MR/MS : JONES

Have you ever realised how many Jones's there are in music. And I don't mean performers, I mean in the material. Is it the commonest surname in song? (Answer: Possibly. Unless Mr and Mrs Postman of Poughkeepsie beg to differ.) So why is that, do you think? Is it because of the pervasive influence of the Welsh, creeping into all our genepools? Extensive research (wikipedia) tells me that, after Smith, Jones is one of the seven commonest names in the US and, again after Smith, the second commonest name in the UK. Plus it's short, it's anonymous by virtue of its ubiquity and it rhymes with bones. (I made that bit up. I mean, sure, it does rhyme with bones, but that may not be the reason for the popularity. But consider the possibility.)

Let's agree the above is the best Jones, a song I have adored these long 18 years since it became a staple on any mixtape song selection I have ever made. A glorious riot of teenage dreams for stardom, it is a true story. Or, at any rate, Mr Jones, singer Adam Duritz's buddy Marty Jones, and he did spend a night at the New Amsterdam, getting drunk and imagining how, if they were famous, they would get the girls they could only ogle. Funny thing fate, as, courtesy the song, Mr Duritz did become a big big star. As for Marty Jones, did he ever become someone just a little more funky? Sadly, that much I don't know.

So, back to Adam Duritz, and his wanting to be Bob Dylan. The Bob Dylan, above, I'm assuming, at peak mystique. As a boy I was, obviously, familiar with all the early hit singles, and bought Greatest Hits, an early step in my obsession with recorded music, and I remember two songs standing out in particular. Firstly, Rainy Day Women #12 & 35, because it was such utter shite, beyond the hey man, he said stoned schtick, and Ballad of a Thin Man, because it was just so damned cool. My views haven't changed, and the chunk out the vinyl just around track side 2 track 5 confirms that, it being the UK version, trainspotters, as well as revealing that Ballad of a Thin Man wasn't actually on the record. But you catch my drift.

When Mr Jones recovers from the shock of seeing his paramour in flagrante, he realises it was time to get him some cool. So off he shuffles, tail between his legs, possibly to the New Amsterdam, with the aim of smartening up his act. And, boy, can he shake his stuff. David Byrne could have been an archetypical Mr Jones, himself, almost the antithesis of hip, all nerdy shirts and mannerisms, yet somehow transcending all that and being just that figure he lampoons, but, hey, after all, "he is not so square". And that feisty arrangement, years before it became the thing, something to relish and wonder.

Mind you, it hadn't always been like that. Little did all those hipsters and hepcats know, but Mr Jones had a further backstory, the stuff of tragedy. Tragedy was, of course, de rigeur for the early Bee Gees, as their stage wear above demonstrates. (Nope, I'm not going to make a joke or insert a glib clip to any of their later work.) No wonder he had developed a little problem.....

That's right, too clever by half, here the neat insertion of a 'Jones' meaning a habit. OK, the lyrics aren't so subtle, but the song is OK in a non-threatening way, but it at least enable me to share my learning. So, if you have a 'jones' for something, we all know it is lifted from junkie slang for their fix, but, similarly, having a 'yen' for something comes from the exact same territory, 'yen' being a corruption of yan, meaning a craving, usually for opium. Well, I didn't know that.

So it's about time something turned good for our titular friend. So what better than a night out with the delightful Ms Winehouse. And before you smart alecs tell me she actually had quite a yen for a jones, it apparently refers to her, um, alleged friendship with the rapper Nas. (Actually me neither.) It isn't a bad song, even if it leads you into expecting something a bit more like this.

Finally, and to draw to a close the long and sorry saga of Jones esquire, and it's a rum old do, suggesting all sorts of shenanigans. I'm not too sure quite what Richard Butler, the lead Fur was thinking about here, but it seems, as fiction becomes fact and facts become fun, it refers to a real life Mr Jones. Sad, but true, my little scenario thus far is based upon little more than my fevered imagination. But Butler's Mr Jones, and possibly even Mrs Jones, refers to one David Jones. This one. I like to imagine all the Mr Jones' might also be. Try it.

