Showing posts with label classic albums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classic albums. Show all posts

Saturday, 24 January 2026

Nick Drake's 'Five Leaves Left' - A worthy Grammy nominee

photo by Keith Morris
If awards mean anything for a musician, then a Grammy is something to aspire to. Nick Drake, a relatively obscure English songwriter and guitarist who died over 50 years ago, was never going to win one in his lifetime. Like Vincent Van Gogh, his genius was only recognised long after he died. 

And now, 56 years after it was released, a specially curated collection documenting the making of his first album, is nominated for a Grammy award for Best Historical Album. It would be some kind of poetic justice were it to win. 

The boxset 'The Making of Five Leaves Left' is a lovingly detailed account of how a shy young university student came to make a richly melodic and timeless album. 

As a historical record, it is pretty much faultless and a credit to the various people involved, from the Island Records archivists, to producer Joe Boyd and engineer John Wood, and the Nick Drake estate who are keepers of the flame. It's certainly worthy of the Grammy Award. 

Will it win? Well, it's up against Queen Joni - nominated for the Joni Mitchell Archives - Volume 4: The Asylum Years (1976-1980) - so probably not. Joni can seemingly do no wrong right now, and she deserves the acclaim. But if you know his story, it would be tremendously fitting to see Nick Drake get a Grammy.

{Post-awards note: As I thought, the award went to Joni Mitchell}

Nick Drake died in 1974, having made three albums that failed commercially. But the quality of his music would not be denied. Today there is considerable demand for 'new' Nick Drake material. Hence this box set, which documents the making of Nick’s first album from 1969, starting with the two earliest semi-formal recording sessions where Nick showcased his material. 

The Making of Five Leaves Left

Albums were not generally done as slowly as this. Nick was still at Cambridge during the making of Five Leaves Left, and so the album was recorded over 14 months' of sessions in London. That would have been an age in this period of musical revolution. By way of comparison, in a 14-month period in the mid-60s, the Beatles recorded Rubber Soul, Revolver and half of Sgt. Pepper.

On The Making of Five Leaves Left, we hear the evolution, from March 1968 to April 1969, of Nick Drake’s musical vision, guided by producer Joe Boyd and engineer John Wood, with the support of his university friend and string arranger, Robert Kirby.

Any work of musical archaeology will only be as successful as the treasure unearthed in the process. In this case, the almost miraculous retrieval of two early reel-to-reel tapes that pre-date the first formal recording sessions, are the holy grail items.

The so-called Beverley Martyn tape, which was the first showcase for Joe Boyd, kept safe by Nick’s friend (and John Martyn's wife) Bev, helps fill in the picture of how Five Leaves Left came to be commissioned in the first place.

The second key piece of the jigsaw that makes this package such a compelling collection, is the nine-song tape of Nick playing and talking, recorded at Cambridge in early 1968 by another university acquaintance, Paul de Rivaz and incredibly, preserved by him. Strangely, despite the tremendous interest in Nick Drake's music in the past 25 years, de Rivaz had kept it to himself, until recently.

What these tapes show is that as early as March 1968, many of the songs that would appear on the final album in May 1969 were almost fully formed. The guitar parts were more or less worked out. 

The assurance displayed in his singing and playing from the earliest tapes is striking. Here was someone with immense confidence in his material and determined to show it. 

I've listened through to the four record/disc set a few times now, and there are many aspects worth highlighting. Here are some of the things that have jumped out to me.

  • There’s a piano line on Strange Face (Cello Song) from the first proper studio session in September 1968 (volume 1, track 7). It doesn’t really work, but it’s still an excellent accompaniment. Who is playing that piano is not clear from the session notes. It is possible Paul Wheeler was present at the session.

  • It's interesting to see how Day Is Done progresses between the April and November ’68 sessions at Sound Techniques. Nick’s guitar playing during this period is so clear and well articulated, you can hear his confidence, and understand how Joe and John were so impressed with him. I think I almost prefer Day Is Done without the string quartet, because it makes Nick's guitar much more prominent.

    In the garden at Belsize Park
  • The jaunty early versions of Time Has Told Me - on the Beverley and de Rivaz tapeswith great assurance in the guitar playing, contrast with the relatively sluggish final album version. It’s a different dynamic at play, and quite effective.

    One of my long-held views is that not enough prominence was given to Nick Drake the guitar player. Why, for example, does the album version of Time Has Told Me place Richard Thompson as the main accompanist?

Thompson - who also played electric guitar on an unused version of Thoughts of Mary Jane, that later appeared on the album Time of No Reply - regarded Nick as “quite extraordinary’ in his guitar playing.

“He played immaculately and uniquely on acoustic guitar, which isn’t an easy instrument to play in a flawless way. You get buzzes, you get fret noise. Not with Nick. He’d really worked at it very hard.”

Nick’s time in France and Morocco in 1967 intensified the focus on his guitar playing and would have broadened his musical vocabulary, resulting in the different rhythmic and tonal ideas, alternate tunings and the relative exoticism on display in Three Hours

  • Hearing Nick explain his ideas for the arrangement of the unused song My Love Left With The Rain from the Cambridge tape, is one of the delightful surprises of this boxed set. Nick tells Kirby and de Rivaz “This is the one I want to have as expansive a sound as possible”, which makes it all the more curious why the song was never taken further. 

