#how the beauty of the melody makes the cynicism of the lyrics land

[fanchonmoreau]

In honor of Cabaret starting performances on Broadway tomorrow, here's Marin Mazzie singing the reinstated song 'I Don't Care Much' which is sung by the Emcee in Act 2.

[thewordreaper]

All The World

People think the story begins when the curtains draw open. They are wrong, it starts much, much earlier than that. You should know that my love, the playwright that you are. And he knew it too. The person I am indebted to tell you about.

This will be a long letter I hope you trust me enough to read all of it. You know off course that I was once a forest spirit, I have whispered it to you at the end of long nights when we were about to fall asleep. He is the reason I no longer am.

He would write songs underneath my tree. Capturing words of wonder and mourning as I sat next to him with my head on his shoulders. I remember how startled he was the first time I appeared. You know I do not resemble you mortals with hair that changes with the seasons. It was the fresh green of spring then.  Most people dismiss it as a dye these days but he recognised me for who I am. I have told you parts of it before, you deserve to know.

He used to tell me I was the reason for his music. That it would not exist without me. I do not think you understand how much that meant to me. His music is still the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. Cascading melodies like a thunderstorm ravaging the land with quick trills in between. Quieter symphonies with a soulful build up to a slow pattern of clandestine notes. The turning of dusk to night. Quick trills were interspersed in those too, stars coming to life in the sky. He said it was my laughter he had tried to capture in those quick succession of notes. They were present in every piece of his.

You must be wondering why I’m lingering long on this. It must be painful for you to read in spite of your unwavering patience and understanding. This is supposed to be a love letter to you. I need you to understand that I loved him as much as I loved you. Magnificently, perfectly, simply, with all my heart because I do not know how not to.  We were twin stars revolving around each other. I was the centre of every symphony he thought off, the reason for every perfect note he coaxed from an instrument.

I need you to see that what we had was true. That both of us did what we did for each other. Please don’t judge me for it.

We lived in a small town you see, he wanted to play to the whole world. It would not happen if he stayed here, he had to go away. Even I wanted him to.

Time is cruel. After all the years I can still remember the laughter in his voice as he made up ridiculous lyrics just to annoy me but I have forgotten the exact shade of his eyes.

You would have loved his music I think. I do not think anyone would dislike it but you would never be able to let go of it. I would remember him forever even if the memory of his name and appearance is wrenched from me. I had hoped the world would remember him for me. He was a shining beacon in the winding paths of time and space. There have been only a handful with that raw talent and potential. Trust me, I have checked with all the other immortals. Even you don’t compare to them.

There are conditions and powers we are born with due to our extraordinary positions. The most important being that we could never stray far from our life force. My forest was the centre of that once. But that was what was holding him back. He could not leave me behind in a place he had no other reason to return to. So I tied my life to his music. I had utter faith it would live forever.

It was an evolutionary tactic we had. To be able to switch the centre of our life force once in our lifetime. It was usually done when our original source was in danger. If my forest was being cut down for example. It is much harder than you can even imagine. I was the forest itself. Every microscopic particle of it. Most go crazy after the switch, but he had made his music me. The shivering of leaves, water gurgling over the smooth stones, the feeling of standing in dappled sunlight. Everything his world revolved around. He had all of it in his music. The switch was easier for me than most.

However when I went to find him after the switch was done I found that he had left. Left without telling me as he did not want to pain me further. All he left for me was a stack of letters that outlined his dreams and his promises to return. None of which happened of course. He died just two months after. I still do not know how, I was not able to find him. I just felt the life slip away, the stopping of new music. I have never regretted my decision however, it is only fitting that his music is keeping me alive and I do not think I would have ever met you if it were not for my sacrifice.

I am prepared to forgive the world for all its sins, simply because I got to meet you. There is so much I want to tell you, a lifetime of letters would not be able to contain it. But you will get only this one letter and I do not have a lifetime, merely hours. Let me start by saying I love you. I love you for understanding my immortality and sticking by me nevertheless. I love you for every nonsensical dialogue you have worked into your plays just to make me laugh. I love the way you flick your  hair out of your eyes in your failed attempt to be sexy.

Do you remember the time you knocked over our kitchen table and your only response was “Ouch.” There are tears blotting this table right now because I still can’t comprehend how much I adore you. There are so many more memories I wish could be preserved till the end of time. Like our first date. Do you remember the conversation we had at the end of it? You were still thinking that I had just asked you out for a bit of fun. That I wasn’t serious in the least when I said I was already fallen for you. I had found myself wanting to bare my heart to make you stay. I remember every detail. I had said “I didn’t think I would fall in love again. I know everyone says that after a heartbreak but the difference is that I am not heartbroken. I am not cynical or a pessimistic, or sad. I’m just someone who once felt something, bigger than anything else I’d ever felt and when I lost it, I honestly believed I would never have that again. But I was 22 then and life is long. And I’m feeling things right now. I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”  A little over a hundred years to be precise but you did not know it then.

“You make me feel invincible.” You had whispered, your eyes sparkling. “You make me feel as though I could take on the world. I was so afraid to say it before but I have to tell you.”                          You have no reason to be afraid darling. You are capable of taking on the world at any moment. You do not need me for that. Although I would have liked to be there by your side.

There are so many things I want to do with you. So many places I want to visit with you. You will never know how loving you feels like.

He used to call me his muse. Kissing him made me feel like a goddess at the height of my power. You don’t have any special names for me but you smile at me as though there is nothing more you could ever want. Kissing you feels like coming home.  You are incomparable to anything on this earth. For there has never been anyone like you and there never will be. I am so lucky and privileged to have been able to swing your hands while walking to my house. To have been able to gaze into your steady eyes for hours. I am imagining you sitting by me right now. You would have your knees drawn up to your chest and you shoulder would be resting against mine.

I had hoped to remember you forever, so that at the end of time when everything starts again I could whisper your name into the universe coming into existence.

There is so much more I want to tell you. So many things I still need to thank you for but time is running short and I only have time for an apology and an explanation.

I am so sorry my dear. I’m sorry for all the things we could not do. You will find a ring with the letter. I had picked it just a week ago. I must end the letter now. I can feel my mind slowly unravelling. I cannot leave you with a letter filled with nonsensical ramblings.

I feel as though you must have figured it out by now, what I’m trying to say. You were always excellent with words. I wish I could tell you not to cry but I know you will not listen.

I am tied to his music remember? If it disappears, so will I. I suppose you are wondering why I did not try to collect his music, try to keep it safe. If only it were so easy darling

He reflected the world in his music and I see his music reflected in the world. When winds swirl up dried leaves, when birds freewheel in the sky, as the sun rises and set, I hear his music. It is the background symphony when you stare at me from across the room. My life however is tied to his actual works. Something I cannot locate as I see it everywhere. Only a single piece of his sheet music remains. It is being burnt as I write this to you, I can feel it tearing away at my soul. I wonder if it is being consumed by a wildfire. I think I would like that. Forest fires may raze everything   to the ground but they give rise to a forest much grander than the one before. Maybe it will be the same for you. The phoenix from my ashes. I hope you do something epic so that I may have the privilege of being remembered as someone who was once your lover. I will be gone soon. I only wish we had more time. Ah my love, the curtains draw to a close for the last time.

I wonder if there will be an encore.