One more for luck?

AUSTRALIA(N): GEORGE YOUNG

No brainer this one, the opportunity to showcase this fairly recently deceased legend of oz rock, George Young. Who he? Shame on you, but you know his work, even if, latterly, you know his brothers better. But here's a thing, by quirk of fate, chance or whatever, George Young just happens also to be the same name as mine, albeit if translated into the english.

Like many famous australians, see also the brothers Gibb and the fella from Men at Work, Young was born in the UK, but it was in his adopted home that he became famous. First came The Easybeats, with him teaming up with Harry Vanda, another scion of an immigrant family. Even if they/he were remembered for but one song, the timeless 'Friday On My Mind', that would be more than enough to celebrate, a massive worldwide hit in 1967. They actually then relocated to the UK in attempt to consolidate on this, breaking up a couple of years later.

Young thereafter returned home, along with Vanda, becoming hired guns for any aussie band seeking a writing/production team. Whilst they never achieved quite the same success, his younger brothers, Angus and Malcolm, were growing up, were also seeking to make a name in the music business. Big bro George was conveniently on hand to light that fuse, the duo producing their first few records, with Young initially playing the bass guitar as well. That band went on to make quite a name for themselves. You may have heard of them......

I have to freely confess AC/DC were and are my worst nightmare, a generic 'rawk' thrash of limited merit, but many beg to differ. I was much happier when the Vanda/Young team returned to their own projects, notably with another worldwide one hit wonder, 'Waiting on a Train', in 1982, by the curiously named Flash and the Pan. (I am uncertain which was which.) F&tP actually had a number of recordings but this was the prime cut, demonstrating that, on the right day, the pair had an undoubted knack with smithing a song. Grace Jones' 1981 'Walking in the Rain', was a cover of one of their songs. Earlier 1977 ear worm, 'Love is in the Air', taken to the heights of charts all over, was also one of theirs, albeit ahead of F&tP. (John Paul Young was unrelated.)

George Young died in 2017.
Friday.
Flash.

JOKES, PRANKS & FOOLS : I STARTED A JOKE

It is astonishing to believe the video above and the one below are the same singer, separated, as they are, by nearly three decades. And more so that the first one represented the band, the Bee Gees, then already in their first stride, a full decade before they became near ubiquitous for disco falsettos and windblown hair. In this, their first heyday, they were producing intelligent and sensitive ballads, often, as this, with quirky lyrics that actually are worthy of some thought. Perhaps also astonishing is the fact that the 2nd clip (below), is itself already two decades old, the band now well into their post Saturday night Fever zeitgeist, able to call on songs from all their careers. Now I am no fan of their 70s fame and fortune, only with the passage of enough time able and willing to admit I was a fan of theirs, as a boy, in the 60s. Indeed, I remember singing this very song, into a hairbrush, standing on my bed, for the benefit of my cohort of fellow school chums. (Yup, dormitory days in the UK private school system.......) Robin Gibb, for it is he, was always my top Bee Gee. He always seemed to have a little more grit than his brothers Barry and Maurice, escaping them for a brief moment in '69 through '70, with his solo hit, 'Saved by the Bell', another part of my youthful repertoire.

Joke was the 2nd single from the 1968 album 'Idea', and went top ten across most markets. Written by all three brothers, it was primarily a vocal showpiece for Robin, who described it as a "very spiritual song". Big brother Barry was a bit less serious, citing it as an example of how you could write almost anything in those psychedelic days and then someone would be able to find a meaning for it. It was possibly peak period for their early career as, although they continued to produce a stream of fairly successful records thereon, they were ultimately beginning to fade from view until 1975's Jive Talking'. Which was my cue to lose interest.

Over the years the song has popped up in a number of cover versions, often prompted by film soundtracks. Most well known, perhaps, have been the ones by Faith No More and by Low. My favourite, sneaking out on a single b-side, was by The Beautiful South, the quirky and melodic band fronted by Paul Heaton, who lightened up the UK charts in the 90s and noughties. 

