Seven secrets for longevity in today's music industry

The Art of Longevity podcast is just one season in, but I’m already discovering some of the secrets as to how music artists can survive and even thrive, despite the music industry constantly shifting around them. Whether they’ve lost key band members, been dropped by labels, adapted to the shift to streaming or been blindsided by the pandemic, so many artists have kept going through thick & thin, to come out the other side more fulfilled, creatively and commercially successful than ever. 

Of course, looming over everything in the past 18 months has been the pandemic, something that has altered the landscape of the music industry so fundamentally that every artist has reflected on why they choose to do what they do, and how to make sure they can continue both creatively and commercially. 

A few years ago, I read an interview with Brett Andersen from Suede, in which he said something along these lines: all successful artists have followed a similar journey, comprising four stages: the struggle, the stratospheric rise, the crash, and then the renaissance

I’ve always been fascinated by the creative process, especially as it evolves over time. I’m not so interested in the forensics of creativity ‘in the moment’, for example the songwriting process - to me a lot of that is beyond analysis (although Song Exploder does a fine job of dissecting it all). But how bands and artists navigate their way through the mangle of the music industry, with all its ups and downs & swings & roundabouts well, that fascinates me. It takes so much: graft, resilience, collaboration and of course creativity. But it takes confidence too - to take risks, disrupt from within and tap into that third thing - the muse if you will. At times the pressure to bow to the will and wisdom of others (record execs, fans, critics, each other) requires a steely self-belief. It’s not surprising that if you ask the right questions most artists will deeply reflect and draw on some really powerful insights - as well as share some great anecdotes. 

I’m inspired to get some of the learnings down after my first seven conversations (my ‘lucky 7’ first guests, after all they are all busy enough to say no, but didn’t): Olly Knights (Turin Brakes), Nile Rodgers, Laura Veirs, Gary Numan, Tim Booth (James), Paul Smith (Maximo Park) and James Skelly (The Coral). 

I’m grateful to all of them for entering into the spirit of these conversations. I also had the feeling that for them, it was a nice change not just to talk about their latest record or the height of their fame but to reflect on what’s kept them vital over the years. I will put these first seven themes to the test in season two but I’m also looking forward to building on new themes and discovering much more. I hope these secrets can serve as inspiration to the current crop of up & coming artists and bands currently in the ‘struggle’ phase, or even on the stratospheric rise. After all, it's good to always be prepared for whatever’s around the bend.

Here are the first seven secrets to longevity:

1 - Make art not entertainment
The American playwright Thornton Wilder once said “If you write to impress it will always be bad, but if you write to express it will be good”. Many artists have come a cropper by either trying to write a hit, or, repeat the trick of writing a song similar to one that previously was. This is made harder by the pressure they are often under to do so, applied by record label execs with an obvious bias to hits, since that’s their job. But, resist the temptation and the riches come anyhow, at least sometimes. For Tim Booth of James, the idea of trying to write a hit is anathema, since every James song comes from an improvised jam. But just every so often, one of those songs will sound like it might crossover (hence She’s A Star, Sit Down, Laid and Fred Astaire). Funnily enough, this rule even applies to known hitmakers. There are few such masterful chartbusters as Nile Rodgers (his beat-up 1959 Fender Strat. is even nicknamed ‘The Hitmaker’) yet when Nile took control of David Bowie’s early folk rendition of ‘Let’s Dance’ and turned it into Bowie’s biggest commercial success, the creative result was fantastic, yet also (in Rodgers’ own words) weird. Everyone involved knew Let’s Dance was special, but it sounded like no other song ever to reach the charts. 

Gary Numan put his debut single ‘Cars’ together on the bass guitar in a few short minutes. Again, the song is weird, yet couldn’t be a bigger hit if he’d tried. Numan followed Cars with a very successful run of three number one albums but by the late eighties, he had mislaid his artistic vision as he struggled to write the kind of songs he thought people wanted to hear. In the early 90s, though, encouraged by his wife Gemma, and inspired by Depeche Mode’s ‘Songs Of Faith And Devotion’, Numan decided to write the kind of album that he wanted to hear. The result was ‘Sacrifice’, which was an unarguable return to form, a trend he sustained on the subsequent albums ‘Exile’ and ‘Pure’. Gary got his mojo back by working to Steve Wilson’s mantra: make art not entertainment.

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2 - Obsess over your references, but meld them into something that is uniquely ‘you’

The Coral is a band revered on the music scene - a real artist’s band. They are very accomplished musicians who first got together at school in the small Wirral town of Hoylake. The band members bonded over their many music icons, from The Beatles and the Small Faces to Acker Bilk and Del Shannon. Listening to a record by the Coral is a dizzying fairground tour of Liverpool’s music hall pop heritage mixed with American West Coast psychedelia and a lot else besides. Sometimes all in one song. Yet it sounds like no other band except The Coral. Music critics have tried to classify the music made by North East England’s Maximo Park for the past two decades, eventually converging on the term ‘art pop’. Yet Paul Smith, the band’s singer and main co-songwriter (with guitarist Duncan Lloyd) describes their music thus as: “Odd but still pop music. Weird but anthemic. Music with a literary influence but also immediate - in some ways primitive - it tries to slap you in the face a little bit, but twangs its way back to being pop. We try to make it accessible, if only to ourselves”. In a world in which there are really no new ideas, it’s fine to beg, steal and borrow, provided that you create something unique from it.

3 - Make music about themes you associate deeply with

Laura Veirs is a native of Colorado and resident of Portland Oregon. Originally a Geology major, Laura is better known as a supreme folk-pop singer songwriter. It’s no surprise that her music is steeped in nature. Her rise to fame came with 2004’s Carbon Glacier, the first of four records themed on the elements. Carbon Glacier was earth, Year of Meteors was sky, Saltbreakers was sea and July Flame was...guess what? Fire. By the time she got around to July Flame, she made her first masterpiece. This happened after she was dropped unceremoniously by her label. Just as well then, that July Flame became her biggest commercial success. Some 20 years after their debut, The Coral has made ‘Coral Island’, a record themed on the romantic ideal of the faded seaside town. The band has had an ongoing obsession with the sea since day one, but Coral Island was different. The band collaborated with artist Edwin Burdis to actually build the island. The band’s singer James Skelly told me he expected the album would linger in obscurity, yet it reached number two on the UK album charts and has received critical praise across the board. It’s probably their best record so far. Meanwhile, ‘Child of the Flatlands’, Maximo Park’s lead single from their new album Nature Always Wins was inspired by a walk Paul Smith took on the North East’s industrial path. The bleak, abandoned beauty of the industrial wastes close to their homeland has inspired one of their best ever songs. Gary Numan’s latest album ‘Intruder’ is based on the concept of the human race under attack from the virus (for the good of the Earth, since we don’t know better). Numan has always made his music from somewhere in the future and after 40 years he hasn’t caught up with himself yet. His belief in the theme and deep concerns for the world come through in a strong and confident new record.

