I See Dead People

11/12/06 

This year has been a holy arsefuck for truly wonderful and inspirational musicians popping their clogs. A list might help: Ali Farka Touré, Syd Barrett, Arthur Lee, Nikki Sudden, J Dilla and Grant McLennan. There are many others which I cannot adequately cover; including Rufus Harley, a musician regarded as the world’s first jazz bagpiper (Google him if you think this is mere fantasy), and the drummer from Hatfield and the North. Sadly, Celine Dion is still alive along with Sting, the rest of Pink Floyd and fucking Bono. Oh, and if all of this weren’t bad enough, Genesis have reformed. Why, Lord, why?

Ali Farka Touré was the key player of African desert blues. Hailing from Mali, he gained worldwide recognition as a result of a Ry Cooder hook up, Talking Timbuktu, and then disappeared off my radar for a number of years before releasing In the Heart of the Moon with Toumani Diabeté last year and this year’s peerless Savané. If you are one of those people who think that the blues really has nothing to offer modern society then get hold of Savané from the African section of world music in either Mix Up or Pendulo and stop being so jaded and post-modern about your taste in music. This could have been a massive breakthrough year for another third world superstar but sadly we’ve been robbed of a genius.

Syd, Syd the genius acid casualty. Over-rated perhaps, but nevertheless a true innovator and after being deliberately dosed with acid by other members of the band forced to leave what could have been one of the world’s finest bands. That band obviously turned to the tedious cunts that are Pink Floyd, a band so hideous that they indirectly attempted to inflict Bob Geldof on the world of acting. Thing is, as Syd did very little except live with his mum for the past 35 years it’s hard to really justify missing him unless he was a personal friend.

Arthur Lee took far more drugs than Syd and still produced the greatest album of the 60s. If you haven’t heard Love’s Forever Changes then you must do so immediately or I shall never speak to you again. It is the sound of skuzzy L.A. when San Francisco was filled with hippies. It’s very much an ‘out there’ album but is far more in touch with reality than most of the dated material from that era. It only features electric guitars on two memorable occasions and instead hinges on acoustic guitars, strings, Mexican brass and Arthur’s huge intake of substances.

Nikki Sudden might have made a comeback had he not died this year. The Swell Maps were shit, but that was the whole point. His solo career dipped towards soft metal somewhere in the 80s but he seemed to be bringing it around again…apparently, to be honest he’d long fallen off the radar despite a rumored appearance an some kind of international event in Mexico City State a year or so back. Find the old Nikki Sudden and the Jacobites track Pin You Heart to Me and remember that this was clearly Alan McGee’s favourite sound 10 years before he sold out to Oasis. His band, Biff Bang Pow! seemed to spend half their career recreating the sound.

J Dilla was the best hip hop producer ever. Donuts is a wonderful parting shot that suggested a DJ about to get massive recognition in his own right. 31 breaks in about 45 minutes which seem to  encapsulate everything that everybody loves about a good sample dropped by a man who understands his turntables and his audience. The rest of hip hop was really shit this year with the exception of Ghostface Killah’s Fishscale (featuring the production talents of J Dilla) and the soul pop crossover of Gnarls Barkley – and not just THAT song, the rest of the album has its moments.

Finally Grant McLennan. Forster and McLennan were one of the most dependable songwriting teams of the 80s as The Go-Betweens. When they reformed after about 8 years apart I felt vulnerable, ecstatic and finally tearful at a wonderful show at the London Forum in 98. They completed 3 further albums to add to the initial 6 from the 80s before this year’s tragedy. There is something ever so simple and yet beautiful about most of the songs that the Go-Betweens produced. Neither Grant nor Robert Forster did well on their own as Grant strayed towards bland commerciality whilst Robert’s pretentiousness reached new lows. Together, the hooks and the pretension worked wonders: Forster’s elevated self-belief fed into the wonderful tunes of McLennan, who in turn steadied a ship sailed by a man who liked to quote Jack Kerouac within simple rhyming couplets (Tallulah took a shower/ For an Hour!!!).

Of all these legends who have gone it’s Grant McLennan who I will miss the most as his material was so consistently brilliant as part of the Go-Betweens. Forster/McLennan deserved the attention dealt out to other more famous songwriting partnerships for their chemistry was obvious and their solo careers revealed their dependency on one another – just like Lennon and McCartney, Morrissey and Marr and the mercurial Chas and Dave.

Yours ever so slightly tipsy,

General Cottage Cheese III