  • Another of the May 1968 Cambridge tape curios, Blossom is a pleasant but unremarkable tune, notable for the work tape section at the end, where Nick shows the bass part, again demonstrating how prepared and assured he was in presenting his songs.  

The instrumental that follows this on the Cambridge tape is similarly illuminating in that it brings us closer to his compositional process, while also showing, as John Wood observed, his solid understanding of music theory.

“The most striking thing about Nick to me was how musically literate he was,” Wood told biographer Richard Morton Jack. “I’ve never worked with anyone else of that age who had that level of musical understanding and ability, as well as such a wide taste and knowledge of music.”

  • On Thoughts of Mary Jane (Vol 2, track 5), Nick sings and plays the flute melody. Similarly, he knows that Day Is Done will have a string quartet accompaniment well before it is recorded.

  • Nick talks about his ideas for I Was Made To Love Magic (Vol 2, track 3). Since this was only a matter of weeks after he had played the song at The Roundhouse, on the fateful day he met Ashley Hutchings, the version of Magic we hear on this tape must be close to what he played at the gig. Richard Hewson gets a bad rap generally for his arrangement work with Nick, but I've always liked what he did on Magic as it appeared on the Time Of No Reply album.

On the Cambridge tape, Nick apologises, “so badly played” (by his high standards) and then talks about his ideas for a different rhythm on Magic, with a latin-esque bass pattern.

Another Jobim-esque song (though possibly inspired by The Pentangle) follows. This is Mickey’s Tune, which was known only for its lyrics before the Cambridge tape was unearthed. And in the studio session on November 12 ’68 (Vol 2, track 12) it sounds like Nick is trying for almost a flamenco feel at the very beginning of Fruit Tree.

Alternative track order noted
I have always felt - going right back 40 years ago when I first took note of Fruit Tree as the opening track on the Heaven In A Wild Flower collection - that it might have made a better opening track for Five Leaves Left. And it nearly did, as the original master tape box for FLL has a suggested alternative numbering for the tracks.

That slightly hesitant, exploratory guitar line at the beginning of Fruit Tree is a more beguiling introduction to Nick’s world, and I feel it's rather hidden away on side two of Five Leaves Left.

  • On the final series of sessions, on album 3, the version of Time Of No Reply is, to my ears, the same as the one that appeared on the 1980s album of the same name. 

  • Along with Time Of No Reply, Mayfair was the other early song still being tried out at this late stage for inclusion on FLL. Both were ultimately discarded and never considered again for inclusion on a subsequent album. 

Richard Morton Jack wrote that it was striking that Nick remained loyal to Mayfair, in particular. “Perhaps he was fond of it as an echo of his mother’s style… although there’s a consensus that by 1969 it didn’t fit comfortably alongside his other material.”

Joey, a favourite of mine, and Clothes of Sand were likewise omitted in the final analysis and again, despite being an excellent showcase for Nick’s elegant guitar melodies, they were never considered for his following albums. They were all included on the posthumous Fruit Tree box set as part of a fourth album, Time Of No Reply

  • Another musical snippet that was discarded by the final studio sessions is Nick’s lead into River Man, from the January 1969 session (Vol 3, track 4).

  • Way To Blue, with just Nick on piano, is another revelation from the 1968 Cambridge tape (Vol 3, track 5). You might think it actually sounds good like this, but when Robert Kirby came to Sound Techniques for the first time in April 1969, to conduct the strings, he blew Joe and John away.

photo by Keith Morris
The sessions with the string ensemble were all done live, with Nick playing guitar. The first song Nick and Robert tackled was Way To Blue, which Joe and John had never heard. 

According to Richard Morton Jack, "Nick had initially written it for his own piano accompaniment, but he and Robert had since agreed – perhaps owing to the influence of Randy Newman’s I Think It’s Going To Rain Today – that its impact would be greater if he simply sang to the strings.”

Joe and John were sceptical. Having set up levels for each instrument, John gave Robert the nod.

“Suddenly, John pushed up all the faders. We heard this string part and we were both knocked back in our seats,” remembers Joe. “We thought, this is exquisite, just amazing.”

For anyone who knows and loves the original album, The Making of Five Leaves Left is a fascinating glimpse at the inner workings of an emerging talent. The weaving together of the varied source material, and the meticulous detail contained in the accompanying book, are truly a credit to the production team.

Credit is also due to Michael Burdett, for his role in bringing the Paul de Rivaz Cambridge tape to the attention of this album's compilers. Burdett will be familiar to anyone who has seen his one-man show - Strange Face - Adventures with a lost Nick Drake recording - about travelling the UK talking to random folk and a handful of celebs, while playing them a discarded early recording of Nick's Cello Song.

At the conclusion of one of these shows, Paul de Rivaz approached Burdett and explained that he had known Nick Drake. What's more, he had a recording of him. 