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4 - Work to an internal code, pact or system

From day one in 1983 James had a philosophy and pact to always take risks - whether that be creating new songs from jam sessions to walking out on stage in front of the crowd before finalising the set. James’ are driven to experiment, and it’s remarkable that such fully formed songs as ‘Beautiful Beaches’, ‘Sometimes’ and ‘Say Something’ emerged from improvisations. ‘Honour thy error as a hidden intention’ was a card drawn from Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies deck in one recording session with the band, but James already lived by that particular axiom. Nile Rodgers has a secret recipe for creating those monster hits, but it’s nothing to do with a sound, a snappy intro or a catchy chorus. It doesn’t even involve his funky Hitmaker guitar. It is the DHM, or ‘Deep Hidden Meaning’. It was the DHM that connected Nile deeply with the lyrics to INXS’ breakthrough hit ‘Original Sin’ (which he tweaked to “dream on white boy, dream on black girl” to reflect the story of Beverly and Bobby (his mother and stepfather). For Nile, the DHM is his Oblique Strategies deck. No wonder he describes his job as a ‘problem solver’. 

When Turin Brakes found themselves high and dry in the late 2000s: dropped by their label and without an agent or a manager, the band had to regroup somewhere near rock bottom. The climb back up the hill began with a memorable gig at a leafy suburban West London lido. The band’s slow and steady resurrection built from there, working outside the mainstream of the major labels and charts and instead to a model of independence they called ‘The Robbie System’, a tribute to the patient guidance and wisdom of their drummer (and de facto caretaker-manager) Rob Allum. In effect, Turin Brakes got a head start on making their own way as an independent band - a model they are now consulted on occasionally by contemporaries and new bands alike. When they were cast out of the mainstream, they were in fact given a head start on how bands operate in the future. 

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5 - Remain grateful and humble for the stratospheric rise but know how to come down

Despite their precipitous fall off the charts, Turin Brakes enjoyed their time in the sun. So did The Coral. When the band was elevated to the top of ‘Britpop’ mania in 2002 with their song ‘Dreaming of You’ and their Mercury Prize nominated debut album, they had a great time basking in the limelight and usurping industry etiquette (a Freddie Mercury impersonator stood in for them at the Mercury Prize ceremony). However, The Coral also lost touch with reality. When they released a third album of spooky psychedelic jams, they thought it might get to number one (like their second album ‘Magic and Medicine’). It was perhaps an act of subconscious self-sabotage. James are one of those bands who are known universally for just a few songs from the early 90s, namely ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Laid’. Nile Rodgers of course is in another league when it comes to hits, reigning supreme through the 80s when he literally had the midas touch. All of them owe a debt to those early songs’ success. But they also know that those songs (as good as they are) didn’t get to be hits without the grinding machine of the record industry. Their labels and the music media, helped them reach and grow their initial fanbases. And several decades later, all of them remain grateful to this day that those songs are the reasons they get to write new songs and play them for a living. 

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6 - See line-up changes as an inevitable part of evolution

Many bands have lost founding members, but in 2008 Bill Ryder-Jones parted ways with the Coral, the band he had formed with school friends. Ryder-Jones had always been a key element to the band’s sound and is a supremely talented guitarist. When in 2008 the band realized their friend and bandmate was not coming back, they soldiered on but adapted their style out of necessity. Their next record ‘Distance Inbetween’ was more primitive in style, with rhythm to the fore. This was out of necessity, since Ryder Jones wasn’t there to play guitar; singer James Skelly played more guitar parts. Eventually the band found new guitarist Paul Molloy, who brought something new entirely with a lower tuning not unlike Black Sabbath’s Tony Iomi. Maximo Park has lost two founding members along the way, yet turned those bittersweet losses into opportunities to explore new sounds and styles. As a core of three, the band has made it’s best ever record in Nature Always Wins. 

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7 - Get very, very good live

The pandemic has been the missile many artists and bands needed to remind them never to complain again about the tour bus, the support circuit or playing to a half-full club venue in Rotheram or Hicksville USA. Live streaming has been the only way to keep your hand in, but it is not how artists want to perform and it’s no way to make a viable living. Honing your craft live is what a career in music is all about. Yes, there is making albums, but performing those songs is where it’s at. All the bands and artists that even qualify for the ‘longevity’ conversation are very good live acts who have put in their 10,000 hours in rehearsal rooms, festivals and out on the road. 

So here are the first seven secrets. Already more themes are coming through - from outside inspirations/pursuits, confidence to be contrarian and how to keep connected with fans. But, before we get into that, I want to do another season. Season one archive for the Art of Longevity Podcast is on The Song Sommelier here.

Worried About Bands? Get Booking Gigs.

The moment we have been waiting for has arrived, when we can get excited about Dry Cleaning. Yet I find myself worrying about Dry Cleaning too, so it’s a mixed bag really. I am not talking about the anticipation of emerging from lockdown or the pleasures of having someone else do your laundry once again. I am of course, referring to the recent release of Dry Cleaning’s debut album New Long Leg

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To me it’s more than just your average album release. It’s a new album with a band that really has something going for them. Surrounding the laconic spoken word delivery of Florence Shaw (here is a name you might come to know - more later) is a tightly-wound trio of drum, bass, guitar; peddling away in a style that isn’t revolutionary but climbs inside your ears nonetheless. Because of how Dry Cleaning brings these elements together, there is no danger of them making music that drops into the background. Rather the opposite in fact - put them on and you’ll find everything else drops into the background, while the nagging riffs and Florence’s seemingly random diatribe arrests you. 

It’s what bands are meant to do and that’s what has got me worried. 

Dry Cleaning is in good company. The current crop of guitar-led bands are doing similarly remarkable things. It’s fantastic to witness the comeback of bands after years and years of dominance of solo artists. I mean, what was the last band you can name that keeps hifalutin company with Drake, Ed Sheeran, Taylor Swift, J Balvin, Billie Eilish and that lot? (if you just said BTS, you know too much and therefore you also know that’s not my point). 

It might have been Coldplay. And Coldplay is a hangover from the age of bands (i.e. the 20th Century). They broke through in the year 2000 and that, I don’t need to tell you, is over two decades ago. Yet in the intervening period, everything has changed in the music industry, the outcome being (to cut a long story short) that bands are no longer really viable. I don’t need to tell you this - bands themselves will. In a recent interview Joff Oddie, guitarist with UK indie rock band Wolf Alice, told The Times, “A band is a rubbish business model”. 

Joff’s not wrong. Spotify recently revealed that circa. 8,000 artists with catalogues on the platform generated $100,000 in royalties in 2020 (this is equivalent to a nose-bleeding 36,000,000 million streams - not beyond a band with the status of Wolf Alice. But here’s the rub: that $100k is shared between the band, its label and publisher. As a four-piece band on a 50:50 royalty split deal with a label and on even pay, each member would receive just under $10,000. If the band has a manager, they would also take a fifth, so maybe more like $8,000.  If those members shared songwriting duties as well this would increase, maybe back up towards $10,000. That’s not much of a salary for a hard working band member on the level of 36 million streams. 

It’s barely enough to pay for your own washing let alone the dry cleaning. 

In a normal year, a band would be able to considerably multiply those earnings (perhaps by 5X?) through touring, but 2020 and 2021 are not normal years. A band of that status could sell enough vinyl records to earn roughly the same amount again, so a best case scenario would be annual earnings approaching $25,000 for each band member. To quote another member of Wolf Alice, this time from a few years back, this isn’t exactly the days of “Here’s £10m and a big bag of gak. Go off and do your worst...”

