PAUL: PAUL/BIG THIEF

Yeah, me neither, but it is what it is, and gives an obtuse pleasure more profound than, say, "Types of Horse" or "Continental Cheeses", although the latter could have some traction as a future theme. First I thought about witty puns and homophones, you know, pallbearers and the such aPAULing ideas. Then I moved on to the name, with which I have stuck. At first I was going to riff on alternate spellings, so Porl Thompson or Pòl Brennan*, but left off, feeling it too contrived. (Like it has ever stopped me before.) I assumed someone somewhere might already be considering the only living boy in New York, so avoided that one, or any other singer-songwriter casting a similar shadow. So, what was left?

I asked Alexa, and she didn't disappoint, reminding me of the estimable charm of Adrianne Lenker's band, Big Thief, whom I don't think have been included here before. Big Thief usually get described as indie, which, these days, seems a phrase of some redundancy, encompassing anything outwith a standard blues based rock orthodoxy, and where electric guitars are employed. I have also seen them written up as folk-rock, which also, at least in any anglo-celtic tradition, seems just wrong. Could they be post-rock, that term I don't really understand, knowingly dropped into conversation by erudite folk like, well, like me, actually. Never let it be said that understanding is a prerequisite to use of any word, idea or undertaking. (For the record, wiki tell me that post-rock is:"a form of experimental rock^[3] characterized by a focus on exploring textures and timbre over traditional rocksong structures, chords, or riffs." Well, that clears that up, then.)

Frankly, does it matter? The sound and songs they make are often a delight of subtle twists of phrase and melody, borne along on the fragile and raw intimacy of Lenker's vocal. Unfair to call the band Lenker's really, as she has a separate solo life that began ahead the band, and continues, alongside. And that, perhaps, does fit more comfortably into a "folk" characterisation, acoustic and organic Indeed, she made her first album in 2006, before even attending Berklee College of Music, where she met the other members of Big Thief, all four of the original quartet graduates of that august institution. But she becomes identifiably the focus, such is the default of most vocalists.

Paul comes from their debut, often defined their masterpiece, which is handy, as that is exactly the same name they gave it themselves, back in 2016. It is one of those songs that instantly arouses interest. I guess I first heard it back in about 2020, ever late to the game,  possibly as the pandemic had me hunkering down, with more time to explore back catalogues and back pages, the present effectively on hold. A splurge on youtube viewing had me moving from track to track, album to album. Similar to when I first heard the National, suddenly I wanted to hear it all and hear them more. Thankfully(!), they haven't been that prolific, unless one discounts her solo work and the proto-BF stirrings of her duet work with later bandmate, and erstwhile husband, the guitarist Buck Meek. Since Masterpiece, there have been four releases, the latest being a freshly minted double, Dragon New Morning Warm Mountain, from barely two months ago.

I'm not going to link any more of their songs; I want that to be a delight for any self-sourcing this piece may provoke. But here's a live radio performance of Paul:

And a further version, stripped back in duet form, Adrianne and Buck style.

Enjoy your searching.

(*SWIDT, given the avatar for this theme!?)

Paul Songs: Paula Y Fred

Latin Playboys: Paula Y Fred
[purchase] 

When brilliant roots rock/Americana/Latin band Los Lobos joined forces with producer Mitchell Froom and engineer Tchad Blake for the 1992 album Kiko, their murky, quirky and layered production style added a new, experimental, facet to Los Lobos’ already diverse sound, and many believe it to be the band’s finest album. After Kiko, Los Lobos member David Hidalgo played some demos for Froom, who suggested that, instead of using them for a new Los Lobos album, they be used for a new side project. Enlisting fellow band member Louie Perez to form Latin Playboys, the quartet released a self-titled album in 1994 that took Los Lobos’ eclectic sound and pushed it to the limit, with all sorts of noises, distortion, and just plain strangeness. It was compelling and fascinating, even if I admittedly rarely listen to it from start to finish (but that’s pretty much true for me with most albums these days, I guess). 

Los Lobos came together with Froom and Blake for Colossal Head in 1996 and This Time, in 1999, and Latin Playboys released a second album, Dose in 1999 which was also pretty experimental, but had more distinct songs than the debut. 

One of those songs is “Paula Y Fred,” which The New York Times (yes, the Times actually gave a pretty long review to the Latin Playboys’ second album) described as “a cheerful son jarocho, sung in Spanglish, in which unrequited love leads to murder.” It is cheerful sounding, and my rudimentary Spanglish allows me to concur with their description of the plot, but I had to look up “son jarocho.” Wikipedia says that it is the “Veracruz Sound", “a regional folk musical style of Mexican Son from Veracruz, a Mexican state along the Gulf of Mexico.” You can read more about it at the Wikipedia link, or, I bet, at other sites that are more authoritative about Mexican musical styles. I listened to a few examples of traditional sones jarocho, and I think the Times is right. By the way, “La Bamba,” which Los Lobos famously covered, was originally a son jarocho too. 

Dose was the last Latin Playboys album, and Los Lobos would move on from Froom and Blake, using a different producer for their next album—lots of critics began to write that the production seemed to be getting in the way of the music, although in my opinion, all of their collaborations contained gems. But Los Lobos' desire for mixing sonic experimentation with the basic rootsy sounds never really disappeared, and it has enriched their music. As regular readers of this blog know, I really like Los Lobos (although I’ve had some issues with some of their live shows over the years). 

Look, I’m not sure what the point of this theme is, but it gave me the chance to revisit some interesting music that I hadn’t thought about in years, and I hope that this piece introduces you to Latin Playboys, or makes you go back and check them out again.

Shelter: Gimme Shelter Covers

 

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Shelter without the elephant in the room? Well ... Jordan *did* once bring it up with a post about the one and only Merry Clayton, who did the incredible backup ... nay ... co-vocals with Mick Jagger on Gimme Shelter (from Let It Bleed) - screenshot above. Myself? I am such an old Stones man that in one of my classes today, the first thing that came to mind was to play <Out of Time> when the clock ran out on my students' quiz time .  ("Baby, baby, baby, you're out of time ...") And yes, I've been known to post here about the band on occasion [ here and here and more ]

Gimme Shelter certainly ranks among my favorites - not just Stones favorites. I can't help but stomp  my feet when I hear the song kick in full force. Certainly it has something to do with classic Keith style: the songs  just reeks of Richards' guitar. Probably the reverb on the intro riffs? And then there's the message in the lyrics. Again, so Stones: murder, rape, shot, flood, fire, storm, war ... a kiss away. Shelter from a kiss, or war is just a kiss away? I tell ya, I'm gonna fade away if I don't get some shelter.

So ... without the elephant, some covers below:

You want more?