Not just any old recording, it turned out.

ALSO ON THIS BLOG:

A Visit To The Annual Nick Drake Gathering





Wednesday, 31 December 2025

Electric Ladyland - Genius At Work

I have been listening to Jimi Hendrix's 1968 magnum opus Electric Ladyland for over 50 years. There are periods where I haven't heard it for a while. Then I listen again and marvel at just what an amazing, visionary, unique musician it was who created this work. 

I've had another one of those epiphanies this week, writing about when Jimi first came to London and settled into the only period of domestic bliss he ever knew, with Kathy Etchingham. 

In 1968, when Jimi and Kathy were shifting from Ringo's flat in Montagu Square to the loft apartment on Brook Street, Jimi was working on his third album, the double LP that would become Electric Ladyland. His band, the Jimi Hendrix Experience, with Mitch Mitchell on drums and Noel Redding on bass, were out touring in the US and Europe. In between, Hendrix would spend time in studios on either side of the Atlantic. 

Jimi Hendrix was a fabulously inventive guitarist, who at his best had no equals at that time. His exploration of the recording studio as an instrument in itself, pushed the boundaries of the primitive eight-track recorders then available, with the patient help of his most loyal engineer Eddie Kramer and the Record Plant's Gary Kellgren.

He told Disc magazine, "My music is my personal diary. - a release of all my inner feelings, aggression, tenderness, sympathy, everything."

Within the double album scope, Hendrix was able to express his range of emotions more fully. This tested the patience of some in his circle, who wanted him to follow a straighter course. 

Notably, his mentor and manager Chas Chandler withdrew from working with him during the slow gestation of Electric Ladyland, because Jimi wouldn't listen to his advice to keep it simple and give his audience more of the same. 

The finished album isn't perfect (find me a double album that is...) but then Hendrix wasn't perfect. Still a young man, not willing to be tied down in any way, he made missteps, allowed too many hangers-on into his sessions and probably abused true friendships and the support of those around him. But there's no denying his genius as a guitar player and musical visionary. 

Above all, it's important to assess Electric Ladyland in the context of what else was being produced at the time. In terms of musical innovation and imaginative use of the studio, it's hard to think of anything, apart from Sgt Pepper, that even comes close. From the opening sounds of And The Gods Made Love, you are being taken on a sonic and sensory trip. Hendrix used his guitar and effects in ways that no one else could even fathom at the time. 

The swirling guitar effects dissolve into the slow soulful Have You Ever Been...to Electric Ladyland. Jimi plays some wonderfully fluid guitar and sings high and handsome. He may not have had the smooth tones of Smokey Robinson - maybe closer to Curtis Mayfield - but he was a great soul singer when he wanted to be. 

Jimi's handwritten lyrics
Then, as if to say, OK that was nice, now dig this, he rocks out with Crosstown Traffic. Funky, melodic and psychedelic at the same time, Hendrix puts down a marker that this album is going to be a real step up in production terms.

And before you know it, the mood has changed again. We're live in the studio, for a blues jam - Voodoo Chile - with a bunch of guests, including Steve Winwood on organ and Jack Cassady on bass. 

Everyone gets a chance to blow on this one. It's 15 minutes long. Jimi sings the blues and gets wild as the jam reaches its crescendo. Winwood is the master accompanist and helps the tune to build, but the guy who really drives the whole thing is Mitch. His groove is monumental and his soloing on this is some of the best he ever did on a Hendrix track. So ends side one of the vinyl album.

I'll be honest, side two doesn't match the invention and transcendence of side one. It starts off tamely with a Noel Redding tune, which is out of place in my view. The other tracks are all fine, but they don't hang together or match the overall quality of the other three sides. There is a suggestion that some of them, like the cover of Earl King's Come On, were just filler tracks and when you look at the four sides, there's some truth in that. 

The experimental and exploratory sounds on side three of the original vinyl take us further out still. The dreamy shuffle of Rainy Day, Dream Away features Buddy Miles on drums and Mike Finnigan on organ. Hendrix's guitar is drenched in wah-wah and he's clearly having fun with his lyrics. 

Well, I can see a bunch of wet creatures, look at 'em on the run
The carnival traffic noise it sinks into a splashy hum
Even the ducks can groove, rain bathing in the park side pool
And I'm leaning out my windowsill, digging everything
And you too

The shuffle groove fades slowly as we're transported to Jimi's underwater fantasy world, with beautiful guitar and the gorgeous melody of 1983...A Merman I Should Turn To Be. Jimi's guitar carries the listener off to Atlantis, with Mitch alternating between a slow march and a kind of bolero snare drum pattern. His solos that link the various underwater dream passages show off his Elvin Jones-style chops to great effect. I don't know what you'd call this music, but I do know it's marvellous.

Easily the trippiest track on the album, the denouement of side three - Moon, turn the tides... gently, gently away, is Jimi taking you deeper underwater, or wherever your mind chooses to go, now he's got you under his spell.

Chas may not have been alone in wishing Jimi would stick to more conventional music, but Hendrix was adamant that he wasn't just playing around; this was serious music he was making. 

