BEGINS WITH A J:JESUS

I started thinking this post, moving on through the pantheon of female names, and it should be Jezebel, and I might yet get round to that. But, as she would, Jezebel put me in mind of Jesus. And, as a perfectly decent and common Latino name, why not? Except, they all to be about the same guy. I jest; of course they are, that being the challenge, how to pick, say, a couple of handfuls of songs about Jesus that aren't, overtly at least, about, you know, God. It isn't that I'm against a touch of religion, except, yes, actually I am, largely by virtue of the dreadful things folk do in the name of their own personal totem. Like churches and mosques, temples and synagogues, often fantastic buildings that can inspire awe in all but what people do and say inside them. But, heck, they sure done wrote a lot of good songs about the guy.

Jesus In Vegas/Chumbawamba

I like this song, as it is, in turns and at the same time,  thoroughly disreputable, arguably sacrilegious and also so fully on message, pertaining most the received wisdoms about the boy from Galilee. If there were a modern day equivalent of the money lenders in the temple, Las Vegas is surely that shrine, and, as the song suggests, what would Jesus do? OK, the song doesn't say, but one feels the business taken care of would not include a ten hour sesh on a one-armed bandit. The middle section then goes off on one, about picket lines, possibly, just possibly, comparing Ricky Tomlinson to the middle member of the holy triad. (Ricky Tomlinson? If you don't know Brookside or The Royle Family, it's complicated, but a good example of this no longer extant band in their prime. Find the studio version on WYSIWYG.

The Sexual Loneliness of Jesus Christ/Jackie Leven

Quite a title that one. And quite a statement, implying a fair amount of thought going into the lyric. Leven was just the sort of man to trouble his mind with thinking about how Jesus may have had just the same curses and burdens of any other man, struggling, perhaps, therewith, just as do so many who dedicate their lives to him. Of course, also put together consummately, the mix of his organic and pained vocal, alongside the unstoppable drum machine track that permeate so many of his songs. To be fair, as we lambast the church for the failings of its pastors, tempted and all that, what price the decisions made to base anything on celibacy in the first place? If unfamiliar with the works of Leven, which you shouldn't be, should you come here often, go seek out his work. As the anniversaries of his death come and go, slowly, slowly have tributes and retrospectives come forth.

Tulsa Jesus Freak/Lana del Rey

Well, if you can quite work out what Ms. Del Rey is on about here, you are one up on me, but she doesn't make it easy, anyway, beyond the schtick of tortured humanity, wrestling with demons and, often as not, drowning. If her songs ate to be taken autobiographically, my feeling that they shouldn't, she has encountered every bad choice offered, this song seeming to stack the story of a booze addicted preacher present in her bed/life. To be fair, so good a song and on such a good album, who cares if she dives low to raise us up? OK, I do, I wish her well, but a song of her happier encounters might linger less long in the listener's ear. Or the charts. Get it today and you could be only 24 hours from this track.

They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus/Kinky Friedman

You are never far from a Kinky Friedman song in a Jesus thread, or should never be. Offence is oft caused by the Texas politician, author and singer-songwriter, and this is the song that causes the most. Me, I don't hear anything much more than a fairly reasonable exposé of the rampant hypocrisyy that permeates a good deal of religious bigotry, tempered with a slab of good ol' ignorance in the ear of the beholder. I am not sure I could stomach any full performance, but various snippets and songs hit a soundbite to which I fully subscribe. As neither a Jew nor a practicing Christian, a few more balls wouldn't go amiss in many the turn the other cheek expectations out there. This is a live version. All the ones on youtube are, for some reason. The studio one is better.