SHELTER: ME (LORD)

 At times of terror and turbulence we, as humans, often seek solace or succour from a higher power, quite whatever that might be. And, no, this isn't extending a troll to the many millions who hold dear such an idea, certain of the reality. I get the need, sure, I get the need, even often wishing I could accept what I can't fully embrace. But I don't believe, arguably more agnostic than atheist, but fully respect the want of others to have a faith. So much so that I can absolutely love the musical convictions offered by those with belief and surety. Religious music can move me to tears and frequently does. Here, as the ravages rained down upon Ukraine fill our 24 hour rolling news channels, I feel sure, were I in the maelstrom of Mariupol, that it would be songs like this that would be filling my head.

One could easily assume the above, as performed by Louisiana bluesman Tab Benoit, to be an ancient spiritual, handed down from generation to generation, even brought over on the slave ships, so earthy, rugged and real the entreaty. I certainly assumed so, Benoit having the knack of uprooting the overlooked and arcane to cover for his repertoire of authentic sounding country blues from the bayous. Having a voice like an earthquake and adept workmanlike precision on his guitar certainly hinders little. Hell, if you forgive the use of the word in this context, he just makes you want to believe in his God. (Or, at least, to take the Marc Cohn option, "Ma'am, I am tonight!")

But it isn't an old hymn, as I discovered, coming from a much more recent source. Here, above, is the original version, as appearing on Buddy Miller's 2004 album, Universal House of Prayer. I sometimes feel an overt Christian faith is deemed as disadvantageous in the world of rock and roll, not least as the Devil is said to have the best songs. Well, if that is the case, someone forgot to tell Buddy Miller, hotshot guitarist and record producer, who has played alongside both Robert Plant and Emmylou Harris, and produced, amongst others, Richard Thompson and Patty Griffin. This is as well as having his own solo career and that as a duet, with his wife, Julie, who actually wrote the song featured. Below is a live version, Buddy with three of his famous friends, Emmylou, Patty and, also a recipient of his production work, Shawn Colvin.

Quite apart from the couldn't be clearer lyrical thrust, is the odd fact that this self same song was used as the theme of a TV reality show in the U.S. Named Sons of Guns, it was about the life and business of a gun dealership. Which sorta sits uncomfortably. So, get rid the thought of it selling guns, and concentrate on applying it to losing the guns, and tanks, and bombs, from Ukraine, or, at least, from the hands of Putin's "military exercise". Maybe offered up as a prayer?

Have a last version, this time from Canada's excellent Blackie and the Rodeo Kings, joined here by no less than Mrs Springsteen herself, Patti Scialfa:

Shelter Tab, Buddy and Blackie's.

Shelter: Inshallah

 

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We are thinking about refugees this week: people seeking shelter. Sadly, issues like this come to the forefront when there are wars, when in fact, they are on-going problems that the world faces  and often turns a blind eye to on a daily basis. Something is koyaanisqatsi. Maybe many things?

Most definitions of the word inshallah combine a mix of fate/kismet and hope. The word allah is clearly embedded inside and the meaning is: if God wills it so. I would guess that the average speaker of Arabic/Turkish utters the word every day.

it shouldn't be a great surprise that Sting chose it for one of his songs: he is no foreigner to Arabic/Islamic culture (see:  Desert Rose), and he comes across as sensitive to multi-culturalism. He himself is an immigrant (see: Englishman in New York)

The song is about refugees coming to Europe from Islamic countries: but he also notes that the sense of "I hope" is an everyday occurance in Western culture - if we are attuned to it. He notes that when you cross a busy intersection in the city, you would be wise to say "inshallah, I'll make it to the other sidewalk". There is an element of fate and luck every time you step off the sidewalk.

And then I try to put myself in the shoes of a refugee (of a war, of hopeless poverty, homelessness), where it's not just a search for protection from tonight's rain or snow, but the longer-term need for a place that's safe. And I can't do it. Sure - I've been without shelter in various bad weather. Short-term, all. But not without hope. And that's where inshallah comes in.

Sting isn't the only one to include inshallah in his lyrics, but it comes as no surprise to me that most other examples are not from US musicians. My better half has on occasion suggested that I refrain from using the word in our private conversations when we are in the US - for example in a mall - because of the unwanted attention it might draw. (I did say that people from this part of the world utter the word frequently every day)  Lyrics.com suggests about 500 songs with the word, and the artists are primarily European resident Arabic rappers. No big surprise.

Inshallah, you'll enjoy the song. Inshallah, you'll put yourself in the (mental) shoes of someone seeking shelter - and do what you can. As Sting says in French "I hope this songs engenders your empathy" (my liberal translation) And of course ... the venue for the clip above adds to the poignancy.

Blvck Oreo (Vibes & Inshallah) :

Shelter: Shelter

The Dexateens: Shelter
[purchase]

I seem to be writing about my song selection process a lot lately, which may mean that I’m trying to fill space because I’m running out of songs that have particular meaning for me. I hope not, because that would be bad for a blogger who mostly responds to theme prompts, but we’ll see—and maybe I need to take another short sabbatical to recharge. I’m spending a good deal of time these days working on projects directly or indirectly related to my 40th college reunion in May, which I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to write about down the road, and that also explains why I’ve been writing once per theme more often than twice these days. Also, there’s work and family. And good TV. 

So, when I heard the theme, my first thought was a King Crimson song, but seriously, who really wants me to write about another King Crimson song, and an instrumental, at that? (The volume of my Crimson-related posts surprises even me, considering that they are not my favorite band. What is my favorite band? I really don’t know.) My second thought was to pick the obvious Rolling Stones song, but I’ve written about that before. There’s also a Dylan classic, but writing about Dylan can be heavy lifting, and I don’t have the patience for that right now. 

Which inevitably led me to an iTunes library search, where I landed upon today’s feature song, “Shelter,” by The Dexateens. Is it a great song? No. Is it a good song by an underappreciated band in the vaguely Americana genre? Yes. Which means that it’s a good one for me to write about. (Although having finished this post, I realize that I mentioned the band a few years ago).

The Dexateens were formed in the late 1990s in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, featuring singer-songwriters and guitarists Elliott McPherson and John Smith, with drummer Craig "Sweet Dog" Pickering and bassist Matt Patton. If that last name seems familiar, we’ll get there. Their name came not from the same source as Dexys Midnight Runners, but instead from a guitar pick that Smith’s brother had gotten signed by Dex Romweber, a musician that you might have heard of. Or not. Although he’s pretty good and it is a memorable name. Mixing punk with southern rock, The Dexateens’ self-titled debut album from 2004 is excellent—raw and rocking, and “Shelter” is a Stonesy-stomp. 