Don't look on it as self indulgence. Consider it as the artist showing you the full breadth of what he or she can do. 

Steve Vai said something that I thought was pretty cool: "Everyone is a genius when they find what they love and they throw themselves into it without any excuses." That definitely applies here. 

Side Four showed Jimi still had plenty more of his singular music to share with us, leaving two absolute masterpieces to the very last. 

All Along The Watchtower was recorded in January 1968, only a month or so after the release of the Bob Dylan album from which is was taken, John Wesley Harding. It showcased Hendrix's extraordinary range as a guitarist, with solos played on various guitars in different styles. Dylan reportedly said that Hendrix found things in the song that others people wouldn't think of finding there. 

Voodoo Chile (Slight Return) once again defies categorisation because it's completely unique. There isn't a guitarist alive who could have come up with something as brilliant as that. Astonishing technique, amazing use of the studio, completely a one-off. 

Voodoo Chile - in his own handwriting

The reason guitar players and listeners still revere Jimi is because he was an innovator, with a completely unique musical vision. 

Of course, it's tragic his life was cut short at 27, especially when you listen to Electric Ladyland's touchstone moments and imagine what he would have been capable of, if he could just have got back on the straight and narrow on his return to London. But time ran out for Jimi, leaving this album as the most complete expression of his genius and vision. 

If his reputation has suffered posthumously, it's because so many have sought to exploit the demand for 'new' Hendrix material with sub-standard recordings that Hendrix would never have approved.  

Jimi was kept busy in '68
Anyone coming to him now would be well-advised to stick to the records he released during his lifetime, as a true testament of his abilities and his legacy. 

Was Electric Ladyland filmed?

I am reading the booklet that came with the Experience Hendrix mid 1990s CD reissue of Electric Ladyland.

I'm intrigued by this passage in the notes to the CD: 

"For 16 days in May 1968, an ABC-TV film crew followed the Experience to stage and studio. Shooting began at the Record Plant on May 3....The footage begins with scenes of a groupie sketching Jimi as he records Voodoo Chile. The scene cuts to the control room where Eddie (Kramer) tells an interviewer 'Jimi's music is here to stay'. Mike Jeffrey and Chas Chandler were also interviewed while Jimi was filmed writing lyrics."

I think I know a fair amount about film footage of Jimi, but I have never heard or seen anything related to this ABC footage. Surely, it it does exist, it would have seen the light of day by now. But if it didn't exist, how could the Experience Hendrix CD notes be referencing it? 

The latest extended release of the Classic Albums program, now made available by Experience Hendrix as 'At last...the beginning: the making of Electric Ladyland' offers some glimpses of the Record Plant sessions, visuals only, no sound.

The DVD is worth getting for the extra footage, most of which features engineer Eddie Kramer peeling back the layers of the backing tracks to show the detail and the unique vision that Jimi applied to the album. Some of this is just beautiful, especially the rhythm tracks behind 'Have you ever been...'

Another thing this extended episode reveals is that on the original acetate of the album, the 'white-coated men at CBS' had got the name of the album wrong. Many years before Kirsty MacColl turned it into a joke album title of her own, here it is, Electric Landlady!

Here's a clip from the original Classic Albums program, which contains brief footage from the Record Plant sessions at the very beginning:
 
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Also on this blog:




Thursday, 25 December 2025

Wish You Were Here - A Flawed Diamond

As Pink Floyd’s 1975 opus Wish You Were Here gets its obligatory 50th anniversary re-release, I feel duty-bound to reflect that I've always been ambivalent about it.

It's undeniably an outstanding record in parts. Sonically, an advance on its predecessor, Dark Side Of The Moon, and containing two absolute Floyd classics in Shine On You Crazy Diamond and the title track.

I've just never warmed to the rest of it, despite the fact that I saw them perform it live twice in the mid-1970s and again 20 years later.

By 1974, having produced the aforementioned Dark Side - their masterpiece – and hit the big time, the members of Pink Floyd were in a bit of a bind. The record company wanted more product. The band freely admit they struggled coming to terms with having peaked creatively and commercially. Roger Waters especially, began to feel like he was being treated as a commodity to be exploited. 

Live at Wembley Arena, November 1974
In the course of working up new material and road testing it on tour in 1974, they came up with three new songs. It was clear that a cynical mood had descended.

"You gotta keep everyone buying this shit"
lyrics from ‘You Gotta Be Crazy’, one of the new songs.

It’s well documented that Waters, as the chief lyricist and conceptualist, was increasingly at odds with David Gilmour over the material and arrangements. Having written all the lyrics for Dark Side Of The Moon, the sessions for Wish You Were Here mark the point at which Waters pushed for even greater control.  

Of the songs being developed for what would become Wish You Were Here - Shine On You Crazy Diamond, You Gotta Be Crazy and Raving and Drooling - only the first one would make the cut. Despite Gilmour’s protestations, the latter two were held over, used in slightly different form on the 1977 album Animals

Shine On You Crazy Diamond - Waters' tribute to the Floyd's fallen leader, Syd Barrett - was certainly the most impressive of the new songs I heard when I saw them at Wembley's Empire Pool in November 1974.

