Saturday, August 25, 2012

august 20th excerpt


A Certain Ratio-Lucinda

Apart from a couple of Durutti Column albums, a lot of New Order records and both Joy Division albums, this was the only other record I had on the Factory Records label. Half Man Half Biscuit wrote a song wherein they referred quite disparagingly about “Factory completists” and I whole heartedly agreed with them on that. There was, and probably still is, a trainspottery tendency amongst some record collectors in wanting to own every single Factory release; every single artefact that had a Factory catalogue serial number. It’s that weird, creepy obsessive behaviour that in relation to most other “hobbies” (and that is all it is, collecting Factory records) would have you marked down as more than a bit odd but it seems acceptable in regards to music. It’s akin to philately. It cannot be a love of the music or the quality or originality of the music that Factory released-because, all things being considered and with the benefit of considerable hindsight-overall, Factory Records just weren’t very good. If a record label could ever be described as putting style ahead of substance, then Factory is the prime example. Sadly for them, the substance wasn’t that good to start with and style, well, that’s all it was- style. And that’s something that not only fades but can become ridiculous given enough time. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll start to look a bit quaint and kitsch a few years hence. Now that would be ridiculous and would be the one thing that the massed po-faces of Factory would not have wished for. Oh-the irony.

Factory are still revered as the hippest of hip labels; the record company that virtually single-handedly pulled Manchester (and there by extension, the whole of the North) out of the mire. Factory are seen as mavericks, revolutionary and a bunch of crazy Situationalists thumbing their noses at the establishment. One of the things that is always held up as how much they’d ripped up the rule book is that fact that they wouldn’t ever sign their acts to a normal contract; this didn’t turn out too well when Factory were going bust and a deal for London Records to buy them out fell through when it was realised that Factory didn’t have any financial interest at all in New Order’s or Joy Division’s back catalogue. Smart business. This was almost as good as running their club, the Hacienda, at such a loss that it cost the members of New Order at least £10,000 per month to keep it afloat. But that’s only because they were selling all the drinks at a lower price than the nearby pubs. Another good financial move was ensuring that their best selling single, Blue Monday, by New Order, although selling millions of copies, made a loss because the sleeve itself cost more to make than the record would make in profit. Whilst I’m not a mad capitalist, can you imagine how far Tony Wilson would have lasted on Dragons Den with these crackpot schemes? Maybe he didn’t want to come across as a businessman, Alan Sugar style, but he did have the sharp suits and drove a big fuck-off Mercedes. Maybe he saw himself as an impresario, a visionary who could spot talent and bring it to fruition. Let’s give this a go-on Factory Records there were: The Royal Family and the Poor, Crispy Ambulance, The Wake, Thick Pigeon and Northside just to name a few. Manchester bands that Factory didn’t sign-The Fall, The Passage, The Smiths, The Stone Roses, Oasis. Go figure. But wasn’t all the sleeve art of Factory Records really really good?

(As a footnote, there was freebie giveaway in the Observer a few weeks ago of Happy Mondays acclaimed “Pills ‘n’ Thrills and Bellyaches” CD. I remembered it was being quite good back in 1990. The CD is  now being used as a coaster for the cup of coffee I’m drinking while I’m writing this.)                 


Tuesday, August 21, 2012

the flaming lips 24 hour song

it's done.

all listened to as I sped past charnock richard service station on the M6 today.

time to play something shorter and less intense.

a bit of stockhausen.

review to follow.

all flipped out!! 


Saturday, August 18, 2012

Friday, August 17, 2012

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

listening to the flaming lips

The flaming lips 24 hour song has just shuffled up on the iPod.

 I have decided to listen to nothing else until it's over.

 I just wonder how long it will take me to get through it all-it's like a triathalon of music.

Will I make it to the end before breaking?

24 hours of nothing but the flips?

Will it tip me over the edge?

(By the way -it's not as if I am going to listen to it for 24 hours straight-that way would lie madness.)

Sunday, August 5, 2012

august 5th extract-the beach boys


The Beach Boys-Disney Girls (1957)

I’m not one for hyping music too much, although, possibly, just possibly, at times I may have strayed a little too much towards the side of “this is the greatest piece of art by the greatest artist ever” within this year whilst writing this book. Actually, thinking about it, this is a trait that I’ve had for a very long time-I have a distant, faint yet horrible memory of giving a friend a Peel session tape of Wah! Heat and being utterly convinced that they PeteWylie's band was bound for immense glory. So much so that I wince at recollecting that I used a phrase along the lines of “this lot are going to be bigger than Led Zeppelin”. Of course they weren’t and were never going to be, so maybe what I’m going to write next should be taken with a pinch of salt. The Beach Boys “Disney Girls (1957)” is the finest, loveliest, most perfect pop song that was ever been written. Nothing ever comes close to it and nothing will. If you had to describe what pop music is or just had one song to pick for someone, who, in the most unlikely event, has never heard any other pop songs before, then this is the one to choose. There might be arguments in favour of some Tamla or Stax classics, or something from Phil Spector’s output but once you’ve heard this track, there really is no other option. The odd thing and the ironic thing is that this track wasn’t even written by Brian Wilson-it’s a Bruce Johnston composition. For all the pre-Smile Beach Boys pop songs; really all the pre-pet Sounds Beach Boys songs and the whole of the Pet Sounds album as well as Smile itself (in all its tortured versions) and all the critical acclaim they’ve garnered over the years as the epitome of pop, of being the very essence of pop itself, why is this post-Smile, post- breakdown Beach Boys song-and one not written by Brian Wilson at that- the one track I’d pick above all others to demonstrate what pop is all about, and just how special it can be? It only lasts a few minutes, as all perfect pop should do. It doesn’t speak of rebellion or puts on any airs and graces. Every phrase is that of a sigh, of wistfulness, of a yearning for times gone by. It’s downbeat and melancholic, which is against the perceived “fun, fun, fun” of earlier Beach Boys, but it’s not a sad song in itself. The dream-like qualities in the song are not those of being in a dream; they’re the half-awake, half-asleep feelings when you can’t actively distinguish between sleep and wakefulness. As in all Beach Boys songs the harmonies are perfect; that can be taken as read I guess. It’s the little things and the little things that Johnston is singing about: old America, day turning into dusk, early nights with pillow fights, bingo chances, open cars, old time dances, making wine. Every single word is judged perfectly and with Johnston’s vocals occasionally slipping into a minor key, it doesn’t get better than this. The way he sings the word Disney-with three syllables (Dis-in-ey) for me, is the cherry on the icing on the cake. There’s whistling as the song fades out and you can’t go wrong with whistling in a song either.