Jesus Was a Social Drinker/Chuck Prophet

Let's all wish Chuck, the erstwhile Green On Red man, turned profligate commentator of rootsy music, with a hefty roster of 16 solo albums since the demise of that seminal group, all our best. Earlier this year he discovered he had lymphoma, needing thus to suspend his perma-touring and recording schedule. As of recently he has been given permission to return to the road, pending further and ongoing treatment, but that smacks of cautious good news. A favourite from afar, despite regular visits to Blighty, I had always been planning to see him, if never quite managing it. Let's hope he is back on these shores soon. The song here? Well, I think it is sort of a reminder he may have been a normal guy rather than a paragon, if still a bit less than wild and wooly. I think. Good song, mind. From 2017's Bobby Fuller Died For Your Sins. I am not sure if Bobby Fuller was a social drinker, but his death was mighty weird.

Jesus Christ/Brand New

Quite a challenging song, a dialogue between the "singer" and Jesus, asking somewhat leading questions, possibly/seemingly arising from a guilty conscience. The writer, Jesse Lacey, widely known to have had an orthodox Christian upbringing, has/had always used allegory in his songs, this being one of the more overt. The parent album, The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me smacks of a troubled soul, struggling with faith. An album especially liked by my wife and step-daughter, not least the existential content, each went abruptly off him and the band, as it became aware he may well have taken advantage of younger female fans, such allegations having become apparent in 2017. Never proven as such, Lacey publicly apologised and admitted to an earlier sex addiction. Which sort of makes latter-day sense of the lyrics. Always tricky to remove the man from his alleged actions, his music from his character, I file under unproven and remorseful. Maybe.

Jesus Hates Faggots/John Grant

In a run of fairly deep and dense lyrics during this piece, this perhaps is the most striking. And the most damning. And, last there be doubt, Grant isn't really saying what the title suggests, merely using the phrase to relay the damning comment made to him by, presumably, his parent/s, in association with his gender preference, sexually speaking. A galling song, my own belief mechanism would suggest such a statement to be as anti-Christian in sentiment as can be, and I really feel for Grant, were that what he were brought up with. His sonorous voce and the chamber synth backing gives a gravitas that magnifies the horror. An artist I have always admired, from his days with the Czars, one can understand why he prefers to remain well away from his homeland. It comes from this album.

I Have Forgiven Jesus/Morrissey

Sort of following on from the last song, Morrissey takes it that much further, forgiving Jesus for the, no doubt, similar words put into his teachings, by those around him in his own childhood. It's good, better than the lumpen and heavy handed epithet the singer is increasingly given by his critics. I was a late adopter of the Smiths, never quite getting them until near the end, similarly put off Morrissey's solo work until recently. With the Smiths I just couldn't see the beauty in the songs, probably until others started covering them. With Morrissey I believed the hounding propaganda of the press, more interested in his difficult behaviour, cancelling shows and tours willy nilly. (Yes, I do still baulk at his possible racist tendencies, let me say.) I find these lyrics entirely believable and they endear the author all the more to me, bloody mindedness and all. It comes from You Are the Quarry, in 2004.

He Ain't Jesus/Carrie Rodriguez

Lightening the mood a little, it will prove helpful to know the next line is "I'm not Mary". Coming from the pen of Chip Taylor, erstwhile part of a performing partnership with Ms Rodriguez, and the writer of many a memorable song, from Wild Thing to Angel of the Morning. A song from her first solo release, it uses Jesus, and, later in the song, Buddha, as marks of the prejudices embraced to maintain the inequality of the sexes. I think her a terrific singer and am delighted she has made a career away from being the second string protegé to Taylor, however mutually advantageous the pairing had been and continues to be. Worry not, I am exhausting of all these Jesus songs, wherein the name is invoked merely as a reason or excuse for bad behaviour. As the next song says better.