I’m not sure when I first heard about The Dexateens, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was in 2007, when their fine album Hardwire Healing was released, and it was co-produced by Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers and David Barbe, who has worked with the Truckers (as well as playing bass in Sugar). I suspect that this was the hook that got me to check out the band, which has de-emphasized punk over the years. After some personnel changes, the band broke up in 2010. Patton joined the Truckers on bass (and as the occasional Ramones cover singer), and also plays with The Dexateens, which re-formed in 2013. And, he co-owns a recording studio in Mississippi (where part of the Ramones cover video in the link was shot). Busy man. 

 So, check out The Dexateens if you aren’t familiar with them.

SHELTER: BIRDY

 Yes, I know it's a cover. In fact, all but one of the songs on her first album are covers, arguably all the more surprising, with her subsequent three records being visually all self-penned, at least including co-writes. But it is to her eponymous debut I return the most, giving life and substance to songs I am otherwise not overly fond of.

Named down to her love of Charlie Parker, her neo-jazz skronkings have soundtracked many an apocalypse, making this post entirely appropriate for the moment. I jest; the name comes from the more prosaic open mouth she made as a hungry infant, seeking sustenance. Plus, it is a whole lot easier to say than her given name, Jasmine Lucilla Elizabeth Jennifer van den Bogaerde, almost as much of a mouthful as the dissimilarly derided Dido, for whom it is compulsory to mock with the full extravagance of her christened names. Odd that, but I digress, not least as Birdy has a far greater claim on the Peerage through the Lords and Barons that abound her family tree. As well, interestingly, the actor, Dirk Bogarde, her late great-uncle. And, worry not, neo-jazz skronkings are the last thing she could be accused of.

The original song, by electronica-dance merchants the xx, is such a slight tendril of a tune that it is, to my mind, remarkable what Birdy brings to it, her skilled and school piano-play an altogether more stately setting for the somewhat allegorical lyric. If this theme was designed to show a light on the horror Putin is unleashing on his neighbour state, I fear the words are overly vague, but I am disregarding that point. Just the act of typing out Putin is a psycho monster makes me feel better, wishing that alone could give some relief to the beleaguered Ukraine. Of course it can't, but I can only hope that someone somewhere is plotting a sly, sneaky bullet in him, sooner rather than later. 

But back to Birdy. Like most people, I first heard of her as she brought Bon Iver's song, above, to a wider audience, at the same time, rendering it bearable to those, like me, who can appreciate the construction but cannot stand his enuretic voice. (Apologies to his potent fanbase, who, as he delves deeper and deeper into studio tricks and FX, goes from bad to much, much worse.) What I didn't know, until writing this piece, was that she was a sickening fourteen years old when she cut this cover. Eek, simultaneously discovering I am somewhat older than either of her parents. Given I am known to be especially curmudgeonly toward child prodigies, perhaps it is as well I didn't, at the time I enjoyed the song and bought the album. That was 11 years ago, the other covers on her debut split between the left field indie faves and the sole chestnut, James Taylor's ageless Fire and Rain.

So, what of her later stuff? Casting her net wide for sympathetic co-writers, her next two releases show her finding her feet, it taking 2021's Young Hearts to display the sense of maturity she pretended earlier. Surrender, the song below, is one such example, which brings on board the not inconsiderable talents of Daniel Tashian (Lissie, Kacey Musgraves), a fella who knows his hooks. 

Why have I chosen Surrender? I guess as my heart hopes Zelensky won't, even if my head suggests he has to, in the absence of the NATO support he so strongly wants, and that NATO are so scared of providing.

Gimme Shelter....

Marching: Minor March

 

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Bitches Brew was the first that I heard (of) Miles Davis. It must have been mid '70s.

Much later, I saw him live in Istanbul near the end of his life. My wife was 5 months pregnant and *man* was he loud. My son-to-be kicked his way through that one. I think it qualifies as "he's been to a Miles Davis concert". We were in something like row 5, which undoubtedly added to the volume. That outdoor venue appears to have been one leg of his 1988 European tour which apparently he cut short for health reasons. Despite his fame/acclaim, he came across as particularly ornery.

There's a fair amount of Davis' work that I find hard to access/enjoy. This 1954 piece - Minor March - isn't one of those. Maybe it's partially the effect of Milt Jackson and his vibraphone that makes the piece (the album? Quintet/Sextet) fairly melodic.

Minor March was written by Jackie McLean who plays the sax on it. Wikipedia says that Davis wrote in his autobiography, "I remember Jackie got so high he got terrified he couldn't play. I don't know what that shit was all about, but after this date, I never used Jackie again." Wikipedia says he never recorded with the man again.

MARCHING: CES BOTTES SONT FAITES POUR MARCHER

 

OK, so a bit of international licence here, an entente cordiale to fit the subject, which, like a kinky boot, it does, très snug. I love a bit of foreign, do I, so it was with some disappointment and frustration I have felt it wise to cancel a forthcoming jaunt to Paris. Little to bear, in comparison to our friends in Ukraine, but Putin can go sit on one. OK, as he could before, but this biscuit has been well and truly taken, the birds of his political interferences in US and UK governments now arguably coming home to roost, as "we" struggle to work out what is and isn't justified in return. Bad and sad days.

Endeavouring to remain upbeat, let's pursue the arena of pop in translation. Yé-yé, as our french cousins say. One rule, mind, that being an avoidance of where an anglophone artist simply translates their song into french, and copycats it, so none of this, no Bowie or Blondie. (Strangely, this is a trick the Beatles never pulled off, even if tried a bit of Deutsch.)

Africain à Paris/Tiken Jah Fakoly

The above is an extraordinary piece of translation, changing both the words and the locations, succeeding in an impressive alchemy. And, musically, is it any less wrong to suggest the Parisian music scene is to Africans that New York might be to an Englishman? The number of artists from that continent in the French capital, making there their music, is immense, belying a concept that Paris could well be the home of African culture.

Hey Joe/Johnny Hallyday

I'm uncertain if the translated lyric has actually, name apart, anything to do with the original, but, it being my favourite song, possessing dozens of versions of it, yes, of course, this I already have and was so already well familiar with. Fond of, less. Having said that, it was a song he never stopped playing, with this considerably later version even quite edgy, in a poundshop Keith Richards way. 

L'Amour C'Est Comme Une Cigarette/Sylvie Vartan

Well, if we are going weird, we have to go here. Ms. Easton's paean to the early morning commute seems clearly a whole different concept through a French lens, this song stealing only the tune, as it, well, as you do, compares love to a cigarette. A Gauloise, I assume. I will avoid smutty allusions around sucking on it and watching it turning slowly to ash.