[ludi-ling]

Happy birthday to me, and to my love affair with OMD.

It’s my birthday today, and I was trying to think of something that’s been with me since the day I was born, right up till now; something that’s been so much a part of my life and informed who I’ve become today - the creative person, the spiritual person, the feeling person.

Apart from my wonderful family, of course, there are so many things; but few of those things have stayed with me since I was small till today. I thought long and I thought hard, and one of the things I kept coming back to was an early 80′s ‘New Wave’ band called Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (OMD).

Growing up, I was one of those sad, sad kids who was brought up on music ranging all the way from the 1920′s to the 70′s. There was rarely any post-1980′s music being played in my household, and, as I got older, almost never any chart music. My dad loved music, but he had very little love for most of the ‘jelly-mould’, ‘cookie-cutter’ pop that churned through the charts. One of the few post-80′s acts that made it onto the record player or tape deck was OMD. 

I can’t remember how old I was when I first heard their music, but I definitely wasn’t older than 10. My dad, who was a mental health nurse, had a habit of listening to the records of patients he visited, borrowing the ones he liked, and copying them onto numerous cassette tapes. I’d gobble these up, and it was how I heard such fantastic acts such as the Velvet Underground, Frank Chickens, Billie Holiday, Marlene Dietrich (I knew her as a singer before an actress!), Hoagy Carmichael, Glenn Miller, The Carpenters, The Stranglers, The Mamas & The Papas, a whole slew of 1960′s bands, and on and on and on......

One of the cassette tapes I gorged on had ‘Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark’ written on the spine. I didn’t know it then, but Side A had some tracks from the 1983 album Dazzle Ships, followed by some tracks from the 1981 album Architecture & Morality. I don’t even remember what was on Side B. As a kid these were all just one big album to me, and I had no idea there were tracks missing, or that he’d recorded them out of chronological order. The songs just mesmerised me - synthetic yet divine; electronic yet somehow orchestral. I had no concept of the Cold War as a child, but those songs were full of it - full of clips from short wave radio surreptitiously recorded from beyond the Iron Curtain; the noisy, clunky, rattling beats meant to emulate the industrial land/soundscapes of Liverpool, where the band came from (like their legendary forbears, the Beatles); the grim and haunting melodies punctuated by gloriously angelic, church-like harmonies; the sometimes-cynical, sometimes-beautiful lyrics that were too often too-murkily sung for my young ears to understand. The crashing of waves, the clanging of metal on metal, the staccato drumbeat of lumbering freight trains; the whirring of computers and the pulsing of Morse code; soldiers chanting patriotic slogans in war-torn countries; choirs in Catholic cathedrals, saints in mystical ecstasy ...‘angels in the architecture, spinning in infinity, Amen and hallelujah!’. The subject matter encompassed everything from the lonely, grinding atmosphere of the shipbuilding industry that was slowly dying in England at the time; the helpless bliss of what it feels to fall completely in-love; the fairytale-like story of the sacrifice of one of the world’s most famous saints (which spoke to me in a way most songs couldn’t, being brought up as I had been by a devout Catholic grandmother). Andy McCluskey’s voice haunted me because I’d never heard anyone sing like that before - so raw, so full of pain and fear and desperation and disdain and rage and love and loss that most times I couldn’t understand what the hell he was saying. But I could understand the emotion behind the words - in a way the words were incidental and still are. I kind of fell in-love with him through his voice before I ever knew what he looked like (or could see his mad dance moves).

For a child whose imagination was far bigger than the courage her introverted personality could muster to go out into the world, this was the food for my soul, for my art. The soundtrack to my creative life, one that was still yet to really be.

As a teenager, I kept coming back to that cassette tape. CD’s became the rage, and I finally learned that the songs I’d listened to obsessively were from two albums, one released in the year I was born, the other in the year my sister was born. I bought those CD’s and my dad was amused to see them. He told me, later, that my sister, @jeannedarcprice​, had been partly named after one of their songs - Joan of Arc, which had been playing in the car when he was driving to the hospital to greet his new baby daughter. Jeanne was the name of our great-grandmother, but it was the OMD that gave her her full name - Jeanne d’Arc - Joan of Arc.

I listened to Architecture & Morality and Dazzle Ships in their proper order for the first time - I learned to love the other tracks my dad had omitted from his recording of that well-worn tape. I knew about the Cold War by then - I’d been just about old enough when the Berlin Wall came down to understand how massive it was - and those subtly morose moods the tunes had evoked came more sharply into focus. Suddenly, my more adult ears began to decode lyrics my immature ones had never been able to figure out. It took me years to figure out what I think all those lyrics actually are. Their beauty just took my love affair to a whole other level. I was beginning to write then, seriously. As time went on, the impressions the OMD had left on me as a child had started to real percolate - blend into my being. I never realised then how much those words and sounds stayed with me, but they did. And later, when I was 20 and my father died, one thing of his that stayed with me was the OMD.

There are many things that have inspired my paltry writings, but if anyone asked me today what impacted me so deeply for the longest amount of time, it would probably be Architecture & Morality and Dazzle Ships. The mechanised rhythms and electronic beats that evoked images of grey, concrete, industrial cityscapes - they became the background music to my love affair with post-apocalyptic wastelands. The angelic harmonies and the glorious, sweeping melodies that told of the divine - they were the glimmering light, the tiny threads of warmth that lit those hopeless post-apocalyptic wastelands with the very things that keep humanity alive despite all the odds - hope, trust, joy and, most of all, love.

Today, these are the things I still write about, draw about; and if you had to put a soundtrack to any of it, it would probably be the OMD. If you had to put a soundtrack to my life, 1981-2018, it would probably be them. 

One of the highlights of my life was getting to see them play both albums live in their entirety for the first time at the Albert Hall in 2016 - and the only thing that would have made it perfect would’ve been for my dad to have been sitting right there next to me.

---

I thought about adding a link here to Architecture & Morality and Dazzle Ships as they were recorded, chronologically. But in the end, I decided to do my own playlist, the way it had run on that old cassette tape my dad made all those years ago - out of order, and with numerous tracks missing. Here it is. I still remember how it goes. RIP dad, wherever you are.

--Lyrics--

1. Radio Prague

Z Praha Československé zahraniční vysílání.

2. Telegraph

I've got a telegraph in my hand. Words on paper, written in sand. We've got telegraph, right across this land. It doesn't mean a damn thing. We don't understand. But who needs telegraph anyway? I've got a telegraph in my hand. Words on paper, written in sand. We've got telegraph, right across this land. It doesn't mean a damn thing. We don't understand, we never understand! God's got a telegraph on his side. It makes Him powerful, gives Him pride. Even in America, God bless America! They understand the value of the telegraph. Hand in hand, hand in hand...

3. This is Helena

Music for your tape recorder. I hope you will enjoy it. This is Helena, this is Helena. This is Helena, your M.C. today.

4. International

Now and then a little thing gets by. Now and then we'll cry. Like a fall in a war, like a mother's open arms, Like a pawn in a game, hard to tame. There we sit on a line, wasting fortunes at a time, and pray. All the time we are gone, there's no reason, there’s no way, Or the soul is the one, so they say. There we sit on a line, wasting fortunes at a time, and play. She never thought he’d be this way. Her arms aloft, she holds. But now it's all a memory. And it’s gone...

