SEÑOR COCONUT Y SU CONJUTO - EL BAILE ALEMÁN @ 25

 

Celebrating its 25th anniversary today is the sophomore release by Señor Coconut, El Baile Alemán, which was released on December 23rd, 1999. It's an album that, at least in my mind, both revitalized my interest in Kraftwerk and sparked my taste for Latin music.

Señor Coconut is actually an alias adopted by German electronic music producer, Uwe Schmidt, who adopted the name as a pseudonym after departing his home in Frankfurt for Santiago de Chile. While he'd started off in the arena of techno, the seduction of Latin music sparked this alter-ego to take hold, first producing an album of originals, then conceiving the idea to do an entire album of Kraftwerk covers in the Latin style.

Schmidt had developed an interest in Latin culture early in the 1990s when he took a sabbatical from his hectic production schedule to live in Costa Rica for six months. It was some time in 1993 that the idea for Señor Coconut took root, but it would be a few years before the concept would begin to take shape. Schmidt had found himself disconnected from the German techno DJ & dance scene, with the audience for that music not really taking notice of his work. By 1996, things had progressed enough that Schmidt was able to get himself organized for a move to Chile and the production of the first album with this new identity. After that album, the concept of the Kraftwerk covers album began without any real idea of the specific style, until he started to work on a set of demos that, as a bit of amusement, he created in a kind of "cha-cha" style. Entertained by the result of the first programmings, he produced a total of 4 songs which he sent to some record companies. One of those companies, Tōwa Tei's Akashic Records, immediately licensed the album, releasing El Baile Alemán upon completion of the production.

Uwe Schmidt obtained official permission by Kraftwerk themselves to release El Baile Alemán, though he had to remove his version of "Radioactivity" at the request of the band. European and North American record companies remained uninterested until triggered by the hype El Baile Alemán had caused in Japan. Soon a European, North American, Mexican, Hong Kong and a Russian release followed and the title "Showroom Dummies" was featured in the Mexican movie Y Tu Mamá También.

I discovered the album thanks to a recommendation from a friend. I had no idea who Schmidt was, nor any notion of his background & origins. All I knew was that the concept of Latin Kraftwerk covers sounded too good to pass up, and I was right! The album quickly became one of my favourite releases of that time. It was a regular and dependable party favourite. What Schmidt did with his arrangements of the songs was to highlight their versatility to being adapted to this seemingly incongruous style, demonstrating just how solid Kraftwerk's songwriting truly was. The intersection of their music with this style also brought my attention to exploring Latin music in its own right, leading me to open my ears to another vista of sounds and performing techniques. The album has remained a perennial pleasure to put on whenever I need a pick-me-up. It has not age a day in the quarter century it has been in my music library. It has a timelessness that makes it impervious to trends. It simply never fails to satisfy.

THE TOWERING INFERNO @ 50

 

Theatrically released on December 16th, 1974, The Towering Inferno turns 50 years old today. Representing the "height" of the disaster movie craze of the 1970s, it was both a box-office smash and, mostly praised by critics.

With the advancements in cinema technology in the 1970s, the phenomenon of the "blockbuster" began to drive production of movies that could take advantage of the larger screens and better sound systems. The "disaster" movie became a particularly appealing genre because it could showcase big visual effects and explosive sound, literally shaking the foundations of the theatre with massive bass bins pushing the limit of subsonic immersion. The master of the genre at that time was Irwin Allen, who worked for 20th Century Fox. He'd had a successful career in the 1960s with a string of fantastical science fiction TV series, including Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Lost in Space, The Time Tunnel, and Land of the Giants.

Allen had recently scored big with The Poseidon Adventure (1972), a big-budget, loaded-cast smash that set the stage for so many of the films that would follow. The film's tale of an ill-fated cruise ship, capsized by a tsunami, provided the template for viewers to enjoy the destruction of something massive alongside a cast stacked with some of the biggest stars of the day. It was an expensive proposition, but the box office for a hit could go through the roof, and these were movies that were definitely best seen on a BIG screen!

Securing the rights to make The Towering Inferno instigated something of a bidding war between the studios as they attempted to purchase the rights to the book, The Tower, written by Richard Martin Stern. Warner Bros. initially announced they'd purchased the book for $350,000.00, beating out 20th Century Fox and Columbia Pictures. Columbia bailed on the project at this point, but Fox bought the rights to a similar novel published a year later, The Glass Inferno, by Thomas N. Scortia and Frank M. Robinson. It was a very similar story, and they approached Allen to direct, but he had heard about the WB plans for a similar film and warned Fox against producing a second competing movie about a burning skyscraper. This sort of thing had happened numerous times before, where similar movies were released to compete with each other, and both suffered as they cannibalized their audiences. Allen's efforts convinced Fox to negotiate with WB, and the two studios came to an agreement to co-produce a single film, with Allen at the helm, shot at the Fox studios. Fox would distribute the film in Canada and the US, while WB would have worldwide distribution, and a share structure was created for the profits.

With the corporate wrangling out of the way, the film could go into production and deal with casting, landing Steve McQueen and Paul Newman as the principal leads, who shared top billing for the film. William Holden was also in the cast and had lobbied for top billing, but was refused since his long-term standing as a box-office draw had been eclipsed by both McQueen and Newman. To provide dual top billing, the credits were arranged diagonally, with McQueen lower left and Newman upper right. Thus, each appeared to have "first" billing, depending on whether the credit was read left-to-right or top-to-bottom. Other stars included Faye Dunaway, Fred Astaire, Richard Chamberlain, O.J. Simpson, Robert Vaughn, Robert Wagner, and Jennifer Jones.

As mentioned, the film was a major box-office blockbuster upon its release. I have distinct memories of going to see it in the theatre and being blown away by the scope and scale of it all. Of course, I was only 11 at the time, so I didn't notice a lot of the clichés that would become common in the disaster genre in its wake. While many critics were impressed with the film, some were less than generous. Pauline Kael, writing for The New Yorker, panned the writing and characters as retreads from The Poseidon Adventure. Gene Siskel of the Chicago Tribune gave the film two-and-a-half stars out of four, calling it "a stunt and not a story. It's a technical achievement more concerned with special effects than with people. That's why our attitude toward the film's cardboard characters is: let 'em burn!"

Regardless of the critical response, the film has a kind of iconic status for that generation of moviegoers. SCTV famously parodied the film, dedicating an entire 1982 season episode to their recreation of the film, as the fictional TV station moves into a too-tall and too-thin skyscraper plagued by shoddy workmanship and inferior materials, mocking the genre's overworked clichés.

YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN @ 50

 

Celebrating its golden jubilee today is the monster masterpiece masterminded by Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder, Young Frankenstein, which had its theatrical premiere on December 15, 1974. A triumph with critics and audiences alike, it has become one of the pair’s most iconic and beloved films.

Young Frankenstein was principally the brainchild of Gene Wilder, who had been cooking up the idea for some time before bringing it to Mel Brooks. Initially, Brooks balked at the concept, claiming there were already enough Frankenstein movies. Brooks recalls:

“I was in the middle of shooting the last few weeks of Blazing Saddles somewhere in the Antelope Valley, and Gene Wilder and I were having a cup of coffee. He said, ‘I have this idea that there could be another Frankenstein.’ I said, ‘Not another! We’ve had The Son of, The Cousin of, The Brother-in-Law of. We don’t need another Frankenstein.’ His idea was very simple: What if the grandson of Dr. Frankenstein wanted nothing to do with the family whatsoever? He was ashamed of those wackos. I said, ‘That’s funny.’”

