I was still in a foul mood as I started scrolling. Even this task didn’t lighten my spirits
until I came across an act and their first two albums. I smiled as I thought about the impact their
music had on me and opened me up to different sounds. This demanded that I pay a debt and sing
their praises and those of the other acts that made up today’s listening;
(# 487) The Police –
Outlandos d’Armour (1978)(# 488) The Police – Regatta de Blanc (1979)
I never viewed The Police as a punk act. I saw them as a rock act with a pronounced
reggae influence. Listening to both of
these albums back to back, I was surprised at how slight that reggae influence
seems to be today. Regatta de Blanc, in
particular is almost devoid of its influence apart from Message In A Bottle, Walking On The Moon and The Bed’s
Too Big Without You. Maybe I feel this
now because I’ve listened to a lot of prime 70s reggae since I first heard
these albums, but the point remains I owe a debt to The Police and The Clash,
in particular, for making reggae palatable to me by including it with
rock. Whilst I now appreciate that Bob
Marley and the Wailers did precisely the same thing at the same time with their
albums on the Island label, I now realise why I didn’t take to it then because
I suspect the balance went too much in the other direction, that is, they still
sounded like reggae albeit with some rock mixed in.
And make no mistake, these first two Police albums are still
exciting rock records and the live performances of the time I’ve heard on
bootlegs, etc are incredibly dynamic. Outlandos
d’Armour starts magnificently; Next To You is a great opening, So Lonely the
quintessential slow/fast/slow/fast number and Roxanne endures today despite all
of Sting’s attempts to recast it. Hole
In My Life is fun and Peanuts is goofy fun.
The two rockers that kicked off the former side 2, Can’t Stand Losing
You and Truth Hits Everybody are rockers of the highest order. The less said about the final three numbers
the better.
Regatta de Blanc is even better, offering a greater
diversity of tracks. The previously
mentioned reggae tracks all have elements in them that clearly demonstrate that
the guys, especially Stewart Copeland, were true students of that music
form. The title track makes for a great
drunken singalong and is deadly when played live, It’s Alright For You Is a
nice throwback to the first album and the closing combination of Copeland’s
Does Everyone Stare and Sting’s No Time This Time was a massive improvement
over its predecessor.
(# 489) George
Thorogood and the Destroyers – Live (1986)
I love George Thorogood and the Destroyers. Always have.
Always will. For a long time in
my life they were practically the only overseas major blues act of any note to
regularly visit these shows and the first one that I saw. Thanks to him, I paid serious attention to Bo
Diddley and, thanks to the name check on this album, was introduced to Hound
Dog Taylor. Then there was his
performance at Live Aid. Queen and U2
may have won the honours at Wembley, but it was George that set Philadelphia on
fire, and reintroduced Bo Diddley and Albert Collins to the world’s and my attention
to boot. (And remember, he was a last
minute addition to the bill!) And only AC/DC is a finer exponent of gutbucket
electric boogie today.
And if you doubt any of these claims, have a listen to this
album, recorded on a typical night out, the year after that Live Aid
performance. The band roars out of the
starting blocks with Who Do You Love?, Bottom Of the Sea and Night Time, the
latter including riffage from Train Kept A Rollin’. He pays homage to John Lee Hooker on One
Bourbon One Scotch One Beer, scorches through Madison Blues and the obligatory
Bad To the Bone and sends everyone home very happy indeed with a romp through Reelin’
And Rockin’ full of his bawdy wit.
And the great thing is that he’s still at it, more or less,
proudly unbowed. A year or two back “M” asked me
to take her to see Joe Cocker. No
problems there; I’m a long time Cocker fan, but just as important was that George
Thorogood and the Destroyers were opening.
Unbelievably the Palais Theatre was jammed full before he got on stage. By the end of his set, “M” was asking me how
to pronounce Thorogood, and a number of hard core fans had left their seats,
went into the foyer, bought up at the merchandise table and gone home. Somewhere around the world tonight this is
being repeated; George and his mates are
recreating this album, preaching to the converted and winning new fans. And it will continue until the day he dies. Long may he continue to do so.