5. Silent Running

God only knows this isn’t heaven. The promises made, He never keeps them. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time. But God only knows this isn’t reason or rhyme. I’ve had this feeling I don’t believe in. It’s happened before, I just rejected it. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time. But God only knows this isn’t reason or rhyme. These are the feelings, I know their outcome. It’s useless pretending, I’d like to beat them. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time. But God only knows, this isn’t reason or rhyme. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time this time. But God only knows, this isn’t reason or rhyme. We’re walking on air.

6. Times Zones

7. She’s Leaving

Every day, a new start,  A cheap affair, a sordid truth. We never learn to guide our hearts, We’ll never find what we deserve. She’s leaving, she waited for so long. She’d pretend that he cared, Invent some tale just to gain his heart. But no more dreams, she didn't dare. She’d washed her hands of this whole affair. She’s leaving, she waited for so long. She’s leaving, she waited for so long. But as she left, she gave her heart, Abandoned hope, and turned for home. I thought I’d ask, Ah, but then again, The more we learn, the less we know. The more we learn, less we know.

8. Souvenir

It’s my direction It’s my proposal It’s so hard It’s leading me astray. My obsession It’s my creation You’ll understand It’s not important now. All I need is Co-ordination. I can’t imagine My destination. My intention Ask my opinion. With no excuse My feelings still remain My feelings still remain

9. Sealand

Sealand, forgets her friends. She'll not leave them again. Mother, sister, at home.  These arms fail you so.

10. Joan of Arc

Little Catholic girl who’s falling in love. A face on a page, gift from above. She should’ve known better than to give her heart, She should’ve known better than to ever part without me, without me. I gave her everything that I ever owned, I think she understood ‘cos she never spoke. She shouldn’t oughta try to be that way, She shouldn’t have to go there ever again without me, without me. Now listen to us good and listen well, Listen to the song, everything we tell. We should’ve known better than to give her away. We should’ve known better to this very day, without me, without me. Now listen, Joan of Arc, all you gotta do, Is say the right words and I’ll be coming through, Hold you in my arms and take you right away. Now she’s gone away to another land. We never understood why she gave her hand. She shouldn’t oughta promise, ‘cos it’s just pretend. I know she doesn’t mean it and she’ll leave again without me, without me. Without me, without me.

11. Maid of Orleans

If Joan of Arc Had a heart Would she give it as a gift? To such as me Who longs to see How an angel ought to be. Her dream’s to give Her heart away, Like an orphan, unaware. She cared so much, She offered up, Her body to the grave.

12. Georgia

Well, here we are again. Two, too good to be friends, Forever, forever, forever. Well, look at what we’ve done. Three, three rolled into one Together, together, together. So, how can this be true? We, we thought that we knew you Forever, forever, forever. We will watch the morning star, Rising over home, Georgia. Dancing in the ruins of the western world, Blindfolds on like we don’t care.

13. The Beginning and the End

This is where we start, this now takes our hearts away. Thus we reach the end, the beginning and the end. You see, I could not try and here are you and I, Parting, due to me only, And now...... 

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 9th September 2018

Okay, so, when I put this show in the Wednesday slot, I expect to have a calmer week, but that is far from what I got here. We have seven new arrivals, three of which are one of our occasional mini-album bombs. Usually, we get the three most popular songs from an album which had nearly all of his songs chart on the Hot 100 – for example, here, the whole album charted in the US (excluding the skits) but we only get the lead single, first or so song on the album and the surprise breakout hit, as usual with album bombs. However, expect me to not be looking forward to reviewing each song here. When I have one of these mini-bombs to cover, usually either the album is pretty decent (Kanye West’s ye and Travis Scott’s ASTROWORLD) or at least some of the better songs actually chart high so I don’t need to be as cynical towards the artist and the record as a whole while covering the individual hits (Drake’s Scorpion). We have a 4/10 album on our hands, folks, and the three songs that charted... well, we’ll get to them in a second, and you know what album it is already... if you don’t, well, here’s the top 10 to remind you.

Top 10

We start with a new #1... seriously, guys? Alright, well, Calvin Harris, now the man with the most #1s this decade, has added a new entry to the list, “Promises” with Sam Smith, up a spot from last week’s placing.

Next, we have last week’s #1 at the runner-up spot, “Eastside” by benny blanco, Khalid and Halsey. I told you this wouldn’t last long at the tip.

Meanwhile, “Shotgun” by George Ezra is still at number-three, proving its surprising amount of longevity in the top 10 at its 24th week on the chart.

We now have the first of three new arrivals in the top 10 from Eminem’s new album Kamikaze at number-four, with the spot taken by intro track, “The Ringer”.

Oh, and “Body” by Loud Luxury and brando is still at number-five. I’m surprised by how much stability it has.

The second new arrival from Eminem is at number-six, and that would be “Lucky You” featuring rapper Joyner Lucas, making his UK top 40 debut, and, damn, if he doesn’t finally deserve it, 11 years into his career.

Down three spots and slowly collapsing is “In My Feelings” by Drake featuring City Girls at number-seven. The faster this goes, the better.

“Taste”, however, by Tyga and Offset, is up a spot to number-eight, which doesn’t exactly shock me too much but I’m surprised it took this long, if anything.

Finally, our third and final (thankfully) new arrival from Eminem is “Fall” featuring uncredited (and fortunately so) vocals from Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, debuting at number-nine.

Rounding off the top 10 is “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B down three spaces to number-ten.

Climbers

I’ll try and keep everything before the new arrivals brief, especially since we have seven of them, so let’s go past the climbers, fallers and such in pretty much rapid-fire speed.

The only really notable climbers here are “Lost Without You” by Freya Ridings fortunately jumping up seven spaces to #29, as well as “Baby Shark” by Pinkfong unfortunately taking a five-space increase to #32. Again, it shouldn’t be charting – it’s not even two minutes! I’m not saying short songs shouldn’t enter the charts, hell, I root for Lil Pump’s success, but this is only six seconds over of what I’d call an interlude track. Come on, guys, pull it together.

Fallers

Now the fallers are a different story... let’s go by genre.

For pop and... “rock”, we have “God is a woman” and “breathin’” by Ariana Grande both down six positions to #12 and #17 respectively, while “Youngblood” by 5 Seconds of Summer is down seven spaces to #25.

EDM suffered a lot this week, for some reason, with “Rise” by Jonas Blue and Jack & Jack taking a five-spot blow to #24, and six-space losses for both “Solo” by Clean Bandit and Demi Lovato and “Jackie Chan” by Tiesto and Dzeko featuring Preme and Post Malone to #28 and #33, as well as a whopping 23-space droop down to #37 for “Ring Ring” by Jax Jones featuring Mabel and Rich the Kid, alongside milder drops for Calvin Harris and David Guetta.

Hip-hop and R&B on the other hand just had one interesting enough loss, surprisingly, and that was the five-space drop for “SICKO MODE” by Travis Scott featuring Drake and Swae Lee. Now, drop-outs!

Dropouts

So, yeah, Drake had a rough week. As well as a drop for “In My Feelings” discussed earlier, both “Don’t Matter to Me” with Michael Jackson and “Nonstop” dropped out from #29 and #30, assumingly because of Eminem getting much more streams this week. Hopefully they’ll then go for good. Other than that, we had quite a few notable drops... genres again.