With Brooks onboard, Wilder set some conditions, namely that Mel couldn’t be a major character in the movie. Wilder argued that Mel had a knack for breaking the fourth wall—even unintentionally—and he wanted to preserve that wall for this film, which was intended as a sincere homage to the 1930s horror classics. There would be no “winking at the camera.” As a compromise, Mel contributed some voice-over elements and played a villager in a minor role. His principal contributions, however, were as director and co-writer alongside Wilder. In a 2016 interview, Brooks elaborated on their writing process:

“Little by little, every night, Gene and I met at his bungalow at the Bel-Air Hotel. We ordered a pot of Earl Grey tea with cream, a small kettle of brown sugar cubes, and a pack of British digestive biscuits. Step by step, ever so cautiously, we proceeded on a dark, narrow, twisting path to the eventual screenplay—in which good sense and caution are thrown out the window, and madness ensues.”

When pitching the film to studios, two major hurdles arose: the budget and the decision to shoot in black and white. Columbia Pictures initially agreed to back the film but refused to allocate the requested budget or support a black-and-white production. Brooks, unwilling to compromise, walked away and brought the project to 20th Century Fox. For the production, they secured original props from the 1930s Frankenstein films and mimicked the era’s film-making techniques, including period-accurate title cards and circular wipe transitions.

Brooks and Wilder were mostly in sync during filming, though they clashed over the “Puttin’ On the Ritz” musical number. Brooks initially refused to include it, believing it would be too absurd to have the monster perform as Wilder envisioned. Wilder, however, persisted and ultimately browbeat Brooks into relenting. In hindsight, Brooks admitted Wilder was right to insist on its inclusion.

The film features Gene Wilder in the starring role alongside a stellar cast, including the recently deceased Teri Garr, who was just beginning to make a name for herself, Peter Boyle as the Monster, Cloris Leachman, Madeline Kahn, and Marty Feldman. Wilder wrote the role of Igor specifically for Feldman, who improvised several gags, such as moving his hump from side to side and quipping “What hump?” when it was mentioned.

As a whole, Young Frankenstein offers a remarkably consistent and focused cinematic vision. It adheres with razor-sharp precision to the moods, imagery, and styles of the original Frankenstein films while effectively amalgamating elements from Frankenstein (1931), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), Son of Frankenstein (1939), and The Ghost of Frankenstein (1942). The result is a lovingly crafted parody that simultaneously honours its source material.

Critics at the time were near-unanimous in their praise. Vincent Canby of The New York Times called the film “Mel Brooks’ funniest, most cohesive comedy to date,” adding, “It would be misleading to describe Young Frankenstein, written by Mr. Wilder and Mr. Brooks, as astoundingly witty, but it’s a great deal of low fun of the sort that Mr. Brooks specializes in.” Roger Ebert awarded the film four stars, calling it Brooks’ “most disciplined and visually inventive film (it also happens to be very funny).” Gene Siskel gave it three stars out of four, writing, “Part homage and part send-up, Young Frankenstein is very funny in its best moments, but they’re all too infrequent.” Variety declared, “The screen needs one outrageously funny Mel Brooks film each year, and Young Frankenstein is an excellent follow-up for the enormous audiences that howled for much of 1974 at Blazing Saddles.” Riding the momentum of Blazing Saddles’ success, Young Frankenstein became a smash at the box office, cementing Brooks and Wilder as comedy titans of the 1970s.

Half a century later, the film has lost none of its charm. Its timeless tribute to classic film-making ensures it remains impervious to the ravages of time and trends. Young Frankenstein refuses to fade—a true classic.

THE CLASH - LONDON CALLING @ 45

 

Marking its 45th anniversary today is the third album by The Clash, London Calling, which was released in the UK on December 14th, 1979. Though the initial steps towards creating the record were fraught with struggles, their efforts would produce the band's most popular and enduring album.

Prior to beginning work on the album, principal songwriters Mick Jones and Joe Strummer were both suffering from writer's block, not having come up with anything new for nearly a year. The group had struggled with their sound and musical direction on their sophomore album, Give 'em Enough Rope, resulting in an uneven record that garnered mixed responses from fans and critics. They had also recently split from manager Bernie Rhodes, resulting in the group losing their rehearsal space. Things began to turn around once they got settled into new digs and could begin to focus on breaking through the writer's block that had stifled their output. This was accomplished primarily due to a greater discipline fostered during the rehearsal stages for the album. The band developed a daily routine of afternoon rehearsals, broken up by a late-afternoon social football game, which encouraged a friendly bond between the band members. The football was followed by drinks at a local pub, and a second rehearsal in the evening.

While the group had been touring the US, the Americana influences helped to broaden their interest in pursuing more varied musical styles. They'd already begun to break out of the "punk" shackles on their second album, dabbling in Jamaican-inspired reggae and ska, as well as hard rock, but now they were adding rockabilly, New Orleans R&B, lounge jazz, and new wave-tinged pop to their repertoire. The band gradually rebuilt their confidence, with the styles of the session's early cover songs setting the template for the diverse material that would be written for London Calling. They were also encouraged by a growing recognition of drummer Topper Headon's skills, which they realized could be used to perform music in a wide array of genres beyond simple punk rock.

Once all of these influences took flight in the studio, the group managed to whip up enough for a double LP's worth of solid songs, each with its own infectious hooks. Though most double LPs tend to suffer from filler tunes, the flood of creativity that burst the damn during the production of this album helped ensure that the quality of the material remained consistent from start to finish. Everything from the album's opening title track to the rousing Train in Vain, a radio hit that helped crack the North American market, ensured the album was a major success with both critics and record buyers on both sides of the pond, who snapped up the release in droves.

Since its release, the album has secured itself a place as one of the most lauded releases, not only for the band, but in all the annals of rock 'n' roll. It regularly finds itself riding high on lists of all-time best rock albums ever released. It certainly set the high water mark for The Clash. While they would have other hits after this, nothing would match the sheer consistency & quality achieved on London Calling.

THROBBING GRISTLE - 20 JAZZ FUNK GREATS @ 45

 

Celebrating its 45th anniversary today is the third LP from Throbbing Gristle, 20 Jazz Funk Greats, which was released by the band's own Industrial Records imprint on December 10th 1979. While it was the group's most accessible record to date, it has also become recognized as one of the most insidiously subversive albums to ever come from the genre that Industrial Records gave a name.

Up until the release of 20 Jazz Funk Greats, TG had made a name for themselves through a series of brain crushing live performances and a couple of unclassifiable LPs, which combined segments of recordings from their live performances along with studio concoctions created using the primitive facilities of their Death Factory studio, located in the basement level at 10 Martello St, in Hackney. Their debut LP, Second Annual Report, was a dirge of electronic lo-fi noise that oozed and sputtered with a queasy murk of fuzz, bass throb and incidental jabs of seemingly random chaos. With their follow up single, United, they dabbled in a bit of techno-pop, and their next album had a range of styles, from creepy to ambient to churning to flat out noise. Little of it was particularly accessible, challenging the patience and the auditory senses of listeners. So when it came time to do their next album, the group were eager to confound the expectations of their audience and critics, because TG were nothing if not consummate contrarians.

The initial inspiration for the album came about because of a visit by Genesis with his mum, who asked him why he didn't do a "nice" record for a change. The comment stuck and the idea was brought back to the band to do something more ordered and structured, less noisy and more like a "pop" record. Of course this idea didn't merely sit at that level, as the band then began to turn the concept over and explore ways to subvert the format. They took every aspect of every song into consideration, as well as ideas for packaging and design.

For recording, this would be the first fully studio produced LP by the band, since both the previous LPs and single had incorporated live performance recordings. Peter Christopherson, who was working as a partner in the Hipgnosis design firm, had been involved in a cover design for Paul McCartney prior to TG beginning work on their new LP. Through this connection Peter managed to secure the loan of a 16 track recording system from McCartney. This allowed the group to achieve a recording quality they'd never had before, giving the new album production values far beyond the primitive results of their earlier works. They'd also managed to acquire a lot of new gear from Roland and its subsidiary brand BOSS, including drum machines, synthesizers, effects units and amplifiers. With all this new kit in tow, they were assured a sound on the new album miles ahead of where they'd got to before.