Jesus Is Just Alright With Me/Shelagh McDonald

Spoilt, just a little, for choice, for this last selection, I decided against the Byrds and the Doobies, going instead for this oft forgotten footnote in UK folk-rock history. So, who Shelagh McDonald? This article, by Ian A. Anderson sets the scene very well, the A separating him from the other one, stating on a single leg, tootling a flute. I came across her about twenty years ago, enchanted. I recommend her work, however much I admire the other aforementioned heavyweight purveyors of the same song. If you want more, here's the link; it ain't an otherwise easy find. I'll bet, however, nobody is familiar with the original, by Art Reynolds, in 1966, as performed by his singers, which is a glorious piece of soul/gospel. And I can live with the idea. Jesus seems to have been a well meaning fella, and certainly braver than most. Son of God, though? Aren't we all?

LEFTOVERS: HARVEST/FALL - Harvest Records

There was a time when it mattered what label a band was actually on. I guess this was because you actually knew, there was the inescapable logo on the centre of the large spinning disc, seen whenever you placed the needle onto the outside groove. CDs never seemed to have that vibe and, hell, downloads? How would you know? Plus, record companies each seemed to have separate entities, rather than just merely being sub-divisions of the same corporate monster. Even if they were. Different genres seemed to fit better with some labels than others, a fact duly noted by the MDs of same. A nobody on a hip label could often sell more than a somebody on more of a loser label.
In the 60s the 2 labels that kicked my record buying pleasure off were Island and Harvest, both nominally still in existence, but, sold off and passed on so many times between majors as to have no relevance to the times I write of. And, given the theme of this piece, Island will have to wait another day.

Astonishingly, Harvest were named, or so it goes, around the UK mellotron heavy "poor mans Moody Blues", Barclay James Harvest, the label being formed, within E.M.I. as a competitor with, amongst others, the aforementioned Island. (The verity of these seems actually a little stretched, as the label opened for business  in 1969, the debut from BJH not arriving until the following year, but, hey!) With the lava lamp design in greens, this was aimed directly as the "Underground" scene of the day, the first release being Deep Purple's Book of Taliesyn, with other debutants being Edgar Broughton, Michael Chapman, Kevin Ayers and Pink Floyd, so a pretty heavy roster.

                                                             Edgar Broughton Band

                                                                       Kevin Ayers
Into the 70s and the focus shifted into a post-punk ethos with Wire and, for the U.S. imprint, Duran Duran. They lost Floyd and Deep Purple during this time, but, much to their undoubted delight, after the release of Dark Side of the Moon, gifting them one of the biggest ever returns ever, 3rd largest sales ever, after Thriller (Michael Jackson) and, astonishingly, Back in Black (AC/DC), even if some of these sales included later transfer of rights to other labels.

For the next 20 odd years it appears to have been a bit of  mess, as the imprint was passed from hand to hand, even having a brief re-launch as Harvest Heritage, for reissues of both the original artists and, bizarrely, others never included.

In 2013 it seems to have had another relaunch, primarily for a number of U.S.bands I am unfamiliar with, bar TV on the Radio, and this chap, who seems to have later fallen out spectacularly with them.

I miss the days when the label had a brand. As a child of the 50s, I grew up in the heyday of both vinyl and of record companies able to throw big bucks at all, hoping some would eventually deliver some return on the investment. I still have a stack of Harvest titles on my shelves, playing them still.

But, as a final thought, who remembers the guy in the clip below?

 

 Norman "Hurricane" Smith was one of the original founders of the label in 1969. Studio engineer for all the Beatles' early releases, up until Rubber Soul, he then hooked up with Pink Floyd, producing several of their early releases, thus unsurprising that they came to join his fledgling label. He also produced the aforementioned Barclay James Harvest and the 1st rock concept album, S.F. Sorrow, by the Pretty Things, the psychedelicised R'n'B contemporaries of the early Rolling Stones. Astonishingly, in 1971, he began an unlikely solo career, despite, at best, a voice shorn of most of the usual expectations in popular music, a public warming to him, largely totally unaware of his legacy of earlier involvements. Well done, that man!

Here is the entire catalogue of original Harvest releases.