For pop, we have “IDOL” by BTS – kind of featuring Nicki Minaj – out from #21, “2002” by Anne-Marie out from #34, finally, “no tears left to cry” by Ariana Grande out from #35 straight off the re-entry and “This is Me” by Keala Settle and the Greatest Showman Ensemble out once again from #38.

For hip-hop and R&B, we just have a few little drop outs that were expected like “Fine Girl” by ZieZie out from #31 and “I Like It” by Cardi B featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin out from #39.

Returning Entries

“TOOTIMETOOTIMETOOTIME” by the 1975 is back to #40... please go back to #46, trust me, guys, you were better there. Now, since the Ed Sheeran Update is somewhat redundant, I’m scrapping that feature, so, we’re just going straight into the new arrivals...joy.

NEW ARRIVALS

I’m splitting this set of new arrivals into two parts: Eminem and non-Eminem. It won’t be a different blog, and they’ll still be in descending order of where they entered the charts at, but it’s just easier to separate this way, especially since seven new arrivals and their reviews could look very messy when there’s loads of them, so I thought why not separate them into halves. Let’s start.

#38 – “LO(V/S)ER” – AJ Tracey

We’ve talked about AJ Tracey before and I wasn’t impressed by his breakout hit, but his follow-up, with a quirky title showing how it has the potential to be an introspective look into how he trusts partners too easily or something related to that interesting “loser”/”lover” combination, could be much better, after all, he had Not3s to weigh him down last time, so how does he do solo, without the pop audience to please?

Well, first of all, it’s a trap beat with a sample that I’m pretty sure is out-of-tune for the neverending melody, hence it transcends monotonous and becomes pretty grating, especially with that repetitive hook and the simplistic flow... but what about the lyrics? Do they exceed or at least meet my expectations? Well, I was kidding myself, really, wasn’t I? It’s about how he’s a lover for “a pretty Latina” and how you, the listener, are a loser because you’re going to get hit with the strap while he’s chilling in Cuba sipping Hennessey and... running away from the police. Surely you shouldn’t mention that in your hit song, right? It just makes you more of a target. At least it’s more of a lust song for a pretty Latina, at least he’s not taking MY girl or anything.

I’m with your girl, she got blow on her nose (oh)

Well, damn, nevermind.

#36 – “Beautiful” – Bazzi featuring Camila Cabello

Sigh, Bazzi. I was so disappointed in this guy’s debut record after loving “Mine”, it was mostly just mediocre trite – and way too much of it, may I add. Camila Cabello’s hopped on a remix of one of the least tolerable songs on COSMIC, and knowing her tendency to have very squeaky, borderline unbearable vocals on a lot of her hits, it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that she made an already trash song... a tad MORE listenable? Bazzi sounds out-of-breath and desperate, fitting for the pretty thirsty lyrics here, with the lines about the Gucci and how she looks better naked not exactly fitting with the lovestruck angelic theme he’s going for. The production is typical Bazzi fare, with “pretty” synths clouding the non-presence of the deeper 808s, however Camila Cabello’s performance is actually pretty song, and she goes for a more seductive vibe that I really like here, although the autotuned belting could really have been rid of. It’s not as awful as it was on the album, but it’s not like it’s any good either.

#35 – “Be Alright” – Dean Lewis

Dean Lewis, up-and-coming singer-songwriter and Australian chart-topper, who I initially confused with Dennis Lloyd, who recorded one of the worst songs I’ve heard on this show a few weeks or months back, has finally landed his first song in the UK top 40, and it’s quite fittingly, “alright”. Dean Lewis’ voice is actually pretty endearing, and the Ed Sheeran-ish brand of folk pop is much more effective when it’s slow and indie-infused like this. Sure, Lewis may appear somewhat whiny in the lyrics and overall performance, but there’s enough genuine charisma and strength here for me to forgive that, with the choir of Dean Lewis backing him up well enough. It’s not fantastic by any means, but for a short little simplistic track, it gets a pass. Not much to say about this one, and it’s not going to be one I go back to, but I hope this goes somewhere because I’m personally interested in how Lewis will follow this up.

#22 – “Thunderclouds” – LSD

This is the first top 40 entry for the group “LSD”, however this is the umpteenth time the artists involved have made the list, as LSD stands for Labrinth, Sia and Diplo. Labrinth is an R&B singer who I personally loved in his heyday in the early 2010s, but he seems to have faded away, despite some great hits like “Express Yourself” and “Let the Sun Shine”, which I still come back to today. Sia is more hit-and-miss for me, but I’ve never been amazed or appalled by any of her stuff, excluding maybe her Christmas album, which for the sake of shortening this review, I will not go any further into. Diplo is the artist I’m most familiar with here, mostly because he makes so much fun dance music under groups like Major Lazer and Jack U, as well as venturing into more alternative territory on his latest EP California, where he’s somehow made Lil Xan listenable. “Wish” featuring Trippie Redd and “Look Back” featuring D.R.A.M. are strong contenders for my favourite songs of the year so far, and that’s not to forget about his work with countless other people from No Doubt and Snoop Dogg to Lil Pump and G-Dragon to M.I.A. and even Die Antwoord. Diplo has a habit of making artists sound so much better than they actually are in their solo work, there’s something magic about him, I swear. So, what happens when a British R&B singer and rapper of fluctuating popularity, an eccentric Australian electropop singer-songwriter and an eclectic American EDM DJ come together to form a supergroup and make a song for the Samsung Galaxy Note 9 promotional campaign?

Retro 50’s/60’s soul infused with elements of funky doo-wop, apparently. Don’t worry, I’m not necessarily complaining – the bass guitar groove is tight as hell, Sia’s as-usual intelligible vocals ride well on the Summery shimmer of the intro, especially with those surf rock guitars, and the powerful vocals from Labrinth in that strong hook, which is intertwined with choppy vocal snippets from Sia. Labrinth’s verse is somehow worse, however, due to the incredible lack of chemistry as they both trade lines as a faulty build-up, and that problem remains true for the rest of the song. No matter how much I love the horns and how it sounds like two (or three) worlds combining to make something so much more interesting and different than what they’ve made before, the chemistry is not there, Sia and Labrinth are even somewhat sloppy throughout, especially when they’re against some pretty rough vocal mixing. Speaking of, the horns should not be that back into the mix, they feel wasted... much like the talent on this song which could be summed up in an absolute mess of good musical ideas that start to mesh together and just fall apart and collapse before the abrupt ending. I feel bad for saying this since I like the artists involved, but I’m not excited for the album yet if this group keeps on making songs that just don’t work as well as they want them to be. It’s a decent listen and they shouldn’t go back to the drawing board conceptually if they go for this sound, but it really needs some polishing, guys.

So, what’s the next song? Oh... Oh, no.

EMINEM

#9 – “Fall” – Eminem featuring Justin Vernon

Let’s get through this as quickly as I can, because I can’t be talking about Eminem for too long here, so I’ll just give you some info on the track and then go straight into it, sparing no punches. You got it? Okay.