Musically, the construction of the album was carefully discussed and debated in terms of what kinds of tracks to have in which position on the album. For example, they knew they needed something a bit light and rhythmic to kick off each side of the record, choosing pieces like the title track and Hot On the Heels of Love. From there, they ran the gamut of styles from the pastoral beauty of Beachy Head and Walkabout to the perverse pulse of Persuasion to the grinding churn of Convincing People and What A Day. Yet even with the intensity cranked up, the clarity was never sacrificed.

Of course the massive cherry for this album was the impeccably deceptive cover graphics. The front photo depicts the band, smartly dressed in summer casuals, smiling vacantly in a grassy green field peppered with wild flowers, next to a barely perceptible cliff. Because of the cloud cover on the day of the photo shoot, it's not entirely obvious that they're next to a cliff, let alone that it's Beachy Head, a location notorious as a suicide hot spot. In fact, Sleazy commented that it was incredibly difficult to get the shot to look like a nice day and not gloomy because of the weather. He had to do a lot of careful processing of the photo to lighten it up. The group also rented a Range Rover vehicle to get out to the shoot, and made sure to include it in the photo as a status symbol, being as they were all the rage for the wealthy at the time, giving the group a false appearance of affluence. The album's title was an ironic joke as there was virtually nothing jazzy or funky about the record, and there were only 11 tracks, not 20. The idea was that the record should look like some innocuous discount bin pop LP you'd find you your local department store, something someone's gran might pick up out of curiosity, only to put it on the phonograph at home and find something unexpected instead.

With the album's release, critics and fans were confused as to where TG were going and what they were aiming to achieve, though after the initial shock, both groups began to appreciate the subtleties of the record. As time passed, people noticed its prescience in terms of anticipating music like acid house techno with tracks like Hot On the Heels of Love, which was created as a song Cosey might strip to when she was doing her striptease gigs. As Industrial music has evolved and grown, 20 Jazz Funk Greats remains a regular touch stone release for the genre, nearly always included in any "best of" lists as a nod to the group who effectively invented the genre.

NON - RECEIVE THE FLAME @ 25

 

Released on December 6th, 1999, NON's Receive the Flame turns 25 years old today. After a trio of albums featuring bombastic drumming and vocal sloganeering ,uncomfortably akin to fascist propaganda, enfant terrible, Boyd Rice, side-stepped the Social Darwinism for a return to purely instrumental "noise music". It's all more like a throwback to his untitled debut "black" album and, likely his most revered work, Blood and Flame. The repeated allusion to fire seems significant in this context, as the album is very much a return to form in its use of heavy repetition, intricate layering and oblique references to fragmentary pop music relics. And while it is a recalling of his pioneering approach, it is also an evolution and refinement of it, offering a surprising clarity that was beyond the primitive methodologies of those earlier "lo-fi" efforts.

Refreshingly freed from the burdens of ideological controversies, the listener can simply enjoy the perfection of the sound, without having to dwell on the sociopolitical stance of its creator. In some regards, it's almost "listenable" to those who might not be accustomed to the rigours of hard-core "noise music". Boyd Rice can be a confounding personality, to put it mildly, but when he focuses only on the sound, his creative genius is undeniable. An album like Receive the Flame is a perfect example of his best abilities being allowed to flourish in all their cacophonous glory, demonstrating why he is often touted as the "king of noise music".

THE BEATLES - BEATLES FOR SALE @ 60

Released on December 4th, 1964, the fourth LP by The Beatles, Beatles for Sale, turns 60 years old today. The album was not officially released in North America until The Beatles catalogue was standardized internationally for CD in 1987. Instead the US and Canada got Beatles '65, released concurrently with Beatles for Sale, and containing 8 of the latter album's tracks, with the remainder of the album's 11 tracks coming from a track excluded from the US release of Help, plus a UK non-LP single.

The overall mood of Beatles for Sale is markedly darker and more sombre than their previous albums, with the band shying away from the trivial love songs that were predominant on their earlier works. Part of the reason for this has to do with their trip to the US and their first meeting with Bob Dylan, who famously lauded their musical abilities while chiding them for their superficial lyrics. He encouraged them to use their influence to explore more meaningful and introspective subjects. John Lennon took his comments particularly to heart. But don't think the influence was only one way. It was shortly after Dylan's encounter with The Beatles that he made the decision to go "electric" and front a rock band, recognizing that the format The Beatles had popularized was where the future of pop music was heading. The group's trip to the US also influenced the album in its use of country and folk influenced musical styles, as the band were exposed to US country music radio and sought to incorporate that style into their sound.

The album also brought a new palette of sounds into the group, particularly in the use of more exotic percussion instruments, like tympani and African hand drums. By this point, the studio was also undergoing a transition as far as how the band perceived its use. Rather than being merely a place to document their live sound, they began to understand the artificial potential of the tools at their disposal. It was with this album that they truly began to take an interest in the process of recording and the techniques that could be used to alter their sound. With this, they began to augment their arrangements, stripping back layers and complexity and giving depth and space to their sound with the use of reverberation devices.

The other factor that influenced the end result for the album was the breakneck schedule that the group had been held to because of the unprecedented explosion of popularity that had happened in the preceding two years. They were worked to the bone by their label, and because of their naivety, didn't understand that they had any say in the process. The schedules of recording, touring and making personal appearances on radio and TV meant that the group's principal songwriting team of Lennon and McCartney were left with very little time to come up with new tunes for their latest record. With Beatles for Sale, they only had eight new original songs, plus a couple used for a non-LP single, so the remainder of the album's 14 tracks consisted of cover versions of songs they'd been playing in their live set. This was a bit of a step backwards given that the previous LP had been all originals.

Despite the lack of time allowed to work on the album, the band still managed to come up with something that demonstrated definitive progress, both as song writers and performers. There was a palpable evolution in the maturity of the music, its emotional scope and the group's willingness to push their own boundaries. They were reaching a point where they would soon develop a complete command of their abilities and the tools they used to realize their vision. Critics of the times were picking up on this as well, and the album received overall very positive reviews, and of course, it was able to continue the domination of the charts The Beatles had secured with their first three albums.
 

DUNE (1984) @ 40

 

Marking the 40th anniversary since its premier is acclaimed director David Lynch's third feature film, Dune, which had its first public screening on December 3rd, 1984. Attempting the near impossible task of adapting Frank Herbert's epic novel for live action, it's a deeply flawed, yet visually inspiring interpretation that has, regardless of its issues, still managed to become a beloved cult classic.

Frank Herbert published Dune in 1965, and it quickly became a game changer in the world of science fiction novels, introducing a deeply textured, complex and densely integrated world spanning epochs of time after humanity left for the stars to colonize a myriad of worlds, each with its own distinct attributes - from environments to cultures. The book even includes a detailed appendix of terms and definitions essential for comprehending its structure and story. As such, the process of adapting it into a story for the screen, big or small, required a Herculean effort in order to try to present it in a way that could make sense to viewers, particularly when many would have no concept of the book upon which it was based. Yet the success of the novel was enough to set off a protracted series of fraught attempts to bring it to life on the screen. It's a struggle that would even go on for generations after Lynch's troubled version hit theatres.