In its early form, in those 1974 live shows, the four note guitar figure, the chiming signature motif at the start of the song, was already well on the way to being iconic. In the studio, the band and the engineers took it to another level.

Gilmour recording the Shine On riff in Studio 1 
The Floyd recorded mostly in Studio 3, the smaller of the studios at Abbey Road. To gain maximum ambience for Gilmour's iconic guitar figure, the engineers had his amps placed in the cavernous Studio 1, where Sir Edward Elgar had recorded many of his orchestral classics. 

Waters wanted the next album to have a thematic core, based around the  concept of isolation, the loss of friends and family. Shine On You Crazy Diamond was a heart-felt plea to a talented former colleague, brain-damaged and sidelined owing to his over-indulgence in LSD. The music more than does that tribute justice. It's a sad, mournful tune at times, but with a hopeful message, and stands as one of the top 5 Floyd tracks ever recorded. 

The song Wish You Were Here would also be in many people's top 5. Its universality is a stroke of genius. A simple guitar riff and words inspired by the loss of Waters' father in WW2 (not forgetting his grandfather who died in the Great War) and his friend Syd. But the lyric can be appreciated by everyone.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from hell?
Blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange, a walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground, what have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here

lyrics © Roger Waters Music Overseas Ltd, Pink Floyd Music Publishers Ltd

The sessions at Abbey Road in 1975 were made all the more poignant by the strange episode of Syd Barrett's unexpected appearance. Fat, bald and with no eyebrows, he went unrecognised for a while; truly a stranger in their midst. Realising it was him must have been quite upsetting for them. 

The reason for Syd's visit was never fully explained and that was the last time some of them ever saw him. A tragic conclusion to their lives together and confirmation that the Syd they knew was gone, never to return.  

Waters' other main theme for the album was the sense of being manipulated by the system; reflective of Roger's sense that as a band they were now just "riding the gravy train".

The early lyrics to You Gotta Be Crazy (renamed Dogs on the Animals album) indicated a dark sarcasm already prevalent in the classroom.

Lyric page from '74 tour program
"You gotta keep climbing, you gotta keep fit, you gotta keep smiling, you gotta eat shit".

Although that seems fairly consistent with the 'riding the gravy train' sentiments expressed on WYWH, Waters was adamant You Gotta Be Crazy didn’t fit with his concept for the album. Having got his way, Waters then delivered Have A Cigar and Welcome To The Machine. This is where I start to have issues.

I like Roy Harper and he does a great job on Have A Cigar in conveying the insincerity and cynicism of a certain type of record business executive. But it's that very cynicism that makes the track so unedifying for me. The "by the way, which one's Pink?" line fits well, but only adds to the dark sarcasm at the root of the song.

Waters and Gilmour fought over the inclusion of Harper’s vocal and on this occasion Gilmour prevailed. Roger Waters dislikes the vocal to this day, saying Harper laid the smarminess on too thick. 

The tune itself is charmless, and this mood of relentless cynicism is compounded by Welcome To The Machine, a clear indication of where Pink Floyd's music would go on their next two albums, Animals and The Wall.

One of Scarfe's images for
Welcome To The Machine
Enhanced in their live shows by the nightmarish visualisations of Gerald Scarfe, Welcome To The Machine is a doom-laden dirge, sonically brilliant but not remotely uplifting lyrically or melodically.

Which was the point, I suppose, and I think this is my issue with the album. I have always found it hard to empathise with Waters’ protestations that he was now a slave to the music business – a business that had supported him and the band for several years in the late 60s and early 70s when Pink Floyd were noodling about looking for a fresh direction, after their initial success with Syd.  

The contrast with Dark Side Of The Moon is striking - there's an empathy behind the cod philosophy of Water's lyrics on their 1973 masterwork. But by 1975, there was only despair and rage. Woe is me, I'm a millionaire rock star tied to a life of mass adulation and million-selling albums (regardless of their quality). 

So, for me, Wish You Were Here is a good album, but not their masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination.

I'll be checking out the new mixes of Shine On You Crazy Diamond, though. That's definitely worth a listen. 

Here's the full audio of the Pink Floyd show at Wembley Empire Pool in November 1974
Starts off with everyone's first hearing of Shine On You Crazy Diamond and continues with Dark Side of the Moon, in full and an encore of Echoes. What a treat, and I was there. 

IF YOU LIKE MY BLOG, PLEASE HIT THE FOLLOW BUTTON ON THE SIDE PANEL THANKS

Also On This Blog:
Pink Floyd On Tour in 1974 and 1977

Thursday, 27 November 2025

Bob Dylan's Idiot Wind marks his re-emergence, 1975

When Bob Dylan went to ground in 1966, it would be eight years before he returned to live performance. Eight momentous years, during which the singer's words became entwined with astonishing events - freedom marches, assassinations, the war in Vietnam, the moon landings.

The poet and author Daniel Mark Epstein witnessed Dylan's return to the stage at Madison Square Garden in 1974. He had last seen Dylan perform live in 1963.

