Everybody probably gets that sinking feeling when a friend says "have a look at my painting, tell me what you think" or "here's some of my poems, do you think they're good enough to be published?"
Your answer is guaranteed to get you in trouble. The honest answer is usually "Jeez, did a five year old paint that?" or "No, Bono, crap like that should never be published." But if you try not to hurt your friend's feelings, well it only encourages them to paint or write more.
No such worries when Jinder announces he's got a new album on its way and asking would I like to hear it. It popped through the door at the end of last week and has since had a thorough going over. I like it. When I like something I kinda feel that everyone should like it. I mean, if its good enough for me, then its good enough for you.
You may not have heard of Jinder but he's a hardworking singer-songwriter sort of guy, travels the length and breadth playing - I checked up on him one Bank Holiday weekend: he was playing six gigs over three days, from pubs to festivals. And he writes, he's collaborated with a whole bunch of people including 10cc's Graham Gouldman, Henry Priestman and that guy from Deacon Blue. One of his songs is on the new Aled (. . . walking in the air . . .) Jones album. Which should put shoes on the kids' feet for a while.
Jinder is one of what might be a dying breed of itinerant singer songwriters whose strengths are
(i) an ability to write a good song,
(ii) the ability to hold a tune,
(iii) competence at playing a musical instrument
(iv) the ability to hold an audience.
I first came across him as a fellow Townes van Zandt fan and back in 2007 invited him to be part of "No Deeper Blue", a gig commemorating the tenth anniversary of TVZ's death. Here's Jinder's song Townes Blues from a 2009 album 9c from Benelux. And here's a little bonus.
So what is the new album like?
If I've got a complaint it's this: the best track on the album is the first one and it's in the wrong place. I'll come back to it. I'm going to pretend track 2 is the opener. May Your Train Roll On is classic Jinder, it's got trains and stations and love and loss. And a rocking tune. If this was all Jinder played there'd be a place for him on those Irish country music programmes (hi, Phil Mack!). It storms along like a coal train banging down a silver track. A grand opener. Keys to the World sneaks up on you, starting with acoustic guitar and a plea for the keys of the world and everything. Sung from the perspective of a sailor's wife, perhaps a fisherman's friend, who has lost everything and now waits forever alone. Two minutes in an electric guitar underlines the hidden pain, the swirling pain and anger inside. Having lost the most important thing in life all I need to make up for it is . . . everything.
There's more traditional darkness in Stations in the Valley, a deceptively simple song, one man and his guitar, belying the craftsmanship behind it.
I Remember Home starts off brighter with some lovely Levenesque guitar in the middle. A road (or rail) song, about the downside of being an itinerant singer songwriter, 4000 miles from home. Every memory in my mind seems to end with goodbye, I remember home and I remember you, I remember love so I sing for truth and beauty I remember you always. This is after midnight with a bottle of red music.
You want to hear a song?
Boil the world. Totally unrepresentative, well musically at least. Lyrically its just about the end of the world so I guess it fits in with the rest of the album.
Jinder wears his influences on his sleeve, but when those influences are of the calibre of Townes van Zandt, and Jackie Leven, Leonard Cohen and Jacques Brel I don't mind. There's even an echo of Devon Sproule in one song. Song for Jackie Leven/Poortown doesn't just wear its influence on its sleeve, it is emblazoned across the t-shirt and novelty hat. Jackie Leven was another itinerant singer songwriter whose death in November 2011 inspired this song. Tributes like this generally show how wide the gap is between the subject matter of the song and the tribute writer. Here however, as with Townes Blues, Jinder manages to pull off the rare feat of writing a tribute song which works at a broader level. If you've never heard of Jackie you will still recognise the feeling, the loss of a friend, an older and wiser brother. Now I know I'll never see your face on the road again.. The first time I heard this song was here . . .
. . . in the back garden of Oates Acres with a group of friends. There were tears. Here Song for Jackie Leven segues into one of Jackie's finest songs Poortown. Jinder does it justice, You really need to buy this album.
I said the album's opener is in the wrong place. It should be here. So this is where I'm going to put it. The songs of loss and love and stations were leading the listener to this. New Maps of Hell is the blackest, bleakest song on the album. A beautiful sparse sound, lyrics that match. No wasted words. I hear destiny in silence, in Satie and in Brel. A love poem to God. It would have made a great addition to Johnny Cash American Recordings. Can't see Aled Jones covering it.
The final song on Traditional Dark is Gathering my Children Home. A perfectly measured finale. Come now, reverent, come now my gentle host. Bringing it all back home, the itinerant songwriter returning from the road, with his songs, to his children. A little frippertronic guitar (who knew?) colouring the darkness. There's a sense that the journey is not over, being home is just a break in hostilities, but to paraphrase an Old West African Song to be alive to play this song is a victory.
This really is a fine album, in the old sense of a bunch of songs put together to create a whole (although track 1 should be 7) like Five Leave Left or Songs from a Room. An album you listen to start to finish and then play again. Each play reveals a little more (unlike the kind of pop where repeated listening reveals hidden shallows. Hi Blunty).
You can pre-order (or if you're coming across this late, buy it now) from the tax dodgers here or there. Best thing to do is buy a copy from Jinder himself next time he plays your town. Awesome album.
A fair amount of the art featured in this blog is graffiti, street art, urban art. One reason for this is that some of the most interesting new visual art is street art. There is an element of excitement in finding masterpieces on the street - there is also the element of democracy with art being on the walls around town and out of the galleries.
Lou Reed and/or John Cale channelling Andy Warhol in Songs for Drella wrote
The trouble with a classicist, he looks at a tree, that's all he sees, he paints a tree. The trouble with a classicist he looks at the sky, he doesn't ask why, he just paints a sky.