Beginning in 1971, film producer Arthur P. Jacobs optioned the rights on agreement to produce a film within nine years, but he died in mid-1973, terminating that attempt. Next, in 1974, the option was acquired by a French consortium led by Jean-Paul Gibon, with surrealist Mexican film maker, Alejandro Jodorowsky, attached to direct. He'd made a name for himself with cult films like El Topo and The Holy Mountain, and saw in Dune the opportunity to use the film's narrative as a way to elaborate on his own metaphysical beliefs and mysticism. His vision for the film rapidly bloomed into outrageously ambitious overreach that included grandiose efforts to involve the likes of Salvador Dalí as the Emperor, Orson Welles as Baron Harkonnen, Mick Jagger as Feyd-Rautha, Udo Kier as Piter De Vries, David Carradine as Leto Atreides, Jodorowsky's son Brontis as Paul Atreides, and Gloria Swanson. Jodorowsky also approached Pink Floyd and Magma for some of the music, Dan O'Bannon for the visual effects, and artists H. R. Giger, Jean Giraud, and Chris Foss for set and character design. The plans for the film ballooned to the point where it collapsed under the weight of its ambitions, with the budget evaporating at the proposal for a 10-14 hour film! All of this history is wonderfully captured in the remarkable 2013 documentary, Jodorowsky's Dune.

By late 1976, Italian producer Dino De Laurentiis purchased the rights for Dune from Gibon's consortium. De Laurentiis commissioned Frank Herbert to write a new screenplay in 1978; the script Herbert turned in was 175 pages long, the equivalent of nearly three hours of screen time. De Laurentiis then hired director Ridley Scott in 1979, with Rudy Wurlitzer writing the screenplay and H. R. Giger retained from the Jodorowsky production. However, the death of Scott's older brother Frank from cancer put Ridley in a state where he wasn't prepared to commit to the project and backed out. By 1981, the rights to the book were about to expire, so De Laurentiis renegotiated with Herbert for a deal that added rights to sequels based on any other Dune books Herbert would write.

After seeing The Elephant Man (1980), producer Raffaella De Laurentiis decided that David Lynch should direct the movie. De Laurentiis contacted Lynch, who said he had not heard of the book. After reading it and "loving it", he met with De Laurentiis and agreed to direct and write a new script. Lynch worked on the script for six months with Eric Bergren and Christopher De Vore. The team yielded two drafts, but split over creative differences. Lynch then worked on five more drafts. Initially, Lynch had scripted Dune across two films, but eventually it was condensed into one.

When it came time for casting, Tom Cruise, Kevin Costner, Kenneth Branagh and Val Kilmer either auditioned or were screen-tested for the role of Paul. Kilmer was the top choice until Kyle MacLachlan screen-tested and snagged the lead, making this his feature film debut. The cast was filled out with Patrick Stewart, Brad Dourif, Dean Stockwell, Virginia Madsen, José Ferrer, Sean Young, Sting, Linda Hunt, and Max von Sydow.

On March 30, 1983, with the 135-page sixth draft of the script, Dune finally began shooting. It was shot entirely in Mexico, mostly at Churubusco Studios; De Laurentiis said this was due in part to the favourable exchange rate to get more value for their production budget, and that no studio in Europe had the expansive capabilities they needed for the production. With a budget over $40–42 million, Dune required 80 sets built on 16 sound stages, and had a total crew of 1,700, with over 20,000 extras. Many of the exterior shots were filmed in the Samalayuca Dune Fields in Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua. Filming ran for at least six months into September 1983, and was plagued by various production problems such as failing electricity or communication lines due to the country's infrastructure, or health-related problems with the cast and crew.

The rough cut of Dune, without post-production effects, ran over four hours long, but Lynch's intended cut of the film (as reflected in the seventh and final draft of the script) was almost three hours long. Universal and the film's financiers expected a standard, two-hour cut. Dino De Laurentiis, his daughter Raffaella, and Lynch excised numerous scenes, filmed new scenes that simplified or concentrated plot elements, and added voice-over narrations, plus a new introduction by Virginia Madsen. Contrary to rumour, Lynch made no other version than the theatrical cut. Any subsequent versions were never approved by, nor involved Lynch, and he insisted on his name being removed from the credits for those edits. Ultimately, the lack of control in the process of finishing the film would lead Lynch to distance himself from it forever afterwards, with the director rarely commenting on the production, other than to lament that he'd made the mistake of "selling out". The result of that disconnect between the film and its director would become the central flaw at its core, with the end product being a distant echo of what Lynch had tried to create.

When the film was finally released theatrically, despite heavy promotion and merchandising, the movie was an unequivocal flop. Critics ravaged the film with the consensus branding it as "the worst movie of 1984". Some of the more scathing comments included those from TV's Siskel and Ebert, with the former writing, "It's physically ugly, it contains at least a dozen gory gross-out scenes, some of its special effects are cheap, surprisingly cheap because this film cost a reported $40–45 million, and its story is confusing beyond belief. In case I haven't made myself clear, I hated watching this film." Roger agreed, "This movie is a real mess, an incomprehensible, ugly, unstructured, pointless excursion into the murkier realms of one of the most confusing screenplays of all time." Most other critics were similarly unkind.

Being a fan of Lynch's work on Eraserhead and The Elephant Man, I went to see Dune in the theatre when it was released, and was similarly baffled. I didn't know Herbert's novel at all, so I was lost for the whole thing. Yet there were things that struck me about the art direction and visual effects, things that would become iconic soon enough in my mind. The Guild Navigators were the most mind blowing. I loved the whole idea of them, and the way they were realized for the film still impresses me to this day. Then there was the majestic scale of the ships leaving Caladan to fold space, where the enormous scope of it captured my imagination. Then there was the grotesqueries of the Harkonnen, with the vile ugliness of the Barron, his sadistic vulgarity, and the hellscape of their industrial home world. These things stuck with me, and as the age of home video rentals was hitting full steam, once the movie came out on VHS, it was a popular selection for those extended evenings of heavily altered states, where the movies with the most bizarre visuals went down the best, and Dune surely had plenty of those to keep it coming back to the VCR, again and again.

Over the years, it became a movie I'd keep returning to, just to enjoy its many assets, while most of its flaws became something of an amusement to poke fun of or simply tolerate. The awful music by Toto was something to simply put up with, but the constant whispering dialogue became a source of ridicule and humour. Ultimately, the film has become something I just love, warts and all. Even in the context of the very successful and sophisticated new generation of films and TV series, there are aspects of the Lynch version that will always be stamped with his own, unequalled idiosyncrasies. Even though the director himself has effectively disowned it as no more than a lesson learned when it came to not selling your soul to big Hollywood money, I still have to wonder if Lynch doesn't have a secret corner of his heart reserved for it. I mean, you can't put so much work into such an astonishing failure and not have some parental love and regret for it. Perhaps the pain of the folly is why he never wants to talk about it. But I'll still keep coming back to it every few years for another viewing, just to remind myself of the flashes of brilliance that linger in its frames.

THROBBING GRISTLE - A SOUVENIR OF CAMBER SANDS @ 20

 

Marking 20 years since its release is the official live recording of Throbbing Gristle's second re-union performance, which was executed and immediately released on December 3rd, 2004. The event was part of a festival held by All Tomorrow's Parties at the Camber Sands resort on Britain's southern coast. The event had originally been planned to occur in May of that year, though it had to be cancelled at the last minute for reasons related to the organizers, having nothing to do with TG. TG still went ahead and performed a reunion show at the Astoria in London, on May 16th, honouring any ticket holders for the cancelled festival. The results of that show were recorded for the RE:TG video, which was eventually released in the TGV box set of the TG video archive in 2007. The initial intent of the RE:TG event was that TG would perform a single, "one and done" concert, with the band returning to their various other projects after that. However, with the festival rescheduled, TG were persuaded to regroup yet again for "one more" show, also promoted as the group's "final" appearance together.