Barry Gibb remains the only living brother Gibb, Robin having died in 2012, aged 62, 9 years after his twin brother Maurice. It seems only now that the majesty of their first decade seems to be rising to the top of their canon. 'Odessa', from 1969, is now seen as a masterpiece to go alongside the Beatles' 

'Sgt Pepper'. If that is the case, 'Idea', with the track here featured, must surely be a 'Revolver'.

Look for an 'Idea'.

On/Off: Turn It On Again

Genesis: Turn It On Again
[purchase]

If you are a fan of Genesis, as I have made it abundantly clear that I am, there are a number of turning points where people jumped on and off the band’s wagon. Genesis’ rise to popularity probably began with their second album, Trespass, which introduced the band’s dense, theatrical progressive style (their debut, From Genesis to Revelation, sounds mostly like a cross between The Moody Blues and pre-disco Bee Gees). From there, the band gathered followers until 1974’s epic (and epically confusing) concept double album, The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. Then, lead singer and focal point, Peter Gabriel climbed up Solsbury Hill and out of the band.

Gabriel was, of course, replaced by Phil Collins, and while the next few albums were somewhat lighter and simpler than in the Gabriel-era, they were still recognizably prog. Many Gabriel lovers were reflexively turned off, but Collins’ greater accessibility (and even a love song) retained some fans and attracted more. But when guitarist Steve Hackett defected, and Genesis released …And Then There Were Three…, with an actual pop hit, much of the old guard jumped off.

Not me, though. I had moved to college at that point, and was working at WPRB, at a time when our staff included both lovers of prog and punk (and lovers of both), when the rock music world was really changing. And while it seemed that Genesis might have been done, instead, we got Duke, which I liked. It had long, proggy songs, but also harder rock, and maybe one of the band’s most divisive songs, “Misunderstanding,” an obvious attempt at a pop hit that sounded like nothing the band had ever done. Collins reportedly based the song on The Beach Boys' "Sail On, Sailor", Sly and the Family Stone's "Hot Fun in the Summertime" and (ugh!) Toto's "Hold the Line.” The album was the band’s first to top the UK charts, and hit 11 on the US Billboard Hot 200. I remember long discussions in the WPRB studios as to whether Duke indicated that the band was staying on course, or whether “Misunderstanding” and some of the other poppier tracks were an indication that they were off the tracks.

As it happened, “Turn It On Again,” our featured and theme-appropriate song, was probably the song that showed the direction that Genesis was heading towards. An apparently fairly straight ahead rocker about a man obsessed with television, it nevertheless had sections in odd time signatures (13/4 and 9/4). (Aside—the first song I thought about for this theme, The Tubes’ “Turn Me On,” another TV focused tune, was actually the subject of this piece I wrote back in 2014).

When the band reconvened to create their new album, they reportedly decided to focus on simpler songs, and the result was Abacab. That album’s harder edges, punchier synths, “gated” drum sound and even horns, led to commercial success, reaching number one on the UK Albums Chart and number 7 on the US Billboard 200, but I think that it is fair to say that fans of songs like “Supper’s Ready,” jumped off the bandwagon in droves. A popular (mostly) live double album was next, followed by a self-titled disc in 1983, that, while still retaining a few longer pieces, is probably mostly remembered for its pop hits, and the catchy, but ultimately very embarrassing song, “Illegal Alien.” The album reached No. 1 in the UK and No. 9 in the US, so clearly their fanbase was increasing, but, I suspect, even more longtime supporters were turned off.

I flipped the “off” switch on my fandom after the next disc, Invisible Touch, which had some well-crafted songs, but ultimately left me cold. Although I heard some of the songs on the next album, We Can’t Dance, on the radio, I didn’t buy it. The next album was recorded without Collins, and I think it is fair to say that most Genesis fans were put off by Calling All Stations—I know that I never turned it on.