"Since then, his words had become prophetic."

And now, "Bob Dylan returned to the spotlight, with his guitar and harmonica, riding waves of applause. He launched into 'The Times They Are A-Changin'' and the audience cheered as they recognised the words."

Dylan getting used to playing live again, 1974
Come gather round people wherever you roam
And admit that waters around you have grown
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone.

But Dylan was nervous, understandably after such a long period away from the stage. He sang at a breakneck speed, "as if he couldn't wait to put it behind him, with all that burden of personal and shared history." 

As the set progressed though, he warmed to his task, resurrecting many of his most iconic songs and showing that he still had the fire in his belly; his ability to memorise lyrics in full display.

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon

It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding runs to 113 lines and almost 700 words. The darkness at the edge of noon is a metaphor for mankind's interference with nature. Dylan takes aim at the pillars of society and, in a radical lyrical change, received with great applause, he takes aim at Richard Nixon, at the time accused of criminal conspiracy to steal secrets from his political opponents.

"...even the President of the United States, sometimes must have to stand naked"

Dylan's last studio album, Planet Waves, was a collection of pleasant songs, including one genuine contender in Forever Young. But fans still yearned for the poetry and social conscience that marked Dylan out as the voice of a generation in the 1960s.

The 1974 concerts with The Band showed Dylan where he needed to be. As his cosy family life dissolved and he embraced his music fully once again, he produced a masterpiece.

Blood On The Tracks contains some beautiful, graceful songs of love lost, tender moments shared and trust betrayed. It's arguably his most romantic album, apart from perhaps Blonde On Blonde, but it's also in parts his most angry.

Idiot Wind is the centrepiece song from side one. It's the tale of a man misunderstood, interwoven with bitterness and personal attacks on a former lover.

With typical obtuseness, Dylan denied the lyrics are in any way autobiographical, but it is very hard to believe him, given the proximity to his break up with wife Sara, and the sheer bile he invests in the lyrics.

On Idiot Wind, a poison pen letter to an estranged lover and confidante, Dylan lashes out at his partner and laments his predicament as a misunderstood public figure.

"People see me all the time, and they just can't remember how to act."

The line, "I haven't known peace and quiet, for so long I can't remember what it's like," is so pointedly personal it's hard to believe he isn't talking about himself.

Domestic bliss in Woodstock
He then seems to acknowledge that despite his life of family contentment, he wasn't cut out for it:
"You tamed the lion in my cage, but it just wasn't enough to change my heart."

So much anger and hate in these lines, it feels like intruding on private grief:

"I can't feel you anymore
I can't even touch the books you've read
"

And the final dismissal:

"I've been double-crossed now
For the very last time and now I'm finally free
I kissed goodbye the howling beast
On the borderline which separated you from me
You'll never know the hurt I suffered
Nor the pain I rise above
And I'll never know the same about you
Your holiness or your kind of love
And it makes me feel so sorry
."

Idiot Wind....

Great songs and all, truly, but the reason I think Blood On The Tracks was so successful artistically and commercially, was that it was relatable. Anyone who has gone through a bitter break-up could empathise with the protagonist of Idiot Wind. The anger and spite in that song is not typical of the remainder of the album, which has some of the most romantic and heart-felt songs in Dylan's entire repertoire. Who amongst us cannot relate to the emotions expressed in "If You See Her, Say Hello" or "Simple Twist of Fate"?

Is it wrong to get enjoyment from a famous artist dissing their ex so publicly? The answer lies in how we project ourselves onto these words.

The clip featured here is from the second leg of the RollingThunder Revue tour - the 1976 stadium tour rather than the small club tour featured in Martin Scorsese's movie

This clip, while not of the greatest visual quality, packs a punch on the musical front. The band gives the song a bouncier feel but there is nothing bouncy about Dylan's delivery. It captures the anger of the recorded version very well, which is perhaps a reflection that has reconciliation with Sara around this time wasn't working out. 



The recording is from a TV special aired in September 1976 but dating from May 23 in Fort Collins, Colorado. It was the penultimate show of the Rolling Thunder tour. Reviews at the time noted how the initial charm of Dylan's travelling show had largely worn off. This performance was also released as part of the Hard Rain live album. Apart from bassist and band leader Rob Stoner, the band at this late stage of the tour consisted of T-Bone Burnett, Steven Soles and David Mansfield on guitar, Scarlet Rivera on violin and Gary Burke on drums.