Of course there have been a few bands that have broken through into the higher echelons of the streaming world - Glass Animals, Imagine Dragons and The 1975 are good examples - but these have relied upon making a particular brand of music that works in the streaming world (as in ear candy, and not short on 80s references to boot). 

So earnings are a problem, but a bigger problem is getting established in the first place. It’s hard enough to get one million streams, never mind 36 million. And even if the viability threshold can be crossed one year, to sustain that success year after year is almost impossible. 

It doesn’t end there of course. Most bands are struggling to get representation from labels and publishers, since bands have not been the hot thing to sign. In these days of the attention economy, music fans find it easier to identify with solo artists. For years - perhaps since the dawn of Coldplay, we’ve struggled to know the names or personalities of anyone in the band other than the lead singer. Contrast that to the 70s, 80s and 90s when band members were individually adored and popular in their own right - enough to form spin off bands, solo careers and best-selling memoirs. 

So come on. Let’s give it up for bands. Labels - if you are struggling to find new bands to sign, why not encourage them by way of a stipend - not an advance that’s recoupable against royalties, but a guaranteed living wage. In fact, we could go further. A service like Bandcamp could step up to its name, and help fund bands in particular. In these days of industry data, it is becoming possible to ‘de-risk’ those huge A&R investments with predictive analysis that can reveal a glimpse into a bands future potential earnings. Bands might be paid a salary based on that kind of data. 

Reading the recent interview with Dry Cleaning in the superb ‘new bands’ magazine So Young, it seems the band is most excited about the upcoming opportunity to get back onto the live scene - something that applies to the vast majority of artists but resonates even more with guitar-drum-bass combos, I suppose. The good news is that bands are back, so when the time comes get back out there and support your local guitar bands folks. 

Dry cleaning is the insidious guitar riffing of Tom Dowse, hooky bass of Lewis Maynard, unfussy drumming of Nick Buxton and the laconic, seemingly random spoken word delivery of Florence Shaw. The band leads on Riff Raff vol. 6.

The Art of Longevity: our new podcast!

A few years ago, I read an interview with Brett Andersen from Suede, in which he said something along these lines: all successful artists have followed a similar journey, comprising four stages: the struggle, the stratospheric rise, the crash, and then the renaissance. 

I’ve always been fascinated by the creative process, especially as it evolves over time. I’m not so interested in the forensics of creativity in the moment - to me a lot of that is beyond analysis. I find Song Exploder mildly entertaining but not gripping. The songwriting process is one thing, but the process behind an album is another. But even more than that, the journey of a career in creating music is something different entirely. This is especially the case when those careers span decades and cover album projects in the double digits. For many of these artists and bands, creativity isn’t a stable force but has ebbed and flowed. Along with this, commercial success has come and gone too - perhaps several times over. 

Take Paul Weller’s solo career, which began after his time in two hugely successful pop groups, The Jam (‘76-’82) and The Style Council (‘83-’89). Since his highly successful and influential debut in 1992, he went on to have phenomenal solo success, first with Wild Wood (‘93) and then Stanley Road (‘95). From there he became an icon, known as The Modfather, and the founding father of Britpop and all that. As the century turned however, his albums Heliocentric and As Is Now were not particularly well-received and they didn’t ‘sell’ either. A British icon multiple times over was dropped from labels and left floundering just like any other collateral damage in a ruthless industry that churns artists through the mangle. 

Not only that, but he must have found himself disorientated by the tectonic changes happening in the music industry, first with Napster and then with Apple and iTunes. It was Weller that provided one of the very best quotes about the industry’s comprehensive mugging by big technology when he described the iPod as “like having a fridge with no fucking beers in it”. Artists always say it better. 

It took a lot of digging deep, re-thinking and just plain carrying on before Weller turned things around again and climbed back up the hill of ‘success’. He didn’t achieve this the obvious way either (perhaps there wasn’t an obvious way). The 2008 double album 22 Dreams was much more experimental, taking in jazz, folk and the soul-pop more associated with his Style Council days. Weller had replaced almost everyone in his band. It worked. At the dawn of the streaming era, Paul Weller was back on top creative form, and he continued a rich vein of creativity ever since - his most recent solo album, On Sunset, was a UK #1 (though I’d love to hear his verdict on what that means these days). 

I don’t know about you, but I want to know about how he did it. 

Our artist pages on The Song Sommelier have focused on many similar careers: Suzanne Vega, Aimee Mann, Nick Cave. Then there are the bands that have steadily thrived over the decades without ever troubling the singles charts at all, such as Spoon and The National. There are those bands that have sabotaged themselves in order to reset for a career the way they wanted it - not how others wanted it - I’m thinking Radiohead here, obviously. We’ve examined the careers of all of these bands from the fan’s perspective. 

In the Art of Longevity, we look at careers from the artists own perspective. We hop into a music time machine and head backwards or forwards in time, through the ups & downs, ins and outs and roundabouts (you get the idea) of the music industry. Ultimately we’ll reflect on learnings, wisdom, battle scars and wounds and ask “what really defines success”. It’s a question many fans and fellow musicians and all aspiring musicians want to know answers to. 

After thinking about this for many years, I finally launched The Art of Longevity as a podcast series and in Episode 1, I talk with Olly Knights, singer and songwriter of Turin Brakes. In a discussion spanning 20+ years, and zipping back & forth in our own virtual ‘music time machine’ we chat about the crash & burn (and magnificence) of Dark on Fire and the reconstruction of the band and subsequent career as they plot a route to album number 9.

To hear the podcast choose on of the various services:

Spotify

Amazon Music

Apple Podcasts

Happy Holidays USA or Merry Christmas UK? Who does Christmas tunes better?

Every year without fail, I make December an all Christmas songs affair. Never before December 1st of course, and never after the 26th, but for every minute in between, it is Christmas music in my house (and my car and on my headphones). This will absolutely include the minor 1984 Queen hit ‘Thank God It’s Christmas’, which takes on a new meaning in 2020 when you listen to the lyrics (“it’s been a long hard year”). It would really help put 2020 behind us if the song came back into vogue (it reached number 21 in the UK chart in 1984).

Never mind. We will, however, see another old Christmas song dominate the consciousness this year — and even reach number 1 on the chart, and that’s Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas. First released in 1994, it is the last bona fide classic original Christmas tune ever released (it has now passed one billion streams). I’ve written before about how this song has been re-marketed with considerable resources over the years by Sony Music. Mariah wrote the tune with Walter Afanasieff (who recently sold his 50% stake to the investment/publishing group Hipgnosis Songs Fund, so we can expect the song to keep coming every year in ever more ways). I hope it doesn’t all become too much ‘big business’, since part of the song’s universal charm is that a lot of people love it, but nobody dislikes it.

Christmas music is a funny old genre, but it’s more important than you might think. It takes up a substantial amount of listening time in December and a lot of music gets played — including the all-day Christmas tunes piped out in retail stores. For a funny take on the legacy of the Christmas song as one-hit-wonder, forever piped through supermarket speakers — do see the Nick Hornby film About A Boy.