D'En Haut de la Tour de Guet/Francis Cabrel

Another of my favourite songs in coverland, the translation itself a labour of love. Indeed, so wordy is most of his work that you forgive all the continentals who sang on, regardless, in English, rather than wrestle long and hard, as clearly had the performer here. It comes from an entire album's worth of similar fare, and I tip my chapeau his way.

Hôtel de Californie/The Cat Empire

Is this cheating? I suspect it is, but it is such a delightfully gallic take on the song to ignore the fact it was cobbled together in Australia by Melbourne ska-punkers The Cat Empire. And what better place to end this reverie.

Bottes by Eileen: ici

MARCHING: MONCK'S MARCH

 Every now and then I forget my audience (!?!) and revert to type, with arcane and counter-intuitive posts that, often, involve injudicious use of the F word. F for f***in' folk, FFS, catnip to dogs everywhere, and, what's more, not even in  the watered down transatlantic meaning of the word, being the full on, bang on of trad. So, gather round, enjoy.

A history lesson first. General George Monck, 1608 - 70, was quite the journeyman soldier, assiduously applying his colours to the prevailing flags of the day. Acclaimed as a brutally efficient suppressor of rebellion, he made his name crushing the Irish in 1641. Returning in time for the English Civil war, he, in turn, fought for the Royalists, was captured and spent two years in gaol, becoming then Cromwell's lead in Ulster and Scotland. When Cromwell died and his short lived republican Commonwealth was faltering, he reattached support to the Monarchy and, with the throne restored, Charles II rewarded him with senior position. The tale always told was that he satiated any conflicts of loyalty by purposefully marching his army so slowly int battle as to often miss the skirmish altogether. (Hmmm, a good man for NATO right now, then.....)

The tune, Monck's March, is a staple of the English Morris Cotswold tradition, emanating from the village of Sherborne. It celebrates the good general by offering a heel and toe step, sort of one step back for each two steps forward. I have it on good faith that this was the inspiration for Michael Jackson's "moonwalk", the entire Jackson family strong aficionados of English Country Dance. I suspect I have before mentioned my own forays into this energetic prelude to the drinking of much ale, thus delighted when the dance became absorbed into our repertoire. As a huge lifelong fan of all things Fairport, I had been drawn to the offshoot noodlings of Ashley Hutchings and friends in the Morris On project, followed up, in succession, by Son of Morris On, Grandson of Morris On and so on. It was a short step from dinner party dance time with napkins to actually join a side. My knees eventually called time on me, together with the gradual loss of other like minds: you don't ever see many Morris men under 60 these days, and so it is now a fond memory rather than much else. Thankfully, Mr Hutchings has never lost his enthusiasm, and Morris On, as a project, continues. Here is a clip from their live show, at Fairport's Cropredy Festival a few years back.

But there are other ways of presenting the tune. Here's a full orchestral version for Symphonic Wind Orchestra:

Lute, I think:

Or a medieval version, all sackbuts and crumhorns:

Finally a jolly country band version, that I can imagine going down a storm at a ceilidh.

Thanks for indulging me! 

Son of Morris On.

Marching: When The Saints Go Marching In

Although the month of March is named after the Roman god of war, Mars, while the English verb “to march” is derived a different source, the Old French “marcher,” meaning "to stride, march, walk," we here at SMM seem to insist on tying the two together, which is why most of the songs that would have marched into my consciousness for this theme already did so in prior years, leaving me not without options, but without options that I cared to write about. 

But one of the things about being among the last remaining regular writers on this site, which has gone through dozens since it started back in 2008, is that it is important to try to write at least once, if not more, for each theme, so I realized that Mardi Gras was just over a week ago, and therefore a discussion of “When The Saints Go Marching In” would work. And, in a tip of the hat to another of the other remaining regular SMM contributors (and recent birthday boy), Seuras Og, I’m going to model my post on one of his regular formats. 

Like many standards, the origins of the song are unclear. It seems that there were a number of gospel/spiritual songs with similar titles, but in 1923, the Paramount Jubilee Singers recorded a song similar to the one we all know and love, titled, “When All The Saints Go Marching In:”



Other recorded versions of the song, with varying lyrics, were recorded throughout the the 1920s and 30s, often becoming less hymn-like and more uptempo, but the song’s popularity really started when Louis Armstrong recorded a version in 1938, which also cemented the song’s identification with New Orleans:



There are probably thousands of covers of this standard, especially if you include every Dixieland or brass band that does it live (and on video....), but we will look at a few notable ones, in roughly chronological order: Here’s a peppy, folk approach from The Weavers in 1951:



Not surprisingly, Mahalia Jackson returned the song to its gospel roots in 1955:



Elvis Presley, and the rest of the “Million Dollar Quartet (Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins and Johnny Cash), did a loose rockabilly version that wasn’t released to the public until 1990:



In 1956, Sister Rosetta Tharp started turning “The Saints” into a rock ‘n’ roll song:



And Fats Domino finished the transformation in 1958:



Judy Garland and Liza Minnelli took a more pop approach when they performed the song in 1964:



The following year, Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs, not surprisingly, took “The Saints” in a bluegrass direction:



Jumping forward a few decades, here’s a traditional take by New Orleans’ Preservation Hall Jazz Band from 1983:



In the mid-2000s, Bruce Springsteen regularly performed the song, in a pretty subdued arrangement, on his Seeger Sessions tour, with this version from 2006 being released on the Live in Dublin album:



Look, I could go on forever, and some of you may think I already have, so I’ll close this out with a version from New Orleans’ great Dirty Dozen Brass Band from 2012 that is pretty traditional (and a bit funky) and loads of fun:

weather: MIXED WEATHER

 

There is a Turkish saying about the month of March that goes like this: it'll make you look (longingly) out the door and cause you to burn your (wooden) shovel and pick handles.

March 1st here was a balmy 50 degrees F; March 3rd it snowed. 

Myself, I feel the weather all day long since my workplace is required to leave all the doors and windows open to mitigate the virus. But it will soon pass. The cold weather, that is.

The weather? ... we have no control over it. Or do we? You want to get into climate change, do you? After COVID mitigation, you say you want to take on weather patterns? Well,  OK ...

I'm not a climate data scientist but I do believe that we don't have (and likely never will have) the long-term data to prove human-caused climate change - there are just too many factors). But I still believe I carry some responsibility for my use of the resources I consume. Guilty until proven innocent.