Perhaps Warhol was thinking of this picture in the Philadelphia Museum of Art by Alexandre Calame.
The trouble with an impressionist, he looks at a log and he doesn't know who he is, standing, staring, at this log. Surrealist memories are too amorphous and proud, while those downtown macho painters are just alcoholic.
The trouble with personalities, they're too wrapped up in style. It's too personal, they're in love with their own guile. They're like illegal aliens trying to make a buck. They're driving gypsy cabs but they're thinking like a truck
So, that's the trouble with classicists, impressionists, surrealists, downtown macho painters and personalities. Did Andy/Lou/John rate any art forms? Course they did:
I like the druggy downtown kids who spray paint walls and trains I like their lack of training, their primitive technique I think sometimes it hurts you when you stay too long in school I think sometimes it hurts you when you're afraid to be called a fool
The sort of artist that exists on a diet of Relentless and Pot Noodles.
Is it bandwagon jumping to post this? A day late too.
Is there something worse about this act of terrorism than so many others? What did the terrorists want to achieve by their action? Righting a wrong? revenge? sending a message? Did they intend to bring thousands of people together in cities all over the world, united in their condemnation of those who feel that a gun is more powerful than a pen? Because that is what happened.
The response of thousands of peaceful pen wielding people in Paris and elsewhere in France, in London's Trafalgar Square and Berlin was inspiring. As were the responses of the worldwide community of cartoonists. Not seeking retribution, not trying to spread more hate. Trying to make sense of something senseless.
The best cartoons say in a simple line drawing with a single line of text what a newspaper leader column or a Prime Minister's speech can't say in a thousand words.
Je suis Charlie is worth a thousand words. And so is Ahmed Marabet.
A note to our French Correspondent: next time you're in Paris place a pencil in the Place de Republique for me. Thanks
A year or so ago the very fine blog The (New) Vinyl Villain had a guest post from here, from the non-musical blog The Corn Poppy. It was a reminiscence of a time long, long ago when I was a teenage Dead Trout. This was back in Liverpool in the 70s, an incredibly fun time to be watching bands, knowing people in bands, being in bands. The (new) Vinyl Villain carried another piece featuring Liverpool bands this week, concentrating on singles released on the Zoo label, from Big in Japan to the Wild Swans, by way of Echo and the Teardrops, not to mention Lori Larty and Those Naughty Lumps.
Gladys Palmer, Something for the Weekend, Granada
YorkieVision
This got me to surfing youtube and coming across the video above. Everyone knows about Liverpool cellars and their place in the history of Merseybeat. In the 60's it was the Cavern in Mathew Street; in the 70s it was Eric's; all the best clubs are downstairs. The video is all about another cellar. Gladys Palmer's cellar in Prospect Vale. This cellar was used as a rehearsal space for new bands including the Teardrop Explodes and Echo and the Bunnymen.
It was also used by other less well known bands: there were the Occasional Tables for example, Julian Cope with Gladys' son David. David Palmer, renamed by Mac, better known as Yorkie. The Occasional Tables never played live, possibly never even rehearsed, these things weren't the most important things about being in a band. I remember some members of the Dead Trout with some members of Scotch Corner creating a band one evening called the Dead Barmy Faction (as in Red Army Faction). By the end of the evening there was a whole rationale, canon of songs, stage show planned. That would have been Saturday night at Eric's, by Monday it would have been forgotten.
Yorkie was involved in several bands. In the summer of 1979 it was A Rousing Silence. Yorkie played bass, Mark sang, Abby played keyboards and I played guitar. There was no drummer. Because . . . Echo and the Bunnymen rehearsed in the cellar. They didn't have a drummer, the Bunnymen were a three piece with a drum machine. They left their drum machine there. We used the Bunnymen's drum machine. Seriously. The keyboard? that was Paul Simpson's. Paul was the original keyboard player in Teardrop, he left because they were becoming too poppy. The keyboard was massive, a big wooden box, the size of a coffin. It made an amazing noise, play chopsticks on it and it sounded like a symphony. Paul Simpson went on to be the Wild Swans.
We played songs that Yorkie wrote and arranged. The arrangements were all essentially the same. Yorkie would play a bass figure, after a minute the keyboard would play a melodic phrase and the guitar would fill in the gap between each line with a little filligree. It was mood music. It was a feeling, man. There were lyrics that Mark sang but I don't remember them. The name came from a misheard Patti Smith lyric. We rehearsed every week. We never played outside the cellar.
The neighbours complained about the noise from the cellar (I don't know why - the walls were covered in egg boxes, that should have kept the sound in shouldn't it?). Probably not so much when we were down there, we were quite quiet and well behaved but the Teardrop Explodes rocked. Gladys wrote a letter to her local MP (it was Liberal MP, David Alton) saying why it was so important that these boys should be allowed to play in the cellar. I'm pretty sure she invoked the more famous boys who got their break playing in the more famous cellar in Mathew Street. She showed me the letter for proof reading before sending it. It was beyond proof reading, I told her she should send it as it was - I wish I'd kept a copy.
After I left Merseyside at the end of that summer Yorkie's band became HoHo Bacteria. They got a new non-musician in playing keyboards. His name was Michael Head and he later changed to guitar and subsequently led the Pale Fountains, Shack and the Strands. Shack may just be the best band to have come out of Liverpool. Yorkie went on to play bass with Space. You can see him here. It's pretty damn good too,
(The rights to the Gladys Palmer video apparently belong to Yorkie although I guess Granada TV had a hand in the production.)
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