“Fall” is the tenth track on the album, and is being pushed as the lead single with a recently-released video. It features uncredited vocals from Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, who soon distanced himself from the lyrics of the song, saying he wasn’t a big fan of the message. It was produced by Eminem himself with Mike WiLL Made-It... and it’s awful. Let’s ignore the lyrics for a second and just talk about the cookie-cutter trap beat with a fast yet pretty uneventful synth melody. I like Vernon’s autotuned falsetto hook quite a lot, actually, and Eminem’s flow is pretty great throughout the verses, as he says, his rapid Slim Shady flow is back... and so is his sense of humour, for better or for worse. I appreciate that Marshall Mathers plays a character and he is a charismatic performer, but, man, these disses just feel unnecessary. I’m not a fan of DJ Akademiks, Joe Budden, Charlemagne or any of the hip-hop reporting crowd for that matter, but criticising a trash album you admit is terrible is not something to take personally, especially when you have admitted you don’t like the record either, so why should you defend yourself against critics that you think are reasonable in not liking your album? He doesn’t go in depth to why, he just kind of ignores them and says the hate is because of “Walk on Water”... which it isn’t, it’s probably one of the songs people actually tolerated on that trainwreck. He also starts dissing the mumble-rappers, and yes, of course, I’m quick to defend them, but they are not mocking JAY-Z... ever. I have never seen a trap-rapper try and be JAY-Z. In fact, JAY-Z imitates Migos more than Migos imitates JAY-Z. If you meant mumble-rappers mock classic hip-hop, why JAY-Z? It’s typically legends like 2Pac who are seen as being disrespected, while JAY-Z is fitting into the mainstream rap crowd pretty nicely decades into his career, and making music with modern artists like Frank Ocean, Drake and even Quavo and Offset of the Migos. There’s some speculation that this line is instead about J. Cole and Lil Pump’s beef, but, yeah, I doubt that even Eminem would think that the “beef” is anything but petty and silly publicity. He threatens to kill Joe Budden, whilst criticising his domestic abuse charges... I’d argue Eminem isn’t exactly one to talk on things like this, but, hey, I’m probably not either, but I am one to talk on how Eminem, hiding in character as Slim Shady, throws petty shots at Tyler, the Creator and Earl Sweatshirt, to the point of calling Tyler, a pretty openly bisexual man, the f-word... you know what it is, I’m not going to say it (oh, and he wants to have sexual intercourse with the Pitchfork writers using a corkscrew for some reason). This is all because of criticism of his album – now, Slim Shady, naturally, would feel this way, right? But Slim Shady wasn’t on Revival, and he made it a point to be as personal on that album as he could, so when people criticised it, it’s blatant that the shots he throws are only using Slim Shady as an excuse for his immature, ignorant and loudly homophobic (and on other tracks during the album, borderline misogynistic) behaviour that he portrays here. He took the criticism to his work personally, and it’s obvious, no matter how much he tries to hide it. We can see your face through the veil, Marshall, and that face is of a legend falling from grace... unless he already has, which is probably the answer to all of this. However, Eminem is still a big of a name to get away with bull like this and get it to chart in the top 10 of the UK, and get to perform at Reading Festival, while Tyler’s still banned from Britain entirely. Oh, and critiquing the Grammys for being leeches to the biggest artists... like you, who has won 15 of the worthless awards. Nice one, you pathetic douche. Oh, and inspiring Hopsin is not anything to be proud of, my guy.

Now, there are many things about newer Eminem that just generally annoy me all the time, like his overall attitude and choppy staccato flow paired with the nasal voice he puts on, but he can still make banging hip-hop tracks when he wants to. He just needs someone fresh to light a fire up in him and let him explode. Who better to do that than the feature on the next track?

#6 – “Lucky You” – Eminem featuring Joyner Lucas

On Kamikaze, there are Tokyo Ghoul samples, Tay Keith giving Em a lazy beat that is literally “Look Alive” pitched down, a bloody hilarious outro track, skits about pulling up to Joe Budden’s house, interpolations of “Fack”, two interesting and funny collaborations with Jessie Reyez, an apology track to D12, a misogynistic rant and... an unironically great song. That song is the third track, produced by Boi-1da, “Lucky You”, featuring Joyner Lucas on his first ever UK Top 40 chart entry.

Now this song bangs hard. The beat is made up out of a maddening bell chiming incessantly that provide a minimalistic bass for Joyner Lucas to yell his freaking guts out, before transitioning to a rapid flow with on-point flexing, charismatic barking ad-libs like Lucas is on his DMX and a lot of catchy and memorable quotables... but somehow Marshall is even better, where he admits he took an L on his last album (rather hypocritical considering the content of the album) and gives out a lot of criticisms torwards trap-rap that even I believe, whilst reasoning with the Lils by saying it’s just not his taste and that he needs that diss so he can reload and aim back like he used to do, and Goddamn, he proves it, with one of his best verses from this decade and maybe ever, right before handing it back to Joyner Lucas for a brief repetition of the catchy hook. This is fantastic, and proves that Eminem still has it and he SHOULD be making more of this. However...

#4 – “The Ringer” – Eminem

This is the opening track of the album, produced by Illa and Ronny J, and I’ve already ranted in way too much length than I planned to on “Fall” and praised the hell out of “Lucky You”, so can I let the criticism take the backseat here and just make fun of this piece of hot garbage?

It starts with a plane crash and it’s getting intense. Eminem, in his unbearably nasal voice, may I add, is saying he wants to just “punch the world in its f***ing face”. He’s getting heated up. What’s he gonna say? What fire bars is he going to spit? Well, he’s gonna... “rape the alphabet”. This dude just said he’s going to molest the alphabet... I’m glad I’m not taking this seriously, and I don’t think he exactly wants us to, but he does try and make points he actually believes in like how Lil Pump and Lil Xan supposedly imitate Lil Wayne, even though they have barely anything in common stylistically other than the vague description of “rappers with Lil in their name who have tattoos and make brag-rap”. Lil Wayne wasn’t even the first guy to do that, and I’d argue Lil Pump is more energetic than Wayne has ever been or will again, and Lil Xan, although I hate the dude to death, has more of a lethargic, trippy style that borders on ambient. Although Xanny and Wayne do both have the questionable sex-related puns in check at seemingly all times. Eminem also talks about how if he mentions these rappers, they’re winning and he’s losing, so why even bother?

He then complains about the bad reviews – this isn’t Slim Shady either – before asking if I get his own joke, discusses how he should “eat” a pill and how supposedly the old Eminem was killed, although this side of Eminem is incredibly prevalent on Kamikaze. He also mentions his bad habits, like, flicking his scrotum like a light switch, supposedly similarly to Mike Pence, complains about how trap-rappers always take YOUR girl (okay, maybe that’s something I can agree with) and disses NF (again, I can agree with NF being worthless). The “chorus”-like bar is just a stream of consciousness-type lyric to the flow of “Gucci Gang” by Lil Pump, which rattles off a few notable names without much added context or reasoning.

So finger-bang, chicken wang, MGK, Igg’ Azae’ / Lil Pump, Lil Xan, imitate Lil Wayne

He does know Iggy Azalea isn’t relevant at all anymore, right? Is he that out of touch? Oh, and all you other rappers are “goners” because you’re not conscious and lyrical like J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar and... Big Sean? Do you want to play odd one out with me, Marshall?