I’ve been researching the genre for years, fascinated by the comeback of the Christmas album, which I’ve traced back to 2006 (roughly speaking), which saw the release of both Aimee Mann’s One More Drifter In The Snow (2006) and Sufjan Stevens’ Songs For Christmas box set. After that, artists on both sides of the Atlantic (and further afield) have fancied a crack at the album as Christmas cracker, exploring many different takes from cover versions to originals and traversing just about every musical style in the process: rock, pop, R&B, folk — even electronic — there playlists full of electronic xmas tunes on the streaming platforms. When country stars do Christmas, the results can be especially rewarding. Try Kacey Musgraves’ 2016 release A Very Kacey Christmas for example.

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While I have been vaguely preoccupied with the idea of a post based on a transatlantic face-off between the USA and the UK as to who does the best Holiday/Christmas music, it turns out to be something of a complicated area. While the Americans have a rich depth in holiday tunes, from the heritage of Bing Crosby, Doris Day, Billie Holiday, The Carpenters, Andy Williams and Frank Sinatra, they also have Mariah of course. But it’s possible that in the US, there is a stronger pipeline of new seasonal music coming out each year. In 2020, we have new additions to the American Christmas canon by Dolly Parton, Goo Goo Dolls, Leslie Odom Jr., Tori Kelly, Maddie & Tae, Carrie Underwood and mexicana legends Calexico. A lot of it is rather good. As mentioned earlier, it was American artists that brought the Christmas album back into vogue.

On the other hand, the UK has produced The Pogues (featuring Kirsty MacCollFairytale of New York which is a lot of peoples favourite Christmas song. The Brits have Slade Merry Xmas Everybody, which is the UKs official family Christmas drunken lunch anthem. And we have Wham Last Christmas — the saddest seasonal break-up pop banger ever made. But the Americans would hardly know it, since many of the UK’s favourite Christmas tunes have barely registered across the Atlantic — Wham is a rare exception having charted (at number 11) in the Billboard Hot 100.

Brits Bob Geldof and Midge Ure also wrote the most important (if not the best) Christmas song ever, Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas. The song has become part of British pop culture though once again, was only a minor hit in the USA (at no. 13 on Billboard). Bless him, the UK’s popical son Robbie Williams had a stab at a Christmas staple in 2019 with Time For Change, but sadly Robbie could not reverse the trend of more & more less memorable Christmas tunes. Not one to be easily deterred, Robbie is back in 2020 with coronavirus antidote Can’t Stop Christmas (“You can’t take away our season, like you can’t take away our wine”). Maybe Robbie should have another crack at it each and every year.

I guess based on the above evidence, the US is looking most likely to claim the Christmas crown, but then once I dove further back into tradition of the Christmas carol, it made me think again. It is the old folk songs that ring the Christmas bells of England, bringing to mind boozy pub sing-a-longs that can’t be beaten even by the rather schmaltzy American classics.

Yorkshire folk singer Kate Rusby for example, has made no fewer than five Christmas albums — yes five. Her first seasonal album Sweet Bells was released in 2012 and her latest, Holly Head was from 2019. Kate is on a merry mission to spread the word on the solemn beauty of the English Christmas song — a tradition of seasonal community spirit practiced from the impromptu singalongs of South Yorkshire pubs to the 19th century carols of Cornwall. The results are quite wonderful, as you’ll agree if you’d care to stop everything and spend four and half minutes in the company of the song The Holly King. Another fabulous English folk tune for Christmas was released this year (in the hot pandemic-ridden summer): Shirley Collins’ quiet masterpiece The Christmas Song.

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That said, so many of the ‘Christmas standards’ are a subset of the great American songbook, from Dinah Shore’s ebullient 1954 classic You Meet The Nicest People (At Christmas) to Andy Williams’ joyful Most Wonderful Time Of The Year (1963).

The tradition continued through to the early 1970s, when The Carpenters produced Merry Christmas Darling, a sad and beautiful number. The lyrics were written in 1944 by an 18 year old Frank Pooler, who later became choral director at California State University, Long Beach. Some 22 years after he wrote them, two of his aspiring music students, Karen and Richard Carpenter, asked the Professor if he had any ideas for holiday songs. According to Pooler, they had become tired of the standard holiday songs. Pooler gave them the lyrics and so the story goes, Richard Carpenter wrote the accompanying tune in just 15 minutes. Four years later, in 1970, the Carpenters hit number one on the Billboard Christmas charts with the song, and did so again in 1971 and 1973. And so a new American standard holiday song was created.

Perhaps, the seasonal song can be an ongoing tradition as part of the ‘special relationship’ between the UK and the USA (may it continue as the political landscape changes a?). I hope so. Most of all, I hope to be able to compile a truly great list of forgotten British Christmas songs to sit alongside my currently rather US dominated collections. Maybe I’ll start here:

Any other suggestions?

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

Seven decades of British pop genius, with Bob Stanley!

We ask Bob Stanley to put the “7 Decades” series together to celebrate Henley Business School’s 75th anniversary. The parallel between seven decades of inventive, ingenious British pop and 70+ years of innovative business teaching didn’t seem like a leap too far! Here is Bob’s essay in full, and you can find Bob’s decade summaries and accompanying playlists here.

SEVEN DECADES OF BRITISH POP INNOVATION, by Bob Stanley

We all know there is something about Britain and pop. We are good at it. We are creative, inventive, experimental and brave. But why, how? The essence of what makes us so good at it might be found it exploring some of our best music through the past seven decades and reflecting on something of a rivalry with that other pop superpower, the USA. It’s hard to conceive that, at the turn of the twentieth century, American music barely existed. In spite of the odd homegrown sentimental tunes like After The Ball, and the military marches of John Philip Sousa, America looked to Europe – especially to London and Vienna - for what it considered real music. America had no confidence in its indigenous popular music.

 Fast forward fifty years and the rise of first ragtime, then jazz, and then Broadway, and Hollywood had entirely reversed the situation: London’s West End was full of imported shows like Oklahoma and Carousel, while Dickie Valentine was the closet thing we had to Frank Sinatra. The back and forth of Anglo-American popular music meant the rock’n’roll explosion that hit America in the mid-fifties, rooted in country and R&B, would inspire British youth in a way no one could have anticipated. British popular music was reborn. It has continued to reinvent itself ever since.

 Running through the decades, there has usually been a ‘do it yourself’ strain to British pop that has helped it to move forward. In the 50s, Skiffle was a British take on American folk-blues (‘skiffle parties’ were originally thrown in people’s houses to help them pay the rent), transported into front rooms, then youth clubs, with its musicians making bass guitars out of broomsticks, using pre-washing machine washboards for rhythm, and playing cheap guitars from Woolworths that barely stayed in tune. It was all about invention and resourcefulness. A similar ethos would influence Punk Rock, and more DIY acts like Scritti Politti; at the turn of the nineties, sample-based grooves recorded with minimum fuss would lead to hardcore/breakbeat records by Shut Up And Dance and the Ragga Twins, which were the roots of Jungle. Music made quickly, easily and cheaply, with attitude and excitement much more important than musical chops.

 Pianist Winifred Atwell has a special place in black British culture: apart from opening the first black hair salon, she was one of the few black faces on British television in the fifties. More commonly, talented black British singers like Neville Taylor and Emile Ford weren’t given the same breaks as white competitors. By the mid-sixties, the Equals and the Foundations were interracial groups playing soul clubs around the country, forerunners of the late-seventies Two Tone movement. The Acid House and Rave scenes broke down barriers further still: the first truly Black British genres – Jungle, Drum’n’Bass, UK Garage – appeared in the nineties and paved the way for present day Grime stars like Stormzy and Dave, some of pop’s most innovative and celebrated names.

