FEATURE: A Supergroup United: USA for Africa’s We Are the World at Forty

FEATURE:

 

 

A Supergroup United

 

USA for Africa’s We Are the World at Forty

_________

THE years 1984…

PHOTO CREDIT: Rex Features 

and 1985 saw huge charity fundraising across the world. Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? was released in late-1984 and raised huge amounts to tackle famine across Africa, especially Ethiopia (and the horrible scenes protected from there). A year later, in July 1985, Live Aid was staged in the U.K. and U.S. A monumental live extravaganza that was viewed by millions, there was another charity endeavour in the U.S. Similar to the U.K.’s Band Aid, the U.S. counterpart, USA for Africa, launched a single in March 1985. In fact, on 7th March, 1985 – four months before Live Aid -, We Are the World was released. Written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, it was produced by Quincy Jones and Michael Omartian for the album, We Are the World. The single was a smash and sold in excess of twenty million physical copies. It was the eighth-best-selling single of all time. Like Band Aid, the single was designed to raise money for the 1983–1985 famine in Ethiopia. It was the success and togetherness of Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? that inspired Harry Belafonte to act. A host of high-profile musicians were recruited for the project. It was quite a quick and maybe rushed process, with Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie finishing the writing of the single the night before the first recording session. In terms of those involved, Bruce Springsteen, Cyndi Lauper, Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder, and Tina Turner were among the invitees. Like Band Aid, there were some notable omissions (Madonna and Prince for example). A number one single around the world in 1985, this, together with Band Aid’s single sucess, has a huge legacy. In years since, there have been a number of charity singles recorded to raised money for important causes and affected people around the world. As We Are the World turns forty on 7th March, I wanted to discuss its legacy and recording.

I know it is controversial and problematic discussing Michael Jackson today in any positive light. However, as it is for a bigger cause and it is not strictly about him, I can proceed (with some caution). I want to start with a future from The Independent that looked inside the making of the biggest-selling charity single ever. It was clearly this wonderful and strange experience for all involved:

“Diana Ross jumped in Bob Dylan’s lap. Billy Joel fawned over Ray Charles. Lindsey Buckingham disturbed Michael Jackson hiding in the bathroom, and Waylon Jennings stormed out when the row got too heated. When you put together, for one night only, the greatest supergroup ever constructed, even with a sign saying “check your egos at the door” at the entrance, sparks are going to fly.

Such were the scenes at A&M Recording Studios in Los Angeles on 28 January 1985, when the biggest musical stars in America – minus Madonna and Prince, plus Dan Aykroyd – convened to record “We Are the World”, the USA’s answer to Band Aid’s “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”. USA for Africa, as the band would be known, was not short of spotlight hoggers – among its ranks could be found Jackson, Dylan, Charles, Joel, Ross, Bruce Springsteen, Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder and Tina Turner. The likes of Fleetwood Mac’s Buckingham, The Jackson Five, Bette Midler and the table-thumping godfather of rock’s mid-Eighties famine relief efforts Bob Geldof were reduced to mere faces in a chorus line of 46 stars.

The song would become America’s greatest moment of musical magnanimity – selling 20 million copies, the single raised more than $63m for aid in the US and Africa, where famine in Ethiopia would claim 1.2 million lives between 1983 and 1985. In the earliest days of the collaborative charity single, “We Are the World” set an unmatchable bar – no greater collection of superstar artists have ever congregated in the same studio since. If many subsequent charity single line-ups were glittering, this one could blind.

“I think it’s pretty timeless,” says Kim Carnes, of “Bette Davis Eyes” fame, one of the 21 soloists on the song. “Wherever I go fans will inevitably say ‘you were a part of “We Are the World”, what was that like?’ People really want to know the details because the song made a huge impact.”

Initially, USA for Africa was the brainchild of songwriter and activist Harry Belafonte. Shocked by the footage of starving children beamed onto NBC, he began recruiting fellow stars in December 1984 for what he envisaged as a benefit concert for the famine relief effort. One of his first calls was to Ken Kragen, manager of around half of the highest-charting US artists in the early Eighties.

“When Belafonte called me, it was just two days before Christmas, at about one or two in the afternoon,” Kragen recalls today. As they spoke, the project morphed into a charity song in the mould of Band Aid instead. “I said, ‘Harry, Geldof showed us the way. We’ve got artists who are bigger worldwide here and I represent a couple of the biggest… let me see if we can put that together’.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Getty Images

By the time he’d reached his client Lionel Richie’s house that same day Kragen had already recruited Kenny Rogers, and before he’d finished a meeting with producer Dick Clark to discuss Richie’s job hosting the 1985 American Music Awards on 28 January he’d struck on the idea of recording the song after the awards, since the event would be bringing most of America’s biggest music stars to LA. All they needed to do was convince them to swing by a studio rather than an aftershow. Little did they realise they were about to form the biggest and best supergroup of all time.

Kragen envisaged Richie writing the song with Stevie Wonder, and Richie set about trying to track Wonder down. “Lionel kept trying to get in touch with Stevie all night,” Kragen says. “The next morning, [Richie’s] wife Brenda is in a jewellery store, the day before Christmas now, and who walks in looking for gifts? It’s Stevie Wonder. He asked Brenda to help him pick out gifts and Brenda said, ‘Not unless you call my husband back.’” At the same time, Kragen caught producer Quincy Jones as he was about to board a plane to Hawaii for Christmas. “I ask him if he would produce it and he immediately says yes. I said to him, ‘Would you get Michael [Jackson] to perform on the song?’ In 30 minutes or so, Quincy calls me back and says, ‘Michael not only wants to do the song, he wants to write it with Stevie and Lionel.’”

IN THIS PHOTO: Bruce Springsteen/PHOTO CREDIT: Rex Features

Jackson was riding high on the success of Thriller, the album that would seal his place as the biggest artist in the world, so Kragen knew he’d pulled off one of the greatest coups in pop history. “The day after Christmas, or two days after, I get a call from Belafonte. He said, ‘So Ken, have you been thinking about what we talked about?’ And I said, ‘Well, I’ve got a song written by Michael Jackson, Lionel Richie and Stevie Wonder, Quincy Jones is producing, and Kenny Rogers, Kim Carnes and Lindsey Buckingham have all agreed to be on it.’” Happy Christmas, Harry.

With only a month to go until the AMAs, Kragen and his team of 50 set about piecing the line-up together at a furious pace. “I took the Billboard charts and decided I would not go to sleep each night until I had confirmed two artists from the chart,” he says. “I would work my way down the charts. I had the number one artist, Michael Jackson. We thought we would get Prince because Sheila E was a good friend of Lionel’s, Lionel was number three, Kenny was in the top 10, we already had a big hunk of the top 10.”

The key moment was when Bruce Springsteen came on board. “John Landau was managing Bruce Springsteen and I knew John,” says Kragen. “I called John and said, ‘Can we get Bruce?’ and he said, ‘Oh my god, Bruce is finishing up two years on the road, touring constantly.’ I said, ‘John, you personally are going to be able to take credit for saving millions of lives if you get your client to do this.’ The next thing I know, on 15 January, Jon Landau called me and said, ‘Bruce Springsteen is in,’ and from that day I never made another outgoing call. All I did was answer the phone. The floodgates opened and mostly I had to turn people down. I wanted about 20 people, we ended up with 45.”

Kragen remembers Eddie Murphy’s manager rejecting the request and can’t recall Madonna’s excuse, but cites only John Denver and Joan Baez as artists he didn’t book but wished he had. “We really should have had Baez,” he says. “Jeff Bridges and I were driving out to Live Aid together on one of the rehearsal days. Jeff turns to me and says, ‘You know, Ken, I feel like the seeds that were planted by Bob Dylan and Joan Baez and others in the Sixties and lay fallow in the ‘Me’ generation of the Seventies have now, in the Eighties, broken through the ground, blossomed, and are bearing fruit.’”

Meanwhile, according to Kragen, Wonder “disappeared” to Philadelphia, so Richie co-wrote the song over a week in Jackson’s bedroom at his family home in Encino. In his autobiography Moonwalk, Jackson claimed he already had the root of the song. “I used to ask my sister Janet to follow me into a room with interesting acoustics like a closet or the bathroom,” he wrote. “I’d sing to her, just a note, a rhythm of a note ... I’d just hum from the bottom of my throat. I’d say, ‘Janet, what do you see when you hear this sound?’ And this time she said, ‘Dying children in Africa.’ ‘You’re right. That’s what I was dictating from my soul.’”

Richie told Billboard that the pair would listen to national anthems to get a feel for the enormity of the song – when they weren’t being interrupted by unexpected intruders. “I’m on the floor in Michael’s bedroom,” he said. “I don’t think he had a bed – he just slept on the floor. There’s a bunch of albums around the wall ... and I hear over my shoulder, hhhhhhhhhhhh. There was a goddamn f***ing python. A boa constrictor, a python, who cares what the hell it was. It was a big-ass, ugly-ass snake ... I was screaming. And Michael’s saying: ‘There he is, Lionel, we found him. He was hiding behind the albums.’ I said: ‘You’re out of your freaking mind.’ It took me about two hours to calm my ass back down.”

With Jackson enthusiastically rushing out a demo, the song was finished on 21 January, the day before the initial recording session at Kenny Rogers’ Lion Share Recording Studio. Here, Jones, Jackson, Richie, Wonder (“Stevie walked in and he said, ‘OK, I’m here, let’s write the song,’” says Kragen) and a band including Toto’s David Paich laid down a guide take of the song without trying to perfect it. Quincy Jones mailed numbered cassette copies to all of the participants along with a note: “My fellow artists... In the years to come, when your children ask, ‘What did mommy and daddy do for the war against world famine?’, you can say proudly, this was your contribution.”

Meanwhile, every detail of the session was plotted in advance. “Quincy said, ‘we can’t leave anything to chance.’” Kragen remembers. “’You can’t let superstars walk into that room with the slightest uncertainty of what they’re going to do. They will fight over what parts they think are the best, where they’re going to stand. So we’re going to put on the music who sings what when.’”

IN THIS PHOTO: Lionel Richie and Cyndi Lauper (with Tina Turner in the background)/PHOTO CREDIT: Rex Features 

In a bungalow off Sunset Boulevard, Kragen and his production team decided on a location for the session amid the utmost secrecy. “The single most damaging piece of information is where we’re doing this,” he said. “If that shows up anywhere, we’ve got a chaotic situation that could totally destroy the project. The moment a Prince, a Michael Jackson, a Bob Dylan drives up and sees a mob around that studio, he will never come in.“

In fact, it was the age-old battle between pop and rock which almost destroyed the project at the very last minute. “The night before, at the rehearsal for the American Music Awards, I was approached by the manager of one of the rock artists,” Kragen says. “He said, ‘The rockers don’t like the song and they don’t want to stand next to the non-rockers on the stage so we’re leaving.’ He didn’t tell me who, he acted like all the rockers were going to leave. I said to him, ‘Look, we’re recording tomorrow, you’re there or you’re not.’ They went to Bruce and Bruce said, ‘I came out here to save lives and feed people, I’m not going anywhere.’ If The Boss was there, you had to remain. He really saved the day.”

In the event only Prince shunned the session, with Huey Lewis taking his allotted line. Instead, he sent Sheila E as his representative while he partied the night away on Sunset. In Alan Light’s book Let’s Go Crazy, Revolution guitarist Wendy Melvoin would claim he didn’t show “because he thinks he’s a badass and he wanted to look cool, and he felt like the song for ‘We Are the World’ was horrible and he didn’t want to be around ‘all those muthaf***as’.”

IN THIS PHOTO: Tina Turner and Billy Joel/PHOTO CREDIT: Sam Emerson/Polaris

“Prince’s name is actually printed on the music,” Kragen says, “because Quincy had the idea of having the two rivals, Michael and Prince, at the same microphone. It didn’t happen. Sheila E tried her best to get him there. He did call while we were recording, he reached Quincy and said, ‘Can I come over and lay down a [guitar] track?’ and Quincy said, ‘No, we’ve already done the basic tracks.’ One of the reasons Prince didn’t come was he’s used to going into a recording studio and playing all the parts. Not just him and another star, him and nobody else. So the idea of walking into a room full of superstars, plenty of the people that were there were intimidated. He went to a nightclub instead and when he came out his bodyguards beat up some paparazzi, and that made a box in the big article in the LA Times about what we did. So he was really embarrassed by that [Prince later penned B-side “Hello”, claiming paparazzi intrusion had stopped him attending]. When we decided that we were going to put out an album, Prince submitted a song right away for that.”

The rest of the superstar class of ’85 took their AMA limos full of bodyguards straight to A&M studios – except Springsteen. “A crowd had formed around the gates because they saw the limos arriving one after the other,” Kragen laughs. “I’m standing out there greeting the artists as they’re coming out of their cars. All of a sudden, a guy pushes his way through the crowd. He’s in cut-off gloves and a leather jacket. I recognise him immediately, it’s Bruce. He says, ‘Hey man, I got a great parking space across LaBrea...’”

Inside, the mother of all A-list bonding sessions was under way. When Ray Charles arrived, Billy Joel exclaimed, “That’s like the Statue of Liberty walking in,” and was visibly shaking when Quincy Jones introduced him to Charles: “Ray, this is the guy who wrote ‘New York State of Mind’.” When Joel explained the song was a homage to Charles, the pianists struck up a lasting friendship, recording a duet “Baby Grand” within a year. Charles also spent much of the night drinking with Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson, a knees-up that would eventually result in Farm Aid”.

I want to bring in some detail from an in-depth feature Esquire published in 2020. They chart the chronology of the recording of We Are the World. Forty-five artists combining in these marathon recording sessions. They write about the recording from 30th January (1985) through the following morning, it was this incredible process. I am picking it up from 5 a.m. on 31st January (the first recording session was 28th January, 1985):

“It can be like half singing, half talking.”

Jones was talking to Dylan. The producer was reassuring him that he could do his solo. The unusual nasal sound of Dylan’s voice was what made him Dylan, but in that room of recognizable voices, he appeared nervous and unsure. Even as Jones talked him through his solo, encouraging him, James Ingram, the supersmooth soul voice who was presently wearing a really cool tracksuit, strolled behind them. Warwick, whose vocal cords were made of honey, sat on the risers nearby.

Dylan crinkled his eyes at Jones.

“Did somebody else sing it already, on the track?”

“Huh?”

“So I can hear it?”

Trbovich was filming all of this. And yeah, he says, Dylan was nervous. “But can I tell you something? I swear: Most. People. Do. Get nervous in front of a camera. I don’t care who they are. I remember, the first Academy Awards I did, I was a stage manager. And I remember Katharine Hepburn digging her nails into my hand before she walked out there to this live audience.”

“Tell you what, Bob,” Jones said. “Stevie!”

He and Dylan met Wonder over at a piano, and Wonder played the chords of the song. All three of them tried to sing like Dylan, in unison. Even Wonder was doing his best Dylan impression, right there, to Dylan, to show Dylan how to sing this part like Dylan.

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“There’s a choice wehr makin’, wehr see-vin ah own lives. Iss choo we make a brightah dee, jes yooo and meee.”

Dylan was rocking back and forth by now, singing along with himself. Starting to feel it. Behind this little work session, the other players milled around. Ingram, Jarreau, Joel, Springsteen, Richie. But when it came time for Dylan to record his part, Jones gave a little nod, and the room pretty much cleared. Only Wonder remained, at the piano, as a kind of comfort. And Trbovich, camera ever on his shoulder.

Dylan stood, black leather jacket zipped up, one thumb hooked in a belt loop, holding the sheet music up to his face, and sang it three or four times.

“Is that sorta it? Sorta like that?” Dylan asked, barely looking up.

Jones walked out and embraced him, and for the first time that night Dylan’s face spread into a smile.

He took a deep breath and walked back over to where the risers were. Springsteen stepped forward.

Headphones on, Springsteen moved his hips in a workingman’s dance, hearing the track as he waited to come in with his part. Jones later said Springsteen was “one of the hardest-working cats I’ve ever met before in my life. I kept waiting for him to get tired and sit down and rest. He kept saying, ‘Want me to do it again?’ ”

He sang the words as if a child were dying in his arms right then and there, his sandpaper rasp trailing into something like grief at the end of each line. When he’d finished, he opened his eyes and shuffled away from the mic. His peers broke into applause, especially Diana Ross, sitting cross-legged on the piano bench behind him. Springsteen, a ham, flapped his hands, as if telling the crowd, “More! More!” Then, “Thank you, thank you!”

Jones said, “Well, that takes care of that.”

8:20 AM

“It’s only twenty after eight,” Paul Simon said, laughing, to Jones, who had arranged the strings on his 1973 song “Something So Right.”

People began filing out, reuniting with what few of their family and friends remained. Carnes cracked the door open to catch a ride with a friend of hers who had been there all night. “I just remember being shocked that it was so light outside, that the sun was up,” she says.

Jackson, meanwhile, stood clear across the studio, against the back wall.

He asked Kragen if he could review the video footage before the first bits of it were edited and released to the press in the coming days as a one-minute clip. Sternberg turned to Jackson and said of course, and that she would send it to his home.

“What’s your address?” Sternberg asked.

He looked at her for a second, then said, “I just know how to get there through the back streets.”

