DON'T: GO (HOTHOUSE FLOWERS)

Me, I bloody loathe Eurovision. Eh, say a whole continent across the pond, Eurovision? OK, the Eurovision Song Contest, to give it the full title, that yearly schmooze through all that's camp and kitsch, all the pop you can possibly bear, the pop that puts the pap in europop. It, like Strictly Come Dancing, a TV show about celebrities learning to dance, is now a very big thing in the UK, as we devolve further and further away from the continent. It hasn't always ben this way: a respectable and somewhat middle of the road song competition, wherein the countries of Europe compete for the honour of the best popular song their best writers can come up with, ballgowns and tuxedos required, an orchestra de rigeur. Pop music, 1950's style, that is. (Mind you, in those days Britain was far less the scourge it is seen by the rest of the continent, even winning from time to time.)

We used to watch it home, en famille, as a child, it's true, so I know all the smash hits from Cliff, Lulu and that ilk. Even good old Clodagh. It went on for hours, as the individual nations, "Good Evening from Helsinki", took ages to deliberate over the selection of tawdry songs. But one year I remember well. 1998. Hosted by the Irish in Dublin, as Johnny Logan had won the previous year, and they put on some craic for  the viewers waiting for the scores. A raggle taggle of ne'er-do-wells lurched onstage and played the best song of the night, a prime example of Celtic soul, with a pounding piano, some raw sawbones sax and a rousing chorus. "Don't Go", the singer pleaded and I didn't. I was glued.

Hothouse Flowers were already a thing in their homeland by that time, their debut release having been the then swiftest selling album in Irish chart history. I confess that, back then, I was too busy with Cowboy Junkies and The Men They Couldn't Hang to notice them at first. (Although, with it being also the year of Van working with the Chieftains and Mike Scott relocating to Spiddal for Fisherman's Blues, I should have had my ear closer to Irish turf.) But, once I heard them play that song at Eurovision, the second single from that first album, I was in. The band, based around singer and pianist, Liam Ò'Maonlai and guitarist, Fiachna Ò'Braonàin, two schoolfriends from an Irish speaking school in Dublin, and Peter O'Toole, not that one, a busker they met in the city and busking is how the band started their career.

For the next year or so they were everywhere, no summer music festival complete without their presence. A second album, not as successful but still worthwhile. Despite no shortage of original material, the best known song from it was a cover, a well received version of the Johnny Nash song, I Can See Clearly Now. They also, unbeknownst to many, contributed to and featured on the Indigo Girls' Closer To Fine. (Unbeknownst? Read uncredited!)

A third record and a bruising touring schedule had them pause for breath, in 1994, taking a collective year out. Or that was the plan, that year extending into four, the band shedding manager and additional members, the core three regrouping in 1998 for a different style, incorporating elements both of electronica and effects to an overall more organic and folkie based feel. 

Since then, and like many bands, they have never formally dissolved, reconvening sporadically, whilst undertaking separate projects apart, Ò'Maonlai having some solo success, particularly with more traditional fare. O'Toole officially left and later rejoined the band, and all three were present, in 2015, when I caught the band at Birmingham's Symphony Hall,  on a tour that took in the UK. Their distinctive tone was all the more characteristic as O'Toole, now playing as much guitar and bouzouki as bass, necessitated the addition of a second bassist, this time on stand up double bass. When both bassists play alongside, the assault is wonderful, as audiences at various festivals this summer, Glastonbury included, were able to affirm. Below is an interesting interview that gives an idea of their modus operandi.

And a taster for how they now sound. And look.

Don't go!!

SAME NAME/DIFFERENT ARTIST: BOBBY VALENTINO

Woah, this might cause some ruffles, SMM being often/usually/mostly a rap and hip-hop free zone, with the name above capable of causing resonating ripples of fear amongst our faithful readership. (Hi, Mom!) Panic not, whilst I have heard of the Bobby Valentino, mainly through search engine malarkey, I am unfamiliar with his body of work. And I am told body is the correct word. In the plural. O, go on, then....... 

I refer to the other Bobby Valentino. I dare say you may have seen him, on videos, perhaps more often than necessarily known who he is. A staple on the UK scene for 30 odd years, he has popped up on many a bands output, whenever violin is required to give some additional flavour. Thus, if you remember the the Bluebells, Style Council, Big Country and the Christians, whenever you hear fiddle, chances are it's him. He has also appeared with artists as diverse as Tom Petty and Mark Knopfler. The brother of notable arranger and member of the Art of Noise, Ann Dudley, he is probably best known for his part in the UK top 10 single, 'Young at Heart', by the Bluebells, from which he belatedly received a writing credit, having successfully convinced a judge of the integral part of his violin part. Used extensively in a VW worldwide advert, which gave an even more successful return hit, this income has probably kept him in 'tache wax and hair oil ever since.        