But without fruitless worrying, we *can* start by making a (limited) list of weather issues:

 

too much rain

 

too cold

 

too hot (kind of off the mark - except that it is Hot Tuna and Jorma is hot)

 Do note that the Weather report intro solo at the top is played on a bass guitar

 

WEATHER: SUNSHINE IN LEITH

Well, I had to, really, a no-brainer and no choice, having displayed one side of the coin so recently.... If Edinburgh is the yin to Glasgow's yang, Leith has the gritty reputation, historically at least, to be the yangiest part of Edinburgh, all dockyards, razor cuts and the worst toilet in the Scotland. And the home to Craig and Charlie Reid, aka the Proclaimers.

I guess most people associate the duo with their most widely known song, the anthemic 500 Miles, or, to give its full title, I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles), which, when included in the 1993 film, Benny and Joon, propelled the twins to worldwide acclaim, a full 5 years after it was initially released, hitting the Billboard number 3. (To be fair, it had been a hit in the UK at the first time around, and in other countries with a sizeable ex-pat Scottish population: number 1 in Australia and in New Zealand!) Where's the link? Sorry, but I cannot stand the song, seeing it little more than a lazy rewrite of Mammy, and enough to ban the brothers from my house for a number of years thereafter. I have since mellowed, but I still ain't playing it!

I much preferred their debut record, the single, Letter From America, an anguished thrash through the effects of post industrialism on the Scottish central belt, and the subsequent deprivation, comparing the effects to the Highland Clearances of the centuries before. So harsh and unaffected was their singing, with no concessions to an easier listening English on the ear, it was a breath of righteous indignation that sat proudly in my heritage. I was delighted to learn that one of those responsible for the boys getting a contract was one Kevin Rowland, of Dexy's Midnight Runners, who helped record their demo songs. 

Their second album, which gives its name to the title of this piece, was called Sunshine on Leith, pairing the acoustic sounds with a full band. As well as that song I don't like, this also included I'm On My Way, and they were. And if that had a hint of Roger Miller, why then, little surprise what came next, as and on an EP:

Third album, Hit the Highway, had them hit a speed bump in the road, near stalling their career, although, again, a movie, Dumb and Dumber, came to the rescue, featuring their inspired cover of the Temptations' Get Ready.

A seven year gap ensued before they were ready again to rock, with Persevere being their first album to be recorded in the US. Bolstered then by a Greatest Hits collection, they seemed back on their feet. With Edwyn Collins, of Orange Juice fame, then brought in for production duties on their next album, whilst lauded as a return to their roots, it failed to set the charts alight. This time, it was the UK charity show, Comic Relief, that came to their rescue, with a reprise of that song, with "humorous" guest vocals. It's even worse than the original, but spawned another hit, this time to the top of the UK charts. OK then, if I must.......

(I'm sorry.)

The Proclaimers have never actually stopped. They continue making new music and tour regularly, being especially popular on the UK summer festival circuit, at least ahead the pandemic. Albums have followed every couple of years, trying to add more than the lazy trope of the heritage oldies circuit. 2012's Like Comedy was a particularly good effort, if largely unlauded, furthering their excursion into a caledonian blue-eyed soul direction. Their last release came out in 2018.

But, back to our featured song, in another quirk, in 2007 Dundee Playhouse put on a musical of the same name, using the songs of the Reid brothers as the narrative link. Winning top prize in the UK Theatre Awards for that year it has continued to be a popular staple of repertory theatre, with several tours. Such was the acclaim that, in 2013, a film version was made, featuring an against type Peter Mullan and Jane Horrocks. Having read this far, I think you would be surprised to have me either rating musical theatre or musical film of any sort, each being anathema to me. And you'd be right, it is garbage, but nonetheless did well enough to please the easily pleased. I'm not going to sour that pretty decent song, offering, instead, a further bite of the bad apple, 500 Miles.

Honestly, I actually quite like the band.........

Good.

If you must.

Weather: Which Way The Wind Blows

Anthony Phillips: Which Way the Wind Blows
[purchase] 

I’ve been having trouble with this theme (and, based on the lack of posts, I’m not the only one)—not that there is a lack of appropriate songs, because there are tons, but for me, there has to be some reason to write about the song—like a personal story, a political connection, or just because I want to write about the artist or song. So, when this song came up in a search, and I listened to it again (after many years), I realized that this song could actually have worked for our “What If” theme that I enjoyed. Plus it has been nearly two months since I’ve delved into the world of prog-rock obscurity, so why not? 

This song sort of answers the burning question, “What if Anthony Phillips had never left Genesis?” 

I’m pretty sure that I’ve discussed the origins of one of my favorite bands somewhere—original members Peter Gabriel, Tony Banks, Mike Rutherford, Anthony Phillips and Chris Stewart all met in the 1960s at the Charterhouse School in England. Eventually connecting with older Charterhouse alum, the singer, songwriter, producer and convicted child abuser Jonathan King, who named the band and got them signed. Stewart left and was replaced by another Charterhouse alum, John Silver, who was later replaced by John Mayhew. After recording their second album Trespass, Phillips, the guitarist, quit, due to bad health and stage fright, and was eventually replaced by Steve Hackett; Mayhew was sacked and replaced as drummer by Phil Collins. 

So, let’s say that Phillips never left, so Hackett never joined. In the short term, there probably wouldn’t have been much difference because both guitarists, who became good friends, acknowledge that their sound and sensibilities were very similar, but our featured song gives you a sense of what the band might have sounded like after Gabriel left, and Collins stepped up as lead singer. 

After Phillips left Genesis, he wanted to continue a project he had been working on with Rutherford but first decided to expand and improve his musical knowledge and ability, studying classical music, orchestration and harmony, and taking lessons in guitar and piano. Eventually, Phillips and Rutherford returned to their project, which was slowed by the fact that Rutherford’s commitments to the increasingly popular Genesis were taking up more and more time. A push to finish the album came in fall 1974, when Steve Hackett injured his hand, delaying a Genesis tour, and allowing Phillips and Rutherford time to complete the bulk of the recording. In addition to bringing Collins in to sing on two tracks, Hackett’s younger brother John contributed flute on some of the songs. 

The album, The Geese and the Ghost, was finally finished in 1976, but Genesis’ label Charisma refused to release it, so it sat in the vaults until March 1977, just as punk was on the rise, and the sort of lyrical classical/folk influenced prog rock of the album was falling out of favor, and it was a commercial failure. Compare that to Hackett’s first solo album, Voyage of the Acolyte, which was mostly recorded around the same time, and also included contributions from Collins on vocals (and drums), Rutherford and John Hackett, but was released in 1975, and charted in the UK and (just barely) in the US. 

Our featured song, “Which Way The Wind Blows,” is a quiet ballad featuring Phillips, Rutherford and Collins, and would not have sounded at all out of place on Trick of the Tail, the first Genesis album on which Collins served as lead vocalist, released in 1976. Compare it, for example, to “Ripples,” from that album. 