 As far as the music industry was concerned, London was the only place in Britain that mattered until the Beatles’ breakthrough in 1963. Not only was Liverpool then scoured for talent by the London-based record companies, but they explored pockets like the Brumbeat scene and hotspots like Newcastle (the Animals), Belfast (Them) and Glasgow (the Poets). Sixties beat groups were almost always entirely male – the Honeycombs’ drummer Honey Lantree was seen as a novelty – and female songwriters were almost unheard of; Petula Clark had to write her own songs under the pseudonym Al Grant! The seventies were harder still for women, with talents like Lynsey De Paul seen as good enough for Eurovision, but not for the weekly music press. At the end of the decade Punk opened the door for women, with the Slits, Raincoats and Dolly Mixture emerging as unique, new voices.  By the 2010s, female voices dominated pop. There is also a thread of electronica that can be followed right back to Frank Chacksfield’s Little Red Monkey and the primitive clavioline in 1953, through the Tornados and Brian Eno, into the synth-dominated eighties and beyond.

 Indeed, there are dozens of different stories to be told in these playlists. This is a necessarily whistle stop tour of British popular music over the last seven decades, and taken together as the ‘executive summary’, they are a startling record of variety and innovation. There are 32 tracks from each decade, which would fit perfectly onto a double vinyl album, eight tracks per side – though we are attempting to cram them onto whatever was the format of the decade, from the common ‘wireless’ radio of the 50s, to the double cassette of the 70s and of course, the now limitless capacity of the iPhone and the cloud – no problem there.

 While I have tried to include the most significant names and represent every major genre, I have also used the occasional more obscure act (Eddie Hickey, Lorraine Silver, Mandy More, Hurrah, Denim, Grosvenor, Real Lies) to illuminate the era, recognising the efforts of pioneers and forgotten but key contributors. They are not strictly chronological and are designed to be an enjoyable listen.

Bob Stanley is a British musician, journalist, author, and film producer. He is a member of Saint Etienne and author of Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!: The Story of Modern Pop. He is also a master music curator, find his suggestions here.

Music Film Review: Phil Lynott: Songs For While I'm Away

It’s funny, just a few weeks ago I was imagining that someone could, and should, make a documentary film about Phil Lynott and Thin Lizzy. Somehow, I hadn’t spotted that Emer Reynolds had done just that and that the trailer for the film was first put out there in the summer of 2020. How did I ever miss that? Blame the strange times. And so here I am, on a rare night out and a very special occasion - just down the road in Esher at the Everyman Cinema. I’m watching the finished film in a half-full ‘sofa auditorium’ with my wife on a limited cinema release (part of Everyman’s Music Film Festival) in the heart of the second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Phil, spraying bullets from the Fender precision, captured by Mick Clarke

Phil, spraying bullets from the Fender precision, captured by Mick Clarke

It’s a beautifully made film - making artful use of (very limited) scuzzy old film, those amazing Lynott photographs and intimate, thoughtful talking heads. Those close to Lynott or Lizzy told their personal stories and made often touching reflections. I drank it in, a notebook sitting on the tiny table next to my sofa untouched throughout, through fear of missing any tiny details. 

The film works as a fine example of telling the story of a rock icon from their early childhood days, and their formative years, through to the journey of their stardom. The film took its time, dedicating much to those early years, unravelling the enigma behind one of the handful of black boys growing up in Ireland in the 50s, the bond between Lynott and Brian Downey that formed the heart of Lizzy in all its shapes and sizes to come. 

Brett Andersen from Suede once said that all successful artists have followed a similar arc, comprising four stages: the struggle, the stratospheric rise, the crash, and then the renaissance. I liked the way the film took it’s time to explore Lynott's struggle (and his determination), though I began to wonder how much time would be left to cover the glory years. Once we got to Eric Bell’s departure and the ‘classic twin guitar line up’, I could have sat on that sofa another three hours to enjoy the story of Lizzy in its prime. The film is such an effective collage of footage, imagery, the talking heads and of course the music - glued together with art-school visual effects - as to be a genuinely immersive experience. When we got there, the film raced through those successful years at breakneck pace, much as if it would have been living the life. It was a highly effective storytelling device, but over all too soon. 

The talking heads were of high quality and I especially enjoyed first hand accounts of how Midge Ure - 80s electronic pioneer - got to fill in for half a USA tour in one of the world’s most renowned rock bands (and hey, holding his own, having learned the guitar parts on the flight to the USA - and that was on a concorde). And from Scott Gorham (who occupied the ‘left hand side of the stage’ as a counterpoint to the revolving door of virtuoso players to his right), how the famous Lizzy ‘twin guitar harmony’ signature style was created “by accident”. It came about when Brian Robertson played a solo back on top of a delayed recording and the effect sounded nice, didn’t it just. It was a style that was unique in rock and has never been emulated. Adam Clayton too, on the role of the bassist (“it’s about that huge thing dangling between your legs - you are definitely the man of the band”) and somehow making it sound philosophical. But his insights on the ‘faustian pact’ made between the protagonist and their fame was fascinating and poignant, given his analysis that 35 is the age at which there is “no going back to what you had before”. Lynott was dead by 36.

Part of the success of the film however, was that talking head accounts by Lynott’s uncle Pete and close friends and acquaintances were every bit as compelling as the famous names. The film’s treatment of Lynott and Lizzy’s songs is also wonderful. The film began with a rare Lynott cut I’d never heard before, but throughout there were thoughtful choices: Wild One, Renegade, Still In Love With You - alongside deeper cuts from his early years and solo projects (though no Yellow Pearl, nor his collaboration with Gary Moore on Parisian Walkways). And of course those popular numbers that so defined the band’s path: Whisky In The Jar, The Boys Are Back In Town, Don’t Believe a Word, Jailbreak and Lynott’s sweet ode to his first daughter Sarah. The focus on his marriage to Caroline Crowther, daughters Sarah and Cathleen and family life, was an unusual and welcome diversion from the standard fare of ‘life in the studio and on the road’ and would probably have been ignored by a male filmmaker. I enjoyed the glimpse into Phil Lynott, the family man.

During last week, I had read some of the press behind the release of the ‘Rock Legends’ box set (nicely dovetailed with the film’s release) and was surprised that some writers took the angle that Lynott and Lizzy’s work has gathered momentum since Lynott’s tragic and premature death in 1986. I disagree. I have never felt that the Lizzy catalogue has been given its due by music’s gatekeepers - journalists, radio presenters (credit Huey Morgan for occasional spins on 6 Music) or those who curate the streaming platforms. As such I am grateful for Emer Reynolds for making the film and I hope it sparks more celebration of Lynott’s work and the Lizzy catalogue. 

I often think if only…if only Lynott had stayed alive. He chose to exit life when (and maybe because) his career was at a low ebb. It was two decades before the age of catalogue revival and of legacy tours, creative re-assessment and career longevity for any band of decent standing from rock & pop’s golden age. Had Lynott stuck with Lizzy, been called up for Live Aid by fellow Irishman Bob Geldof, etc. etc., Lizzy would now surely be enjoying a revival status similar to that of ELO, Fleetwood Mac, Def Leppard. 