Someone's got it in for me
They're planting stories in the press
Whoever it is I wish they'd cut it out quick
But when they will I can only guess
They say I shot a man named Gray
And took his wife to Italy
She inherited a million bucks
And when she died it came to me
I can't help it if I'm lucky

People see me all the time
And they just can't remember how to act
Their minds are filled with big ideas
Images and distorted facts
Even you, yesterday
You had to ask me where it was at
I couldn't believe after all these years
You didn't know me better than that
Sweet lady

Idiot wind
Blowing every time you move your mouth
Blowing down the back roads headin' south
Idiot wind
Blowing every time you move your teeth
You're an idiot, babe
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe

I ran into the fortune-teller
Who said, "beware of lightning that might strike"
I haven't known peace and quiet
For so long I can't remember what it's like
There's a lone soldier on the cross
Smoke pourin' out of a boxcar door
You didn't know it, you didn't think it could be done
In the final end he won the wars
After losin' every battle

I woke up on the roadside
Daydreamin' 'bout the way things sometimes are
Visions of your chestnut mare
Shoot through my head and are makin' me see stars
You hurt the ones that I love best
And cover up the truth with lies
One day you'll be in the ditch
Flies buzzin' around your eyes
Blood on your saddle

Idiot wind
Blowing through the flowers on your tomb
Blowing through the curtains in your room
Idiot wind
Blowing every time you move your teeth
You're an idiot, babe
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe

It was gravity which pulled us down
And destiny which broke us apart
You tamed the lion in my cage
But it just wasn't enough to change my heart
Now everything's a little upside down
As a matter of fact the wheels have stopped
What's good is bad, what's bad is good
You'll find out when you reach the top
You're on the bottom

I noticed at the ceremony
Your corrupt ways had finally made you blind
I can't remember your face anymore
Your mouth has changed
Your eyes don't look into mine
The priest wore black on the seventh day
And sat stone-faced while the building burned
I waited for you on the running boards
Near the cypress trees, while the springtime turned
Slowly into autumn

Idiot wind
Blowing like a circle around my skull
From the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol
Idiot wind
Blowing every time you move your teeth
You're an idiot, babe
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe

I can't feel you anymore
I can't even touch the books you've read
Every time I crawl past your door
I been wishin' I was somebody else instead
Down the highway, down the tracks
Down the road to ecstasy
I followed you beneath the stars
Hounded by your memory
And all your ragin' glory

I been double-crossed now
For the very last time and now I'm finally free
I kissed goodbye the howling beast
On the borderline which separated you from me
You'll never know the hurt I suffered
Nor the pain I rise above
And I'll never know the same about you
Your holiness or your kind of love
And it makes me feel so sorry

Idiot wind
Blowing through the buttons of our coats
Blowing through the letters that we wrote
Idiot wind
Blowing through the dust upon our shelves
We're idiots, babe
It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves

- Bob Dylan 1975

Friday, 23 February 2024

Who's next - lightning in a bottle

Photo by Ethan Russell

In their heyday The Who were a truly exciting live band; there can be little argument about that. But it wasn't until the release of their 1971 album 'Who's next', that they managed to capture the explosive nature of their live shows on a studio album. 

From their earliest shows, The Who created mild outrage with their stage antics, especially the smashing of guitars and drums at the climax of their set. 

Their December 1968 stint on 'The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus' showed that even without the pyrotechnics they were a match for anyone playing live. 

That confident, cheeky performance of  'A Quick One, While He's Away' was perfectly pitched for the circus tent, and so much more polished and powerful than the Stones' lacklustre act. 

Indeed, it was this upstaging of the Stones, as much as the sorry state of Brian Jones, that convinced Jagger & Co to shelve the Rock and Roll Circus film. It didn't see a full official release for almost 30 years.

From the late '60s on, with the 'Tommy' album as the core of their act, The Who built a reputation as a heavy rock band, culminating in their triumphant early morning stint at Woodstock in August 1969. 

The 1970 'Live At Leeds' album was an all-guns-blazing set, with Pete Townshend and Keith Moon driving each other to new extremes. Check out this clip of them playing the original vinyl album's opener 'Young Man Blues' at the Isle of Wight festival that same year.

As the Village Voice music critic Robert Christgau wrote in 1971, The Who's studio recordings thus far were marred by a thin sound. Their 1971 masterpiece 'Who’s next' changed all that. With the help of master engineer Glyn Johns, they managed to transfer the power and majesty of a Who live show onto a studio record for the first time. Christgau said the group "now achieves the same resonant immediacy in the studio that it does live".

The Who in 1971 around the time of Who's next
It was a volatile chemistry that made them such an exciting and often unpredictable live act. John Entwistle played lead lines on the bass, allowing Townshend the freedom to jump around, imitate a windmill and bang out his wild riffs.

Moon was the whirlwind, totally unconventional as a drummer, but at his best, as on 'Who's next', he brought exceptional musicality to the drums. 

By '71 and tired of playing 'Tommy' and their 60s hits to the same audiences, Townshend conceived a new album concept as their next big project. He built himself a studio and began creating a new musical landscape. 

In the new Apple TV series 1971, Townshend says, “I’d heard about synthesisers and music computers and I could see this new revolution coming.

NME review, click to enlarge
"Lifehouse was going to be a movie based on a dystopian idea about the way media, electronics and technology would change society. I imagined this world in which there was incredible pollution, incredible difficulty with living in the outside world and so what the government did is it stuck us in our houses and fed us entertainment to keep us happy while they cleaned up the air.

“I called it The Grid, this global communication system where everybody would be fed similar stuff. It would be surreptitiously policed and censored. 