Phillips tried to move toward a more pop direction, but that also was unsuccessful (although I found this track fun), and while he has released other solo albums, Phillips’ focus was more on soundtracks and “library music,” and occasionally guesting on projects with Rutherford, Camel, and Hackett.

WEATHER: RAINING IN GLASGOW

 If you can take the weather with you, why can't you take it away again? I guess it depends who you are, but the idea has no traction with me, as whichsoever bugger delivered three storms on the trot to UK this last week can do one. Thankfully, the weather has now abated and the sun is shining, a wispy sun on an early spring day. Give or take the maelstrom and mayhem of Ukraine, all might seem to be well with world, even if, as a result, it isn't.

Raining In Glasgow

Doesn't it always rain in Glasgow, you might, and not unreasonably, say? It can feel that way, the streets and building deigned, if not designed, to always look that way. I love the city, preferring it's gritty humanity over the sometime surcoat and no knickers of the capital, Edinburgh. Our featured artist this week, Dean Owens, straddles the two cities, his father a son of Leith, where he was also raised, and Glasgow his current home. (Leith, should you need reminding, is the setting for Trainspotting, giving a false semblance as to the safety of this dockside suburb of Edinburgh. Sure, dodgy and dicey as hell in the day, but fast a'gentrifying to the disgust and dismay of the longterm locals, finding Michelin starred seafood bars an affront to their hauf 'n' haufs.) Owens, who has been playing his brand of "Weegiana", that Scottish infused take on country and americana, for a touch over 25 years. Or Celtabilly, as he calls it himself.

Shine Like the Road After the Rain/The Felsons

Sticking with weather, or, more accurately, rain, the above song comes from his one of his first recordings, in 1996. As the frontman, singer, guitarist and songwriter for the Felsons, they made more of a critical impact than in sales, producing a couple of well-received albums, and a tour support slot with the Mavericks, then at the peak of their European acclaim. (Before that he had found short lived local fame, with the group Smile, and a Scottish top 20 hit, at number 20, in 1992. But I can't find the song anywhere, and don't think I have ever heard it. Over to you!) Two and a half records later the Felsons folded, Owens now striking out on his own.

Miss You, Ca (Scottish Summer Song)

Since 2001 he has made a number of albums, usually in the US, his music affiliating there with more traction than at home. Making ripples, if not waves, he has more recently hooked up with Calexico, the collective tex-mex desert noir band helmed by Joey Burns and John Convertino. This led to a number of collaborative EPs trickling out over the years of the pandemic, three in total, four songs apiece: The Desert Trilogy. This is where I first learnt of him and came aboard, enthused and enthralled from the start. I was then lucky enough to catch him playing live, at a niche americana festival, held in the wilds of England's East Anglia. He was my highlight of that weekend.) Then, at the beginning of this year came a more formal record of the project, with Sinner's Shrine, a set of some of the same songs, alongside others made during the same sojourn. (Here's a review of that I wrote elsewhere.) And, of course, there is a(another) song about the rain.......

After the Rain

I hope you can catch quite the blast of my drift, appreciating the blend of his honeyed whisky vocal and plaintively sad songs make for a stunning combination. 

Here's an excellent primer to get you started. Ahead of an acoustic version of the featured song.

Raining in Glasgow

Love: The Lovin' Spoonful

 

purchase [ Greatest Hits ]

The Lovin' Spoonful name has an "interesting" provenance - according to some sources. Not quite as the name might appear on the surface. That said, this appears open to interpretation, as yet a different source credits a Mississippi John Hurt song Coffee Blues in which the man is singing about a cup of coffee with just the right spoonsful of what makes it good. In the best tradition of good art, it's best lleft to you to decide which story you prefer to believe. The vocalist for the Lovin' Spoonful apparently intimated in most concerts that it was the first, drawing out the references to loving more than to the coffee he was drinking on stage.

Although the band had broken up by the time the original Woodstock festival rolled around, John Sebastian preformed solo. There are several different recollections as to just when he appeared, but none disputes the fact that he was unscheduled, having arrived as a spectator, but when the rain made an electric performance (probably by Santana) if-fy, he took the stage for an acoustic set.

Considering that - during their rather short mainstream career - they were contemporaries of the Beatles' hottest years, for them to have as many hits as they did is fairly impressive. Their contributions were recognized with a 2000 induction to the Rock Hall of Fame.

To jog your memory/introduce you, depending on your age:

LOVE : ARE YOU LOVIN' ME MORE, BUT ENJOYIN' IT LESS

Are You Loving' Me More, But Enjoying' It Less/The Electric Prunes

The Electric Prunes must be one of the best names for a band ever. Or worst. I'll bet some of you may even have heard of the band, and most of that familiarity will be from watching Easy Rider, the film. (Even) older readers may conceivably have already been familiar with the band, before 1970, with their single, arguably more memorable for the title than the melody.

I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night)/The Electric Prunes

'I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night)' was a prime slice of garage rock, clearly hitting a chord somewhere, as it attained a number 11 and 49 on the US and UK chart of 1966/7 respectively. A heady whiff of psychedelic fuzz guitar, cheesy organ and clattering drums, it is the face of the fella on the right of the video still that gives me most pleasure, the epitome of the lights on yet no-one at home. Yup, thought a thousand and one prototype freaks and hippies, I'll have some of what he's dreaming. That would, could and should have been that, a song and style more destined for cult status and bargain bins, up there with ? and the Mysterians. Indeed, when 'Nuggets', that groundbreaking compilation of all things equivalent, subtitled 'Original Artyfacts From the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-68', came out, in 1972, it was deemed significant enough to open side one. (Incidentally, the compiler of said project was a mild-mannered writer, who also worked at the Village Oldies record shop in New York, a fella by the name of Lenny Kaye. Yup, the one that became, a little later, that Lenny Kaye.)

Ain't It Hard (1st single)

The band have an interesting and unfortunate story. Formed out of the remains of L.A. surf group, the Sanctions, their core was James Lowe, on vocals, and Mark Tulin, on bass, the aim to provide a form of free form garage rock. With various additional members coming and going, eventually enough buzz was made to catch the ears of one Dave Hassinger, an RCA records producer. He also got them to adopt the name he had come up with, something less than loved by the band at first exposure. After the unsuccessful 'Ain't it Hard', still under Hassinger's supervision, they were signed to Reprise. In much the same way as their own name was dispatched, so too then were their songs, with the songwriting team of Annette Tucker and Nancie Mantz drafted in to write them song new songs. When their debut album dropped, Tucker had had a hand in eight of the songs, including the one at the head of this piece and 'Dream', scuppering the wishes of the actual band members for a greater involvement. Arguably, what impression the actual musicians made was more upon the sound than the content; such was the response to the heavy distortion on IHTMTD(LN), that Vox, the makers of the Continental amplifier, signed them up as ambassadors, with the expectation of even greater sonic distortions built into the future direction plotted on their behalf. A second album did manage some escape from Hassinger's grip, allowing the band to submit more of their own material. However, with yet more changes in the membership, the reliance on effects over melody largely failed to trouble the chart. But a high profile European tour put their name on the map.