The timing of the show was somewhat cast in a shadow thanks to the unexpected demise of Peter Christopherson's creative and life partner, Jhon Balance (Geoff Rushton), who had fallen to his death from the balcony of their home on November 13th. In the video from the Astoria gig, Balance can be seen at the foot of the stage during the finale of Discipline, rocking back and forth, evidently in the thralls of some transcendental moment. One can only imagine how difficult it was for Sleazy to perform so soon after that tragedy. In the video for the Camber Sands show, also included in TGV, Sleazy wears one of the infamous Coil fur suits that the band had recently used for some of their own live shows, as a tribute to Balance. You can also observe at one point in the performance, the emotional intensity of the moment becomes too much for Sleazy and he is overcome with grief and begins visibly sobbing. It's an incredibly touching moment of vulnerability.

The Camber Sands performance offered much of the same sort of mix of old and new material as the Astoria show, though there is a moment when the band acknowledges the loss of Balance with a brief tribute from Genesis. The principal innovation of the show was the fact that it was being recorded for immediate release on a double CD-R set that would be instantly duplicated at the show for those who wished to purchase a copy on site. Additional copies of the recording could be ordered directly from Mute Records. The resulting double album would be something of a rarity afterwards, until it was finally reissued in 2019 in a properly mastered, professionally manufactured double CD set, complete with track indexes, which were missing from the CD-R version. The benefit of proper mastering also remedied the issue of the overall lack of loudness on the CD-Rs.

Though this was supposed to be the final TG reunion show, it would not be long until the temptation to continue resulted in additional live performances, along with the group returning to the studio to record a new album, 2007's Part Two. The reinvigorated TG would continue on for six more years, until abruptly coming to an end again at the end of 2010, first with the sudden departure of Genesis P-Orridge after the first gig of of an EU mini tour, then with the sudden death of Peter Christopherson.

As a document of the band at the threshold of a new era of activity, A Souvenir of Camber Stands offers up an exceptional collection of music from a collective feeling the surge of creativity from a fresh influx of inspiration. The fact the group managed to reconnect at all after 23 years apart was something of a minor miracle. That they could find a new kind of relevance for themselves, completely sidestepping any blush of being a nostalgia act, was a testament to their integrity and artistic abilities.

PINK FLOYD - THE WALL @ 45

 

Released on November 30th, 1979, the eleventh studio album from Pink Floyd, The Wall, turns 45 years old today. Perhaps only second to Dark Side of the Moon in terms of defining a peak of the band's career, it also served as a harbinger of what would cause the band to splinter during its production and after its release.

The Wall, like many of the band's LPs, is a concept album, but for this release, the concept hit much closer to home than some others. By the end of the 1970s, Pink Floyd had reached a kind of status as a band that ultimately put them at odds with their fan base, something that would directly contribute to the creation of this record. Throughout 1977, Pink Floyd were on their "In the Flesh" tour to promote their album, Animals. Bassist and lyricist, Roger Waters, despised the experience – angered by the audience's rowdy behaviour (such as setting off fireworks in the middle of songs) and convinced that they were not really listening to the music. On July 6th, 1977, at the Montreal Olympic Stadium, a group of noisy and excited fans near the stage irritated Waters so much that he leaned over and spat on one of them.

For Waters, the experience was something of a wake-up call, highlighting how degraded the relationship with the audience had become. Instead of the crowds being a source of inspiration and an adrenaline rush, it was all feeling very adversarial and confrontational. The intimacy was completely gone, swallowed up in the grotesque size of the stadiums and driven by corporate profits over artistic merit. It ultimately felt
sadomasochistic, like some kind of perverse torture. Immediately after the experience in Montreal, Waters spoke with producer Bob Ezrin and a psychiatrist friend about the alienation and despair he was experiencing. He articulated his desire to isolate himself by constructing a wall across the stage between the band and the audience. The concept was an instant source of inspiration.

As far as the band were concerned, the situation internally was crumbling, with tensions exacerbated by the fact the band were in dire financial straights. They had hired an investment firm to manage their money, but the firm had put much of it in high risk ventures that did not pay off, so instead of helping with the band's tax burdens, they were facing severe tax penalties, which forced the band to leave the UK to protect what little money they had left. They urgently needed a new record to set their house in order again.

Waters produced a couple of demos with two distinct concepts, one was a 90 minute suite called Bricks in the Wall, dealing with the idea of an isolated rock star struggling with a corrupted relationship between him and his audience. The other demo was about a man's dreams on one night, and dealt with marriage, sex, and the pros and cons of monogamy and family life versus promiscuity. When presented with the two options, the band chose the first, with the second eventually developing into Waters' first solo album, The Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking (1984).

For production on The Wall, Waters insisted on hiring Bob Ezrin, who had previously worked with Alice Cooper, Lou Reed, Kiss, and Peter Gabriel, among many other high profile acts. Throughout the recording of the album, Bob would become a critical mediator within the band, as tensions continued to drive the members apart. He also helping develop the album's narrative. Ezrin presented a 40-page script to the rest of the band, with positive results. He recalled: "The next day at the studio, we had a table read, like you would with a play, but with the whole of the band, and their eyes all twinkled, because then they could see the album." Ezrin broadened the story-line, distancing it from the autobiographical work Waters had written and basing it on a composite character named Pink.

The Wall was recorded in several locations. Super Bear Studios in France was used between January and July 1979, and Waters recorded his vocals at the nearby Studio Miraval. Michael Kamen supervised the orchestral arrangements at CBS Studios in New York in September. Over the next two months the band used Cherokee Studios, Producers Workshop and The Village Recorder in Los Angeles. A plan to work with the Beach Boys at the Sundance Productions studio in Los Angeles was cancelled (although Beach Boys member Bruce Johnston does sing backing vocals on "In the Flesh?", "The Show Must Go On", the side 4 version of "In the Flesh", and "Waiting for the Worms").

As work continued on the album, the relationship between Roger Waters and Richard Wright became untenable. For a time, attempts to mend it had Wright taking more of an active role in the production, but the results were not satisfactory to Ezrin and Wright was initially consigned to working only at nights before Waters insisted he be out of the band entirely by the time they got to doing the final mix in LA. Wright ended up quitting the band in the end, only returning to tour as a hired musician, though he would eventually rejoin the band after Waters departed, following the tour for The Wall.

For the album's cover design, it was the first LP by the band not to have a cover by Hipgnosis since the band's debut LP. Waters had fallen out with lead designer/photographer, Storm Thorgerson, a few years earlier when Thorgerson had included the cover of Animals in his book The Work of Hipgnosis: 'Walk Away René', without consultation.

When the album was finally released, it became one of the group's biggest sellers. The album topped the US Billboard 200 chart for 15 weeks, selling over a million copies in its first two months of sales and in 1999, it was certified 23× platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). It remains one of the best-selling albums of all time in the US, having sold over 19 million copies worldwide between 1979 and 1990. The Wall is Pink Floyd's second-best selling album after 1973's The Dark Side of the Moon.

The critical response to the album, on the other hand, was decidedly mixed. The Village Voice critic, Robert Christgau, regarded it as "a dumb tribulations-of-a-rock-star epic" backed by "kitschy minimal maximalism with sound effects and speech fragments", adding in The New York Times that its worldview is "self-indulgent" and "presents the self-pity of its rich, famous and decidedly post-adolescent protagonist as a species of heroism". It's an opinion that I very much agreed with at the time of its release, finding the "poor little rich rocker" concept indicative of a kind of bloated rock star life that had been exploded by the immediacy and poverty of punk rock.

It would take many years before I could give this record a second chance and actually discover myself enjoying it. Indeed, the critical reservations at the time of its release have since given way to a general sense of reappraisal and appreciation for its merits. After 45 years, it has stood the test of time to be secure in its place as one of the band's most important and recognized works.

THE ROLLING STONES - LET IT BLEED @ 55

 

Celebrating 55 years on the shelves today is the eighth studio LP from The Rolling Stones, Let It Bleed, which was released on November 28th, 1969, in the US, and December 5th in the UK. While the record contains some of the band's most iconic staples, the period of its creation was fraught with turmoil as founding member, Brian Jones, spiralled towards his ultimate demise.