“Maybe if the vocals were autotuned on Revival, people would have bought it,” he claims, seemingly oblivious to the fact that that was one of the problems to begin with, oh, and finger-banging again:

So finger-bang, Pootie-Tang, Burger King, Gucci gang / Dookie-dang, Charlemagne gonna hate anyway

There’s more, like when he specifies he DOES mean “eating a penis” when he says critics should get a mouthful of flesh, but I’m done for the day on Eminem. I’ve written nearly 2,000 words on this trash-heap so let’s just conclude before I go insane.

Conclusion

This is already way too long and they should be obvious, so here it goes: Worst of the Week and Dishonourable Mention both go to Eminem. WOTW is shared with Justin Vernon for “Fall” and Dishonourable Mention is for “The Ringer”. Best of the Week obviously goes to Eminem and Joyner Lucas for “Lucky You��, with Honourable Mention, I guess, going to Dean Lewis for “Be Alright”. Next week, hopefully we’ll get some Mac Miller? I don’t know, but what I do know is the new schedule which I want to make clear. REVIEWING THE CHARTS will alternate sporadically between Sundays and Wednesdays, but there will be a monthly show called BLAST TO THE PAST, which instead of just covering an old chart, will cover a lot of older pop music, and will basically be a fun time for me to do whatever I want, honestly. There’ll be more down the pipeline but stay tuned for that either this week or next week, where I rank all of Snoop Dogg and Pharrell Williams’ collaborations that ever charted on the Hot 100. See you then.

[trevorbailey61]

Paul Heaton & Jacqui Abbot/Billy Bragg

Westonbirt Arboretum, Gloucestershire Friday 15th July 2018

Towards the top of the long steep hill, the road takes a sharp left turn where through a gap in the hedge we can look back at the lowlands we have left behind. The Severn glistens in the summer sun, swelled by the water that has drained into it to leave its mark on the landscape that it has shaped. Alongside it, a mosaic of green fields lie on the flood plain and beyond these rise the hills of the border region, lands that carry the memory of the brutality on which nations are built. Reaching the top, the road slowly descends, we have climbed the escarpment that forms its western edge and are now driving through the Cotswolds, the iconic English landscape of rolling hills formed by the distinctive yellow jurassic limestone on which it is built and chocolate box villages. In the fields, the lush summer grass has been collected into huge bales, wrapped up in green plastic and piled up in the corner and in the distance the needle of a church steeple can be seen against the blue sky. A perfect summers evening, everything should be right with the world: then a sharp reminder that even here, it may not be. As I take in the scene around me, I notice the angular shape of three swifts, the scythe of their wings working independently as they follow the flight of the insects on which they feed. This shouldn’t be unusual, the aerial ballet of swifts and their eerie cries should be familiar in the summer skies but these are the first I have seen this year. Cold weather in April and the loss of suitable nesting sites may have played their part but the main problem is that this pleasant green landscape around us is devoid of insects, inconvenient hindrances that have to be eradicated as the efficiencies of the production line are applied to agriculture. The scene may seem reassuringly familiar but it is one in which it is becoming increasingly hard for the natural world to find a niche. I already tell others about how I used to be able to sit in the back garden and listen to a cuckoo, something that is now only a distant memory. Maybe it wont be long before we all we have are memories of other summer visitors who made their epic journeys from Africa to raise their young amongst us.

Swifts, swallows, house martins: summer visitors more at home in the air than they are on land and all sadly becoming absent from our skies. And with a link so tenuous it is worthy of a cringe, it also takes us to the reason why we are making this journey through what is arguably the most green and pleasant part of this green and pleasant land. In the early 80s, a young man who liked to refer to himself as P D Heaton was dividing his time between writing songs and making a round trip of over 700miles from his home in Surrey every other weekend to watch Sheffield United. Relocating to Hull, he felt his work needed an audience and with a friend, Stan Cullimore, he began to busk around the shopping centres of the city. It may well be there that the first performance “Happy Hour” was greeted with indifference or irritation as shoppers desperately tried to avoid the eye contact that would oblige them to drop a few coins in a hat. The duo also recorded a demo tape, a copy off which, Heaton tells us tonight, they sent to Billy Bragg who, despite a reputation that now sees him introduced as the hardest working man in the business, found time to give it a listen and bring it to the attention of his record label. This interest required a rhythm section to fill out the sound, cue the arrival of the the future Fatboy Slim, and a name, which of course was The Housemartins. Bragg undoubtedly received such tapes by the sack full, most of which would offer little other than rudimentary punk thrashing and sixth form political slogans which meant that the sunny melodies, witty lyrics and Heaton’s clear high pitched voice would have immediately stood out. The lyrics, which cleverly and mostly discretely referenced marxism with a little Christianity thrown in, would have immediately captured Bragg’s interest but just to make sure, they included the song “Flag Day”; a wake up call where the feel good act of charity is used to avoid any real change in a society that can tolerate such high levels of inequality. It is a theme that is still very much on Heaton’s mind when tonight, he asks how many of the crowd will return the next day to see Gary Barlow. Few are but the mention of his name is enough to provoke a rant about his tax affairs and how in a few months time he will be appearing on “Children in Need” encouraging youngsters to empty their pockets to support a hospital that “wouldn’t have to close if he paid his fucking taxes”. 

Like The Smiths, The Housemartins eschewed the styles of the time to produce bright, guitar based pop that that often disguised a serious message. Also like the The Smiths, they were not built to last and after a few singles, a couple of albums and a Christmas number 1, they disbanded, although unlike their Manc contemporaries they apparently remain on good terms. Heaton reflects on these early days during this 90 minute sell out show at Westonbirt Arboretum, in addition to noting the support Bragg gave them as they were getting started, he also reminisces about their first appearance on “Top of the Pops” where, convinced that theirs would only be a temporary stay at the top, they pestered their fellow acts for autographs. A couple of his early songs also find their way into the set, the exhilaration of “Five Get Over Excited” disguises the sinister lyrics, “Feigning concern, a conservative pastime” seems particularly apposite now, as does the flock mentality in “Sheep” in an era fuelled by a growth of rampant nationalism. The songs are mostly left to speak for themselves but Heaton does set the context of “Caravan of Love”, the final encore, explaining how he still remains proud of this acapella version of the Isley’s song and how its message of hope is one that still resonates. The encores also include a wonderfully exuberant run through “Happy Hour”, complete with giant balloons that roadies had to continually bat back into the audience so that the song could continue unhindered. Again the bright pop of the music hides that the song isn’t really about what you think it is about; a brilliant take down of 80s yuppie culture that could equally apply to millennial hipsters; “I think I might be happy if I wasn’t out with them”. 