Agnus Dei/Mass In F Minor

Kol Nidre/Release of an Oath

Returning to the USA somewhat high and dry, Hassinger again sold them a concept to get them a greater appeal, a bizarre concoction whereby gregorian chant and psychedelia could be wed. Enter David Axelrod, a classically trained musician, who wrote the complex and complicated score for, first, Mass in F Minor, sung in ancient greek and latin, drawn from the Catholic litany, with a few equivalent nods to the Orthodox church. Lowe, Tulin et al were up for it but were sadly not up to it, it proving beyond their instrumental prowess and capacity. OK, Lowe, Tulin and Quint Weakley, the drummer, appeared on the album, most of the performance actually came from a team of hired hands. When it came to the live replication, try as they might, it was a disaster, a single live show in Santa Monica. That should have been that. But, do you recall, who idea was the name of the band? Correct, Hassinger thus also owning the rights to the use, setting up a new Electric Prunes, again convening with Axelrod, for a reprise of sorts, this time built around the Jewish prayer, Kol Nidre. This album, Release of an Oath, contained absolutely zilch input from the old band. It failed to gain the acclaim of the Mass in F Minor, so the raggle taggle of new musicians went back on the road as just another rock band, still free of any connection to the band that had begat them, bar the idea and their svengali's name. That version lurched on until 1970, before calling it quits.

You Never Had It Better/Stockholm '67

Meanwhile, Nuggets had been released, gaining some restored interest in the original iteration. Plus their earliest demos had at last seen the light of day, and, with the trickle out of re-releases of both their initial records and the Axelrod years, they were becoming quite the cult favourite. In 1997, the Stockholm '67 LP was released, 30 years on after the European tour, and the four original members, Lowe, Tulin, Weakley and Ken Williams, the fuzz guitar provider, were available. Reconvening in 1999, after a couple of years they dropped an album of new material, Artifact, the spelling a careful play on the word, a whisper shy of the spelling of the Nuggets subtitle, and of the correct spelling. But an artefact it was, a more balanced and mature take on their psychedelia, and led to tours and further studio work. Of course, as is now the law, the band still play on, even though the aged original core have largely passed on or over; Tulin died in 2011, with Williams and Weakley only intermittent participants anyway. James Lowe remains at the helm, with the rest of the band relative newcomers of between 8 and 18 years standing. Not bad for a band effectively finished in the 1960s.

Lost Dream/Artifact

Finally, a live 'Dream', from 2008.

I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night)/Live performance

All the early Prunes

Love: The Loving Kind

Nanci Griffith: The Loving Kind
[purchase] 

Every once in a while, I’m struck when something that seems so incredibly wrong still existed in my lifetime. Like the fact that married women couldn’t get credit cards in their own name until the 1970s, or that people of the same gender couldn’t get married until a few years ago. But it really is incredible that in my lifetime there were places in this country where it was still illegal for blacks and whites to get married, until the Supreme Court unanimously ruled, in 1967, that such laws were unconstitutional in the landmark case of Loving v. Virginia. And yes, that was their last name, which couldn’t have been more perfect.  (And no, I haven't seen the movie yet, but it's on my list.)

That it took just over 100 years from the end of the Civil War (and just under that from the ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment which, by its clear and unambiguous terms, prevents states from making or enforcing “any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States;” and which prevented any state from depriving “any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws”) to have the Supreme Court make such a ruling, is incredible, unless you have any knowledge of American history, and its inherent racism. (And whether the Supreme Court, as currently constituted would do the same, unanimously, actually seems unlikely to me.) 

Even with the Supreme Court ruling, Alabama continued to enforce a similar law until 1970, when the—wait for it—Nixon administration went to federal court to stop it. And Alabama actually kept the law on its books until 2000, when 60% of its voters approved a constitutional amendment to remove it. Which means that 40% of the voters still wanted to keep it. 

In 1958 (a few years before my lifetime), Mildred Jeter, a woman of Native American, European and African American heritage from Central Point, Virginia married Richard Loving, a white man (and descendant of a Confederate soldier), who was a friend of Mildred’s brothers and who reportedly had many close black friends, after Mildred became pregnant. They were married in Washington, D.C. and returned to Virginia, where their marriage was illegal. Remarkably (or, maybe not so remarkably), they were ratted out to the sheriff, who arrested them. They pleaded guilty, were convicted on January 6, 1959 and sentenced to one year in prison, suspended for 25 years on the condition that they leave the state. So, they moved to Washington, DC, but missed their hometown, despite the whole being snitched on and arrested for being married thing. 

In 1964, Mildred wrote to Bobby Kennedy, the Attorney General, who referred her to the ACLU, which filed a motion to vacate the conviction and set aside the sentences. When the state court sat on the motion for a year, the ACLU brought suit in federal court, prompting the state court judge to deny the motion, stating, remarkably (or, maybe not so remarkably): 

Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix 

In 1966, the Virginia Supreme Court, hearing the appeal of this ignorant and racist decision, upheld the state ban on interracial marriage, using an extremely convoluted interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment (which had been endorsed previously by the U.S. Supreme Court). It was that decision that was rejected by the United States Supreme Court, which found that the law really, really, really violated the Constitution (and reversed its prior, totally wrong, interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment). 

Mildred and Richard moved back to Virginia and lived there for the rest of their lives. Richard was killed by a drunk driver in 1975; the accident cost Mildred an eye. She lived on until 2008, when she died of pneumonia. 

One person who read Mildred’s obituary was Nanci Griffith, who wrote “The Loving Kind,” about the Lovings and their case, and released it in 2009 as the title song of an album. It’s a good story song and does not sound at all like a law school casebook. 

Of course, it wasn’t until 2015 that the Supreme Court, in Obergefell v. Hodges, extended the logic and holding of Loving to prevent bans on same-sex marriage. These cases, and others, used to give me hope that our country was making social progress, which the Supreme Court (eventually) caught up to. But that hope does not seem justified at this time.

Love: (Who Wrote) The Book Of Love

The Monotones: (Who Wrote) The Book Of Love
[purchase] 

My father loved this song. He grew up in Brooklyn during the heyday of doo-wop, and I remember him singing this song, loudly and badly, when I was a kid. It’s a great song, and a fun song, and it provides a very simple primer for love: 

Chapter One says to love her
You love her with all your heart
Chapter Two you tell her
You're never, never, never, never, ever gonna part
In Chapter Three remember the meaning of romance
In Chapter Four you break up
But you give her just one more chance. 