The Number Nine/September: Brand New, 1996

Purchase: Brand New's Deja Entendu

September is upon us and the Back-to-School commercials have been diluting our regularly scheduled football games for weeks. For those of us who don’t remember what visceral feelings the dread of the first day back to school manifests, we’re left with the occasional nightmare of being late to a class we can’t find or finishing an unending homework assignment while everyone we know watches us fail. That can’t be just me, can it?

In my last years of public schooling, I was firmly entrenched in music enlightenment from the likes of The Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers, The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, Bad Company and Boston’s eponymous albums, The Essential REO Speedwagon, and The Beatles’ Revolver, but the music that most vividly returns me to that time of my life is a band more my contemporary, Brand New.

A rock band from Long Island, New York, Brand New seemed to me to be one of the few bands at the time that had a combination of the same themes I loved from the older music I was listening to. They brought intelligent and understandable lyrics to a similar spectrum that spanned from hard rocking to gentle ballads all while channeling the sexiness of Mick in Miss You and the bedroom eyes of Kevin Cronin in Keep on Loving You. Brand New’s second album, Deja Entendu was their crowning achievement at the time and I still see that familiar astronaut from the album cover, whether it’s on the CD in my car or the thumbnail on my computer.

In early 2006, while Brand New was working on their third album, nine demo tracks were leaked on the internet. Untitled 02, later officially titled 1996, is the song from the leak that most interests me. Even before the first chorus, it’s a rare listener that doesn’t have a singular name for who this song sounds so much like. That name, fans referred to the leaked song as “Morrissey” until the official title came years later, is chiefly suggested by the emotionally morbid lyrics sang in an unpredictable cadence that jumps from meandering to syncopated sprinting and the heavily reverbed, almost sorrowful guitar licks. After the flashback-inducing beginning, Brand New begins to strengthen their own touch on the song by using their familiar guitar sounds and a crowd-provoking chorus.

Admittedly a lyric guy, the most cerebral part of the song for me is that chorus, a tongue-in-cheek, self-congratulatory toast to the singer and his mourning friends: “And so three cheers for my morose and grieving pals/and now let’s hear it for the tears that I’ve welled up/we’ve come too far to have to give it all up now” The sentiment is possibly more relevant than ever now that media spends more time discussing which celebrities and politicians did or didn’t send their condolences after every death or tragedy than on the event itself.

The song had still been just a demo all these years, from the time I was a teen through the entirety of my twenties, until earlier this year Brand New released 3 Demos, Reworked, an EP that contains three of the original leaked demos and their new, re-recorded versions. Unfortunately, some of my favorite words were changed in the reworked version and a lot of the grit and edges have been sanded down. I suppose that’s a metaphor for time itself and the notion that one can get a clear look into the past.

Mononymic Artists: Morrissey & Siouxsie

Morrissey & Siouxie: Interlude

[purchase]

Our mononymic week is quickly coming to an end (and I finally learned how to type mononymic at the first try). I thought it was a brilliant topic, don't you? We managed to get quite a few j-rockers in there, but we missed a boatload of other worthy artists.

We missed the rappers and hip-hop dudes like JayZ, Coolio, will.i.am, and Eminem. We missed the tough chicks like P!nk and Peaches, the pop princesses like Jewel, Tiffany, and, er, RuPaul, the rock stalwarts like Bono and Sting, the soulful sounds of Ne-Yo, Duffy, and Sade, and the quirky guys like Jonsi, Mika, Moby, and Beck. So here's my last stab at a final two-fer. I can't say it's a stellar duet---to me it sounds like two pretty unique voices that aren't trying at all to blend as one. Actually, these two had a falling out over the making of the video and haven't spoken since, which surprised no one given Moz's record of taking himself way too seriously, not to mention slagging off other vocalists. Still, they're both indie icons of a generation (he of The Smiths, she of The Banshees), and getting them to record this Timi Yoru cover together was a 1994 event.