The album continues the group's move back to revitalizing its blues roots after its dalliances with psychedelia and baroque pop on albums like Between the Buttons & Their Satanic Majesties Request (1967). Their previous LP, Beggars Banquet (1968) had adjusted the band's trajectory back to the basics of the blues, though with this album, they were also dabbling in other forms of traditional Americana, including gospel and country influences. And while the majority of the group were on point with their contributions, Brian Jones was on his last leg.

Issues with Jones had come to the fore during the Beggars Banquet sessions, with Brian often showing up to the studio heavily inebriated, and grossly unprepared for the work ahead. He had become disillusioned and disconnected from the group, and by the time of the Let It Bleed sessions, he was nearly incapable of contributing at all. He only ended up participating in two of the LP's nine tracks before he was fired from the group. It was only a month later that he was found dead in the swimming pool of his home. It was a horrifyingly tragic and controversial end to the wildly creative spirit who had been responsible for getting the band off the ground in the first place.

After the dismissal of Jones, Mick Taylor was brought in to fill his slot on 2nd guitar, though his contribution to this album was also limited. As he had done for the previous album, Keith Richards stepped up as the band's workhorse to provide nearly all of the guitar parts. In addition to the rest of the band, who were also involved in nearly every track, guest musicians included percussionist Jimmy Miller (who also produced the album), keyboardists Nicky Hopkins and Ian Stewart (himself a former member of the band), and Ry Cooder.

As already mentioned, the focus was back to basics, with a heaviness and darkness pervading the overall mood. Journalist Jann Wenner described the lyrics as "disturbing" and the scenery as "ugly". When asked if the Vietnam War played a role in the album's worldview, Jagger said: "I think so. Even though I was living in America only part time, I was influenced. All those images were on television. Plus, they spill out onto campuses". Of the album's songs, the standouts include Gimme Shelter, Midnight Rambler and You Can't Always Get What You Want, all of which became staples in the band's live sets going forward, and though there were no hit singles, those songs received regular rotation on the radio, helping to establish them as mainstays of the band's repertoire.

For the LP's packaging, Mick Jagger originally asked surrealist illustrator, M. C. Escher, to design a cover, but he declined, so Robert Brownjohn was approached instead. His design displays a surreal sculpture with the image consisting of the Let It Bleed record being played by the tone-arm of an antique phonograph, and a record-changer spindle supporting several items stacked on a plate in place of a stack of records: a film canister labelled Stones – Let It Bleed, a clock dial, a pizza, a bicycle tire and a cake with elaborate icing topped by figurines representing the band. The reverse of the LP sleeve shows the same "record-stack" melange in a state of disarray. The artwork was inspired by the scrapped working title of the album, "Automatic Changer". The album cover was among the ten chosen by the Royal Mail for a set of "Classic Album Cover" postage stamps issued in January, 2010.

Upon its release, it was generally well received by critics and shot to the number 1 slot in the UK, and peaked at #3 in the US. In a contemporary review for Rolling Stone magazine, music critic Greil Marcus said that the middle of the album has "great" songs, but Gimme Shelter and You Can't Always Get What You Want "seem to matter most" because they "both reach for reality and end up confronting it, almost mastering what's real, or what reality will feel like as the years fade in." Robert Christgau named it the fourth-best album of 1969 in his ballot for Jazz & Pop magazine's annual critics poll. In later commentaries, he has said the album "still speaks to me with startling fullness and authority", with the quality of the "playing" alone "fantastic", and that despite some "duff moments" on side two, every song "stands up". Contextually, it is at the centre of what many feel is the band's high water mark of classic albums, from its predecessor, Beggars Banquet, through to the two LPs that followed, Sticky Fingers and Exile on Main Street.

THE RAINCOATS @ 45

Marking its 45th anniversary today is the debut eponymous LP from post-punk's most renown girl group, The Raincoats, which was released on November 21st, 1979. Following hot on the heels of The Slits, The Raincoats took the music of the punk scene and gave it a distinctive stamp that earned them the reputation as one of the UK's most innovative new bands in the late 1970s. While Johnny Rotten was notoriously tight-lipped at the time, when it came to praising other bands, he made a notable exception for these girls, stating, "The Raincoats offered a completely different way of doing things, ...and all the books about punk have failed to realize that these women were involved for no other reason than that they were good and original".

The origin of the group goes back to 1977. Ana Da Silva and Gina Birch were inspired to start a band after they saw the Slits perform live earlier that year. Birch stated in an interview with She Shreds magazine, "It was as if suddenly I was given permission. It never occurred to me that I could be in a band. Girls didn’t do that. But when I saw The Slits doing it, I thought, ‘This is me. This is mine.’” For the band's first concert on 9 November 1977 at The Tabernacle, the line-up included Birch, da Silva, Ross Crighton (guitar) and Nick Turner (drums). Guitarist Kate Korus (from the Slits and later the Mo-dettes) joined briefly but was replaced by Jeremie Frank. Nick Turner left to form the Barracudas, and Richard Dudanski (ex–the 101ers and later Public Image Ltd.) sat in on drums, while filmmaker Patrick Keiller replaced Frank on guitar.

Late in 1978, the Raincoats became an all female band as they were joined by the ex-Slits drummer, Palmolive, and the classically trained violinist Vicky Aspinall, with this line-up making their live debut at Acklam Hall in London on 4 January 1979. Geoff Travis, the founder of Rough Trade Records, recruited Mayo Thompson of the Red Krayola to produce the band at this time. They suggested that Aspinall approach her violin in the style of the Velvet Underground. Managed by Shirley O'Loughlin, the band went on their first UK tour with Swiss female band Kleenex, in May 1979 after Rough Trade released their first single, "Fairytale in the Supermarket".

With the release of their debut album, the group were something of a best kept secret, though their impact would be significant in later years, winning cult followers like Kurt Cobain of Nirvana. "An all-time great", The Raincoats LP is seen as a landmark in indie pop, new wave, and post-punk music, as well as one of post-punk's best albums. Charles Ubaghs, in articles for The Quietus and Tiny Mix Tapes, lauded the band and their album as exemplars of new musical exploration in the wake of the late-'70s punk movement. He dubbed it "a passionate new sound that screamed of possibility", noting the band's fusion of "oddball rhythms", use of the violin, and more that lead to "forward-thinking" music. Their cover of The Kinks, Lola, took a song that already tied the listener up in gender-defying knots and pulled a double reversal on it, twisting its gender-bending right back around on itself. Kind of a neat trick to play on a song that's already playing a trick on the listener. And this decades before anyone ever mentioned anything about "personal pronouns"!

HUGH CORNWELL & ROBERT WILLIAMS - NOSFERATU @ 45

 

Celebrating the 45th anniversary of its release today is the one-off collaboration between former Stranglers main man, Hugh Cornwell, and then Captain Beefheart drummer, Robert Williams, with Nosferatu being released on November 16th, 1979. Intended as a kind of soundtrack to the classic 1922 silent film of the same name, it's a jagged collection of often atonal tunes that failed to make much of an impact commercially, but lingers with Stranglers fans looking for neglected deep cuts from the band's early history.

This collaboration began when Cornwell, after a North American Stranglers tour, attended three consecutive Beefheart shows in San Francisco, in April 1978. Cornwell and Williams struck up a friendship after the shows and kept in touch. Later the same year, when Cornwell had a break in his Stranglers schedule, he contacted Williams just before Christmas 1978 and invited him to record an album. "As far as the motivation to make the record goes, Nosferatu was pure whimsy," Cornwell said in 2014. "I mean [Stranglers bassist Jean-Jacques] Burnel had just recorded Euroman, so I thought, why not have a go?" As the 1922 film Nosferatu had been a silent movie originally, Cornwell decided that "a good starting place would be to try to approximate a soundtrack for it."