Phil Lynott: Songs For While I’m Away captures the man and the enigma: the dreamer, poet and creator of a world that wrapped together comic books, wild west iconography and Irish folk legend into a unique blend of melodic rock. He was the understudy to Noddy Holder of Slade, whom Lynott observed on the tour they supported and pinched a few nifty moves, stage tricks and props, including his famous mirror body plate for his Fender Precision Bass. Eric Bell’s anecdote of Lynott telling him “no don’t play that - too folky, no not that - too bluesy, and no not that - too rocky” was the perfect insight into the musician who knew what he wanted - something different and something more. “I don’t know what else to play then, that’s everything I have” replied Bell, dumbfounded. “Well then that's where it starts”, replied Lynott. And so there too was the visionary and the taskmaster - always driving the best from those around him and collaborating with him. 

He was always asking the audience and his posse, “Are you out there”? No wonder James Hatfield of Metallica likes to steal that line.

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The film is being shown at the Doc’n Roll Festival and at Everyman Music Film Festival.

For The Song Sommelier’s take on Lynott and Lizzy try our vinyl playlist here.

Come in from the cold: Gemma Hayes and Anthony Genn (The Hours)

After putting together Lost Indie Classics Vol. 2 my curiosity got the better of me. What is it like if you made great records during the indie hay days, and might be thinking about making another in today’s crowded music scene, where pop, R&B, hip hop and country rule the streaming bandwidth?

Best way to check in on someone these days is to give them a call, so I did. I had a lovely chat with Gemma who was residing in her country home in west Cork, where I was very pleased to discover she has been making good use of her music room. Then I called Ant Genn from The Hours. And one could never fail to be entertained by Ant…

Between the conversations with Ant and Gemma the connections came flowing...how making music happens by happenstance and is all about making a connection. Oh and, Patti Smith...who seems to have inspired musicians everywhere and forever.

Gemma Hayes

“I never planned to get into music as a career, but once I started writing songs I fell for it, dropped everything else and really dived into it. But after Night On My Side, I toured relentlessly for two years, and got to a point where I felt really burned out and exhausted. So I reset expectations from there - for myself, and for my label Source, who were great actually. Each time I made a record I kind of took my time and regrouped or changed the setting, as with The Roads Don't Love You which I made in LA. And then by the time Bones + Longing came - when was it, 2014? I’d come full circle and was back in Ireland but with my first child - I mixed the vocals in the studio with a newborn baby. But I couldn’t tour the album and realised I couldn’t make music and start a family at the same time.”

You know it’s been a long time when an artist can’t remember when they released an album! But Gemma kept her hand in, while building that family (her kids and now 6 and 4) with writing for others and collaborations, including EDM giants Above & Beyond (Counting Down The Days) and Paul Noonan’s Printer Clips. But, how wonderful to discover Gemma is on the way back...

“I feel more alive now and I’m excited about how I translate this feeling into my music. Having had the time out and getting my kids to the point where they can look after themselves a bit, I’ve been getting the players from Night On My Side back together and rehearsing new songs - we’ll go into the studio with (producer) David Odlum and record them. I’m really inspired by Patti Smith and want to bring that raw, freshness to everything, so the plan is to record the songs live. At 43 I feel more potent and free so I’m really excited to see what this new album might become. 

And so...after six long years Gemma Hayes will be back soon. But to a very different industry now than in 2014 when Bones + Longing came out...

“I’ve only known one way to make a record, and that’s to labour over it. And then it’s been to tour it and work it (apart from with Bones + Longing which we didn’t tour). But I know things are different now. I’m excited about doing something more visual, filming in the studio, putting something out there first to see what the reaction is. But to me it’s the same thing, the album is like a painting - once it’s done it’s done, and I hope it represents the best of me at the time and that people will want to hear it”. 

Funnily enough, the day we spoke, Gemma was releasing a track. As part of the celebrations for Van Morrison’s 75th birthday, she was one of 75 Irish artists invited to make music for the Hot Press project and was releasing a cover of Comfort You that very evening. We can only look forward to new material and hope that Gemma Hayes still can rightfully claim a place in today’s music landscape. Gemma, the roads do love you!

Ant Genn (The Hours)

I called Ant up for a chat while he was in his London studio, sitting for a bit at his Steinway model C grand piano. 

“It started by accident in a way. Martin and I went to see Radiohead at Shepherds Bush Empire on the Hail To The Thief tour (that was 2003 and I was right there too) and we were blown away. We just loved the show and the fact that Radiohead were the only band at that time creating and operating on their own terms - and bringing their fans with them. Martin looked at me and said something like “if I’ve had one regret, it’s that I didn’t do something on my own like this”...so I looked at him and said “fuck it let’s do it”. 

It was only three years later I saw The Hours headline their own sold out show at Shepherds Bush Empire...they’d only gone and fucking done it...

“We formed The Hours because of the music. The music led the way, not us. We had a bunch of songs we’d recorded that were okay, but then Jeanette Lee got behind us and Jeanette is simply one of the greatest people who ever lived. Then we went to see Patti Smith and realised we needed to make some music that had guts - something real. That’s when I came up with the opening lines of Ali In The Jungle. So we went back into the studio (Narcissus Road) and made the album. We just banged it out. Ali In The Jungle took an hour and a half, Martin played the drums (for the first time he learned drums for the record) on the toilet, because we didn’t have a drum stool!”.

Narcissus Road is a lost classic all to itself. But were The Hours set up for success?

“Everyone fucking loved it. Zane Lowe got behind us, Jo Whiley too. It looked and felt like it was really happening. But - the label didn’t want Ali In The Jungle as the first single, they wanted Back When You Were Good. And then Radio 1 decided we were too old and didn’t add us to the playlist. Back then, it was all about getting past the gatekeepers. The funny thing is, everyone thought it was gonna go big, but people come towards success but walk away from failure. When a few things didn’t go our way it changed things. There really wasn’t much of a campaign from the label (A&M) and the only person who took responsibility was David Joseph who apologised in the end. Still, it was great. Ali In The Jungle was used for FIFA 2008, the NBA, TV adverts (it was also the song that snooker player Ronnie O'Sullivan entered to in all his matches at the 2010) and we did Shepherds Bush. So when we went on to See The Light, it was still set up for us”. 

See The Light was made in that spirit of “creating and operating on our own terms” as inspired by Radiohead, with the band’s friend Damien Hirst at the helm of IsGood records and Flood brought in to produce. What could possibly go wrong?

“Like I said The Hours was created as a vehicle for the music and was probably never meant to be a band, in the traditional sense of making one record, then another etc. Really we just didn’t have the songs (even though the album kicks off with two belters, Big  Black Hole and These Days). I personally rate ‘The Girl Who Had The World At Her Feet’ which was written for Amy Winehouse, and ‘Never See You Again’ which was for a dear friend we’d lost. And yeah See The Light (title track) was okay. We carried on for a bit - we supported Noel Gallagher on tour, had music in a Nike advert, but it just wasn’t happening and neither Martin or I dwell on it to be honest. The Hours was just a phase for us, one of the many projects we’ve worked on together before and since...that’s how we like it. We’ve done movies, a ballet, worked with top people, and we get to make hundreds of hours of music, not 15 minutes a year like Coldplay”. 