                                     

Yes, it is also his distinctive appearance, a Clark Gable lookalike, that has arguably as much kept him in the limelight as his playing, although, to be fair, he is no slouch, able also on guitar and mandolin, posessing a  delightful baritone croon. I have caught a fair amount of his lesser known and more full-time musical activities, being an acknowledged fan of pedal-steel maestro and maverick, B.J. Cole. Valentino and Cole have had a long running involvement together, first as members of Hank Wangford, the singing gynaecologist's band(s), secondly in their own intermittent country-rock band, Los Pistoleros, with ex-Graham Parker and the Rumour guitarist, Martin Belmont. They are an absolute hoot live, and still  gig from time to time, other commitments willing. Valentino has also made a trio of solo recordings, or perhaps the same one thrice, as many of the songs are duplicated across each of them, as well as on Pistoleros recordings. I'll forgive him for this as I am a fan. He has also been a longterm occasional member of another favourite band of mine, The Men They Couldn't Hang, featured here. In fact, I have just bought a ticket for a duo gig, Valentino with Phil 'Swill' Odgers, one of the lead singers/writers of said band.

As an afterword, perhaps buoyed by his earlier success, he took the Bobby Valentino I haven't discussed to court, enforcing the once named Bobby Williams to change his stage name to Bobby V. (I wonder what this fella would have had to say about that?)

You're in the groove, Jackson, is his best record!

LION/LAMB: THE LION & THE UNICORN/THE MEN THEY COULDN'T HANG

Ever vigilant in my aim to extend my often anglocentric peccadilloes to a wider audience, I dare say The Men They Couldn't Hang may be an unknown quantity to many readers. Which is a pity. Indeed, they are probably also fairly niche on these shores, despite recently ratcheting up a 35th year of performing. Arising out of the short-lived UK cowpunk movement of the 80s, which also produced the Pogues in their earliest incarnation, as well as lesser known names as the Boothill Foot-Tappers. (I know, I can hear the yells from Distressed, Arkansas, chiding me for using the term cowpunk, a term that, a little later, became the term for a more aggressive and electric ragged country sound in the US,  a sort of americana before it was called americana, but, much as I like that too, we used it first and, hey, I'm writing. My guys were a little gentler and used a little more acousticity.)

Pulling tropes from folk music, country and punk, TMTCH always had a strong sense of history, and, hailing from the naval garrison town of Portsmouth, often this was maritime history, encompassing anything from smuggling to the Napoleonic wars. I was drawn in early, finding their rough hewn melodic jangle very much to my ears. A flurry of records appeared between 1984 and 1991, when they first threw in the towel. But no band ever really breaks up these days, do they? In 1996, buoyed by a few interim reunion, they officially reformed, or at least the dominant front line of singer/songwriters Paul Simmonds, Phil 'Swill' Odgers and Stefan Cush, backed by a varying line-up in the rhythm section of guitar, bass and drums, with, often, the additional services of Bobby Valentino, fiddler extraordinaire and Clark Gable lookalike. In the intervening 20 years they have kept up a credible presence, alternating full band tours with individual projects, albeit often with one or other of them tagging along. I have seen them twice, in about 1990 and then again last year. (Here's what I thought.)

So how about the song? And what of lions and unicorns? Actually, a timely moment to consider, 20 odd days ahead of the UK 'regaining' its sovereignty and bouncing out of europe. Or at least the EEC. At the time of writing, no deal yet forthcoming, it looks and feels as comforting as a poke in the eye. The lion and the unicorn are the heraldic emblems on the country's coat of arms. If the lion is a symbol of fierce steadfastness, the unicorn is a symbol of fantasy. I know which feels the more realistic.

How prophetic are these words, penned by Paul Simmonds in 1990, describing his then perception of the status of this nation. I would hate for history to become literally the only future.


'Welcome friends from overseas
I'm your guide I aim to please
I know what you want from me
Sights and smiles and history
I'll take you down to the Underground
Tha's where the spirit of the Blitz is found
Hear those sirens over your head?
See that platform, thats your bed

(Chorus)
Who went mad, who drowned in drink?
Who's in a cage and who's extinct?
Who ended up in a uniform?
The Lion and The Unicorn

Here's the church there's the steeple
Open it up where are the people?
Thinking up ways to take your dough
By deal or scheme or unseen blow
Now out to the shires where the towns are quaint
We spruced them up with a coat of paint
That white paint don't cover up dirt
Bandages don't cover up hurt

(Chorus)
I'll tell you tales of kings and sailors
Puritans, outlaws, thieves and traitors
Show you round the land we made
Whisper something we betrayed
So where's the hope, where's the reason?
Poisoned by the years of treason
Where's the justice where's the grace?
Disappeared without a trace'

Here is a live version.