In March of this year, Richie was being interviewed about the death of his friend and collaborator Kenny Rogers (who was also managed by Kragen) when he mused briefly about re-creating “We Are the World” to raise money to fight COVID-19. “I must admit,” he said, “every once in a while, God has to do something to get us back on track.”

But he knew organizing something like that was unlikely. Certainly not in the sudden, haphazard, Sure, let’s-do-it, call-Quincy-and-Bruce way they’d done it in 1985. No, it’s a different world.

IN THIS PHOTO: Stevie Wonder, Lionel Richie and Paul Simon/PHOTO CREDIT: Sam Emerson/Polaris

“We came in like little kids on their first day of kindergarten,” Richie says, “and we were all kind of looking at each other, but we didn’t quite—‘Oh my God, there’s that kid over there, and there’s that other kid over there.’ Everyone was kind of freaked out standing next to each other for a brief moment, and then all of a sudden we realized: It’s not about us! We’re actually using our voice and our celebrity to save some people, and it’s about us giving everything we have to save their lives. So I think the brilliance of that evening was, we started out as forty-five artists looking at each other and going, ‘Yeah, I’m famous, and you’re famous . . . .’ We left as a family.”

Sternberg that night had one last concern: phone calls to the press. She had reporters lined up at The New York Times, The Washington Post, and the Los Angeles Times. From among the few people left in Studio A, she asked for volunteers. Richie could barely keep his eyes open. Ross declined.

Steve Perry, who had been the first one to arrive the night before, said, “Okay!” And he and Sternberg rode over to the offices of Kragen and Company in West Hollywood.

Kragen looked around at the empty studio. Cords snaked across the floor. Empty Budweisers and Styrofoam cups and crumpled papers littered tables. He adjusted his big glasses and put on his sport coat over his white usa for africa sweatshirt.
He walked out into the chilly light. It felt almost strange to be outside again, after being in the studio for so many eventful hours. He unlocked the door of his Jaguar and the alarm system began blaring into the otherwise quiet air—and he had no idea how to turn it off.

He got in the car and tried everything—the key, the alarm button, nothing worked. And the engine wouldn’t start unless he left the door open. He lived just a few miles away, in the Holmby Hills neighborhood, way down Sunset. Screw it. He started the engine, put it in gear, and drove the whole way with his door open, the car’s lights flashing, and the alarm blaring”.

Articles like this argue that We Are the World masked the problems it was trying to highlight. That it was a bunch of famous artists getting together who made no real-world impact. Politics and music mixing in a bad way. Even though I am simply sourcing from Wikipedia, they collate some good information about the legacy of We Are the World. Divisive though the song might be, USA for Africa did make a difference:

“In contrast, Stephen Holden of The New York Times praised the phrase "There's a choice we're making, We're saving our own lives". He wrote that the line assumed "an extra emotional dimension when sung by people with superstar mystiques". Holden wrote that the song was "an artistic triumph that transcends its official nature". He noted that unlike Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas", the vocals on "We Are the World" were "artfully interwoven" and emphasized the individuality of each singer. Holden concluded that "We Are the World" was "a simple, eloquent ballad" and a "fully-realized pop statement that would sound outstanding even if it weren't recorded by stars".

The song proved popular with both young and old listeners. People in Columbia, Missouri, reported they bought more than one copy of the single, some buying up to five copies of the record at one time.

According to the music critic and Springsteen biographer Dave Marsh, "We Are the World" was not widely accepted within the rock music community. Marsh said it was dismissed as it was not "a rock record, a critique of the political policies that created the famine, a way of finding out how and why famines occur, an all-inclusive representation of the entire worldwide spectrum of post-Presley popular music". Though Marsh agreed with some of the criticisms, he felt that, despite its sentimentality, "We Are the World" was a large-scale pop event with serious political overtones

"We Are the World" has been recognized as a politically important song, which "affected an international focus on Africa that was simply unprecedented". It has been credited with creating a climate in which musicians from around the world felt inclined to follow. According to The New York Times' Stephen Holden, since the release of "We Are the World", it has been noted that movement has been made within popular music to create songs that address humanitarian concerns. "We Are the World" was also influential in subverting the way music and meaning were produced, showing that musically and racially diverse musicians could work together both productively and creatively. Ebony described the January 28 recording session, in which Quincy Jones brought together a multi-racial group, as being "a major moment in world music that showed we can change the world" “We Are the World", along with Live Aid and Farm Aid, demonstrated that rock music had become more than entertainment, but a political and social movement. Journalist Robert Palmer noted that such songs and events had the ability to reach people around the world, send them a message, and then get results.

Since the release of "We Are the World", and the Band Aid single that influenced it, numerous songs have been recorded in a similar fashion, with the intent to aid disaster victims throughout the world. One such example involved a supergroup of Latin musicians billed as "Hermanos del Tercer Mundo", or "Brothers of the Third World". Among the supergroup of 62 recording artists were Julio Iglesias, José Feliciano, and Sérgio Mendes. Their famine relief song was recorded in the same studio as "We Are the World". Half of the profits raised from the charity single was pledged to USA for Africa. The rest of the money was to be used for impoverished Latin American countries. Other notable examples include the 1989 cover of the Deep Purple song "Smoke on the Water" by a supergroup of hard rock, prog rock, and heavy metal musicians collaborating as Rock Aid Armenia to raise money for victims of the devastating 1988 Armenian earthquake, the 1986 all-star OPM single "Handog ng Pilipino sa Mundo", which talked about the optimism the Filipinos needed after the People Power Revolution, the 1997 Star Records all-star recording "Sa Araw ng Pasko", the 2003 all-star OPM recording "Biyahe Tayo" which promoted Philippine tourism and its subsequent 2011 remake "Pilipinas, Tara Na!"and the 2009 all-star OPM recordings "Star ng Pasko" and "Kaya Natin Ito!" as a means to provide hope to the survivors of Typhoon Ketsana (locally known as Ondoy). Several GMA Network personalities also recorded another inspirational ballad, "Bangon Kaibigan" in 2013 to provide hope to the survivors of Typhoon Haiyan (locally known as Yolanda)”.

As 7th March marks the fortieth anniversary of We Are the World – the first single from the album of the same name -, I wanted to write about it here. There are those who dismiss the single and supergroup. That it was cashing in or exploring famine. It was just a song designed to raise money without really engaging with those affected. Even if it has a complex legacy, forty years later, it is clear that its intentions were good. Making people aware at least of the famine and suffering in Africa. A whole raft of charity singles released since can be traced to We Are the World. For that reason alone, USA for Africa’s 1985 single made…

A big impact.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Cardinals

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

  

Cardinals

_________

A very special band…

PHOTO CREDIT: Kalisha Quinlan

who are already tipped as future legends, I wanted to spend some time with Cardinals. Ireland are producing some incredible artists at the moment. Maybe not a new trend, we are seeing more Irish acts spotlighted and written about. I am going to include a few interviews and features around Cardinals. First, going back to last year, DIY got to know a wonderful band who I feel are going to be festival headliners in years to come:

“Cardinals are, by all accounts, firmly on course to become Ireland’s next great success story. Having been co-signed by the nation’s premiere alt-rock flag-bearer Grian Chatten, the months since their arresting debut single ‘Roseland’ have seen them flourish in earnest; evoking melancholic nostalgia and tentative hope in equal measure, their ambitious sound - set to be crystallised in this summer’s self-titled debut project - draws as much from The Cure and trad folk sensibilities as it does from contemporary shoegaze textures.

A distinct product of their Cork stomping ground, Cardinals are markedly skilled at creating both widescreen drama and understated, poignant emotion - both of which, unsurprisingly, hit hardest when experienced live. To mark the recent announcement of their six-track EP (and its accompanying UK and Ireland tour), we caught up with the band to learn more about the Cork scene, their musical light-bulb moments, and a particularly, er, interesting dinner proposition.

What were the first song(s) you developed an obsession for?

Euan [Manning, guitar and vocals]: ‘Ring Of Fire’ by Johnny Cash; Mum and Dad would put it on in the car. ‘Love is a burning thing’ - what a line.

Aaron [Hurley, bass]: ‘2.45am’, by Elliot Smith. When I discovered that album in the summer of 2021 I was in complete awe. I used to listen to it front to back and back again when I was working in a canteen, it was constantly down my ears. I woke up really early one morning, got the first bus to Cork City and bought my first acoustic guitar. I tried learning ‘2.45am’ with no prior experience and now whenever I hear that opening progression it brings me back to 18 year old me butchering it in my old bedroom.

Finn [Manning, accordion]: The poignancy of the walk-down bass line from Leonard Cohen’s guitar in ‘The Partisan’ is always something that has grabbed me, even from the first time I heard the song. The trill of the higher end notes on the guitar are gallant, and support the sad, yet heroic lyrics regarding the story of a French rebel in Vichy France. What I love about Cohen is his timelessness; stories of resistance to oppression are as important today as ever.

Darragh [Manning, drums]: ‘Archangel’, by Burial. I remember being in a coffee shop with my mam when I was 10 or 11. It’s a coffee shop that we visited frequently that had a vinyl shop over it - they always played good music. I can’t remember what I loved about the track back then since it was over ten years ago, I probably just thought it was catchy. But today I can appreciate how crunchy the drums sound and how gloomy the overall track is. I remember immediately downloading it to my iPod at the time.

Oskar [Gudinovic, guitar]: ‘This Is The Day’, by The The. It provided a feeling of comfort for me during a time of great change. I found it, listened to it excessively, and never got sick of it. It still follows and haunts me, even after my obsession has passed. I generally believe the best pop songs pull equally from euphoria and sorrow, and this song was the first time I realised that.

You hail from Cork - can you tell us a bit more about the music scene there at the moment? Where do Cardinals fit in with the area’s other emerging artists?

Cork’s ethos when it comes to music is very DIY, people put on shows wherever they can. It’s very exciting, some of our favourite artists are here in Cork. We take what we can from the city and are constantly looking for people that are doing new and exciting things. Cork’s small but it has lots of character, and that’s definitely reflected in the scene and its people. I like to think everyone’s hitting off each other and taking inspiration - the idea that people are making great music makes you want to get up and do something yourself: write a song, put on a gig, join a band.

‘Cardinals’, your debut EP, is set to arrive in June. In what ways does it capture or reflect you as a band? And what aspect of the project are you most proud of?

I think the EP captures our feeling as individuals living in Cork city; of course our artistic and musical influences permeate through the record, but it very much comes from our own experiences. It’s a confession really, like getting something off our chests. We’re proud of doing something that’s inherently us - I reckon that’s all you can be proud of when it comes to the songs.
Your sound incorporates ‘80s indie-pop, elements of trad folk, shoegaze and more. As a five-piece, how do you go about negotiating these different influences and creative perspectives?

It comes very naturally now - we spend so much time together that sharing ideas and thoughts is easy and free. We don’t deliberately try to incorporate different influences when writing, we just go for what feels right, constantly pushing each other to try new ideas and go further. The process is invigorating and reaffirming; it helps that we’re so close.

You’ve just announced your debut tour of the UK and Ireland. What’s on your rider, and what three things can people expect from a Cardinals show?

Bottle of Paddy on the rider. I reckon people can expect to dance, to have fun, and to maybe meet the person they love as well (hopefully)”.

I am going to move to a feature from January. CLASH looked back on a breakthrough year for the band. If you do not know about Cardinals then you need to check them out as soon as possible. It is interesting reading CLASH’s words and charting some of the key events from 2024. A band who are very much on the radar now:

“Irish band Cardinals supported New York’s Been Stellar on their UK and Irish tour a few weeks back, and before their Glasgow gig at King Tuts Wah Wah Hut we took the opportunity to talk Aaron Hurley (bass) and brothers Euan Manning (guitar, vocals) and Finn Manning (accordion) about their eventful year.

Catching them in reflective mode as 2024 drew its final breaths, Cardinals looked back on a year that saw them release their self-titled debut EP in June 2024 on So Young Recordings. A myriad of highlights saw the band end their breakout year with two show sin New York. Completed by Darragh Manning (drums) and Oskar Gudinovic (guitar), the Irish group blend indie rock heft with folk-hewn introspection, their poetic songwriting earning comparisons to R.E.M. in the process.

Julia Mason traces their story.

I first saw you at Left of the Dial, Rotterdam in October 2023, and you released the single ‘Roseland’ your first on So Young Recordings the following month. How did working with the label come about?

Aaron: We started talking to So Young in February of 2023 so there was quite a long period between us starting talking to them and then releasing something with them. We recorded the EP in August 2023 and that was just before we went to Left of the Dial. The campaign started then with ‘Roseland’ the month after.

Can you tell me a little about your experience at Left of the Dial, because it’s such an important festival. They managed to capture bands just at the right time.

Aaron: It was great for us, it was the first time going and playing in Europe, so not the UK or Ireland. We had so much fun at it, we got to stay in a hostel together, and we were having great fun. First show was at Perron Small and then every show we played, I suppose a bit of word would get around and we would get more people. We did three shows and the last show was pretty busy, people knew the words from being at the show the day before. Such a cool experience.

Euan: They are so good there. They just take care of everyone so well. We had a nice place to stay and you got good food, and they were just super friendly in. You always get that in Holland, I always love playing in Holland.

So getting onboard with So Young was quite early for you.

Euan: We weren’t necessarily shopping around for labels, it just happened.

Finn: We were kind of gigging for fun, just doing the scene in the city, and I had only joined the band a couple of months before. Did not expect it!  Euan sent me a text one day when I was at work to say we’ve got news to tell you when you get home about labels and managers. We decided to get serious, very exciting. And they’re great, So Young.

With the release of the EP, and this is a compliment, you don’t have necessarily a distinct sound because the songs are quite varied.  Is that fair and is that something that you wanted to embrace and showcase with your debut EP?

Aaron: I think with that EP we were trying to showcase range and the broader aspects of Cardinals, but I do think that we have a sound now that is quite a distinctive sound, and something that we’re pursuing is a specific set of themes and things like that, musically. But I do think that the EP was a broad range.

Euan: I think the EP came about as we were playing mostly in Cork, and we’ve written songs mostly in Cork, and it was just like, these are the songs we have. And that’s a reflection of band in the moment. This is us right now. As we move forward, we’re looking at making more of a statement, maybe something that’s a bit more together thematically and sonically. But at the time that was just us and we were quite happy to put ourselves out there as a group that had come together as friends.

And it’s very natural that you would evolve. Look at the year that you’ve had, that’s going to have an influence I suspect on your music and your view going forward. I know you’ve talked in previous interviews about Cork and how important it is to you, but now you’ve experienced so much more in the last 12 months.  I’m guessing that’s going to seep into your songwriting.

Finn:  We’re writing a lot of new stuff at the moment, and Cork is still clearly very important to what we’re doing. And you can see that pop up in lyrics and how we play. So maybe not moving away from that but taking on the experiences we’ve had because we’ve had a very busy year this year.

You had your first headline UK and Ireland tour in 2024. How was that? Nerve wracking or exciting?

Aaron: A bit of both. The first show was kind of nerve wracking. We played our first show in Birmingham, and that was like, “Okay, this is a headline tour” but we found a groove pretty quickly. I remember playing in Glasgow and feeling totally at home on tour and thinking “This is great, I’m enjoying this a lot.” It went well, and I think the nerves went away pretty quickly.

Euan: And London really finished it off (at the Windmill Brixton). There were a few familiar faces and a big crowd in a full room”.

I am going to finish with this feature from DORK. Taking in (and conquering) New York to writing their own rulebook, it seems that this band have the ammunition, belief and talent to go so far in the industry. A stunning live band who have a legion of fans around the world, there will be questions as to whether we will get a debut album later this year. It is something that we cannot rule out at the moment:

“Fever-dream esque meetings with heads of state aside, it’s been a busy year for the Cork natives, with their self-titled EP being released in June, and new song ‘Get It’ following in early October. Throw in support slots with Kings of Leon, festival appearances, and their first ever headline tour, and it’s a hell of a schedule for a band right out the gate.

“We’re so busy we don’t have time to think about it,” says Euan. “There’s no time off, but in a nice way. It’s a good build.”

“We’ve no time to dwell on it, so it doesn’t feel momentous in the moment.” agrees bassist Aaron Hurley. “It definitely doesn’t feel like we’re established as a band yet. I don’t know if a band is truly established until they release their debut album – maybe not even then. There’s always something else to achieve, so it’s hard to pick a point and say: ‘we’ve made it’.

A philosophy of taking it moment by moment and constantly reaching the next milestone isn’t unique to the band, but the ease with which they’ve hit new levels one after the other just might be. Since releasing their first single ‘Amsterdam’ just a couple of years ago, they’ve ploughed their own furrow with a sound which sometimes settles near Echo & The Bunnymen, sometimes REM, and sometimes somewhere completely different. Latest single ‘Get It’ is yet another shift, half love-song and half melancholic reflection on peoples’ changing natures, it’s also maybe the poppiest track they’ve released to date. “The reaction’s been class,” says Oskar. “It’s even reached America pretty well.”

“We’re breaking America!” laughs Euan, to grins from his bandmates. “We just wanted to write a pop song, so we did. I think we succeeded in that, or I hope so, anyway.”