The Housemartins, for those of us who are of an age to appreciate the context, were important in showing that music could be much more than the programmed beats of Stock, Aitken and Waterman; something that dominated the charts then and the start of using technology to produce formulaic songs cynically built around familiar melodies and hooks. They are not, however, the main reason that so many have made their way to this Forestry Commission gig in rural Gloucestershire. Thanking the audience for their support, Heaton notes that of all the gigs on this forest tour, not only was this the first to sell-out but also that more tickets were released which were also quickly snapped up. This most conservative region of the country may not seem the natural setting for pop that makes little attempt to disguise its left wing inspiration, the car park is in the vast expanse of the grounds to the Westonbirt School hammering home the privilege against which much of the music is set, but comments by Heaton or Bragg on issues around Brexit, Trump, climate change, unions or inequality drew nothing but cheers from the crowd. Heaton does explain how in their gig at Thetford Forest, a fight had broken out between two people who had different views on Brexit, unfortunately, he notes, “the pro guy was ours”, but everyone in Gloucestershire was either on message or if not they kept their opinions to themselves. This popularity, even amongst those who do not share his politics, is because he would soon eclipse his early achievements by forming The Beautiful South from the remnants of The Housemartins. Still built around his distinctive voice and showing the same social and political context, the sound was, however, very different. The lyrics became more nuanced, often delivered in bittersweet tales that, despite being laced with irony, still managed to sound wistfully romantic. We cared about the subjects of these songs because their stories were told so clearly and the bright catchy melodies and beautifully inventive arrangements set them off perfectly. It proved to be hugely successful, their compilation “Carry On Up The Charts” gave him another Christmas Number 1 and they were soon to be found on the arena circuit. It is what has given those gathered here tonight a chance to relive their youth and half the set is made up of songs from the South.

“I’ll Sail This Ship Alone” is a reminder of just how well the songs can place themselves in the mind and how now they can stir such warm memories. Built around a mournful piano accompaniment, it is essentially a break up song where the hurt is carried through the sublime melody. Yet there is also defiance, this is not the end of the world, they will survive, they can be alone. The clarity and pitch of Heaton’s voice adds the melancholy that this gives the song its heart and, despite its size, the audience are quiet and appreciative allowing the words to drift out into the clear evening sky. The set is filled with many equally poignant moments, “One Last Love Song”, “Old Red Eyes in Back” and “Song for Whoever” all leave their emotional mark and even more upbeat songs such as “Good as Gold (Stupid as Mud)” and “You Keep It All In” carry an underlying sadness. The contribution of Irish singer, Briana Corrigan, to the South’s earliest songs persuaded them to promote her to a full band member, thus providing a female lead in the domestic dramas they were playing out. When she left in 1994, partly as a result of some of Heaton’s less than sensitive lyrics, she was replaced with a supermarket stacker from St Helens called Jacqui Abbott, thus starting a partnership that is still going strong tonight. Abbott covers Corrigan’s vocals well on “A Little Time” and “You Keep It All In” but her voice, fuller and with a more resonant lower range than Corrigan’s, gives the songs a slightly different feel. Despite suffering from a bad back, her movement is severely restricted throughout and she has to sit during the middle of the set, she is still wonderful on the two songs she originated, “Rotterdam” and the delightfully naughty “Don’t Marry Her”, Heaton checks before she sings this whether we are alright with the “explicit version”. 

With Abbott leaving the band in 2000, The Beautiful South continued for a few more years producing two more albums that showed that Heaton could still craft catchy and quirky songs, of which “Manchester”, a sodden tribute to his adopted home, is performed tonight. A conversation on Facebook, however, brought him back in touch with Abbott and a collaboration that is now into its fifth year and has produced three albums. Starting with “I Don’t See Them”, they play with the introduction allowing Heaton to act as the preacher building up the responses from the crowd. The band are quickly into their stride, tight and precise, the song driven along by the thumping beats that give the rhythm. The humour of “DIY” is fun, gently mocking men of a certain age who spend their weekends at B&Q, providing a companion to Billy Bragg’s “Handyman Blues” that he had performed earlier. Their most recent album, “Crooked Calypso” showed that Heaton retains the ability to write droll pithy lyrics that cover obesity, “Fat Man”, race and religion, “The Lord is a White Con” and inequality, “People Like Us”. Its not all about social injustice, however, with “I Gotta Praise” being a heart wrenching love song worthy of the South. They even managed to introduce a new song, a reflection on the music of artists such as Marvin Gaye that helped the young Heaton to form his own musical ideas. 

With so many gathered, the potential threat means that even in a remote location, there is still a high level of security to enter the site. This means that many are still queuing outside when Billy Bragg takes to the stage but the show must go on. Rather than a support act, he is probably more of a joint headline and a large group of fans have collected around the stage to give him an enthusiastic reception. Occasionally accompanied by the atmospheric slide provided by CJ Hillman, he is on fiery form, channelling his anger into songs that tackle environmental issues, “King Tide and The Sunny Day Flood”, immigration “Why We Build the Wall”, workers rights, “There is Power in a Union” and a state of the nation updating of Dylan’s “The Times They Are a Changing”. In between, he continues his role as the curator of Woody Guthrie’s legacy with interpretations of “I Ain’t Got No Home” and “She Came Along to Me” and there are plenty of favourites, “Levi Stubbs Tears”, “The Milkman of Human Kindness” and, of course, “A New England” complete with the Kirsty McColl verse. Introducing him at Latitude a few years ago, the announcer said that no festival is complete without Billy Bragg being on the bill and it is difficult to think of a park or field he hasn’t at some time played. Then he seemed a little restrained, toning down the politics and mainly focusing his songs that dealt with relationships. It would be nice to say that seeing him return to his impassioned best was something to treasure were it not for that the circumstances that have fuelled his anger are so desperate. 

There are many so many reasons to treasure a show as good as this, the inventive songs, the exquisite playing, the humour and the engaging personalities of the performers, but another is that it is difficult to think of younger performers who in future will, through their music, provide a commentary for the times in which we live. The other Forestry commission gigs this year include Gary Barlow, Paloma Faith and George Ezra who whilst they mostly make perfectly pleasant music, show little inclination to ask questions about the nature of the society in which we live; aside, of course, from Barlow’s tax status. Then, it is difficult to think of a young Bragg or Heaton being able to make their way in the music business today which seems to be ever more built around safety and predictability. There are no doubt those who try but to take their message beyond a dedicated few, they need the support that they are unlikely to get. Thus, as he has been doing for years, it is left to artists such as Billy Bragg to highlight to injustices heaped on the Windrush generation or the children taken from their parents at the US border. Music and the arts are central to our culture, both reflecting and shaping the world in which we live and in its way this tradition is as English as the Cotswold setting. And that is why we should be grateful that those we have seen tonight continue, as Heaton puts it, to be a thorn in the side of the Tories. Long may it continue. 

[theseventeenthcentury-blog1]

Option Jan/Feb 1988

FELT THE PAST TENSE OF FEEL

BY JOY PRESS

Lawrence is sitting in a cramped little office drawing stickmen on someone else's stationery. They are mindless stickmen, each grinning madly. Since Lawrence is the ringleader of a band called Felt, and since I'm in the room to interview him, I watch closely. (I might learn.) He doesn't look up as he answers my question.

Do you draw? "No, I only draw stickmen. I'm an expert at stickmen."

You could, I suggest, draw bubbles and have them speak to one another ...

"I know. These are the silent types. They have nothing to say." He draws a lone frowning stickmen on the end and reevaluates: "They are a pretty moronic gang." We sigh I fondly over the poor alienated frowner and I turn our attention, more or less, to Felt.

Poem of the River (Creation US/ Relativity) is Felt's seventh LP, though it's the first released in America. For seven years, they've flitted about the periphery of British indie heroism, every so often unleashing singles like "Penelope Tree," "Primitive Painters," or "Ballad of the Band," which cause critics to fall over themselves with gentle praise. But gentle is the key word. If Lawrence could have exaggerated and crystallized his confusion and cynicism into, an accesible drama, he might be where Morrissey is today. The point is, Felt are to subtle for their own good.