Robert Williams was told that it would just be the two of them recording without a band, and that the songs would be written in the studio. Williams then booked some of the best recording studios in Los Angeles and invited his friend, Joe Chiccarelli, along as their recording engineer. Cornwell flew out to Los Angeles to begin the recording sessions just after Christmas 1978. With such short notice, they had to move around from studio to studio every few days, which made the recording process longer than necessary. Recording from late December into January 1979, they continued the sessions in March and April after a two month break due to Cornwell's touring commitments with the Stranglers. Cornwell has stated that Nosferatu was an "extremely expensive" album to make, and that it has never made any money. His record label, United Artists, was unaware that he was recording the album, until they started getting invoices sent to them from the recording studios. However, they still paid them all.

Various guests from the Los Angeles area were invited in to play: woodwind and keyboard player Ian Underwood from Frank Zappa's the Mothers of Invention, Devo's Mark and Bob Mothersbaugh, and Williams' guitarist friend David Walldroop. "Wrong Way Round" features Ian Dury as a fairground barker (listed as "Duncan Poundcake" on the album credits). Williams said of the writing and recording process: "Hugh and I made the songs up in the studio usually starting with the drum track ... Hugh did not have a demo before starting Nosferatu but he had a few little riffs on guitar for just a few songs that we both fleshed out. Then we would bring home cassettes from the sessions to study and come up with subsequent parts. We spent daylight hours sleeping and worked throughout the night, very much like vampires."

The album was released to little fanfare, with poor sales resulting, and critical response mixed to negative, on the whole. Yet for my own tastes, I have always felt an attraction to the album's idiosyncratic & ugly awkwardness. It has a kind of angular, jagged dissonance to it that is just the right kind of wrong. I love the drumming and the quality of the production. Overall, it's got a sort of quirkiness that makes it entirely distinctive when placed in context with the rest of the Stranglers catalogue from the late '70s and early '80s. It's definitely its own "thing", owing little to anything that preceded its release.

DAVID BOWIE - SPACE ODDITY @ 55

Released on November 14th, 1969, David Bowie's sophomore solo LP, sometimes known by its eponymous title - sometimes known as "Space Oddity", turns 55 years old today. It's the album that gave the world its first proper glimpse of the superstar that would emerge over the next few years.

David Bowie had made his debut on LP in 1967 with an album that was also released with an eponymous title. That album was focused on mostly British music hall inspired pop songs, offering up a kinda of "song & dance" version of Bowie that really had little to do with the kind of artist he'd eventually become. The album sold poorly, which is why it took two years to muster up enough interest to release a second album. This time around, he was going for a kind of psychedelic tinged folk rock that seemed to be far more indicative of what he was truly capable.

The centrepiece of the album was the Space Oddity single, which was rush-released on July 11th of that year, in order to leverage the Apollo 11 moon landing. The song was inspired by Stanley Kubrick's 2001, A Space Odyssey. It received critical praise and was used by the BBC as background music during its coverage of the event. It initially sold poorly but soon reached number five in the UK, becoming Bowie's first and only chart hit until three years later, when Starman hit the top ten in 1972. Though Tony Visconti produced the album, he actually passed on producing the Space Oddity single, claiming at the time it was too much of a "novelty song". Instead, production for that song was handled by engineer, Gus Dudgeon.

Despite the success of the Space Oddity single, the album still failed to make much of an impression, even with Bowie making appearances on Top of the Pops and other shows to promote it. Bowie's label simply didn't put anything behind the album's promotion, so it effectively tanked on the charts. It wasn't until RCA reissued the album in 1972 that it finally charted, reaching #17 and hanging on to the listings for 42 weeks. In terms of the critics, the response was mixed and has remained so throughout the album's lifespan. While it has moments and support from some quarters, it is often seen as unfocused, even by Bowie himself. He was simply still lacking the confidence to take charge of his vision, and that showed in the final product. Ultimately, it stands as the first real indication of the artist to come, showing glimpses of the style and flair that would soon propel him to the stratosphere as one of the most revered respected rock musicians of all time.
 

COCTEAU TWINS - TREASURE @ 40

 

Released on November 12th, 1984, the third studio album by Cocteau Twins, Treasure, turns 40 years old today. While the album is cherished by the band's fans as one of their finest releases, the band themselves were less confident in its qualities.

The album found the group settling into what would be its stable lineup for the remainder of their career, with vocalist Elizabeth Fraser, guitarist Robin Guthrie and bass guitarist Simon Raymonde. 4AD record label executive, Ivo Watts-Russell, originally tried to hire Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois to produce the album, however Eno felt the band did not need him and Guthrie ended up producing.

The album was recorded from August to September 1984 at Palladium Studios in Edinburgh and at Rooster in West London. Raymonde alluded to Treasure being rushed and unfinished, while Guthrie referred to it as "an abortion", "our worst album by a mile", and to the period in which it was made as "arty-farty pre-Raphaelite". Additionally, Guthrie noted the record's 'dated' quality "because of the early digital stuff and the technology we used on that record. It’s got good things on it, but it’s certainly not got that timeless quality.'" Nonetheless, as Raymonde observed, "It seems to be the one that people like the best and it's probably sold the best".

So despite the band's reservations, the album has become well established with fans of the group as one of their most revered recordings. It was certainly the album that sold me on the group, though as someone who has produced music for nearly 45 years, I can appreciate when Guthrie says it sounds "dated". It's something that's common with a lot of music from that era, where the brittle quality of the 1st gen digital reverb devices and other electronics can add a harshness to the sound. Still, the quality of the music surmounts most production shortcomings.

PINK FLOYD - UMMAGUMMA @ 55

 

Released 55 years ago today, on November 7th, 1969, it's Pink Floyd's fourth album, Ummagumma, perhaps the strangest release in their entire catalogue. The album was one of their more unusual conceptual concoctions, being composed of a live album, and a studio LP that was split four ways for solo works by each band member.

The original idea behind the live album was to feature fan favourites that would subsequently be dropped from the set. Although the sleeve notes say that the live material was recorded in June 1969, the live album of Ummagumma was recorded at Mothers Club in Birmingham on April 27, 1969, and the following week at Manchester College of Commerce on May 2 as part of The Man and The Journey Tour. Keyboardist, Richard Wright, later said the recording of "A Saucerful of Secrets" was a composite from both gigs. A show at Bromley Technical College on April 26 was also recorded but not used.

The studio album was something of an experiment to allow each member to explore their own musical muse, unfettered by any collaborative concerns. Each member was given half a side of the LP to do whatever they wanted. While the initial concept was met with enthusiasm by the band, once they got into the recording process, their focus became considerably less assured, resulting in a fair bit of studio noodling, with little sense of intent or direction behind it all. The results were some of the most experimental compositions of the group's career, although it all felt a bit too self-indulgent, and even pretentiously contrived in its avant-garde awkwardness.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the album was the cover design by Hipgnosis, who were responsible for most of the band's LP covers over their career. The cover artwork shows a Droste effect, the effect of a picture recursively appearing within itself, featuring the group, with a picture hanging on the wall showing the same scene, except that the band members have switched positions, and this is then repeated two more times. The British version has the Gigi soundtrack album leaning against the wall immediately above the "Pink Floyd" letters. Storm Thorgerson explained that the LP was included as a red herring to provoke debate, and that it has no intended meaning. On the rear cover, roadies Alan Styles (who also appears in "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast") and Peter Watts are shown with the band's equipment laid out on a taxiway at London Biggin Hill Airport. This concept was proposed by Nick Mason, with the intention of replicating the "exploded" drawings of military aircraft and their payloads, which were popular at the time. The album's title supposedly comes from Cambridge slang for sex, commonly used by Pink Floyd friend and occasional roadie Iain "Emo" Moore, who would say, "I'm going back to the house for some ummagumma". According to Moore, he made up the term himself.