This restlessness, coupled with a healthy dose of self-confidence, is at the core of a band who aren’t content to find a sound and stick safely within its boundaries, but instead seem keen to constantly try new things from song to song. Despite this wide range of influences, Euan’s unique vocals and the looming presence of key touchpoints like Cork, the city they’re from, ensure they’ll never be mistaken for another band, no matter how adventurous their next single. “We’re writing the album at the moment, and there is a feeling of making it more thematically and sonically consistent,” acknowledges Euan. “It’s coming together very strongly, and I feel like it’s in a good place. An album is a statement, so it’ll be quite different to the EP in that regard.”

“We look at the EP as a collection of songs,” adds Aaron. “Thematically it isn’t continuous – there’s a lot of experimentation there and we wrote them quite a while ago, so there’s a difference from the album. Those songs from the EP are still evolving though, we make new connections with them every time we play them live.”

Making those connections without slipping into autopilot is what makes Cardinals’ shows such a draw, with every venue we’ve seen them at being packed to the rafters with dedicated fans – something which is even more impressive considered how new they still are. Most gigs abroad are in countries they’re playing for the first time, but fans seem to be waiting expectantly everywhere they go. When we speak to them, they’re gearing up for their first ever transatlantic gigs, playing two shows in The Big Apple before the year is out. “We’ve not played New York before – I don’t think any of us have even been there before!” says Euan. “We’re looking forward to taking in the Christmas feeling, going to Macy’s or skating on an ice rink or something. I dunno, whatever it is they do over there.” He says with a laugh.

Part of the joy for any band is the opportunity to fly thousands of miles away and experience a new country while technically claiming it’s all for work and you’re definitely not only doing it so you can see the Statue of Liberty and take photos of yellow taxicabs (No, just us? – Ed). But distance can also reduce a band down to a few broad strokes in the eyes of wherever they’re going, with a band like Cardinals running the risk of being labelled one-dimensionally as an ‘Irish band’, with none of the nuance that entails. “You can definitely feel the fetishisation of Irish culture, both in the UK and the US, and further afield.” says Euan. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to throw away or neglect our heritage. We’re quite proud Irish men, and proud Cork men as well. We just take it in our stride. There is a lot to take from our cultural identity, and there’s no point putting that on the backburner just because we’re afraid of people fetishising it.”

This pride in where they’re from can be felt in lyrical references to Cork, sprinkled through Cardinals’ songs, and the inspiration taken from the city’s literary heritage. “We all still live in the city, and we’re reading writers or artists like Kevin Barry and Frank O’Connor, we’re listening to The Frank and Walters, or the Sultans of Ping – Cork is still a huge part of who we are.” Euan says. “But that’s not to say we aren’t pulling from all over the place as well. Nowadays it’s so easy to get your hands on different media, different books, so of course that has an impact on our songs and will do on the album, too”.

I am going to leave things there. I am fairly recent to Cardinals but it is obvious that they are a very special band. After a debut album comes out, no doubt they will be headlining stages and embarking on a world tour. So soon into their career and they have already achieved so much. Ireland is giving us some of the most important talent of the past decade or so. When it comes to this force of nature…

MAKE sure you don’t miss out.

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Follow Cardinals

FEATURE: Spotlight: Bibi Lucille

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

 

Bibi Lucille

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THIS is a feature…

where I will spotlight an artist who I think genuinely has a long future in the music industry. Even though she has not put out too many singles yet, I have been blown away by her sound! Her latest single, To Be Damned, followed 2024’s Addicted. I was lucky enough to interview Bibi Lucille in 2023 about her play, Meat Cute. This is a phenomenal actor, and a creative and fashion activist. Someone who, as an artist, has this distinct voice and sonic world. One I am fascinated in. I want to pull together some interviews with Bibi Lucille. As a relatively new artist, a lot of the content regarded her acting work and fashion activist brand, B.LUCILLE. I am always in awe of everything she does. A hilarious writer who is an exceptional and hugely versatile actor. Somebody that has, in part, influenced me to write comedy, she can portray so many emotions and inhabit so many different characters flawlessly. As an artist, no doubt many of the disciplines and experiences from her acting and writing C.V. feed into her music. I am definitely excited to see where she heads next and how her career blossoms. I would love to see her perform live and I can picture a stunning E.P. that includes Addicted, To Be Damned and a couple of other tracks. I do hope there is a video planned for To Be Damned because, as I listened to the song recently, I was stunned and instantly inhabited the song. So struck by its immediate brilliance, I speculated as to what a video would entail and look like. She is an artist that draws you into songs and gets into the heart and head. In such a competitive scene where it is hard to stand out, Bibi Lucille definitely has a passion, talent and vision that will see her endure for years and stand her aside from many of her peers. As mentioned, I do want to get to some interviews. Recent ones where we get to learn more about this incredible and inspiring (a word I will keep using but is very much accurate when discussing her) human.

To start, I want to source from a 2024 interview published by Voyage LA Magazine. I am going to end up by bringing it back to music. However, it is important that we get some background. The disciplines of acting and music close bedfellows. Discovering more about Bibi Lucille and her craft as an actor also ties into her career as an artist. Someone, as I mentioned, who has a long future ahead. I can see her releasing a series of albums and performing on some big stages around London:

“Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?

It feels as though there was no official start date as to when I started acting. It was a thing that, for as long as I can remember, wanted. My parents enrolled me in acting classes at a young age, and at ten years old, my primary school cast me as the ‘Fairy Godmother’ in Cinderella. I was always a shy kid, but the second I climbed into that sparkly pink dress and faced the assembly hall, I transformed. My blanket of social awkwardness fell off and I was able to be outrageous, loud, bolshy – and make people laugh. I think that’s the thing that got me hooked. My career formally began when I left school at nineteen and bagged a lead role in the west end with Noel Coward’s ‘This Was a Man’ at Leicester Square Theatre. I went on to focus on theatre for years (between shifts at the call centre, of course). I bounced from playing Lady Anne at Baron’s Court to a nutty Jane Watson in a ‘Hound of the Baskervilles tour (which ended up on the mayor’s top picks in 2018, alongside Hamilton, no less). Theatre was always home to me, and still is now. But, unfortunately, even with some success, it’s an unsustainable career long term. So, after a few years, I turned to screen. I started with a plethora of short films before gaining some TV roles (‘Trust,’ Amazon Prime, and ‘Purgatory’ on Popstar!TV). But the most joy I found was in the web-series ‘I am Sophie’ that played as an ARG series where audiences on YouTube could get involved with the plot and speculate over the hidden clues and meanings within this complex horror narrative.

When covid hit, work dried up – as it did for most people in the arts. Thanks to my cousin (Anastasia Bunce, founder of Patch Plays Theatre), I started writing. The writing was something I never had any confidence in, but I loved writing short stories, poems, etc., as a hobby and then tucking them away into a folder on my computer labeled ‘PRIVATE.’ Anastasia encouraged me to write a short stand-up piece, which was well-received and was then turned into a full-blown, one-hour play called ‘Meat Cute’. It toured fringe venues and festivals around London in 2021 before being transferred to the Edinburgh Fringe in 2023. The playtext was published by Aurora Metro publishers, and from there, I have continued to write and found great joy in creating my own projects.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?

Venturing down a creative path is never smooth, nor is it linear. I have had many sleepless nights where I’ve found myself digging a hole of doubt and fear as to whether I can sustain this career – if it will go anywhere or if I’ll hit middle age with little money and no concrete plan. Despite this, I love the industry more than I fear it. In recent years, I’ve come to understand that the pure volatility of it all is what makes it so exciting. We love stories that are full of ups and downs, joys and disappointments – if my own life wasn’t brimming with uncertainty, then I would find myself incurably bored. So, embracing the bumpy road and still driving at full speed is what keeps my excitement and passion for life alive, which is so important for every creative.

In my earlier years, I certainly struggled with naivety. You’d think the old adage of male directors telling young actresses that they’ll ‘make them a star’ has long passed, but it unfortunately still manifests itself in many different forms and in many different people. I was privy to several predatory behaviors, which instilled in me a real fear of the industry for a while. When I was about twenty-two, a particular incident of a man pretending to be an agent kicked all my motivation out of me for over half a year. I was terrified I’d keep being taken advantage of and that my spirit would be beaten to a pulp by the time I was in my mid-twenties. Fortunately, with a supportive family and community around me, I was able to pick myself back up and go at it full force, but without the bright eyes and bushy tails this time. As I’ve aged, I’ve found my voice and ensured that any untoward behavior is halted before it’s even started. It’s imperative that any woman entering the industry isn’t afraid to call out inappropriate behavior, as simply ‘dealing with it’ will destroy a love for the arts.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?

As of the past few years, I’ve become a writer/performer. I love creating work and projects and opening up interesting roles for women to play that don’t revolve around being ‘the girlfriend’ or ‘the mother.’ I’m particularly drawn to dark comedy at the moment and finding humor in the absurd. I would say I’m best known for playing Lara in ‘I am Sophie’ and for my one-woman show ‘Meat Cute.’ I think a niche that I’ve found is really playing into my passion for animal rights and presenting more activism-based works. I think the elements that really make a story stand out is when it has a message that goes beyond entertainment and a good plot. If there is something to learn or understand, it adds another layer of purpose to the story, which I find really exciting”.

I have to talk about Bibi Lucille’s fashion brand, B.LUCILLE. It is a brand that empowers people to make a positive impact on society. In everything she is involved with and champions, she is empowering and inspiring. This is someone who you need to know about! Before getting to a couple of further interviews, I want to include Rolling Stone UK’s 2024 discussion with Bibi Lucille. I am excited about this expanding and diverse portfolio (and legacy). Make sure you follow Bibi Lucille on social media:

“The “B. Lucille” couture collection pays homage to the timeless beauty of impressionist art, translating iconic masterpieces like Renoir’s “The Swing” and Vermeer’s “The Astronomer” into wearable works of art. Each dress is a careful study in colour, texture, and movement, meticulously crafted to capture the essence of the original paintings. Underscoring our dedication to environmental responsibility and animal welfare, every fabric used in this collection is vegan and sustainably sourced. From the delicate chiffons that billow like clouds to the richly hued velvet accents, each material is carefully selected to minimise our ecological footprint.

“My whole life, I have been an actor. More recently, I have ventured into writing. But I could never have guessed that 2024 will be the year I start my own couture clothing brand. Fashion was something that I took an interest in at an early age but left the hobby dormant in childhood; my last brush with fashion being in textiles at high school, before being whisked away by Literature, French and, of course, Drama for GCSE. I was a painfully shy kid, and in my hazy memories of school can recall burrowing myself in the art block, where I would fumble with sewing machines and shoddily tie dye bits of loose fabric. One of our first assignments was to create an apron (which lived in the back of my wardrobe for many years before I finally found the strength to throw it away). I worked on this apron for many hours and through countless lunch breaks, creating a pink tie dye aesthetic with the word BIBI in bold on the front pocket. When it was finally completed, the teacher proudly mounted it on a mannequin, telling me that I was the first Year 7 to have my work displayed amongst the GCSE students’ fashion projects. As that apron stood proudly on the porcelain, headless doll overlooking the entire classroom, I felt an overwhelmed wash of pride. I was good at something.” Stated Bibi

With B.LUCILLE, Bibi Lucille has created a brand that not only celebrates individuality and style but also empowers individuals to make a positive impact on society. Through her fashion activist brand, she aims to raise awareness about important social issues such as animal cruelty, and inspire others to join the movement. So, when you wear a B.LUCILLE dress, you are not just making a fashion statement, but you are also becoming a part of a larger community that strives for positive impact.

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Scriptwriting and Activism Via Film

Starring in the upcoming short film named ‘The Silver Lining’, through the medium of film, “The Silver Lining” provides a platform to explore these concerns and spark important conversations about the impact of EMFs on our lives. By weaving the issue into a compelling narrative that is both entertaining and thought-provoking, the film engages audiences in a way that traditional educational campaigns cannot. Bibi will also be releasing the film ‘Meat Cute’ which is an adaptation of the critically acclaimed play. ‘Meat Cute’ follows the story of the impassioned vegan activist, Lena, who attempts to turn all her dates vegan as a form of activism. This farcical comedy details the life of a woman desperately seeking to implement change and influence in an indifferent society.

“Acting was the only thing I could remember ever wanting. Even as a kid, I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t glued to some old film on one of those 90s box TVs, watching a VCR and wishing I was Marilyn Monroe. Acting was the only thing that brought me out of my introverted shell and created a space where I could play and forget the world. Ironically, acting is the thing that let me be wholly myself. Veganism was also something I was always intensely passionate about, so fusing acting and activism together felt like some form of paradise. It was great to finally realise that I could do what I loved and make a meaningful change in the process.” Said Bibi

Bibi Lucille’s B.LUCILLE brand is a true testament to her creativity, passion, and commitment to making a difference. By combining exquisite craftsmanship, EMF protective fabrics, and exotic vegan materials, she has created a brand that is not only fashion-forward but also socially conscious. So, if you’re looking for a dress that not only makes you look stunning but also allows you to contribute to a better world, look no further than B.LUCILLE”.

Canvas Rebel met Bibi Lucille last year. There are a couple of questions that caught my eye and I wanted to share them here. The more I know about her, the more impressed and awed I am! I am especially invested in her as a rising artist, though I love everything that has come before. Someone who can balance writing, acting, her fashion brand with a music career:

“We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

For any creative, resilience is key. It’s the thing that’s going to get you through the greatest set-backs and is going to help you push through the inevitable self-doubt.

A moment of resilience that really sticks in my mind was when I was auditioning for a role in a film that I really, REALLY wanted. There were four stages in the audition process; I cancelled everything I had on that week, hired an acting coach and threw everything I had into those auditions. I got to the fourth round and really thought I had the role in the bag. A few weeks like, I was on set and received an email from the producer – my heart was racing as I opened it up to an email that said, ‘unfortunately, we have decided to go in a different direction this time.’ My heart broke. I had to hold back tears for the rest of the job and when I finally left the building, I burst into tears. After feeling sorry for myself for a couple of minutes, I told myself that I would allow myself to grieve the loss of this job for five minutes. Five whole minutes, and then I’m done. So I fully let myself feel the rejection and disappointment. Then by the time I had walked to the tube station, I decided that that was it – I was going to just let it go and carry on.

In any creative career, the rejection is going to be the worst part. You’re going to wonder if you even have any talent or anything to offer the industry. Having the gift of resilience is the key to any kind of success – and it’s the thing that’s going to keep digging you out of those pits of disappointment. Run headfirst into rejection – even seek rejection – because the more exposure you have to it, the stronger that resilience will grow.

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

Something that really drives me is my inner angry feminist and my passion for animal rights and the environment. I know I sound like a real martyr with that trio but it is what it is. My first play, ‘Meat Cute’ is a comedy that follows the story of a woman who attempts to turn all her dates vegan as a form of activism. (Of course, a lot of the time, it goes horribly wrong).

The story was so important to me because it really highlights the horrors of being an activist – of caring deeply for something in an apathetic society. The pursuit of changing the world is an exhausting one, and one that feels incredibly unrewarding. I wanted to give a voice to those people who are desperate to do good in the world and fight for a cause, letting them know that they are seen, heard and important. Because if we don’t have the martyrs of the world, what state will we be left in?

I think feminism is my roman empire. I think for a lot of women, it is, whether it’s conscious or not. So much of our thoughts are consumed with the very act of being a woman; societal pressures, dating, whether we want to be a mother or not, weight, dealing with being a woman in business… it’s a curse that follows us everywhere. I truly feel that the more we talk about it and create rich, interesting characters for women in film and on stage, the closer we can get to just being human rather than focusing on the art of navigating the world as a woman”.

We have heard about Bibi Lucille as an activist, writer and actor. However, how does this link with her career in music? Last week, Nerd Alert spent some time with Bibi Lucille. She talks about the new single, To Be Damned, and what is coming next. The rest of this year are going to be very busy and exciting for her:

“TiShea Wilson: Hi Bibi! Thank you so much for taking the time to chat with us. Let’s jump right in! You have quite an impressive resume with writing, acting, and even producing. Please tell us a little bit about your journey and what led you to broaden your horizons into music.

Bibi Lucille: Since I could remember, I always wanted to be an actor. From an early age, I had tunnel vision, and made the decision to throw my all into it. During school, I would attend auditions and the second I was let free into the world, dove straight into any acting work I could get. Of course, it was easier said than done, so I paid my dues by working in a call center for two years before being able to go full time. My music career began at a very early age – the second I could walk, I’m pretty sure my dad handed me a guitar. Bob Salmons aka Robert Hokum was a blues pariah in Ealing where we grew up – he founded the Ealing Blues Festival and became a local celebrity. He would take me to gigs, get me to busk at events and got me a small slot at Barnet Festival when I was 14. When I hit my late teens, I decided to give music a break for a while to focus on acting.

For years, I knew I wanted to return to it, but it never felt like I had the time (or the money). In autumn ‘23, my dad was diagnosed with motor neuron disease. We weren’t sure how long he had left, and so the urgency to pick music back up again took ahold of me. It was always our thing and it was something I didn’t feel I could do without him. I was very fortunate to meet my friend and colleague, Devansh, who massively helped me with the resources and contacts to create an album. I had just about created two songs (that my dad was very proud of) before he passed in October ‘24. I want to keep creating music in honor of him and to carry on the blues legacy, even if I only possess about half his talent.

TW: Your song ‘Addicted’ has a bluesy-pop vibe to it, and it’s quickly become part of my daily playlist. What is the meaning behind the lyrics and what was your inspiration for writing it?