But...as Ant sits by the piano and improvises an original/alternative version of My Way (which sounds like The Hours, fucking great!) he reveals that he and Martin are making new songs, in the vein of Talk Talk and A Winged Victory for the Sullen. That’s a thrilling thought. Is it possible that cometh the hour, cometh the musical power of Slattery & Genn (they’ll need a better name than that…) ;)

NOT a portrait of Ant Genn, The Hours - but a cool indie skull instead

NOT a portrait of Ant Genn, The Hours - but a cool indie skull instead

THE LOST ART OF LISTENING VOL. 1: REPETITION

Introduction

The world is suddenly dealing with something strange and unprecedented. As society presses pause, the Song Sommelier blog will examine the role of music and listening in our lives and how a once in a lifetime pandemic could shape the ears and minds of audiences across the planet. If you are in quarantine, isolation, working from home or social distancing, just perhaps this is an opportunity to listen differently, and listen well. 

These essays are a collaboration with sonic branding agency dlmdd and explore the impact of the streaming era and how we can all practice the lost art of listening. Article 1 will focus on repetition, familiarity and heavy rotation. From there we look at sequencing & segues, attentive listening, audio quality - and we finish the week with The Song Sommelier’s music manifesto. Happy listening all, and stay safe at home.    

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The Lost Art Of Listening Vol 1: Repetition

Familiarity breeds contempt, so the old saying goes. But with music, nothing could be further from the truth. Music is the only medium that lends itself to repeated consumption in order to increase the pleasure and benefits that come from it. Who is bored of Bohemian Rhapsody? Who would not turn up the volume when they hear the opening bars of Tiny Dancer on the radio? 

We cannot say the same about movies. Yes, I may have seen Blade Runner 14 times, but that is across a timespan of 30 years and across four different versions of the film. We might re-read our favourite book: every few years. We might become addicted to a game, but always with the desire to make the next level or reach a final destination. But music is an entirely different beast. There are things to hear for the first time on OK Computer no matter how many times you’ve listened to it. 

For a while, my preferred method of listening was to sample as much music as possible but then hone in on one record that stuck, and then just play this over and over. The last record that affected me in this way was Alele Diane’s album Cusp. Over weeks, it revealed itself to me to be something of real depth - the quality of those songs, the poise and dignity of the performance, the economical production. The rich textures in the music and the order of the songs on the album became both comfortingly familiar, yet I discovered something different each time I listened. It’s a record I will return to in these strange weeks ahead. 

Yet in the streaming era, one of the elements of listening that has undoubtedly been lost is repetition and familiarity - washed away by ever longer playlists, programmed artist radio and the sheer volume of new music crashing down like a waterfall, each and every week. It’s hard to keep up. To really get to know a piece of music really well requires a trade-off against a ton of other music, as well as all the other things we could and should be doing. 

As for the artists making the music, their challenge is to compete with the history of recorded music for a listener's attention for the first listen, so you can imagine how hard it is to compete for repeated listening. The acquisition of new listeners and fans has become a science problem for the artist’s marketing teams, if they are fortunate to have them. 

We still have formats that encourage us to listen again. Spotify has ‘Recently Played’ and ‘Uniquely Yours’ (and on the desktop, ‘Your Heavy Rotation’ though strangely I cannot find that on mobile). All the streaming players have very similar features. As for good old, traditional radio - it still has a weekly ‘playlist’. But do these do the job of really driving home the repeated listen? 

Those streaming menu features prompting us to listen again are hardly tempting alongside the days worth of brand new content you can scroll through in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile when it comes to radio, the notion of a playlist that is played across the variety of shows broadcast across several ‘dayparts’ feels like an outmoded concept. As radio moves steadily on-demand, shows must become more distinctive, with the appointment to listen factor shifting to a reason to listen other than it’s on right now. This probably means radio shows will play a more distinctive set of songs, rendering the idea of the weekly playlist less vital, perhaps. 

Some stations are exceptions of course, notably comfort stations like Magic. But those stations cater for a very specific demographic. Of course, repetition works best if you actually like the track in the first place. And that’s why Magic is so specific in its choice of tracks that make up the core playlist of just 650 songs. It’s guaranteed comforting pop classics and nothing more. Contrast that with Spotify probably serving as many tracks to a single user across the space of just one week. 

There is almost no better form of music discovery than realising you like a song, or an artist, that you weren’t quite sure about in the first place. Music can grow on you with relatively low effort and very high reward - again pretty unique in the content world. It’s harder to persevere with a book you are not enjoying than give an album another spin. That’s how Drive-By Truckers ‘The Unraveling’ has become one of my favourite albums of the year and why I will return to Soccer Mommy’s new album a few more times yet. I have a good instinct that the effort will pay off. Songs that grow on you have a potentially even more powerful effect on you in the long run. 

One of the true symptoms of streaming culture is that the ruthless nature of the discovery process makes these forms of familiarity less likely. With such an abundance, one can feel in constant discovery mode, filtering and sorting rather than just enjoying. I wonder though, can programming features such as ‘Jump Back In’ become more tuned to what will grow on us, and the recommendations become more insistent: “Keith, according to your listening history you really should give this record more time”. I’d be happy if it worked. 

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One of the pleasures of curating a weekly playlist is the sheer amount of times I will listen to the songs on there (and in the order scheduled) during the process. Familiarity is a discipline that pays off only after you put the work in. By posting just once a week, the intention is that the quality over quantity approach will encourage listeners to really get to like the tracks on our playlists, and that the added content of our editorials will provide some context and reason to listen. We’d be even more delighted to think that listeners then seek out more from those artists they have discovered and go on to give those records much more time. 

When it comes to catalogue (what the music industry calls ‘deep catalogue’), the familiarity dynamic is different yet again. It might be that dipping back into the catalogue of an artist that you love is harder these days, especially for those albums that are less familiar to you. Playlists are probably a better vehicle for this than trying to work your way through album-by-album. With Aha for example, I tried to imagine the band’s catalogue from two points of view: the catchy electro pop that they are best known for and the deep, moody, scandi melancholy. For The National, we went with a deep cuts playlist of the lesser known tracks, accompanied by a playlist of artists that might have influenced the band themselves. Re-imaging music catalogues in new ways is critical to legacy artists, the industry and, to fans. Sometimes the best music to listen to, especially at times like these, is the music you know best. 

Next: Up Next, the art of the Segue

WELCOME TO THE 80S PAGE!

Mike Scott of The Waterboys once tweeted “The 80s were so rubbish that I invented my own”. Others consider the 80s to be the best decade in pop, and only the brave or the young, would argue. It was a decade full of tunes - whether those tunes came from teenagers who had just unboxed a Casio MT-68 synth a few days earlier and bashed out one-finger lines, or heavy metal bands (with better musicians) who’s songs frequently troubled the charts. It was the only decade you could wear a cravat around your wrist and look cool. And Micheal Stipe had hair.

It’s the decade that governments turned the people into consumers (well Maggie and Ronnie did anyway) and in our spare time between recording shows from the TV using something called a video recorder (it took more time to programme the device than it did to watch the show) we’d still play whole albums. At least until the CD came along and the dreaded skip button too.