"Once they’d got us in and they were feeding us the programmes, we would imagine we had access to everything, because of its richness, its persuasiveness and its beauty. It was an anticipation of the idea that everything would go wrong, but that music would prevail."

Unfortunately, Pete couldn’t sell his vision to the band. They thought he'd gone mad. But producer Glyn Johns was sufficiently interested in the musical ideas to help Pete condense them into conventional backing tracks that The Who could then play along to. 

Rolling Stone
magazine’s 1971 review noted that “Townshend wrings more than his money’s worth out of his £14,000-worth of synthesizers, making, I daresay, shrewder at once more adventurous and better-integrated — use of them than any rock experimenter before him."

In 'Baba O’Riley', for instance, he sets the stage for the band’s dramatic entrance with a pre-recorded VCS3 part he obtained by programming certain of his vital statistics into a computer hooked up to the synthesizer, then treats the part as a drone while the song’s two major chords are transposed over it.
All in the best possible taste

The looped and synthesised intro to 'Baba O’Riley' and the trippy electronics of  'Won’t Get Fooled Again' were inspired by minimalist composer Terry Riley’s 1967 album 'A Rainbow in Curved Air'. 

Rolling Stone
noted the quality of the musicianship on this album, “with Moon thrashing and bashing more precisely than ever before on record, Entwistle dreaming up all manner of scrumptious melodic and rhythmic flourishes (listen especially to what he plays beneath the chorus of 'Won’t Get Fooled Again').

"And Townshend, with chunky acoustic rhythm, resounding monster chords of the classic sort, and cogent and lyrical solos, playing with exemplary efficiency and taste.” 

Singer Roger Daltrey also rose to the occasion with some of his most assured vocals, including the legendary scream at the climax of Won't Get Fooled Again. 

Re-reviewing 'Who’s next' in the mid 1970s, the NME’s Steve Clarke noted that Keith Moon’s unique style of playing – often without a hi-hat, hence the wash of cymbal sounds on many recordings – meant he lacked “the bombastic precision of many of Britain’s rock drummers. Instead. Moon sounds spontaneously manic, and nowhere has he sounded better than here.”

back cover photo
While the dramatic opening and closing tracks of 'Who's next' are the ones most people remember, there’s a satisfying variety in the moods in the remaining songs, with particularly melodic passages in 'Love Ain’t For Keeping', 'Song Is Over' and the utterly brilliant 'Behind Blue Eyes'. The acoustic-to-electric transition on the latter exemplifies the tension and release dynamics of The Who at their best – and with lyrics to match.

When my fist clenches crack it open, before use it and lose my cool. If I smile, tell me some bad news, before I laugh and act like a fool.

RS described ‘Song Is Over’ as “an unutterably beautiful song in which Townshend sings exquisitely over a gentle piano background with Daltrey charging in exhilaratingly, with breathtaking chord changes in the manner of the “Listening to you I hear the music . . .” refrain from Tommy.”

Photo by Ethan Russell

Pete may have failed to get the broader Lifehouse project off the ground, but 'Who's next' nonetheless carries a strong sense of what Clarke observed as “We’re all part of something bigger and somehow one day we’ll all join together as one.” 

The cover shot of the monolith, apparently taken in a Sheffield slag heap they passed in the tour bus (Or was it? see below) is odd but effective, although as Townshend pointed out, it bears no relation to the narrative of the record.

Indeed, photographer Ethan Russell said he thought after they had done it there was no chance it would be used.

Quite how it was selected, then, will remain a mystery. But in a recent twist to the tale, someone in Derbyshire has identified where the monolith actually was - since neither Russell or the band could recall exactly where they were when it was taken. 

The concrete pillar was actually a drain built into a spoil heap from a Derbyshire colliery to help prevent landslips.

John Hirst, who worked for Chesterfield Borough Council in the 1970s, photographed it a number of times before it all but disappeared. 

Today only the very top of it is visible at ground level, in what is now a farmer’s field.

Here's the full story from the Derbyshire Times: https://www.derbyshiretimes.co.uk/news/people/i-sat-on-this-for-years-film-crew-visits-derbyshire-field-to-unearth-truth-of-classic-who-album-cover-4677778

Townsend added, "Of course I don’t like it. It’s got no artistic consequence whatsoever. No link to the music. It’s meaningless. It’s four guys stopping in a car and pissing up against a chunk of concrete. Anyway, can we move on?"





 



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Also On This Blog:

Five Days of Drama at The Isle of Wight, 1970

The Who 'Put The Boot In' at Charlton FC, 1976

Sunday Night at The Saville, 1967
 
2-Tone and possibly my best gig ever

Queen's 1976 Free Concert in Hyde Park

Memories of the Reading Festival, 1975

Five Days of High Drama at the Isle of Wight, 1970

From Pinner to LA - Elton's Big Breakthrough, 1970

My Woodstock 50th Anniversary Diary

A Wizard, A True Star - my all-time favourite album

Blonde On Blonde - Bob Dylan's Artistic Peak in the 1960s

 Joni Mitchell - The Hissing of Summer Lawns