BL: Blues music historically explores the perils of life to an upbeat tune; most blues songs are about losing everything, being lost, being in debt. I wanted to go down that same path with ‘Addicted’ – the lyrics talking about something or someone the listener is addicted to. It could be a person, alcohol, cigarettes… anything that takes the form of the devil when you have too much of it.

The visuals of the song describe a liar turning up to your door (the liar being the thing you’re addicted to, the thing roping you in) and offering you a drink. In a moment of weakness, you take it and accept that you’ve made the decision to break bread with the devil, so to speak. Blues music often talks about selling your soul to the devil, so I wanted to add that with the twist of the devil being the very thing you’re addicted to. In the second verse, the lyrics describe looking in the mirror the next morning and recognizing the fear of what you’ve done – of how you let yourself give in. We’re all only human, and we’ve all given in to something we know isn’t good for us.

TW: What was the process of creating and releasing ‘Addicted’ like for you?

BL: The process felt so smooth and very exciting. I work with Andrew O’Halloran who produces and mixes the songs – I recorded a raw, acoustic version of ‘Addicted’ on my phone and then sent it off to him where he added his own bluesy flair and melodies to make the song full and alive. It’s great to work with someone who so completely understands the style you’re going for and is able to add things to the song I would never have thought of.

TW: What can you tell us about your upcoming song, ‘To Be Damned’?

BL: ‘To Be Damned’ runs with the blues theme again of being damned, and wondering if there’s a way back from your mistakes. I wanted to explore the idea of guilt and damnation, when you wonder if you’ve made a wrong turn in life and if you’re damned to the path you’ve chosen for yourself. I think we can all relate to that – the curiosity of “what if?”. What if I had chosen to take another path ten years ago, where would I be now? Would it be better or would it be worse? It’s the question we will never know the answer to.

The first lyric of ‘climbing into your mind’ is that idea of something completely consuming you. Whether it be a person or a thought – in this case, I wanted to address the yearning for intimacy we (or someone else) has for a person – that they could crave it to the point of wanting to climb into someone’s mind. It could also be interpreted in a way that someone you love could be distracted by someone else and that thing they’re distracted by has climbed into their mind and pushed you away. The lyric ‘a filthy mouth and a soul to match’ touches on those feelings of guilt – addressing that instant regret of saying something we don’t mean and looking inwards at yourself, wondering if you’re a terrible person. If your soul matches your mouth. What I love about the lyrics is that it can all be interpreted. I like to keep everything a little bit vague so people can attach their own feelings and situations to the lyrics so that they can get what they want or need out of the song.

TW: Who would you say are your biggest musical influences and why?

BL: My first, biggest music influence is Hozier. He perfectly married blues and pop together and I will forever be in awe of that. And on top of the perfect music, his lyrics are so poetic – the way he talks about Greek mythology, God, death… All these topics on deity that make his songs feel otherworldly. Also I love the classics – Otis Redding, BB King. Another favourite is a street band in New Orleans called The Dirty Rotten Vipers who are just the epitome of raw talent.

TW: Can you give us a little insight into what the future holds for you? Are there any upcoming projects, musically or otherwise, you can tell us about?

BL: I’m firing a lot of arrows at a lot of targets this year! Some projects that are up and running are: a new dark comedy play called ‘Narcissists’ which will be performing in LA, London and the Edinburgh Fringe this year. I’ll be completing the album this year with about seven tracks overall. I’ve also got a couture dress brand coming out in Spring called ‘B.LUCILLE’ which I’m very excited to share with the world”.

I hope that as many people as possible pick up and hear the music of Bibi Lucille. More than that, there are so many different sides to discover. Someone who should definitely be on your radar. Since I interviewed her in 2023, she has achieved a huge amount. Every year sees something new, exciting and, yes, inspiring from her! Even though we are only in February, I think that this will…

BE her year.

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Follow Bibi Lucille

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: A Black History Month 2025 Playlist

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

IN THIS PHOTO: Doechii/PHOTO CREDIT: El Hardwick

 

A Black History Month 2025 Playlist

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AS it is…

Black History Month, I wanted to put out a special Digital Mixtape. A selection of songs from incredible and inspiring Black artists. The 2025 theme is "African Americans and Labor" with a focus on the various and profound ways that work of all kinds intersects with the collective experiences of Black people. I don’t think enough of the media shine a spotlight on Black History Month. I am a little lax when it comes to writing about it myself. However, as I run a music blog, the least I can do is combine some truly incredible tracks from Black artists through the decade. To modern-day kings and queens to legends of the past, this is a Black History Month 2025 celebration. I would urge other people to make their own playlists. Honouring and celebrating some truly amazing artists. Because we are nearing the end of February, I felt it was important to compile a playlist featuring a small selection of phenomenal Black artists who combine in…

IN THIS PHOTO: Beyoncé in 2013/ PHOTO CREDIT: Alasdair McLellan

AN incredible mix.

FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Tour of Life: The Sweetest Thank You Note

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Tour of Life

  

The Sweetest Thank You Note

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THIS will be quite a short feature…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush with Tom Jones, after he presented with a South Bank Sky Arts Award for 50 Words for Snow in 2012

but a bit of a diversion. One that is very niche. In a previous feature, I wrote about Kate Bush’s kindness as a producer and artist. How she often gave gifts to those who she worked with. Men who were given a sweet note and a box of chocolates. Not sure what to make of it. Maybe misconstruing it as a romantic gesture, in fact it was Kate Bush displaying her legendary and natural kindness. Her thoughtfulness extended beyond that. She has never been someone who takes others for granted. Whether part of a crew for her 1979 tour or someone who is playing on one of her albums, Bush has this warmth and loyalty. She wants to know everyone’s name and does not look down on another person. There are occasions and what-ifs that I have not written about largely. One was Tony Visconti was almost considered as a potential producer for 1982’s The Dreaming, Maybe a co-producer. It would have been intriguing to hear that combination! I think the David Bowie connection fascinated Bush and she and Visconti would have hit it off. However, Bush had to kindly turn him down because she wanted to producer herself. Any time she had to turn someone down, she did so in the kindest and most polite way. Always  putting the effort in to make sure they feel good. I am not sure exactly how far Bush’s generosity extends when it comes to gifts. I do know that she often gifted her musicians after albums were completed. This naturally kind artist who appreciated those around her, it is one of my favourite things about Kate Bush. How she had so much affection and appreciation for those who worked alongside her. As mentioned, if she couldn’t work with someone or had to reject an offer, she always did it in the nicest possible way! I guess it connects with her charity work and how she had donated so much of her time to  incredible causes. This has continued to this day.

One reason I wanted to write this feature is because I am thinking about Bush engaging with fans and those who pay tribute to her. I may do a separate feature on this. The tribute acts and those emulating Kate Bush. There are a range of acts that pay tribute to Bush in their own way. You know how important that is to her. How her music is making an impact today. She would never have believed this. One of my dreams would be getting a letter from Kate Bush. I wonder if anyone has researched this. Whether it is a reply to fan mail or a letter of thanks Kate Bush has written, I would love all of these to be collected together. In a digital age, it is rare that an artist would reach out and write a thank you note. That is what happened in 2022. At a time when we were still in the grip of the pandemic, I know that Kate Bush’s music would have given strength and hope to so many people. Even though this was an electronic thank you, Kate Bush reached out to the Brisbane Pub Choir after they performed Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God). This report from The Guardian tells the story of how Bush connected with the Brisbane Pub Choir:

“Brisbane’s Pub Choir founder and director Astrid Jorgensen is used to getting fan mail about the mass amateur choir’s covers of hit songs – but when she was told on Thursday that Kate Bush had emailed about their rendition of Running Up That Hill, she had to call her morning run short and head straight home.

“My manager called me and said, you’ve got to get home, Kate Bush has emailed. I ran straight back – I was literally running up that hill,” she laughs.

“Dear Brisbane Pub Choir,” the message began. “I’ve been so busy that I’ve only just had the chance to watch you all singing RUTH. It’s utterly, utterly wonderful! I love it so much! Thank you everyone. You sing it really beautifully. I’m incredibly touched by your warmth and all your smiling faces. Thank you!”

It was signed: “With lots of love, Kate.”

“It is so wild,” says Jorgensen. “She is the biggest artist in the world right now, so to have her say she was moved by our performance, yeah, that is a peak.”

Pub Choir, a communal amateur choir which operates on the ethos that everyone can sing (especially after a pint or two), performed Running Up That Hill two weeks ago in Brisbane. Some 1,600 people gathered to sing the No 1 hit, which is back in music charts around the world thanks to its appearance in the latest season of Stranger Things”.

PHOTO CREDIT: TfL

It may seem like a minor thing. In the modern age, you do get artists thanking those for covering their music or doing something like that. They will often take to Instagram or another social media platform and send a video. However, it was really thoughtful and unexpected that Kate Bush connected with an Australian choir. How their performance made its way to her. The fact that she loved it and took the time to contact them. In a career where Bush has sent thankful letters and notes and shown such kindness and generosity, that thank you note – or email, technically – was one of the sweetest. Since then, so many people around the world have covered Kate Bush’s music. Whether it is an artist covering her song live or a tribute act or cabaret focusing on her sensational music, there is this wealth of love out there for her. In all corners of the world. Although it is impossible for Bush to see it all and reply to everyone, you know that everything means so much to her. The resurgence and new popularity for Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) in 2022 definitely opened up Kate Bush’s music to new audiences. Although a bit naïve, this reply to a fan letter from 1978 was a big deal. I guess the choice of photo to sign was a little misadvised, though Bush’s word and the time she took to reply to a fan showed she had this sense of appreciation from the start. Through the years, Bush has accepted honours and accolades and always given thanks. In 2012, when 50 Words for Snow was awarded at the South Bank Sky Arts Awards, she posted a message to her official website. The following year, when Bush was awarded a CBE, she thanked her fans again. Last year, when fans wished her a happy birthday and TFL honoured her, Bush sent her thanks. Again, taking the time to show her appreciation and gratitude! It is always amazing seeing this. A major artist who doesn’t need to do that, Kate Bush always takes time to show her thanks to people. That incredible thank you she sent to the Brisbane Pub Choir. Times when she sent actual thank you notes and bought people gifts. In a future feature, I will explore more those paying tribute to Kate Bush in their own way. Whether it is a The Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever or someone covering her songs. For now, I wanted to be a bit more specific. One (of many) occasion where Kate Bush took time out to…

SHOW her thanks and gratitude.

FEATURE: On the Road Again: Bob Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home at Sixty

FEATURE:

 

 

On the Road Again

  

Bob Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home at Sixty

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ON 22nd March…

PHOTO CREDIT: Fiona Adams/Redferns

it will be sixty years since Bob Dylan’s fifth studio album, Bringing It All Back Home, was released. It was the first of a trio of album that shifted the perception of Dylan as a Folk artist. One of the most important releases of his career. It is my favourite of all of his albums. I wanted to explore Bringing It All Back Home ahead of its sixtieth anniversary. Last year, MOJO revisited Bringing It All Back Home. An artist very much in the spotlight now – because of the film, A Complete Unknown -, we look back sixty years to the release of a seminal release from one of the all-time great songwriters:

“SO hallowed in the pantheon is the first of what turned out to be Dylan’s mid-’60s holy trinity of ‘electric’ albums that hindsight confers upon it a sense of awesome inevitability. At the time, of course, not so.

Though Dylan’s two 1964 albums had not sold quite as well as 1963’s The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, that year he was spinning in a vortex of fame whipped even faster by his association with the British Invasion. In August, he’d turned The Beatles onto weed in a New York hotel room – while The Animals, whose House Of The Rising Sun was a US Number 1 in September, both nodded to Dylan’s 1962 debut album version and rocked it up a few notches. This mutual admiration further inflamed the controversy surrounding Dylan as a folk-protest apostate, forsaking civil rights and peace for creative self-exploration and supercool celebrity. No American musician was more divisive.

His folk-protest movement detractors were not wrong. No roundhead, Dylan was a footloose 23-year-old surrounded by acolytes and juggling girlfriends – publicly folk-protest queen Joan Baez and behind the scenes Sara Lownds, whom he’d marry in November 1965. Plus, there was a flirty friendship with his manager Albert Grossman’s wife Sally, to be pictured chic and mysterious on Bringing It All Back Home’s cover. Dylan was also hanging out with Allen Ginsberg and his fellow Beats [pictured above with Robbie Robertson and Michael McClure], his own poetic ambition further fired when John Lennon’s book of verse, In His Own Write, became an instant bestseller.

On January 13, 1965, Dylan returned to New York’s Columbia Studios with 18 songs written from within the whirlwind, energised by media overload and lubricated by red wine, weed, speed and acid, then still legal. What would become perhaps his most famous and beloved song, Mr Tambourine Man, had been awaiting its moment for 10 months. That moment was, for Dylan, the decision to change gears and light out for new territory. Here and throughout the album, images of movement (“swirling”, “wandering”, “dancing”, “spinning”, “swinging”, “skipping”, “waving”) contrast favourably with images of stasis (“weariness”, “fences”, “frozen”, “haunted”).

That personal moment exactly harmonised with a socio-cultural moment, a radical new mood being born where a critical mass of young Americans – now facing the draft to fight in Vietnam, while at home Southern reactionaries fought on to deny Black Americans equal rights – began to challenge the status quo of their parents’ flag-waving conservativism and materialism. As Dylan sang on Subterranean Homesick Blues, the album’s hilariously paranoid single and opening number inspired by Chuck Berry’s Too Much Monkey Business and foreshadowing rap, “You don’t need a weatherman/To know which way the wind blows.”

Rock’n’roll, as radically rebooted by the British Invasion and soul explosion, soundtracked this generational change in appearance, lifestyle and attitude. Though the just-murdered Sam Cooke’s A Change Is Gonna Come and Martha And The Vandellas’ Dancing In The Street came close, no record had quite yet crystallised this moment as a clarion call; it just needed someone to hit the nail head-on.

For months his shrewd and savvy producer Tom Wilson had been coaxing Dylan to rock – with “some background,” he told Grossman, “you might have a white Ray Charles with a message” – and that summer of ’64 the bard had rented an electric guitar, as if still not quite yet decided to relive his teenage ambition to rock’n’roll. His friend John Hammond Jr’s album of Chicago electric blues covers So Many Roads nudged him further, and the leap finally came, after a day recording solo in Columbia’s New York Studios in January 1965, when Wilson recruits including guitarist Bruce Langhorne, pianist Paul Griffin and drummer Bobby Gregg – possessing, in Wilson’s words, “the skill of session musicians and the outlook of young rock’n’rollers” – set up and plugged in.

“Bob would launch into a song. No warning, no explanation, no nothing. We’d just leap in and try to keep up,” Langhorne remembered. “He didn’t try to arrange people’s performances. It was spontaneous, almost telepathic. We had to catch the moment.”

It worked, the moment often caught on the first take, and even the solo acoustic songs bunched on Side 2 ring with fierce conviction, particularly It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding), machine-gunning us with a critique of societal phoniness of such epigrammatic invention and intensity that its writer counts it among his supreme tours de force.

Elsewhere the songs are comic, romantic and, in the last song It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue, anti-romantic, its prettily bittersweet melody and manifest influence of such French Symbolist poets as Rimbaud and Verlaine perfuming a conclusive dumping.

Side 1 hosts the romances – She Belongs To Me, Love Minus Zero/No Limit (a cryptic conceit in the form of a mathematical equation where ‘no limit’ is ∞) – and, in addition to Subterranean Homesick Blues, the comedies Maggie’s Farm, Outlaw Blues, On The Road Again and Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream, picaresques that tumble our jester-minstrel through the preposterous grotesqueries of exploitative dead-end jobs, in-laws and, finally, mythic America itself.

In even the least quotable song, Outlaw Blues – the beautiful I’ll Keep It With Mine was one of several better songs he decided to hold back “for next time”, as Dylan told photographer Daniel Kramer, worrying, “How do I know I can do it again?” – there are ringing lines, and the whole album boasts zingers still funny after six decades and verse upon verse of poetic resonance and beauty; there can be few more gem-encrusted artefacts in the English language since Shakespeare. Plus, it rocks. Finding its moment, Bringing It All Back Home was not just a must-hear hit but an utter game-changer”.

I want to move to a 2020 feature from Albumism. They marked fifty-five years of a classic. Many consider Bringing It Back Home to be Bob Dylan’s greatest album. Whilst there is stiff competition, there is so much to admire on the album. I do hope there are sixtieth anniversry celebrations for Bob Dylan’s majestic fifth studio album:

“Dylan opens Bringing It All Back Home moving hard, fast, and uncompromising with “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” The song was not only unlike anything that Dylan or anyone else had released before, it’s also lyrically as densely packed as any rock song released before or since, as Dylan says more in two-and-a-half minutes than most artists say in songs triple the length.

Dylan’s staccato delivery sticks out on “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” sounding very much like a proto-rap song even 55 years later, though apparently it was influenced by Chuck Berry’s “No More Monkey Business.” He uses it to provide nuggets of pure wisdom, like “Twenty years of schooling and they put you on the day shift” and “Don’t follow leaders and watch your parking meters.” Other lines from the song inspired political movements and revolutionaries (“You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows).