That all being said, there have been rumors over the past few years of a Genesis reunion, now that Phil Collins has rescinded his retirement notice. If I were a betting man, and I’m not, I’d say the chances of a Collins/Rutherford/Banks reunion is high—it would incredibly lucrative to get them on stage (and probably a popular album, if they cut one). Hackett, who often tours playing old Genesis songs, has indicated a willingness to join, but I’d bet that scheduling would make that a less likely option. And I think that the chances of Gabriel signing on would be low, although the concept has been bandied about. I’d be interested in seeing them, increasingly so depending on how much of the “classic” lineup was on stage, but suspect that it would be a stadium tour, which turns me off.

LIGHT: There's a light, a certain kind of light.......

Yes, you got it, "that always shines on me", fab 60s BeeGee perennial, that struck me as a better response to Andy's excellent Bruce piece below, which had automatically said Richard and Linda to me, before remembering that leads to darkness, and it is light we are celebrating. (Richard and Linda? Thompson? Must I talk you through everything? From "Shut out the light" it is one short step to"Shoot Out the Lights", oui?)

So we are talking about this, from, unbelievably, 1967, the 2nd single from their debut LP. Written by Barry and Robin Gibb, it peaked at 17 in the US and 41 in the UK. And it is undoubtedly a cracking song, but the arrangement? Well, let's say it was 48 years ago...........

So here's a whizz-band hurtle through some other versions that may, or not, have passed you by.

 First off, the Flying Burrito Brothers. Not on either of the first couple of studio LPs produced by the initial Gram Parsons fronted version of this possiblystillgoing (somewhere) band, this appeared on a compilation to commemorate their first break-up and the first few line-ups. I bought this as an incredulous teenager in the early 70s, shocked by the sheer country-ness of it. Lured in by the Byrds, they had seemed the logical next step, but it took me a while to rationalise that against my standard rock fare of the day. It was this song, however, that sealed it, the aching plaintiveness of the vocal stripping the sinew from my unsullied heart, in preparation for the adult world of let down and regret. As well as underlining what a piece of songcraft was the original.

Next, it's Nina Simone, and I confess I was a whole lot older before I could handle her spiky charm. I guess this arrangement hasn't dated that well, but that isn't the point, as she imbues the song with her smoky jaunt, suggesting a devil may care acceptance that doesn't, even for a moment, convince. (I would love to hear this cover covered by Me'Shell Ndegeocello, but it sadly wasn't on her Nina tribute of a few years back, not that I will let such a situation prevent me from promoting it!)

Finally a reggae-lite version by one-time Bronski Beat-er and Communard, Jimmy Somerville. In truth it is a slight interpretation, shown really to display his unusual and exquisite vocal range. And I like the video. And, if I'm not mistaken, it is Sarah-Jane Morris singing alongside him, whose lower register perfectly complements, if somewhat counter-intuitively.

So no room, I am afraid, for the version by Michael Bolton or Micky Bubbles. (In my book there is never any room for Micky Bubbles.........) Hope you enjoyed. And, Me'shell, if you are reading(!), how about a volume 2?

Find 'em all:
Bee Gees
Nina
Burritos
and Jimmy

(Oh, OK and Me'shell)

Album Cover Art: Bee Gees - Odessa

Bee Gees: Suddenly

[purchase]  

   On the heels of their massive number one UK hit "I've Gotta Get A Message To You", The Bee Gees were ready to make their big statement album. That statement was the 1969 album Odessa, two lps wrapped up in a red velvety flocked cover with gold lettering.
"I think Odessa was an attempt to do a rock opera," Barry Gibb told The Guardian's Alexis Petridis in 2009. "It sort of turned itself into a bit of a mish mash, but our intentions were honourable. I think we wanted to do something that could be put on stage. There was supposed to be a thematic thing going on," he added, "but it just kind of wandered off into the distance."
  While it was nice to own an album cover you could actually pet, the flock reportedly caused a major allergic reaction among some of the workers during production.
   The reissues all came out in boring old cardboard sleeves.