n Roll Part 2′?

Daily Playlist 9/05/2013

Last Night In Town – The Twilight Singers

Tiger Mountain Peasant Song – Fleet Foxes

Billion Dollar Babies – Alice Cooper

Pilentze Pee – Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares

One By One – Billy Bragg and Wilco

The Summerhouse – The Divine Comedy

Go Away – Katy B

Let It Be So – Victoria Williams

Alone Apart – Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova

New Box of People – Lee Hazlewood

L’Illusioniste – Keren Ann

She’s Not Dead – Suede

In My Own Dream – Karen Dalton

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