Dylan continues to incorporate a few love songs into his repertoire, with “She Belongs To Me” and “Love Minus Zero/No Limit.” The former is a song of reverence, with Dylan describing how he has placed himself under the thrall of his true love. During the latter, he envisions what he seeks in an ideal partner, putting together a portrait of a woman with freedom of spirit and a deep well of wisdom and understanding.

“On the Road Again” is one of Dylan’s patented absurdist entries, at home on albums like The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan (1963) and Another Side of Bob Dylan. Dylan finds himself in the midst of violently disgruntled monkeys, derby-wearing milkmen, and thieving uncles, pondering why he bothers hanging around. The song was apparently a commentary on the often too cute by half Greenwich Village neighborhood of which he was a frequent visitor and resident.

Dylan veers into the even more absurd with “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream.” The song is a warped, satirical take on Chris Columbus’ “discovery” of America, but with Dylan playing first mate Kidd to “Captain Arab” and his crew. Here, the America he “discovers” looks a lot like contemporary society, with over-zealous police officers and Guernsey cows. I still think that funny Dylan is underrated, and this song has some flashes of brilliance. There’s some painfully labored puns (involving both Crêpes Suzette and the Beatles), but there’s also some of Dylan’s wry wit and solid observational humor.

The album’s second side shifts focus and approach. For one, it’s largely acoustic, giving longtime Dylan fans some semblance of familiarity, at least in terms of sound. It begins with “Mr. Tambourine Man,” one of the Dylan’s most iconic songs. “Mr. Tambourine Man” was originally intended to appear of Another Side of Bob Dylan. Dylan had recorded a version of the song and subsequently scrapped it (the take apparently wasn’t very good). He revisited the composition during the Bringing It All Back Home sessions months later, emerging with a piece of transformative music.

Like many of Dylan’s greatest songs, the “meaning” of “Mr. Tambourine Man” continues to be a source of debate. Because it was the mid 1960s, many interpreted it as Dylan’s dedication to the power of LSD.  For what it’s worth, Dylan has always maintained that it’s just about Bruce Langhorne, one of his longtime collaborators, and an impossibly large tambourine that he used during one studio session. “It was like, really big,” Dylan said in the liner notes of his Biograph boxset. “It was as big as a wagon-wheel. He was playing, and this vision of him playing this tambourine just stuck in my mind.”

“Gates of Eden” seems to defy this analysis. Dylan fills the song with surreal religious allusions, which makes the epic extremely difficult to decipher. Occasionally “Gates of Eden” seems to evoke the mood behind something like “A Hard Rain’s a Gonna Fall,” as Dylan, with great gravity and seriousness, expounds upon grey flannel dwarves and Aladdin on his lamp. It’s one of the first instances where what Dylan is singing about isn’t as important as it makes the listener feel.

“It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” is one of Dylan’s most perfect compositions, and, in my personal opinion, likely the best song that he ever recorded. Though much has been said about what some consider Dylan’s move away from protest music, “It’s Alright, Ma” is as politically charged and angry as anything that Dylan recorded during the ’60s. Armed with just his acoustic guitar, Dylan rages against the machine, fiercely admonishing consumer culture and meaningless glorification of wealth.

Dylan utilizes his unique, internal rhyme scheme that underscores the potency of his lyrics. He relentlessly sends verses crashing forth, washing over the listener in continuous waves. He mocks a society that hocks “flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark” while proclaiming “money doesn’t talk, it swears.” In the midst of this, he slips in one of his most perfect poetic phrases in “he not busy being born is busy dying.”

Another Side of Bob Dylan may have signaled the beginnings of Dylan’s transition to becoming what he’s known as today, but Bringing It All Back Home is him finally unlocking his full potential. The album is as complex and contradictory as all great works of art, while possessing a clarity of vision that is staggeringly impressive.

Though Bringing It All Back Home may be Dylan’s high water mark (at least in my opinion), it did signal the end of his innovation as an artist. Mere months later, he released Highway 61 Revisited, which would again change how songs were written and what could be considered a pop hit. It’s a similarly great album, and one that’s completely electric. The artistic and critical success of Bringing It All Back Home reinforced his commitment to keep on pushing boundaries. Rarely has so much been accomplished in so little time”.

One reason why Bringing It All Back Home is so revolutionary is because it was Dylan moving into Rock and electric realms. An artist who many pigeonholed as an acoustic Folk act was getting a lot of heat for seemingly betraying his roots. The electric Judas was moving in a new direction and expanding his palette. I think that Bringing It All Back Home is this bold and brilliant album that has this incredible legacy. Often cited as one of the best albums ever release. I want to end with a 2016 feature from Ultimate Classic Rock:

“Bringing It All Back Home was an entirely different shift, one that would culminate four months later on July 25, 1965, when Dylan and his band plugged in at the Newport Folk Festival and played a brief set fueled by distorted electric instruments. According to legend, the folk audience was shocked and appalled, and probably just a bit miffed at the short set and the atrocious sound coming from the stage, which was equipped for acoustic music, not electric. Whatever the reason, Dylan was booed.

Anyone who had heard Bringing It All Back Home, which was released in March 1965, knew this was coming. From the opening "Subterranean Homesick Blues" to the side-one closer "Bob Dylan's 115th Dream," the first half of Dylan's fifth LP is mostly contempt, rage and rock 'n' roll fury. There's absolutely nothing Newport Folk Festival about it.

Turn it over, and things are closer to more familiar territory for fans who thought they had been betrayed by Dylan. "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" bookended the album's four-song second side with sprawling acoustic numbers filled with the clever wordplay and engaging melodies that the young singer-songwriter was expanding with each LP. But this time they were bigger and grander, and had way more in view than Dylan's core folk audience.

Together, Bringing It All Back Home's 11 songs represent Dylan's first true artistic statement (though the same can be argued for The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, to a point), an album partly made for fans, partly made for Dylan himself. Electric achievements like "She Belongs to Me" and "Maggie's Farm" cut with the other two acoustic songs sandwiched on side two ("Gates of Eden" and "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)") strike a balanced and conciliatory tone that Dylan wouldn't revisit for decades. From this stage onward, Dylan's compromises would be his own.

But more than all of this, Bringing It All Back Home kicked off one of music's greatest triple plays. Within the next 15 months, Dylan would release two more classic albums -- Highway 61 Revisited, which followed in August, and Blonde on Blonde from mid-1966 -- that pretty much sealed his legend. Few artists in rock history have matched that scale and influence in such a short period. In a way, all these years later, Dylan is still trying to live it down”.

One of the most important albums in music history, Bringing It All Back Home still sounds thrilling after all of these years. From the rush and brilliance of Subterranean Homesick Blues to the epic closer, It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue, it is a faultless album that pushed Dylan sound forward. Whilst many objected, there was so much respect and admiration from large sections of the press. This increased as years passed. It is a stunning work from…

A music genius.

FEATURE: Why We Should Love You: The Independent Nature of Kate Bush’s Music

FEATURE:

 

 

Why We Should Love You

 

The Independent Nature of Kate Bush’s Music

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THERE may be a slight…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1978/PHOTO CREDIT: Gered Makowitz

disclaimer or exception to start off this feature. The Georgian traditional choral in Hello Earth (from 1985’s Hounds of Love) was not written by Kate Bush, though the rest of the song was. During In Seach of Peter Pan, Bush which appears on Lionheart, Bush sings an excerpt of When You Wish Upon a Star, written by Leigh Harline and Ned Washington. I know too that some string arrangements were written by other people. Maybe band members having a big say in that their part sounded like. However, when you look at Bush’s ten studio albums – even though Wikipedia says Director’s Cut is a remix album, it is not, as it was recorded in a studio and the songs are not ‘remixes’ -, she is the sole credited writer. If I throw in the fact that Night of the Swallow had strings arranged by Bill Whelan, and strings arrangements on Houdini are by Dave Lawson and Andrew Powell, then everything else was written by Kate Bush. She was the first female artist in Pop history to have a million-selling debut album with 1978’s The Kick Inside. An album where she was the sole writer. I look at all her albums and marvel at the sheer variety you get in terms of the sounds. This is not an artist who repeats things and has albums that sound alike. All ten of her albums are very different. One might say it is no big deal that she wrote all of her songs. Consider the fact that she solo-produced seven of her albums, co-produced another and assisted with production on another. Only one album that does not have Bush in the mix as a producer.

The production on her albums is one of the most notable standouts. I think about the modern scene and solo artists who are majorly successful today. When you look through their albums, there are co-writes. Think about modern Pop queens and whether they have the same independence and music autonomy as Kate Bush. From Sabrina Carpenter to Taylor Swift to Beyoncé through to Charli XCX, they have other writers and producers in the mix. You can look at other genres and areas of music and see artists who have released a lot of album where all the songs were written by them. Even one of our very best singer-songwriter, Laura Marling, has co-writing credits on some of her songs. Kate Bush heroes like Elton John, David Bowie, The Beatles and Steely Dan have not strictly written all of their songs (Steely Dan has to give a co-writing credit to Keith Jarrett for Gaucho’s title track; The Fez (from The Royal Scam) had another writer beside Donald Fagen and Walter Becker). Whether you consider Kate Bush’s songwriting record to be purely individual or largely so, one cannot get around the fact that she was very much the heart of her songs. Her words and music. It seems quite rare in today’s music scene where you will have a band or artist where one person writes everything. That there is no outside help as it were. In terms of production too. Not many artists producing most of their studio albums. Even so, there is no doubt that so many modern Pop artist take inspiration from Kate Bush. She definitely opened doors in terms of musicians, especially women, being able to write their own songs and direct their career.

I have written about this in some capacity before. I will approach it from a new angle today. It is not only impressive that Kate Bush has written all of her tracks. Consider how unconventional they are. If she had written ten commercial Pop albums and penned all the songs herself – again, not something many artists alive can claim – then that would be impressive enough. She has written a body of work not only uniquely brilliant and eclectic. It is one that has inspired a whole range of artists across multiple genres and time periods. I want to take from this New Yorker feature from 2018:

“Female pop geniuses who exercise their gifts in rampant, restless fashion over decades, writing, performing, and producing their own work, are as rare as black opals. Shape-shifting brilliance and an airy indifference to what’s expected of you are not the music industry’s favorite assets in any performer, but they are probably easier to accept in a man than in a woman. And such a musician, even today, is subject to the same pressures that have always hindered women’s artistic expression. Like the thwarted writers whom Virginia Woolf described in “A Room of One’s Own,” the female pop original is “strained and her vitality lowered by the need of opposing this, of disproving that”—by the refusal to please and accommodate that only a deep belief in one’s own gift can counteract. “What genius, what integrity it must have required in the face of all that criticism, in the midst of that purely patriarchal society,” Woolf writes, “to hold fast to the thing as they saw it without shrinking.”

One secret of Bush’s artistry is that she has never feared the ludicrous—she tries things that other musicians would be too careful or cool to go near. That was apparent from the very first lines of “Wuthering Heights”—“Out on the wiley, windy moors / we’d roll and fall in green / You had a temper like my jealousy / too hot, too greedy.” When she wrote that song, she hadn’t yet read the Emily Brontë novel; she’d only caught the end of a TV adaptation. But of course she got the essence of the book, sucked it in, and transmogrified it in her teen-aged soul, and she knew how to keen those lyrics like a ghost ceaselessly yearning.

Not long ago, I was reading another Virginia Woolf essay, about the Brontës, when I came across some lines about Emily that made me think of Bush. It wasn’t only because Bush summoned Emily’s shade in “Wuthering Heights” or, this year, wrote a short poem for her that will be inscribed in stone at the Brontë Parsonage Museum, on the Yorkshire moors. It was because Bush’s identification with Emily Brontë seemed like a key to her own music. Emily, as Bush once described her, was “this young girl in an era when the female role was so inferior and she was coming out with this passionate, heavy stuff.” Bush, like Emily Brontë, rendered femininity as passionate and heavy but also incandescent, allied to the natural world, an irresistible force. “Hers then is the rarest of all powers,” Woolf wrote. “She could free life from its dependence on facts, with a few touches indicate the spirit of a face so that it needs no body; by speaking of the moor make the wind blow and the thunder roar”.

Not only is Kate Bush an artist who has written all of her songs. She is someone who has done so at times when the industry was hugely male-dominated and sexist. From the start of her career, she was determined that what she was singing came from her mind. Sure, there have been string arrangements where she got assistance. Some odd bits here and there. However, as a composer, Bush’s albums have been composed by her. Consider the sheer scope and diversity of her compositions, that is another hugely impressive layer. Once more, I look around music today and wonder how many artists can rival. It is clear that Kate Bush’s music has influenced various artists in different wats. In 2022, The Guardian ran a feature where a range of artists wrote what Kate Bush means to them:

“Brian Molko, Placebo

Kate created her own emotional universe. I’m nostalgic for that period in music because I think we’re given too much information today, so there’s less capacity for us to create those personal universes through somebody else’s work. There needs to be enough ambiguity there for it to become very personal to each listener. Kate’s music meant I could leave the drudgery of my everyday life and my family situation and escape into my imagination – that’s still what I look for today in music.

Rae Morris

Her music is all about combining small details with spiritual, otherworldly, wider cinemascape stuff: a really grand, imaginative to-the-moon-and-back scale, but also the sound of the blood running through your veins. As a teenager I felt like her voice was my inner voice.

Jenny Hval

Working so intensely with her music made me gain enormous respect for her work. I feel as if she is completely unique in her ability to research other people’s stories and retell them. So many of her songs are directly about a book, a film, or an image. And instead of the familiar “if I could turn back time” nostalgic pop music storyteller, the emotional density of those stories is always completely intact, through her voice, production twists and magnificent melodic themes. It’s as if she is a reporter, reporting from the war zone of human experience”.

I am going to wrap up in a minute. Before I do, I want to drop in part of a feature from The Independent that was published in 2014. To coincide with her return to the stage for Before the Dawn, they asked whether Bush was a “Musical pioneer? Reclusive genius? 21st-century witch?”. I think the first is more appropriate as Bush has never been a recluse, and it seems insulting to label her as a witch:

“Without really meaning to, Kate Bush has stood for many things. She has stood for English pop as a discrete idiom, sheared free of its American roots. She has stood firmly for artistic independence in the face of corporate will, by standing up to record-company bosses and by forming her own management and publishing companies at an age most of us are prepared to swallow whatever trickles down. She has stood for privacy in the face of presumption by the media. She has stood, fiercely, against the sexual objectification of women as an industrial norm. She has maintained the conviction that one's first duty is to one's own artistic muse, and she has done it as if it were all in a day's work and not a continuation of her work by other, self-dramatising, means”.

It makes it all the more impressive that Bush wrote all of her songs considering the depth and originality! Some might argue that other solo artists have a longer run of albums where they have written all of the songs, though it is a rarity. Kate Bush is that rare thing: an artist who had a degree of independence right from the start. Writing every song on her debut album was a major reason it was so popular. Never wanting to cover songs or collaborate with writers. This has continued throughout her career. None of her studio albums feature cover versions. She has always wanted to keep things original. That is to be applauded. We look ahead to the next phase of Kate Bush’s career. If she does grace us with another album, you can be sure it will sound like nothing else. The media often labels Bush with these unkind and inaccurate tags. However, I think we can all agree that the one tag that cannot be argue is the fact Kate Bush is…

A music pioneer.

FEATURE: Escapology: No Time for Dreaming: Kate Bush and the Promotion of 1982

FEATURE:

 

 

Escapology

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush at Abbey Road's Studio 2, London, 10/05/1982/PHOTO CREDIT: Steve Rapport/Getty Images 

 

No Time for Dreaming: Kate Bush and the Promotion of 1982

_________

I have mentioned this before…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush signing copies of The Dreaming in September 1982

when speaking about Kate Bush in 1982. Around the time she released The Dreaming (13th September), there was this blitz of promotion. She was taken all over the place and it was pretty exhausting. Considering she had thrown herself into the creation and recording of the first album where she produced solo, she needed time to decompress and rest after the release of her fourth studio album. However, it was a period where she was not given much time to rest. In fact, I have been reading through Tom Doyle’s Running Up That Hill: 50 Visions of Kate Bush, where he write about the promotion following The Dreaming. Before getting to the promotional duties and dates around that, it is worth looking up to the lead-up of The Dreaming’s release. Exactly what Bush was doing in 1982. It is amazing looking at the timeline and how much she fitted into that year:

“January 1982

Kate goes into Advision Studios with Paul Hardiman as engineer to complete the final overdubs on the album. The session is to last for three months.

Kate turns down an offer to play a leading role in the West End production of The Pirates of Penzance.

March 1982

Kate finishes the overdubs and goes into the final mixing of the album. This session lasts two months.

April 1982

Kate's projected book Leaving My Tracks is shelved until early 1983.

The album's release date is put back to September for marketing reasons.

May 1982

The Dreaming album is completed, after a combined work period of more than sixteen months. Kate goes off to Jamaica for a holiday.

June 1982

Kate does some session work for Zaine Griff, who with her had attended Lindsay Kemp's mime classes back in 1976. She does backing vocals on a track dedicated to Kemp, called Flowers.

The release of the single The Dreaming is delayed.

The first issue of Homeground is prepared. 25 copies are run off on an office photocopier.

July 21, 1982

At 48 hours' notice Kate is asked to take David Bowie's place in a Royal Rock Gala before HRH The Prince of Wales in aid of The Prince's Trust. She performs Wedding List live, backed by Pete Townsend and Midge Ure on guitars, Mick Karn on bass, Gary Brooker on keyboards and Phil Collins on drums.