When the album was released, it performed well commercially, breaking into the lower reaches of the top 100 in the US and Canada, while peaking at #5 in the UK. Its critical response was also, initially, quite positive, though as time has passed and it has been contextualized by the group's subsequent output, it is now generally considered one of their lesser releases. Even the band themselves dismiss it as a failed experiment. Yet, personally, it was the album that got me interested in the band. As a teen who came of age during the dawn of "punk", I had disparaged Pink Floyd as one of the "dinosaurs" of '70s excess, a perspective that lingered until the late 1980s, when a friend played me the studio LP from Ummagumma. At the time, I was very much into the more abstract music of the day, so I was rather pleasantly surprised by the strangeness of the album. After that point, my attitude changed towards the band and I began to warm to their music in a much bigger way than was possible for me beforehand. In that sense, I will always have a certain fascination with the album.

QUEEN - SHEER HEART ATTACK @ 50

 

Celebrating its golden jubilee, with half a century on the shelves, it's the third LP from Queen, Sheer Heart Attack, which was released on November 8th, 1974. It's the album that would break the band internationally, giving them their first view from the top of the charts on both sides of the Atlantic.

After the release of Queen II in March 1974, the band struck up a partnership with Mott the Hoople, with whom they toured throughout the UK. The pairing proved to be such a success that Queen were asked to accompany them on their US tour, a situation that afforded the group the opportunity to perform at much larger venues, with more sophisticated sound and lighting systems, while also giving them the freedom to try out different songs onstage. Even though the situation solidified a friendship between the two bands that would endure throughout their respective careers, Freddie Mercury remarked that having to be an opening act was still "traumatic" for him, as he bristled with the desire to take the headlining slot, but his frustration was nothing compared to what poor Brian May was about to suffer as a result of Queen's first visit to the US.

At the climax of the tour in Boston, Brian May was discovered to have contracted hepatitis, likely from the use of a contaminated needle during vaccinations the group received before travelling. The remainder of the tour was subsequently cancelled and Queen flew back home, where May was immediately hospitalized. This wasn't the only medical emergency to befall the unfortunate guitarist that year either. After having begun to recover by the start of August, the band were in Wessex Sound Studios. Work there would not last long, however, as May, who was starting to feel uneasy, went to a specialist clinic on August 2nd. He collapsed at the clinic due to a duodenal ulcer, and would be operated on the following day. He was discharged from the hospital soon after so he could recover at home. The upshot of these bouts of illness meant that the rest of the band had to function as a trio through much of the initial recording sessions for their new album. It was a situation that put the other members on the spot to pick up the slack.

Recording of the album was somewhat fragmented due to Brian's medical situation, with recording split between four different studios: Trident and Air studios in London, Rockfield in Monmouthshire, and Wessex Sound in Highbury New Park. As the album developed, the music was moving away from the grandiose mythological subject matter of their previous albums, and into more grounded themes and subjects. Brighton Rock dealt with a love affair during a seaside vacation, Killer Queen was about a high-end prostitute, Now I'm Here was about the band's experiences touring with Mott the Hoople. All rather less fantastical than battling ogres or other such mythical fairy-tale fodder.

The band were still delivering some blistering hard rock, but there was also a lightness and playful dalliance with more diverse styles. Bring Back That Leroy Brown was a tribute to the recently deceased Jim Croce, featuring a jazzy, honky-tonk musical style, with Brian playing ukulele-banjo, and Deacon on the double bass. She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettoes) offered up a dreamy acoustic guitar driven dirge, with Brian and John doubling up on the guitars. On the other end of the spectrum, Stone Cold Crazy can only be described as photo-thrash-metal, what with its scorching tempo being enough to one day inspire Metallica to cover the song. It was one of the group's oldest compositions, dating back to their early days and being of enough antiquity that they'd forgotten who actually wrote it, thus necessitating its credit to the entire band, their first song to do so. The album also includes the first original song composition from John Deacon, Misfire.

For the cover of the album, legendary photographer, Mick Rock, was brought in again after delivering his iconic images for Queen II. Once more he managed to capture the band in a unique state. However, rather than presenting them as austere and remote god-heads, like on the previous LP, Sheer Heart Attack showed them all crumpled up on the floor like so much dishevelled dirty laundry, all sweaty and spent looking. It was as though he'd caught them just as they collapsed after a particularly rousing live gig.

The release of the album, bolstered by the single Killer Queen, sent both records roaring up the UK charts, with both the LP and single hitting #2, while in the US, they both peaked at #12. Critics were mostly favourable in their reviews as well, with the album's hard rock & glam aesthetics finding favour with the zeitgeist of the times. If there was any question that Queen had arrived, Sheer Heart Attack put those doubts to rest.

The success of the album should have put the band in a sweet spot for their career, but there was something amiss. They were somehow piss-poor and strapped for cash, thanks to mismanagement from their agents, a situation that would have to be sorted and would put them in a make-or-break position for their next album, but that's a story for another day.

MICHAEL NESMITH - THE PRISON @ 50

 

Marking its golden jubilee this month is the seventh solo album from Michael Nesmith, The Prison, which was released 50 years ago, in November of 1974. After a half dozen LPs mostly focused on the laid back country-rock sound he'd helped pioneer after leaving The Monkees in 1969, Nesmith was looking to do something different as he kicked off the first release for his very own label imprint, Pacific Arts.

Nesmith spent the previous few years creating incredibly sophisticated music that was mostly ignored by the public, and barely acknowledged by critics. With his obligation to a record label now moot, given that he was his own boss, Nesmith undertook an entirely different kind of conception for this record. The idea was to present a box set with an LP and a book containing stories intended to be read along with the songs on the album. The combination of the music, lyrics and narrative of the texts were meant to offer a philosophical musing on the nature of life, delving into existential conceptions that were a kind of mix of Buddhism and Christian Science, which was the faith he was raised in by his single mother.

Musically, while the album still lingers in a kind of country/folk landscape, the use of electronics, like the Arp Odyssey synth and Roland Rhythm 77 drum machine, take the music into a surreal sort of progressive tangent, almost akin to a countrified version of Pink Floyd, to some extent. The album's seven, often lengthy songs, took on the air of dream-like meditations, in some cases with mantra like vocal repetitions extending off into infinity. It was all meant to function as a contemplation on the nature of existence and, especially, the meaning of mortality.

Upon its release, it met with mixed critical responses. Robert Christgau called it a "ghastly boxed audio-allegory-with-book." It sold poorly and was largely overlooked by even fans of Nesmith, though it remained a favourite of the artist, who reissued the album on CD a couple of times over the years, first in 1994 and again in 2007. Each reissue, however, did not release the original 1974 mix. Subsequent editions drastically altered the recordings, adding keyboards and even updating some of the lead vocals, while some of the original elements, like the drum machine, were obscured completely.

I first encountered the 2007 version, which I initially really loved, but then discovered I could order an original sealed copy of the 1974 LP box set, directly from Nesmith, even getting it signed! Once I got the original LP and got a chance to hear it in its original mix, I was immediately sold on that version, finding the cheesy drum machine and primitive synth sounds far more charming than the updated keyboards from the "enhanced" reissued version. Though the original mix was never reissued on CD, Nesmith did finally take one of the sealed LPs and made a digital transfer of the album, which he then sold from his website as a high resolution MP3 set.

Personally, it's one of my all-time favourite solo releases from Nesmith, both because of the sophistication of the music and its themes, and the ambition of the project. In the use of printed stories with music, it's surprisingly similar to The Residents' Eskimo LP. The Prison would also turn out to be the first entry in a triptych of releases that would appear throughout Nesmith's career. The second part, The Garden, would be released in 1994, while the third instalment, The Ocean, would come in 2015 as a web only release.