As someone who has been in love for decades, I think that it’s pretty good advice, although I’m pretty sure that there are many more chapters in the book that weren’t discussed in the song (and in my case, it was me who was given that extra chance….) 

If Ted Lasso, one of my favorite TV shows from the last couple of years, can have been inspired by a series of NBC soccer promos, then why can’t a doo-wop classic be inspired by a Pepsodent jingle? According to Monotone Charles Patrick, he was in a store looking at sheet music for a different song called "Book Of Love" when the jingle, “You'll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent," came on the radio. He got the idea to combine the title with the melody from the jingle, turning "You'll wonder where the yellow went" into "I wonder, wonder who." Patrick completed the song with his fellow group members, and the rest is music history, with the song hitting No. 5 on the Billboard pop chart and No. 3 on the R&B chart in 1958. That story may be apocryphal. 

One of the most memorable parts of the song is the heavy drum beat at the end of the first line, which was a fortuitous mistake—when the band was recording the song, a kid outside the studio threw a ball that hit a window just as they finished singing the line. They liked the way it sounded, so they decided to put a drum hit in that spot. That story also may be apocryphal. 

The Monotones were formed in 1955 by seven residents of the Baxter Terrace housing development in Newark, New Jersey: Warren Davis, George Malone, Frank Smith, John Ryanes, and Warren Ryanes, in addition to Patrick (Charles' brother James Patrick, the seventh member, left the group before “Book Of Love” was recorded). All of the future Monotones began singing, presumably not in monotone, with the New Hope Baptist Choir, which included Cissy Houston and Dionne and Dee Dee Warwick, all of whom were related to the Patrick brothers. 

Unfortunately, after “Book Of Love” the band’s releases were not successful, although as a resident of Tarrytown, and parent of two proud alumni of Sleepy Hollow High School, I was pleased to discover that they recorded a song called “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” 

The Monotones disbanded in 1962, although there were reunions to revive “Book Of Love,” and over the years, new members replaced members who had died or retired.  For decades, a version of the Monotones were regulars on the oldies circuit. 

The song also lives on—it was in the soundtrack to American Graffiti and other movies, was performed by Sha Na Na at Woodstock, used as the theme in a version of The Newlywed Game in the late 1980s, was sung in an episode of Who’s The Boss, and has been used in video games.

LOVE: HOLY LOVE

 

Holy Love

You possibly or, more likely, probably don't know the song. It would be great if you do, and there may be some, but I fear the band of aficionados is more select and smaller than I would prefer. And, who knows, this may alert new ears to both the singer and the song, and I hope it can. The singer you may have heard of. Or at least, heard his voice. So who he? 

Strange Kind Of Love

James Grant, or the James Grant you will be more familiar with was the guiding force behind and in Glasgow white soul and white socks band, Love and Money, something I confess to finding a bit of a surprise. I mean, they were OK, but a bit sort of generic. Or so I thought then, pleasantly surprised by my currently designated dip in their repertoire, finding, instead, a smooth and rich sound redolent of, of all people, Jackie Leven. The song above, from their second and "breakthrough" album, "breakthrough" in that it produced their first chart appearances, in the lower reaches of the UK singles top 80, has an interesting pedigree, in that their drummer had left the band, necessitating some substitution. With big name producer Gary Katz having been signed to buff up their sound, he drafted in Jeff Porcaro from Steely Dan, the band he was better known as the producer for. Sloopy/Edgar Winter man, Rick Derringer, the 70s guitar ace, also appeared, as did an uncredited Donald Fagen. (And you thought he smooth sound seemed familiar....) Hindsight reveals this, Strange Kind of Love, to be a terrific album and I feel their memory, based more on their eponymous earlier single, Love and Money, has been wronged by my failure to give them a second go. Plus, if I am honest, the, um, mismatch between the dark brown honeyed voice and the somewhat gangly youth projecting it. (And he has, I can say, grown into his vocal timbre with appropriate grace and gravitas.)

Having failed to set the world alight, Love and Money lurched on to a further couple of albums, bedogged by issues with record companies: their 3rd album was initially rejected, ahead of coming out, substantively altered, on another label, the 4th then being, to all intents and purposes, self-released. Despite all this, that difficult 3rd album, when finally released, as Dogs in the Traffic, was seen fit to gather a number 30 in the Scotsman newspaper's all time top 100 Scottish rock and pop albums. they split up in 1994.

My Love Lives In A Dead House

Grant embarked on a solo career. Given he had now hooked up with the husband and wife, Donald Shaw and Karen Matheson, both of Capercaillie, this unsurprisingly is a rootsier effort, with strong country and folk flavours to the anthemic melodies. Sawdust in My Veins came out in 1998, and in the same year he was included as a guest in the prestigious Transatlantic Sessions. My Thrown Glory followed in 2000, with an album of other writer's poetry set to his music, I Shot the Albatross, bridging the gap ahead the album that produced the song that heads this piece. His high water mark, I would say, with the song also the name of the record, a splendid record of truly celtic soul, and well worth searching out. The song itself, despite the title, is neither religious nor sanctimonious, being more a spiritual ode to love, using the analogy of love being a higher force. I think. It uses holy in the same way as is, say, Steve Winwood's evocative Holy Ground, his hymn to the planet.

If You Love Me, Leave Me Alone

Blue Train

During these same years he also returned the favour, working on Karen Mathesons's solo albums, writing four songs for her first record, six for her second and two for her third, as well as providing instrumental ballast to the backing throughout. Indeed this has continued to the present, with her most recent album, 2021's Still Time, containing another four. 

The Dreaming Sea

His  own solo career continued with Strange Flowers, in 2009, ahead of a reunion concert of Love and Money, for the yearly Celtic Connections festival, in 2011, led to new work and an album, Devil's Debt, a year later.

Strange Kind Of Love

If his profile has seemed subsequently low, let's just hope it a hiatus. As the new songs with Karen Matheson have shown, his muse is still within him. He remains a loved figure on the Scottish live scene: a live solo disc of his 2016 Celtic Connections (again) gig showed updated and invigorated songs from throughout both his band and solo career. whilst it did not, sadly, include Holy Love, there is at least this glorious retread of Strange Kind of Love, the second song I featured earlier up the thread. Indeed, whilst I was researching this piece I learnt he has a couple of shows arranged for later in the year, in London and Edinburgh, details through his website. (This also reveals the possible enticing option of having him write a bespoke song with and for you........ )

Holy Love