"The best moment by far was Kate Bush's number, a storming success..." (Sunie, Record Mirror)

July 27, 1982

The single The Dreaming is finally released, to excellent music press reviews saluting Kate's creative courage. The single is stifled, however, by the radio producers and presenters, particularly on BBC Radio 1, who will not play it. The plans for a twelve-inch version are aborted.

August 1982

Despite no daytime airplay on Radio 1, The Dreaming enters the singles chart, but peaks at number 48.

September 10, 1982

Kate appears live at a special Radio 1 Roadshow from Covent Garden Piazza to be interviewed briefly about her new album”.

In his chapter entitled The Hardest Sell, that must have been what it seemed like. Whereas the more commercial or accessible Never for Ever (1980) went to number in the U.K. and was perhaps closer to what Kate Bush produced a couple of years prior, The Dreaming was a big leap in the same space of time. An album that was very much unlike her past work. A whole new sound for fans to get their head around. Despite the fact The Dreaming reached number three in the U.K., its sales were seen as relatively poor. Consider her debut album, 1978’s The Kick Inside sold more than a million copies, The Dreaming sold far fewer. Regardless, Bush promoted The Dreaming widely and heavily. The sort of questions and interviews Bush had to face. Interviewers pointing out her dwindling fortunes in the singles charts. On 10th September (1982), Bush attended the Radio 1 Roadshow at Covent Garden, where she was interviewed by Dave Lee Travis, a.k.a. ‘The Hairy Cornflake’. Travis pointed out that Bush was wearing a T-shirt reading ‘I’m a Prima Donna’. This was a promotional item for Steve Harley’s 1976 album, Love’s a Prima Donna. Bush would also wore that T-shirt when signing copies of The Dreaming mere days later. Travis felt that The Dreaming was Bush “acting out”. Maybe not appreciating her new sound, this was a typical tone. Bush would face cynical and often sexist interviews. She was asked whether she would tour. Bush explained how desperate she was to get out there but said it would not be the next year. As it was, Bush never toured again (the only time was in 1979). On the day of The Dreaming’s release - 13th September, 1982 -, Bush was at Capital Radio, where she spoke with D.J. Roger Scott. He noted (rather redundant) that it must be a relief the album is out. He also said Bush must had second thoughts, in the sense that she must have done the album wrong. Self-doubt. Bush said that she had but they were “last-minute paranoias”.

14th September was a busy day. Bush was signing copies of the album at Virgin Megastore, Oxford Street. A huge line of fans ready to meet her and get their copies signed! Right after, Bush travelled up to Manchester to speak on The Old Grey Whistle Test with David Hepworth and Mark Ellen. They heard a rumour that Bush had hired a guard’s van on the train up so that she and her dancers could rehearse a routine. She confirmed that it was true. However, at a hundred mile an hour, she also admitted that it was quite hard too! On 21st September, Bush was on Razzamatazz, Newcastle. In a patronising voiceover from Alistair Pirrie who announced “Here’s little Kate Bush”, she and her dancers performed There Goes a Tenner. The similarities with Madness’ Baggy Trousers (1980) are perhaps not a coincidence as Bush loved that song. On 2nd October, Bush is a guess on Saturday Superstore. The successor to Multi-Coloured Swap Shop, D.J. Mike Read is the latest in a line of rather ill-informed, patronising, clueless and sometimes offensive interviewers Bush would have to deal with on this promotional trail. Bush was asked about the cover and whether that was her with a ring in her mouth. She corrected Read and said it was a key. Unable to think of anything to talk about regarding the album, Read asked if Bush had a local store she visited and whether she bought the same thing. It was a bit of an inane interview that did not really delve into The Dreaming. However, this was Saturday T.V. and the audience were likely to be mainly children! On 6th October, Bush was treated to a more respectful and astute interview. Up in Glasgow, Radio Clyde’s Billy Sloan chatted with her. Noting that Bush’s calibre and excellence meant she might be alienating herself from the charts, did she worry about that. “The top twenty albums this week, there are very few people that you could run parallel with”. It is clear that Bush was not being seen at the time as a commercial artist. Someone who was ahead of everyone around her. Sloan asked about There Goes a Tenner and whether it was glamourising a bank robbery. Bush said that it was almost the opposite. How the robbers planned this heist but it goes wrong and they panic. Oddly, Sloan asked if Bush would secretly love to carry out a robbery, to which she (rightly) that it doesn’t appeal to her!

The train rumbled on. It was down to Birmingham on 8th October for a personal signing/appearance. Bush was on Pebble Mill at One, where she spoke with Paul Gambaccini. He observed how there were longer gaps between singles and whether she worried about this. Bush was scared that she would be forgotten and might seem like she was out of the public eye. Noting how The Dreaming found Bush take more control of the music, they then showed the video for There Goes a Tenner (the only U.K. airing of it). Gambaccini thought it would be a hit. Bush was not sure it would be (it only reached ninety-three). Bush travelled to Paris for an interview on 28th October. Perhaps tired at this point, her patience was tested by a rather lurid and irrelevant interview where she was asked about being a sex symbol. This was for the France Inter public radio station. Bush was polite and said that she thought it was flattering but she worried about not being taken seriously it if was about the physical. Due to translation issues and the rather obnoxious line of questions, there was a weariness coming from Kate Bush. It was the end of a very busy and far-reaching promotional jaunt for The Dreaming. It was clear Bush was very tired at this point. The album went to number three and was a success but EMI and many people around her did not feel she should produce an album again. As it was, Bush would produce every one of her studio albums going forward. The next, Hounds of Love, was released in 1985 and went to number one. Bush was right to persevere but, after a gruelling 1982 and a sense of disappointment regarding the reviews and sales for The Dreaming, there was some uncertainty.

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1982/PHOTO CREDIT: Pierre Terrasson

Apart from a brief trip to Jamaica, most of 1982 was taken up with completing recording and promoting her album. Bush was offered an acting role, paused her memoir (which was indefinitely shelved not long after) and promoted The Dreaming around the U.K. Ending up with a fraught interview in France, Bush must have got to the end of 1982 and wondered what happened. Such a bizarre and tiring year. Not really given much headspace or pause after recording the album, the interviews she did ranged from respectful to the downright idiotic and sexist! Things would be different going forward. Bush spent 1983 with family and friends. Planting the seeds for Hounds of Love, it was a year when she had chance to recharge and regroup. It is easy to see The Dreaming as this dark album at a very turbulent and busy time. One where Bush threw so much of herself into the work that there was not a lot left afterwards. It is still divisive today, though I think it gets more respect than it did in 1982. It was a hard album to sell. Not instantly accessible, interviewers really showed their ignorance at times. However, in years since, The Dreaming is seen as one of Bush’s best albums. Phenomenal production and songwriting, it has inspired so many artists. I look at 1982 and how hectic it was for her! With no rest or chance of escape, Bush was professional and generous throughout the promotional process. If in 1982 there were some wary of The Dreaming and whether Kate Bush had made a commercial misstep, wise and knowledgeable minds clearly identify it as…

A remarkable album.

FEATURE: As the People Here Grow Colder: Kate Bush’s Deeper Understanding at Fourteen

FEATURE:

 

 

As the People Here Grow Colder

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in a promotional photo for 2011’s Director’s Cut/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

 

Kate Bush’s Deeper Understanding at Fourteen

_________

THIS is a song from Kate Bush…

that is a little divisive. I will write more about the album closer to its fourteenth anniversary in May. The only single released from the album was Deeper Understanding. Director’s Cut is an intriguing album. If someone consider it to be one of Bush’s less remarkable works – it is placed low alongside 1993’s The Red Shoes when it comes to ranking her album -, it was unique. In the sense that this was Kate Bush revisiting past material. Something she had not done too often previously. This was a selection of songs from 1989’s The Sensual World and 1993’s The Red Shoes reworked. Rather than this being an album where Bush lazily revisited older tracks as a sort of greatest hits thing, Director’s Cut was very much a new album. The songs sounding very different to how they did originally. It was divisive because it was not seen as a properly new album, in the sense the songs were fresh and unheard. However, I love Director’s Cut because we got to hear these known songs in a new light. Whilst some of the inclusions might have puzzled people – And So Is Love perhaps could have been replaced by something else; Flower of the Mountain (originally The Sensual World) not as impactful as it was in 1989 -, there were tracks on the album that gained new strength and meaning. Included are The Song of Solomon and Never Be Mine. There are two songs on Director’s Cut that very much take on a whole new meaning on the 2011 album. This Woman’s Work was from The Sensual World but originally appeared in the 1988 film, She’s Having a Baby. Bush singing the song as a woman in her fifties. There was this whole new dimension and layer revealed.

Perhaps it was always a bit of a gamble reworking a song that was impactful first time around because of its prescience. In 1989, this idea of someone losing themselves technology and having this sort of obsession seemed far-fetched. I always wonder why this was not released as a single from The Sensual World. In 2011, with technology and the Internet very much gripping people and it being everywhere, one can understand why Kate Bush wanted to revisit the song. Release it as the single from Director’s Cut. Released on 5th April, 2011, the new Deeper Understanding features a newly recorded main vocal by Bush, and the voice of her son Bertie (Albert) on the chorus. The single was released as a digital download. It charted in the U.K. at number eighty-seven. The music video was directed by Kate Bush. I am going to move to interview snippets where Bush discussed Deeper Understanding. Before getting there, it is worth sourcing reviews for the 2011 version of Deeper Understand:

“Michael Cragg wrote in the Guardian (UK) in 2011: “The 2011 retwizzle is two minutes longer, seems to have a new vocal and, naturally for the music climate of today, a lot of vocal processing and vocoder. The chorus is much more explicitly meant to be a conversation between human and computer: “I bring you love and deeper understanding” croons the machine like a malfunctioning ZX Spectrum. It’s not a disaster, in fact once you get used to the vocals it’s still a great Kate Bush track, but if revisiting songs is going to mean adding an extra minute and a half of harmonica solos to each one then we may have problems.” The New Yorker added: “Where the original chattered and cracked, this version susurrates and warps, a bit more like life online”.

I will move to 2011 and some words around Deeper Understanding. Interesting why Kate Bush reapproached the track and whether the song was more or less relevant in 2011 than it was in 1989. Before then, there are interviews where Bush spoke about Deeper Understanding. Back in 1989 and 1990. It is interesting what she says:

“Yes, it is emotional disconnection, but then it’s very much connection, but in a way that you would never expect. And that kind of emotion should really come from the human instinctive force, and in this particular case it’s coming from a computer. I really liked the idea of playing with the whole imagery of computers being so cold, so unfeeling. Actually what is happening in the song is that this person conjures up this program that is almost like a visitation of angels. They are suddenly given so much love by this computer – it’s like, you know, just love. There was no other choice. Who else could embody the visitation of angels but the Trio Bulgarka? [laughs]

John Diliberto, ‘Kate Bush’s Theater Of The Senses’. Musician, February 1990

I suppose it’s looking at society where more and more people are being shut away in their homes with televisions and computers, and in a way being encouraged not to come out. You know, there’s so many people who live in London in high-rise flats – they don’t know their neighbors, they don’t know anyone else in the building. People are getting very isolated. It was the idea of this person who had less and less human contact, and more and more contact with their computer, where they were working on it all day and all night. They see an advert in a magazine for a program for people who are lonely and lost, so they write off for it. When they get it back in the mail and put it into the computer, it’s the idea – a bit like an old sci-fi film, really – where it would just come to life and suddenly there’s this kind of incredible being there, like a great spiritual visitation. This computer is offering this person love, and the idea that they’ve had such little human warmth, they’re getting this tremendous affection and deep love from their computer. But it’s so intense it’s too much for them to take, and they actually have to be rescued from just being killed with love, I suppose.

WFNX Boston radio, Fall 1989”.

It is amazing that so little has been written about Deeper Understanding. The original has got a bit of attention,  though the new version has virtually nothing. Reviews have been mixed around it. Some prefer the production on the Director’s Cut version and feel it works really well. Some object to the vocal processing. This sort of Autotune sound that is less naturally than the 1989 version. On an album that is seen as a lesser Kate Bush work, Deeper Understanding has got fewer press inches than many other songs on the album. The only single from Director’s Cut, it was quite a bold choice. Some might have liked Flower of the Mountain, This Woman’s Work, or even Moments of Pleasure. I have seen some criticism for the video. Graeme Thomson, in his biography of Kate Bush, calls it the nadir of her work. In the sense that it is a mess. I don’t think it is that bad. However, I do really like the track. I can appreciate why Bush wanted to reapproach the song in the 2010s. She was ahead of the game in 1989. Comparing the original song and the 2011 version. Deeper Understanding was also a chance for Bush to feature her son, Bertie. He would feature more prominently and less obscured on the follow-up album, 50 Words for Snow (you can hear him on the track, Snowflake). It is interesting seeing how Deeper Understanding (2011) fits into Bush’s cannon. Look at that run of singles. In 2005, King of the Mountain came out. The only single from Aerial, it reached four in the U.K. In 2007, Lyra was released and reached 187 in the U.K. Deeper Understanding came out in 2011 and reached eighty-seven. Wild Man was the single from 50 Words for Snow and reached seventy-three. Lower chart positions and perhaps less commercial engagement. Maybe the songs are less radio-friendly or commercial. One could argue Bush’s albums more essential than singles. Is Bush a singles artist anymore? If Bush does release a new album soon and a single come, will it have the same appeal as King of the Mountain or will it chart low? Given the fact she has not released an album for over thirteen years, I would expect a high chart position.

Deeper Understanding was important, as it arrived six years after King of the Mountain and was this new chapter. Many did not know when we would get another Kate Bush album after 2005. Nobody could predict two Kate Bush albums would arrive in 2011! One cannot really compare Deeper Understanding with Wild Man. Two very different-sounding songs from two very different albums. It is unfair that Director’s Cut gets overlooked or dismissed. It was tough to revisit Deeper Understanding, as it was so futuristic. I love the original. In 2011, when technology was advancing and social media was coming through in a big way, it was important for Bush to address this. Remodelling a song for that period. She was always someone who was ahead of her time. Technology such a big part of her work. On 5th April, it will be fourteen years since Kate Bush released the amazing Deeper Understanding. I love the interview from that time. Bush speaking with Ken Bruce for BBC Radio 2 and the subject of this song came up. A chance to bring her young son into her work. An important update on a song that was positively far-fetched in 1989. The idea of someone being enslaved by technology or seeing it as a substitute for friendship. Something not many people have spoken about, Deeper Understanding does warrant more spotlight and focus. Fourteen years after its release, technology and its obsessive nature has increased. A.I. has also come in. I know Bush fears the advance of A.I. and is wary of its dangers. I will write about Director’s Cut closer to its anniversary in May. Its one and only single is fourteen very soon. The first glimpse inside an album where Bush revisit and re-recorded songs from The Sensual World and The Red Shoes, the reaction to it was mixed. In my view, it is a song that should be…

TALKED about more.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Jacob Alon

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

  

Jacob Alon

_________

I am quite new to their music…

though I have been struck by the brilliance of Jacob Alon. Drawing comparisons to artists such as Jeff Buckley, they have released brilliant singles like Fairy in a Bottle and Liquid Gold 25. Even if it early days for Alon, they are proving themselves to be a formidable talent. I want to bring in a few fair recent interviews, where we can find out more. Rather than me do most of the talking, I want to let others do that. First, The Independent spoke with Jacob Alon. They discussed loneliness in the queer community, an ill-fated venture into medicine and what comes next:

“Raised in Fife, with its yawning coastal paths and clusters of fishing villages, Alon was a self-described radge (Scottish slang for a tearaway) before they found music. Aged nine, they asked their mother to teach them a song on the piano. That song was “Right Here Waiting”, the forlorn Eighties ballad by American singer Richard Marx; Alon’s performance of it earned them second place in a school talent show. “That moment felt really special – performing was a really electric thing,” Alon says. From there, they went on to form bands with names like The Pleaser Tweezers and Tramadol Nation – playing silly songs to make their friends laugh – but harboured no real ambitions of a career as an artist.

“I think it’s quite a Scottish mentality, but especially in Fife, there’s a low ceiling on what you can dream for,” Alon says. “I always felt that being a musician wasn’t possible for someone like me, and that I should be realistic.” Certain family members discouraged them, too, and so Alon opted to study medicine in Edinburgh instead.

“I really struggled to fit in, even though I loved so many parts of it,” they say. “The university environment is f***ed up. But I think what made me most miserable, and I didn’t know it at the time, was living someone else’s dream. I had music in me – a voice, an honesty – that hadn’t bloomed yet.” They smile, a little. “I’m still blooming.”

It was that incident with the “c*** of a cardiologist” that put Alon off medicine for good. “I think he wanted to make an example of me, to make me feel small,” they recall. “He succeeded. I felt awful, and I didn’t fight back. I wish I’d slapped his face!” They returned to class after his outburst, thinking this would be their life from now on. “It forced me to take a step back and realise I didn’t want to be in this environment.”

Alon stuck it out for the rest of the year before switching to theoretical physics. Then Covid hit, and with it another round of existential second-guessing. “It was the same thing, where I realised I was miserable. Like, ‘What the f*** am I doing?’ I’m meant to love this, but I hate it”.