Lawrence looks up earnestly when I ask: do you care about what people say about Felt? "We've always had good press ... It doesn't matter. No. No. Not at all." He later asks, "What are you going to write?" Exactly as it should he.

The band members live in the industrial city of Birmingham, northern England's version of Detroit. Lawrence (who claims no surname) avoids leaving the house other than to do his shopping. He formed the band with now-departed guitarist Maurice Deebank. According to Lawrence. "He was a lad. He was also a classical guitarist and I wanted him in the band. He wasn't into it at first, went through his stages — drinking in pubs and that. I never did. I knew what I wanted."

Did you have friends at school? "I did, surprisingly! Well, not surprisingly. But when I was 15, I just changed, I didn't want to be like them. I stopped going out. I didn't have any songs but I knew I could write; well, maybe I can't ..." He looks sheepish here, "But I thought I could write well then, and it was a skill, maybe the only one I have, so I did it."

Gold Mine Trash, a Felt 1981-1985 compilation which former UK label Cherry Red has released (and which is slated for American release at this writing) can only begin to hint at Felt's history. It opens with their debut single, "Something Sends Me To Sleep," all guitar-brushed innocence, and ends with lush "Primitive Painters," throwing the glittery and glib between. A suggestion of Lawrence's penchant for slipping high romanticism into a pop format, as well as his adoration of dry humor and the Velvet Underground, is present on the collection, but just as the barest of introductions.

In retrospect, Felt seem as if they've always been more musicianly, more studious than their pop peers, littering even their earliest albums with startlingly serious instrumentals. Yet the early eighties music scene was made sympathetic to precious, sensitive songwriters by the Postcard Records stable. Cute, clever bands such as Orange Juice and Aztec Camera created tuneful guitar pop on Scotland-based Postcard while Felt found a home on London's more adventurous Cherry Red. A few years later, a post-Postcard resurgence, urged on by the Smiths and Lloyd Cole, came to focus on Alan McGee's Creation Records (with several Scottish bands once again dashing in and out of the spotlight). Felt, perhaps instinctively compatible, jumped over to Creation (as did ex-Orange Juice leader Edwyn Collins).

Between Felt's 1981 debut LP, Crumbling the Antiseptic Beauty and the second, The Splendour of Fear (complete with "Chelsea Girls" graphics), three years elapsed. This period produced singles like "My Face is On Fire" and "Penelope Tree," full of confidence and wistful optimism, lyrics pleading. "Oh no, don't let them break you down." "The World Is As Soft As Lace" offered a sort of manifesto for delicate post-adolescent sensibilities, saying on one hand "if I could I would change the world" and on the other, "all my great plans get blurred, by the softest touch, the gentlest word."

The Strange Idols Pattern & Other Short Stories, also released in 1984, found Felt's sound further refined, divided into smart, catchy jangles like "Sunlight Bathed the Golden Glow" and "Dismantled King is Off the Throne," and lovely instrumentals such as "Sempiternal Darkness," all co-written by Deebank, showcasing his musicianship. Ignite the Seven Cannons, produced by the Cocteau Twins' Robin Guthrie, continued this musical progression, expanding childhood memories and bittersweet ambitions into finely-woven tapestries. The single, "Primitive Painters," which included Cocteau Twins singer Liz Fraser on supporting vocals, was a swirling and enthralling pop tour de force.

In 1986, "Ballad of the Band" and Let the Snakes Crinkle Their Reads to Death signaled a new era: not only did Felt switch over to Creation, but guitarist Decbank departed. Martin Duffy's organ took precedence on Let the Snakes and continues to remain important on the two most recent albums, Forever Breathes the Lonely Word and Poem of the River.

"Ballad of the Band" documented inner-band strife ("Where were you when I wanted to work? You were still in bed, you're a total jerk") and Lawrence explains, "It goes. 'you know, I feel like giving in,' not I will give in. It was just telling how bad things were, I just wanted it to stop, but I'll never give in. It was definitely disruptive, really sad ... We're not so together, you know, as if we'd been together since the start." Fans, like Lawrence, cling to the romance of the band through it all. "We have real fanatics. A lot of them want to be your friend. And you get to be friends and they just think, 'Oh, he's not so special.' I'd rather be alone and ... adored."

So are Felt's members good people? "No, we're horrible. There are so many evil people around you in the music business, there's no way you can escape it."

Much of Poem of the River seems to escape Lawrence's usual caustic tongue. reveling instead in the softly psychedelic organ.

He describes it as "late-night listening" and worries that it may be "too introspective" for an American audience. It is an altogether less accessible record than an LP like Ignite the Seven Cannons, but still contains that dizzy mix of the starry-eyed and the defeated. The one-and-a-half minute opener, "Declaration," flatly proclaims: "I will be the first person in history to die of boredom." As idealized as a song like "She Lives By the Castle" may sound, there is always a sharp poke of consciousness, where pride and defenses kick in.

Felt lyrics generally work within plain speech, because, Lawrence says petulantly, "Why say metamorphosize if you can say change?" The stunningly simple completeness of Felt at its best, like "Primitive Painters" or even the "Final Resting of the Ark" single released this past summer, strips away the most frustrating aspects of their world until indelible images scamper out.

"It's always the same kind of sound, but it's progressing melody-wise. If you were just a casual observer, you wouldn't notice so much and you might say, 'They all sound the same.' But they're getting stronger all the time.

"Every time we make a record, though, it does feel like a new band, because we've always got different members. 'The Final Resting of the Ark' is completely different from any other Felt you've ever heard, and Gary [Ainge, drummer), who's been in the band since the beginning, said it figures the best Felt record ever is the one he's not on! It started off as a list of things I liked, but I couldn't finish it ... It's just emotional, it makes you cry."

As for the subject of isolation, Lawrence shrugs his shoulders. "That's just the way I work. I write alone, and then the band just ... colours it in." With such highly visual music, the precision of the band is crucial. "There are pictures flashing behind the music in a way. Like the song 'Nazca Plain' is about this strip of land — it looks like an airstrip, but back in the times before Jesus they didn't have airplanes, it's one of those mysteries ..."

The album which contained that song, Let the Snakes Crinkle Their Heads to Death, was completely instrumental, with oozing organ pieces outnumbering the guitar and piano songs. "That is my favorite record. Do you know any other pop band to put out a record like that? I really don't think there has been one, but people just ignored that and pretended we were crazy."

Felt is always the moment after the one where you would have laughed or screamed, when you've found the space to rationalize and wise up. I once wrote of Felt, "They might've been messiahs — if only they didn't have to think about it." So why bother risking public humiliation?

"It's a way of making money, and money buys freedom. But yeah, if someone connects to something in our music, like some of Kerouac's stuff ... When I was a kid riding in the car, I used to put my hand out when I was bored and pretend to he chopping mountains. And he did that too! Or when I was walking, I'd pretend I was the best footballer and the best everything all at once. He did that too! I thought I was the only one, and that's amazing when you connect with someone like that."

I get the feeling Lawrence used to think of Felt as some sort of poem. Does he still think they make a difference? "No, There are a very small number of bands that will ever matter. You can fool yourself, but the truth is maybe one band in this decade are going to be important — and I've realized it's not us. It was quite depressing to realize."

Does this mean Felt aren't messiahs?

"Yeah, I'm not a god after all."