Musically speaking, the 80s is a bit of a conundrum. It will be forever associated with a very British blend of electronic pop. Nothing wrong with that. But there was more, much more. So we explore that notion right here on The Song Sommelier. Our ‘decades’ pages had to begin with the 80s - but not in the obvious place. Jules Gray for one, was a Brit who largely eschewed the Linn-drum heavy electronic scene for more exotic sounds (like raw guitars, real drums) across the water in the USA. So that’s where we go first - into the American Import Record Racks of the Birmingham (England) record shops in which Jules spent a considerable part of his 80s rummaging. The irony is, as he was doing so, our American friends were doing everything they could to get hold of the latest British Electronica - and American clubs could not get enough - literally. So, standby…that’s where we go next…

Speaking of conundrums, compiling the first six 80s playlist posts made me relate to another puzzle that was all the rage in the 80s. The Rubik’s Cube was an 80s icon (even though, like a lot of 80s music, it was invented in the previous decade).

And what happened to the Rubik’s cube? Well, like much of our beloved 80s tunes, it never went away. Indeed, the cube has come back into vogue very recently. The puzzle shipped a record 18 million units last year, according to its independent owner Rubik’s Brand (based in London’s Notting Hill). Quite refreshing in the digital world - though the kids use algorithms to solve the puzzle in seconds these days, so there you go, everything changes.

It’s not the only 80s icon to be thriving into this new decade. As we stretch across nearly half a century, 80s culture is alive & well, Stranger Things has seen to that! Perhaps that’s why The Face - the pop culture magazine of the decade (born in 1980 in London) was brought back to life just last year.

Music from the 80s decade accounts for nearly one in every 10 streams in the UK - and growing each and every year. Why? It’s the tunes, stupid! So, to celebrate the 80s (and the resurgence of the Rubik’s Cube), we’ve made our own ‘Rubik’s six-sided’ music playlist, with six playlists (and accompanying memoirs) you won’t find on any streaming service. It’ll take you to the 80s in a way you’ve never experienced before, and we thoroughly recommend playing the Rubik’s as you listen. We start with the American Import Record Rack (side orange, if you will) - though we went for the bald Michael Stipe on the cover. He just looks better that way.

Oh yes, serious fun. And not the least bit rubbish.

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RADIOHEAD: THE BEST YOU CAN IS GOOD ENOUGH

The main thing I remember as I boarded the plane from Heathrow was fear. But it wasn’t the flight I was afraid of. It was what I had agreed to do in exchange for it. Melody Maker had commissioned me to write a cover story about Radiohead…Read more

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BURNS IS BACK: HYYTS SCOTTISH POP SONGBOOK

Pop music is such a weird thing. From being the norm to being a dirty word to now being the ‘cool’ thing again, pop music has gone through so many changes for something that, at its heart, has stayed exactly the same. Read more

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JAPAN: A VISITOR'S GUIDE

Whilst swathes of the well-known bands of the late seventies and early eighties emerged one way or another from the brief explosion of British punk, one highly influential band took its primary influence from a slightly earlier punk movement from across the Atlantic, specifically in the form of the New York Dolls. Read more.

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TOP PICKS & SKETCHES OF 2019

Lists, lists, lists. There are too many lists - more than ever these days (isn’t there more of everything?). We live in abundant times, digitally speaking. But what about the quality? Well, what a year 2019 was for quality music. A good thing for the Song Sommelier, in our inaugural year! Since we’re about quality over quantity, we’ll keep this brief. Lists and picks are subjective and there’s no point just ranking stuff by numbers - those are called year-end charts. So, we’ve picked things in threes. Things are generally good in threes. Three categories, from three of us, myself, Mick and our man among the music artists, Eric Karsenty. I’ve taken the liberty of treating you with a smattering (well, three to be precise) of Mick’s rough sketches - which are just as good at capturing the spirit of the Song Sommelier as his sublime playlist covers. Almost. One of the highlights of 2019 for me, has been to receive Mick’s sketches and the final masterly painted or drawn covers that complete the posts so perfectly. Cheers to Mick, and thanks to you discerning listeners. We’re onward and upward in 2020, with a growing team of collaborators, some new series to reveal, and some pretty good ideas. Now, as ever then, all in the execution. A very happy new decade…with love & music, Keith.

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THE DARK & STORMY AWARD - for best alt. R&B, neo-soul, urban pop track

We took the liberty of mixing up the R&B, neo-soul, hip-hop and urban pop into something that signified a mood, a sentiment, and a rum cocktail. The music being made across these scenes stands out better than just about anything else in popular music right now. We got to Volume 6! Listen back to the very first edition.

Keith’s Picks:

  • Favourite:        Celeste, Fatherson

  • Commended:  BANKS, BEA1991, Biig Piig, Raphael Saadiq, Michael Kiwanuka, Kelsey Lu

Mick’s Picks:

  • Favourite:        SOAK, Everybody Loves You

  • Commended:  SAULT, Lizzo, Jorja Smith, Steve Lacy, Sudan Archives, Little Simz

Eric’s Picks:

  • Favourite:        30/70, Tempted

  • Commended:  Eliza, Jamila Woods, Jordan Rakei, Bobby Oroza

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THE RIFF RAFF AWARD - for bringing back guitar music

Missing assumed deceased, or at least very ill, ‘rock’ music went out of fashion some time ago, usurped by a mix of indie-pop, post-punk and, in one case at least, classic pop-rock with a portent, and for that matter, potent - injection of YOUTH. Rock, dead? Fuck off no it isn’t! Listen back to Volume 1 now.

Keith’s picks:

  • Favourite:        Sam Fender

  • Commended:  Riscas, Marsicans, Burning Alms, VIALETTERS, Alex Lahey, Life

Mick’s Picks:

  • Favourite:        FONTAINES D.C.

  • Commended:  Boy Azooga, She Drew The Gun, Stella Donnelly, Jade Bird

Eric’s picks:

  • Favourite:        IDLES

  • Commended:  Ex Hex, Mannequin Pussy, Foals


THE NEW AMERICANA AWARD - for keeping the album alive

As if driving a stake through Rock’s heart wasn’t enough, the music industry has been gradually losing touch with its very life force since streaming took a hold. The album is dead, long live Americana. Because Americana needs the album and so do we. Look up these favourites on your platform of choice, preferably a turntable dudes! Meanwhile, volume 2 of New Americana is er, somewhat overdue…sorry about that!

Keith’s Picks:

  • Favourite:        Joseph, Good Luck Kid

  • Commended:  The Lumineers, Cass McCombs, The Delines , Angel Olsen

Mick’s Picks:

  • Favourite:        Jenny Lewis, On The Line

  • Commended:  Sharon Van Etten, Lissie, Deerhunter

 Eric’s picks:

  • Favourite:        Charlie Parr, Charlie Parr

  • Commended:  Purple Mountains, Vetiver, Andrew Bird 

Joseph, by Mick Clarke

Joseph, by Mick Clarke

SEE YOU AGAIN SOON AND REMEMBER: SIP, DON’T SKIP!

Thanks for listening.

A Christmas Comedown

On & off over the past decade, around about this time of year, I attempt to read A Christmas Pudding, by Nancy Mitford. Read more