So, they quit and, for the past few years, have found the songs pouring out of them. One such being “Confession”, an extraordinary track of delicately plucked guitars and Alon’s gossamer voice. “We were only fourteen/ Wild, wide eyes/ Pledging our virtues between holy crimes,” they croon. “We’d drink ourselves naked/ Swallowing the shame/ Stirring in the silence/ Tangling our brains.”

They became a regular on Edinburgh’s folk scene, singing with grizzled sea dogs and young pups in the Captain’s Bar while scraping a living in a local cafe. Alon signed with a manager and then to Island Records, who paired them with producer Dan Carey – which might seem an odd choice to those who know the Speedy Wunderground co-founder for his work with scowling rockers like Fontaines DC and Black Midi. But it’s a stroke of genius to those familiar with Carey’s earlier work, on songs such as Sia’s 2004 piano hymnal “Breathe Me” or Emiliana Torrini’s 2005 album, Fisherman’s Woman.

Alon crashed with Carey while working on new music, of which an overarching theme will be limerence: the state of intense romantic longing for someone who often does not reciprocate. Those who have experienced limerence will know it can lead to obsessive thoughts – an infatuation that overlooks any flaws or, indeed, turns those flaws into an attractive trait. “It’s nice meeting people who are in the know, because it feels like an inner circle of self-awareness,” Alon says with a laugh. We should all get tattoos, I suggest.

“Therapy is helping but also making art – it’s like getting something out of you,” they say. An exorcism, then. I mention a feeling of being haunted by the idea of someone, as though they’re lurking around every corner of your mind, just out of reach. “Yes, and the glimmer hits and you see them suddenly, then project this fantasy onto them,” Alon says. “Ultimately you have to accept that this person is dead… because they never existed. It really feels like you created and then killed this thing.” It’s a precious gift that Alon has, bottling these indefinable feelings, then releasing them with the sweetness of a sigh. It’s a kind of magic, even”.

I am going to move to an interview from Rolling Stone. It is clear that Jacob Alon is such a distinct talent. Someone who very much stands out. That may seem isolating, though I know Alon is giving plenty of inspiration to others. I can see a lot of good things in their future. A debut album cannot be too far away. It will be fascinating to see what that sounds like:

“It’s an otherworldly presentation and one at sharp odds with the song they’re playing. The stunning ‘Fairy in a Bottle’ is a soul-baring ode to broken spirits and ones that got away. “It’s not your fault, it’s my disease and I must learn to set you free,” they gently coo.

There’s subtle shades of Nick Drake in there, but Alon’s journey is entirely their own too – forging a musical career in the folk clubs of Fife after dropping out of medical school. Now, they’re on the way to becoming a distinctive and powerful voice within that world.

You emerged recently with debut single ‘Fairy in a Bottle’. How’s the reaction been and what’s the next step for you?

It’s been great. Yesterday was the last day in the studio and I’ve been working on quite a bit of stuff with Dan Carey but it was all done in quite a short period of time. The creative juices were flowing very quickly. There’s this one song that was eluding me for a long time and I finally managed to finish it yesterday at half five in the morning and I brought it into the studio and we did it and it just feels like this big accomplishment. I’m so excited about it and I can’t wait to share it at some point. It’s my favourite one now and I’m just so glad it’s done.

For the first time in my life it feels like I’m not looking backwards and I’m not looking forwards with a fear or dread. It’s just hope, and it’s a really valuable thing to feel and that feels like a privilege because there’s so much shit going on in the world, so it would be the natural reaction not to feel very hopeful.

It is a big privilege to have something to hold on to for now. I’m trying to practice gratitude because I know this moment won’t be forever and there will be patches of doubt very quickly, I’m sure. But for now I just feel so certain that this is where I’m meant to be.

What were those periods of self-doubt like, and did they feed into your artistry at all?

We’ve all experienced some form of it, but I’ve lived in that flux of belief and doubt and it probably kept me from pursuing music for so long as I didn’t really have faith in myself. External praise can be a fragile thing, but it has been really nice to have had nice reactions and people telling me my music has meant something to them.

I hope I don’t lose a sense of self-doubt entirely because it can be valuable, but I hope that I get better at trusting myself too, and I hope that I can let people know that it’s OK to feel that. It’s incredibly reassuring speaking to other musicians and knowing they feel that too. It’s a very human thing.

This interview is for our Play Next series where we introduce people to artists that we love and give them a chance to introduce themselves. How would you describe yourself and your music, Jacob?

I sometimes vary my answers but I would say right now I’m making music that explores the fantasies of imagined love and putting your heart in a world of dreams and the fallout that can come from always striving for something you can never have.

I think there’s a lot of queer threads embedded into my work and that’s something I’m exploring too. I’m also just figuring it out as I go along. The two singles you’ve heard (‘Fairy in a Bottle’ and ‘Confession’) are the more stripped back ones on the record, the most raw and direct. The ones that are coming are a bit more experimental and fun and I’m really excited for those.

You mentioned the idea of queer artistry. How important to you is it to have that in your music and tell those stories?

It’s essential to who I am and it’s such a liberation to be able to find a voice in it. When growing up I felt somewhat caged, [so] I think it brings connection to my community and the people I surround myself with through music. To have music without queerness wouldn’t make sense in my art.

I think that music in itself and its nature is quite queer, especially a lot of the music that pushes boundaries, whether it directly originates from a queer subculture or it just has the attitude of something that wants to be entirely at odds with what’s going on elsewhere”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Emma Swann

I am going to end with a feature from DIY. Even if there is very little out there from Jacob Alon, what has been released has made a giant impact. Such powerful and moving music. They are an artist, as DIY write, that writes “emotionally-flooring, community-fostering gems that cult heroes are made of”:

“Riddled with a lack of self-belief and in pursuit of the approval of their family, Jacob set about studying for a career in medicine. Clearly an ill fit, the way they speak of that period of self-supression is heartbreaking. “When it comes to love, it’s very conditional in my family. I think part of me just really wanted to be loved and to be seen, and I thought the only way I could feel that is if I was exceptional or the best or if I saved the world. But I just don’t think anyone should carry that on their shoulders,” they say, softly. “I became really depressed and I just didn’t have the words to say: ‘I’m here. I’ve worked hard to be here. Why am I not happy?’ And I think it was just part of my soul that knew I was living my life for someone else.”

Eventually, during lockdown, they finally made the decision to quit and, bolstered by the support of their new chosen musical family, give their art a real go. “I just felt like I was wasting away and it was there the whole time: music had always been the companion,” they say. “For my whole life, I’ve looked back and reminisced and worried about the future, but for the first time I’m just certain that this is where I should be. And it feels like I’m making an impact through this; I don’t know why I never thought that could be a thing…”

Delicate and raw, filled with the pain of lived experience but drenched in the beauty of someone who still wholeheartedly believes in hope, from debut single ‘Fairy In A Bottle’ - a finger-picked well of Jeff Buckley-like emotion - Jacob’s music has immediately been resonating in all the ways they used to think impossible. Last month, they joined a rare cohort of musicians to have been invited to perform on Later… with Jools Holland with only one song to their name. The experience, they say, was “magic”, but writing the song itself was an even bigger release.

“In some ways it was the scariest one to start with, which is maybe why it was right. To me, it encapsulates the essence of this project - it highlights very directly a feeling I’ve been discovering and working through,” they explain. “I have this affinity to the world of dreams and the world of fantasy - sometimes to my detriment - and I think through trying to protect myself from pain, I chase the things I know I can’t have. My whole life, I’ve thought of love the wrong way and I think a lot of people can relate to that.”

They’ve described hushed and tender follow-up ‘Confessions’ as “a soft hand tracing the stretch marks left behind by a once messy, awkward, painful, and frightening realisation of my queerness”, and it’s to this community that Jacob hopes to provide a particular solace. There is, they say, a constant friction that comes from living as a queer person in the world. “Sometimes it feels like no matter how much we come to terms with things, the world doesn’t feel like we fit into it. We confront those feelings every day in small moments, and sometimes that’s internal but a lot of the time it’s the world that tells you in its subtleties,” they say. “And that might not just be a dirty look or someone beating the fuck out of you, sometimes it can just be in not seeing someone like you represented anywhere.”

For Jacob, seeing flashes of an alternative way to be was monumental. “Bowie was really instrumental in influencing me,” they nod. “I remember seeing him when I was 13 and thinking, ‘Wow, that’s allowed?’ It just unlocked something.” With a third single - a new flavour with “a lot of stomp and sass to it” - due in January, their first UK tour the same month and an album on the way, their hope is that, having helped find a light within themself, their music will do the same for others needing a hand in the darkness.

“Seeing people like Chappell Roan today, and these amazing queer figures that are so mainstream versus when I was growing up and it was all Top Of The Pops and X Factor where there was a certain type of celebrity that was designed to feed the most masses, it’s amazing,” they say. “It’s amazing when you stand with your community and you can see these [things trickling down]. Particularly people of colour in the trans and drag world who’ve just fought so much and made so much change - it’s great because now the world’s better! It works! I’ve got hope, and even now when it’s really hard in the world, I believe in love, I really, really do”.

I don’t think you need to be a fan of a particular style of music to appreciate Jacob Alon. Their music is very much everyone, though there is something particularly striking and meaningful perhaps for those on the outside. Those who feel unheard, alone or isolated. This Scottish sensation is rightly turning head and dropping jaws. They are well and truly…

A national treasure.

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Follow Jacob Alon

FEATURE: White Math: Do Fans Expect Too Much from a Modern-Day Gig?

FEATURE:

 

 

White Math

IN THIS PHOTO: Jack White

 

Do Fans Expect Too Much from a Modern-Day Gig?

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IT is an interesting…

PHOTO CREDIT: Thibault Trillet/Pexels

question to pose when it comes to gigs. One of the big debates and conversations is the price of tickets. Smaller artists don’t necessarily charge that much, though major artists can sell tickets for a lot more. It depends on the artist and venue, though it is not a surprise to see a single ticket sell for over £100. In some cases, fans can pay a lot more than this! With that sort of price being asked of fans, there is an expectation that the set is going to be epic. Artists such as Taylor Swift putting together these sets that last three-and-a-half-hours. It is a very long time for an artist to be on the stage. When each show lasts this long, it can really take a lot from them. Stringing together so many dates with sets that length, there is this debate between the price of the ticket and the value of the set. I bring it up because Jack White took to Instagram to call out fans who are entitled. Those who expect long sets. This NME feature gives us some more details:

“Jack White has taken aim at “entitled” fans who expect “extra long” shows, arguing that his performances are rock gigs, not “a Marvel movie or a Vegas residency”.

The former White Stripes frontman released his sixth solo album ‘No Name’ last August and is currently in the middle of a North American tour to support the record, with the guitarist set to play the first of two Brooklyn shows on Tuesday (February 11).

On Saturday (February 8), he took to Instagram to share his thoughts on the current state of fan expectations when it comes to setlist length and production values. “Been hearing a lot of chatter throughout the year of this glorious electric touring about how long our sets are “supposed to be” on stage,” he wrote. “As if the length of a show determines how “good” it is.”

“I know that we’re living in a current era where people like to say “so and so played for 3 hours last night!”, and brag about it the next day hahaha, I’ll let our fans know now that my mind has no intention of “impressing” y’all in that context. The Beatles and Ramones played 30 minute (ish) sets, and If I could, I would do the same at this moment in my performing life. That’s actually the kind of show I’d like to put on right now.”

He went on to discuss some fans feeling “entitled” to long shows due to high ticket prices. “I think you’re talking about an arena laser light show with pyro, huge screens with premade videos, singers flying over the crowd, t shirt cannons, etc, that’s not the kind of shows we’re performing.”

“There’s no setlist, and it’s not a marvel movie, or a Vegas residency, it’s rock and roll and it’s a living breathing organism,” he concluded. “See you in the hall tonight friends, love you all so much and thank you for coming to these shows, standing in line and paying your hard earned money to help this train keep rolling. And the crew and the boys in the band are loving y’all as much as me, we are grateful, thank you.”

White’s recent setlists have tended to run between 20 and 25 songs in length, incorporating songs from across his career, including The White Stripes and The Raconteurs.

NME caught his show at London’s Assembly Hall last September, which saw him touch on similar themes. “This is the kind of rock’n’roll you’re not gonna get at Wembley Stadium for £400!” he exclaimed at one stage”.

I guess it is strange that many artists are almost required to do sets that last for hours. However, it comes back to prices. If you are being charged so much, then why would you not want a gig that last a while? It might be wrong for a major artist selling tickets for so much to do a thirty-minute set. For Jack White, whose sets are sharp and spontaneous, he could not play for hours. Maybe it depends on the genre. Also, if White does want to keep his sets to a tidy half-hour, then this has to be factored into the ticket price. As an example, he is playing at London’s Troxy on 28th February. A ticket for that gig is going for £66.41. His recent sets have spanned between twenty and twenty-five songs. That is pretty good value when you think about how long that gig would be. Is White reacting to demand and what is expected of artists today? Think back to gigs years ago and how it was unusual if they lasted for hours. Now, it is almost standard. Can we simply go to a show for half an hour and be satisfied? This desire for everything to be so long. You can see where fans are coming from. They want to see as much as they can from that artist. Jack White has a point when he mentions something like a Marvel film. Fans should be happy with a shorter gig. His ticket prices are not that expensive, so it is a bit much to expect fans to expect White to play for so long. This feature from 2008 argued why gigs should never be over forty-five minutes. The fact that artists would work through every song they ever recorded and you’d get into this test of endurance. This idea of a gig being cinematic in its length and scope. It is not new, however, more and more artists are expected to play for that long. The impact on their physical and mental health could be quite serious. How much it takes out of them.

IN THIS PHOTO: Taylor Swift during her Eras Tour/PHOTO CREDIT: Getty Images

Is there a perfect balance or gig length? If a three-hour set seems insane and something fans and artists should never be expected to endure, would fans revolt if they got a forty-five minute set and were charged a lot for a ticket? This article from The Independent talks about Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour and whether overlong gigs are a bit too much:

“But how long is too long, when it comes to live music? Twenty-two-year-old pop prodigy Billie Eilish recently described the prospect of a three-hour gig as “literally psychotic”, telling followers on social media: “Nobody wants that. You guys don’t want that. I don’t want that. I don’t even want that as a fan.” Of course, that’s easy enough for Eilish to say. If you listened to her entire three-album, two-EP discography back to back, it would still fall short of Swift’s marathon set times. But, while the “bad guy” singer-songwriter didn’t call out The Eras Tour by name, it certainly resonates with Swift’s current maximalist streak.

Let’s face it: overlong gigs can be a slog. There’s no escaping the whiff of indulgence when an artist simply decides to claim squatter’s rights on a stage. It’s also a curatorial failure, of sorts. Only the most ardent of Swifties would argue that there’s no fat to trim, no filler padding out the bangers. A three-hour gig presents logistical problems, too, when it comes to getting home at the end of the night, plus biological ones – the perennial Toilet Break Question. Let’s not forget the economic ramifications, either: a three-hour gig is necessarily more expensive to stage, a cost that inevitably falls on the concertgoers to make up. And that’s before you account for the greater spending on drinks over a three-hour period – not insignificant, especially at big stadium venues where a single pint often requires a small loan.

Of course, it’s not as simple as a gig being “too long”. There’s no denying the formidable physical feat of a three-hour gig; if you feel fatigued as an audience member, imagine being up there on stage. In some cases, the extra hour might elevate a gig from a fun night out to one of the best nights of your life. Bruce Springsteen, perhaps the foremost “long gigger” in popular music, has made it part of his very brand. And it works: his two curfew-straining sets at London’s Hyde Park last year were maybe the standout live music event of the year. But Springsteen has the catalogue to back it up – a full half-century of recorded material, enough great songs to fill a days-long residency with no repeats. (Tunnel of Love didn’t even feature at all!).

Assessing the relative merits of Swift’s catalogue may largely be a matter of taste, but the context for the gigs is entirely different: Swift is 34 years old, and yet still manages to subdivide her career into 10 distinct “eras”, most requiring a total costume change. If Springsteen were to attempt the same concept, he’d end up with two dozen eras, 18 outfit changes, and a performance that probably wouldn’t finish until morning. On some level, the very premise of the Eras Tour speaks to the way music is treated in the modern streaming era: we must have all of it, right there, all of the time. The specificity of a setlist is one of the delicate joys of live music. You go in hoping to hear certain songs; you leave pleased, or disappointed, or surprised, but that’s part of the experience. The Eras Tour promises to give you everything, a definitive show – but that’s antithetical to live music’s unique appeal: immediacy.

The alternative, though, is surely worse: there are few things more disappointing than a gig that feels too short. I personally keep a grudging mental checklist of gigs I’ve seen that were brilliant, but ended frustratingly after 50 minutes or less (mostly American rappers, many of whom understandably don’t really see what the big deal is about playing to a crowd of mostly white Englishmen in, say, Shepherd’s Bush). The ever-rising price of gig tickets leaves you feeling shortchanged if it’s all over in under an hour – even if the performance is flawless.