(# 490) The Saints –
(I’m) Stranded (1977)(# 491) The Saints – Live At Pig City Brisbane 2007
I remember in the moment in 1977 as
though it were yesterday. I was watching
Countdown and this film clip came on for this new band from Brisbane called The
Saints. The song was (I’m) Stranded and it
was a revelation encapsulating everything I thought rock should entail. The overiding memory was of the jolt to my
senses caused by the combination of Ed Kuepper’s buzzsaw guitars and Chris
Bailey sneering delivery of the lyrics. And
the lyrics meant something, at least to me - Stranded/Yeah I’m On My Own/Stranded/Yeah
I’m On My Own/Stranded-on-my-own - simple, to the point, memorable and easy to
remember. With the song still in my
head, I went to school the following day.
Usually, everyone would discuss the acts on the show but, despite my
raves, could not find anyone who remembered seeing them. The lyrics then took on a double meaning; it
became my mind’s anthem in terms of how I saw my own musical taste. In those days Countdown was repeated the
following Saturday afternoon. In the
absence of a VCR, I took my cassette player and taped the clip when it came on
(it started the second side of the same tape in which my radio listen to Springsteen’s
Born To Run had been captured two years previously). It was only after I played the tape again
that I noticed the fake crowd applause the program’s producers had tacked on to
the end of the clip. Stranded, indeed.
(I’m) Stranded the single, became
the title track of The Saints debut album and 36 years later the album still
sends the same jolt through me as that Countdown appearance. In fact, (I’m) Stranded isn’t necessarily the
best track on the album. There’s the
ferocity of Wild About You, the relentless Erotic Neurotic, their trashing cover
of Elvis’ Kissin’ Cousins and the
awesome demolition set pieces that were the closing tracks Demolition Girl and
Nights In Venice. The reissued version
of the album is even better as among the bonus tracks is one of the greatest
tracks ever recorded by an Australian act – This Perfect Day- and their brutal assault
on River Deep – Mountain High.
But I have the original album on
my iPod these days. The reason for this was
to leave space for Live At Pig City, the
recording of the first comeback gig by the original foursome after Kuepper’s
departure 27 years previously. As reunion gigs go, this was pretty damn good
with the band attacking everything at absolutely full throttle. The version of This Perfect Day is
magnificent but it is the 4 closing tracks that represent the absolute zenith of
the original band’s recorded history. It’s kicked off by the raging horn driven
attack of Know Your Product from their second album and then continues unabated
into Messing With The Kid and Nights In Venice before an explosive River Deep
provides the aural cheery on top.
Strangely only (I’m) Stranded sounds less than extraordinary – as also
happened when I saw the original band replay the debut album at The Forum in
2009 – a fate seemingly reserved for a track which is now so vested with
personal history.
(# 492) Pretenders – The Pretenders
(1979)
Speaking of music vested with
personal history, this is the album that always reminds me of my university
years. The University of Melbourne has
what was then called a “leisure library” which became my preferred place for
relaxation between lectures, tutorials and research. To me it was notable for four things – the awesome
library devoted to all things political and pop culture; bound volumes of (US)
Rolling Stone magazine going all the way back to its first editions; a music
library and a listening room full of headphones, listening chairs and bean bags
where one could go and listen to up to 8 albums from the collection as requested
by students whilst passively inhaling smoke from the funny shaped cigarettes
others there were smoking. And the first
Pretenders album was the album that was seemingly most often requested and
which I most wanted to hear.
And little wonder. Side 1 of this album is nothing short or
perfect, seemingly sequenced as a mini album in its own right. Precious is the perfect opener with Chrissie
Hynde taking absolutely no prisoners.
The Phone Call, Up the Neck and the chaotic Tattooed Love Boys follow before
Hynde steps aside for the instrumental Space Invader. Not that she needed to give the boys in the
band any space, as much as the album in dominated by Hynde it was also a
stunning showcase for James Honeyman-Scott’s flashy guitar work, Pete Farndon’s
forceful bass and Martin Chambers’ spectacular drumming. The Wait follows, now an acknowledged classic,
before the album’s first ballad, a tender cover of Stop Your Sobbing brings the
side to a perfect close.
At this point, the needle at the
Uni library could rest in the run out groove for incredibly long periods of
time which is why this was such a loved album.
If it appeared that it would be a long time before the platter would be
flipped by the hassled librarians, I could always search for something else to
hear or leave. Unsurprisingly, I’ve
always side 2 was weaker – it is – but it still contains Brass In Pocket and the wonderful closer Mystery
Achievement. But this doesn’t matter, whenever I hear this
album I’m instantly transported to the bean bags and the headphones. This alone is a reason to be grateful.
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