The whining seems more egregious when we’re talking about movies, when meaty, substantive works of art such as Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon or Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer are slagged off for being indulgently long. Often, there are artistic and narrative reasons for the length: it is necessary to tell the story in the way that the artist demands. But then again, this could be said of The Eras Tour, conceived by Swift – a wannabe filmmaker, by her own admission – as something more structured and narrative-driven than simply your average grab bag of hits. In this regard, maybe there’s justification for the indulgence. Or maybe Swift has simply spent too much time watching her boyfriend Travis Kelce play in the NFL, and shouts of “Go long!” have borne fruit somewhere deep in her subconscious. I guess we’ll never know”.

I can see where Jack White is coming from. That sense of spectacle and overlong that you get now. He is not suggesting fans should be happy with a short gig and count their blessings. However, it is this thing of gigs lasting for hours. Does it rob some of the spontaneity and quality? Keeping things relatively brief without having to dip into the back catalogue too deep. It might depend on the genre and artist you are seeing, though fans demanding too much of a touring artist is a bit entitled. Not considering the impact that sort of set has on their health. This Cosmopolitan article asks why gigs are so expensive now. Things such as streaming services, Brexit, COVID-19 and stan culture are contributing factors. This BBC feature also asks about rising ticket prices. They state that longevity and artists feeling like they could be forgotten is a reason why they charge so much. There are a lot of sides to consider. However, it is clear that long gigs are becoming more normalised and, with it, ticket prices are getting out of hand. Whilst a three-hour set is too much and a short gig might not seem value for money, I guess it is all about finding…

A sweet spot.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Alemeda

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

  

Alemeda

_________

HEADING back to last year…

 PHOTO CREDIT: Kaio Cesar

I want to highlight a few interviews with Alemeda. An artist that I am really excited about, if you have not heard her music, you will do very soon. Someone whose sound and brilliance is really capturing attention and getting plenty of love. I only discovered her a few weeks ago, but I am committed to following where she heads next. I am going to start out with an interview from Galore:

“Sudanese-Ethiopian rock & pop star Alemeda is not only the future of these genres but there is no doubting that she is destined for greatness. Stepping outside of cultural norms, Alemeda always knew she had to follow her heart and live her life for no one other than herself. We chatted with her about her upbringing, music and all things beauty – keep reading below for the inside scoop!

“What are some of your favorite things about your Ethiopian and Sudanese cultures?

My favorite parts of Ethiopian and Sudani culture are definitely the food and the music.

What was it like being raised in Ethiopia and Arizona?

They were very different in many ways but the biggest distinction would probably be the communities and their values. Ethiopian culture is incredibly community-oriented and inclusive whereas Arizona felt very isolating and secluded.

Growing up, what type of music did you listen to?

A lot of radio pop and rock.

When did you get your first introduction into the music industry?

I remember posting covers on Instagram. One day, my now manager reached out and flew me out to Los Angeles for my first real introduction to the music industry.

You’ve spoken about not having much support from your family as an aspiring artist, do you still struggle with that, or have they become more accepting now? How did you persevere with your career knowing the people closest to you didn’t agree with it?

I was the rebellious child in my family so I didn’t really care about going against them. They still aren’t supportive of it and they’ve never heard my music, but I actually appreciate the separation. It was never an expectation of them so it never disappointed me.

What advice do you have for anyone who may be going through the same thing?

My biggest advice that I’ve learned is that it’s your life and no one else’s opinion matters but yours.

Early this year you went back home to Ethiopia for the first time in a decade. Talk to us about what that experience was like and your favorite memory from it.

It was very surreal. I really enjoyed seeing my family and spending time with them. It reminded me of how truly incredible it is to have community and the importance of connection.

What interested you about the rock and pop music genres?

Growing up I wasn’t allowed to listen to music for religious reasons, the only exposure I had to music was from the radio. I would sneak my family’s clock radio into my room when they were asleep so I could listen, and that’s how I discovered artists like Coldplay and whatever was on the top hits in the early 2000s. That time period really shaped my taste today.

In 2021 you released your debut single “Gonna Bleach My Eyebrows” which has over 12 million streams to date. Talk to us about the inspiration for this song and how you felt when it blew up.

The song was inspired by a previous relationship I was in and how I felt about that person trying to rekindle things. I was honestly shocked it blew up. Out of all my songs that was the last one I thought people would like.

The following year you released “Post Nut Clarity” which was well received by your supporters. What was the post nut clarity that inspired this song?

“Post Nut Clarity” was a song I wrote about an issue I feel all women face with men and I felt it needed to be vocalized!

Your latest song “Guys Girl” has an accompanying visual that was released back in May. Talk to us about the concept of this song and the process creating this video.

The song’s video has a storyline of a friendship that begins to suffer due to one of them being boy crazy. It was one of my first storyline videos so it was super fun and different to film and I really love how it turned out.

Are you a guy’s girl or a girl’s girl? What’s the difference between the two?

I would say I’m definitely a girls girl. I never really sought validation from men – if anything that’s the last place I’d look for it!

When can we expect a full project from you?

My EP “FK IT” is out everywhere now!

What rock star would you love to work with one day and why?

Everyone in Coldplay – I can’t choose! I think the whole band makes such amazing music and so many of their songs I would consider my life tracks.

What’s your current makeup routine?

Recently I have been really into black eyeliner and red lipstick. I specifically use Maybelline lipstick and Kajal, which is an Arabic eyeliner.

What are two items in your closet can you not live without?

Cowboy boots and ALL of my denim.

If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Anything from Ethiopia!

You recently announced that you’ve now signed with Top Dawg ENT and Warner Records. What made you choose to sign with these labels and what are you most looking forward to now?

I’m honored to be the third woman ever to join the lineup of groundbreaking talent at TDE. My manager Moosa, who is also TDE’s President, discovered me four years ago and has been instrumental in helping me develop my sound and grow as an artist at my own pace, and for that I am truly grateful.

Being a part of TDE means being a vital contributor to black art and culture, which is something I deeply value. Warner recognizes my vision as an artist, and their long history of success within my genre fills me with excitement about what lies ahead. I believe I chose the right teams to nurture my growth, and I can’t wait to see what we achieve together.

What’s next for Alemeda besides new music?

I would love to branch out and spread my creativity around more industries so we will see!”.

I think more people in the U.K. are discovering Alemeda. It is a competitive music scene, though it is clear that there is so much that stands her out from her peers. It is amazing she has such an incredible and fully-formed sound considering that Alemeda did not grow up around music. Quite unusual for any artist. In NME’s interview from last year, we get to what it was like when she discovered music and what it provided her:

“The 24-year-old has really had to fight for her spot. Her mother is a devout Muslim who banned all forms of music from being played at home – even TV theme songs. Despite this, Alemeda would secretly get her musical fix by tuning into pop radio stations on an AM/FM clock radio and watching culture-defining Disney Channel originals like High School Musical, Hannah Montana and Camp Rock. Alemeda’s dreams of pop stardom frightened her mother, who told her daughter she’d “go to hell” if she continued to pursue it. In the end, Alemeda was 17 when she was kicked out and her mum moved to Africa, forcing her to figure out her music career alone.

After two years of hustling, she found some unlikely saviours: Top Dawg Entertainment. She signed to the superstar-churning label back in 2020, loving the way that they championed dark-skinned people, especially Black women like signees SZA and Doechii. But even this milestone was a struggle for Alemeda as her style wasn’t an instant match with the hip-hop and R&B musical intel TDE had on hand.

Already proving her virality on TikTok with ‘Don’t Call Me’ and ‘Gonna Bleach My Eyebrows’ – tracks which showcase her vivid tales of heartbreak – Alemeda is intent on blazing a path for Black Muslim women in pop-rock music, no matter how long it takes.

How is it like being a Black Muslim woman navigating pop-rock?

“I’m Ethiopian and my dad is Sudanese. There are no Ethiopian women who are in any way mainstream. There are no Sudanese women who are mainstream. It’s crazy that I get a lot of text messages or DMs from people who are Ethiopian or Sudanese and they’re like, ‘Oh my god. You’re gonna be our pop star!’

“There’s a lot of Black women like Rachel Chinouriri and Hemlocke Springs who are killing it. Before, pop-rock was such a white-dominated space. It looked like a club you cannot get into because they are so quick to put Black people in the R&B space, even if you make alternative [music].”

“Music is a therapeutic thing: I get to say my feelings, let it out, and then move past it”

You said you grew up listening to no music at all…

“A lot of Muslim parents don’t like to play music, period, and my mom was definitely more on the extreme side. Even Ethiopian music was awesome, but the only time I would hear it was at a wedding or some sort of celebration.”

What was it like when you discovered music?

“I was addicted. I discovered music at six or seven on the home clock radio where you could switch stations between AM and FM. I knew what radio stations played good music because my stepdad would play it in the car and when nobody was home I’d listen.

“When I started going to high school, kids had iPods and [would ask], ‘Have you heard this song by this person?’ and play it on the computer. That was the only way I could because, if my mom was home, you couldn’t even play a theme song from a show. You had to mute the TV.”

Was music a form of escape or rebellion for you?

“Now, music is more of a therapeutic thing. I get to say my feelings, let it out, and then move past it. When I used to put out covers, my mum would have interventions with me and say, ‘Please don’t do it. You’re going to hell.’ Bro, that was so dramatic. There was a point where I lost respect for her back when I was 17, 18 and had to live my own life. I didn’t think it was going to go well, but there was definitely spite.”

What is it like navigating the music world whilst being a Muslim?

“It’s very contradicting. My personal life is more aligned with my religion. I don’t smoke, I don’t drink – I’m not a rock star in real life. I’m really a boring grandma. I just have my two cats [Cinnamon and Truffles]. I feel like if you grow up in a religious house, you have that guilt. I’m trying to balance it out.”

You finally released your label debut, ‘Fk It’ – what do you think about the response?

“The reception I got has been amazing. I was very anxious at first because TDE fans always expect some quality production, quality lyrics, real storytelling. I had a fear they might think my music was too pop. I definitely had imposter syndrome like crazy and it’s slightly going away [because] I’m starting to feel like an artist. Before, it felt like a game.”

You have a raw emotive way of putting things…

“I’m very dramatic, feel things very deeply and very impulsive so I write how I speak. Most of my lyrics are just straight from my diary. A lot of people try to dumb down their emotions and pretend issues don’t affect them, but shit be affecting people and it be affecting me like crazy.”

Your debut single ‘Gonna Bleach My Eyebrows’ and ‘Post Nut Clarity’ are drum ’n’ bass songs and not your usual pop-rock songs…

“When I was 12, I really locked into the UK’s whole music scene like Ella Eyre: she has a lot of drum ’n’ bass in her music even though it doesn’t sound like it.

“But [when I made ‘Gonna Bleach My Eyebrows’] I had just discovered PinkPantheress. She truly is one of a kind and [her music] in 2020 and 2021 was amazing. I didn’t want to be too late to hop on this cool-ass sound. Drum ’n’ bass is almost like a variation of pop or rock if you think about it, but it wasn’t my sound. I don’t see myself making any more”.

I am going to end with this interview from Grunge Cake. Reading about how difficult it was for Alemeda when she first discovered music and embarked on this path. Consider how far she has come and where she is heading. A truly inspiring story that will motivate other artists and give them strength:

“In a recent in-depth conversation with Alemeda, Richardine Bartee delved into the artist’s journey from her early days in music to the breakthroughs and challenges that have shaped her unique sound. Alemeda opens up about the struggles she faced when starting out, including overcoming self-doubt and a steep learning curve, from being relatively new to studio work to navigating industry expectations. She reflects on the impact of her cultural background, growing up in a conservative Ethiopian-Muslim household where music was limited, and how this shaped her understanding of and connection to various genres and artists over time. Through determination and self-discovery, Alemeda has developed a distinctive voice in the Alt-Pop genre, challenging stereotypes and redefining norms. Her story exemplifies resilience and highlights the complexities of representation and genre classification in today’s music landscape. For those young in spirit or mind, who appreciate exploring diverse musical styles and discovering inspiring journeys to success, you’re in for something special. Don’t miss Richardine’s interview with Alemeda below.

Introduction of Alemeda

Richardine: I would like to start with your beginning. If you could, talk to me about what it was like making music early on. Then, take us through the journey from then till now.

Alemeda: Okay, well, in the very beginning, it was extremely hard for me. Like, I honestly wanted to quit, like, all the time. Like, this is not for me, you know? And I was… I didn’t feel like I was good at it, because when TDE found me, I was so new. Like, when I tell you I had only been in the studio maybe five times… I was so inexperienced. When I first came [to America] I didn’t know who Lauryn Hill was. Now I’m like, one of the biggest Lauryn Hill fans… I didn’t know who Erykah Badu was. I didn’t know all these people.

I know every session I would go through it, and we wouldn’t even make a song. Like, they were like, “Okay, we gotta make you a playlist!” Like, you gotta get tapped in. The first two years… was education. It was almost like college — like the Introduction to Music! It’s been four years now. Yeah, so the second two years is when I really found my sound and actually started to make music.

Richardine: Why didn’t you know about Lauryn and Erykah? Is it because of how you grew up?

Alemeda: Yeah, so, like, the way my mom… she just didn’t like music, even though she’s Ethiopian. We didn’t like any music because in our religion, music necessarily, isn’t forbidden, but it’s just like guitars… stringed instruments. So, she was kind of like, you know, just no music. Like, even, [if] it’s a theme song played on a show on TV. If she’s walking to the room, I have to mute it, because she’d be like, “Hold on, what’s going on here? Y’all trying to start a club in my living room?”

She used to get really angsty about that. But all the music that I knew as a child was just whatever was on the radio in the 2000s which was a lot of Rock, a lot of Pop, Beyoncé, you know what I mean? Like, everything that was just Pop during that time was just straight club music and that’s what I knew. Like, or, you know, Bruno Mars… all these big Pop artists from the early 2000s and late 2000s.

Richardine: Okay, [it] makes sense. And I think it makes sense for it to just be string instruments because if it’s based on religion, there’s really no interruption. It’s like a pure form of music.

Alemeda: Yeah.

Richardine: It’s just you and that instrument. It’s not like all of these other energies. So, I think I understand that.

Alemeda: Yeah.

Challenges and Influences in Music Career

Richardine: Okay, and then, so coming up as an Alt-Pop artist, and a Black one at that, what have the challenges been?

Alemeda: I think the biggest goal for me is like, just establishing myself as it. I’ve made it a huge thing with Warner and TDE to like, just kind of like, make sure that we establish that in the beginning. Because if, if I then go in the future and make a different [genre]… Like, the moment you start making R&B music, or you start rapping, it’s so hard for you to branch out. And, like, one of the biggest things for was kind of The Weeknd. He’s, like, one of the biggest Ethiopian artists out there. I watched him do R&B and then make it one of the poppiest albums of all time. He just… they, just weren’t. You know what I mean?

Richardine: Yes!

Alemeda: It’s like, if you were White, they would like, you know, go in and out of any genre and actually give you the award for that genre. Or, like, call you… call your project that genre at least.

Richardine: Like Post Alone.

Alemeda: Like Ariana Grande. She can do multiple genres. They’ll call her Pop song a Pop song and her R&B song and an R&B song. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But I do know for Black people, it’s so much harder for you to be diverse.

Richardine: Yes.

Alemeda: Alternative music is like, the most comfortable music I love making. I actually can listen to the songs and not get annoyed by my voice. So…

Richardine: Yeah, I’m just surprised to hear you even say that you could be annoyed by your voice because we love it.

Alemeda: Listen, oh, man. I used to walk out of studios when people started playing my songs. I was like, “Oh no!”

Alemeda: I’ll tell you. My confidence level built as I… the past four years, in the beginning… I just like, you know, you don’t know what you’re doing. Just have imposter syndrome and just feel like nothing’s good.

Richardine: How are you now? Like, how are you feeling about it all now?

Alemeda: I feel great now. Honestly. I feel so comfortable. I feel great performing my music. I feel great listening to it. It’s so easy to make it. I’m not spending six hours in the studio, just like, stressing about whether or not this studio time money is going to be worth it. You know what I mean? Like, I just go in there and actually create. And it’s like… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like, making wonderful projects. And like, I don’t know…

Richardine: Okay, but how do you feel as one of the artists that is finally going to be seen as Alt-Pop and not R&B… Because I feel like there have been artists that have tried, but in recent memory, I think that you are the one that is being fronted and presented as such, from early on. And so there, it leaves no room for anyone to be like, “This person is R&B, or this person is Hip-Hop”, or what have you. Like, have you digested that yet?

Alemeda: Yes, because, like, I’ve heard so many stories of other artists and what they’ve gone through. And I see it like, you know? I mean, it’s right there, you’ll see somebody call somebody Alternative R&B. And I’m like, “Bro, that’s literally an indie song!” But whatever, right? Like, I’m so early into everything, and I hope that what we’re doing everything — like, how Warner and TDE are, like, just correctly, doing it — I hope that actually gets put forward. And then [make] other people [a] little open-minded”.

I will leave things there. Without doubt one of the most promising, extraordinary and strong artists coming through, the rest of this year will see Alemeda building her platform and bringing her music to new fans. With a growing fanbase in the U.K., I am sure we will see her soon. I am intrigued and arrested already. Someone with a very big career in her hands, this is an artist that you…

NEED to know.

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FEATURE: Spotlight: Travy

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

 

Travy

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OVER the next month or so…

I am going to increase the number of Spotlight features I publish. That is because I have been a bit lax over the past month or two. For this feature, I am focusing on someone who is pushing Irish Rap forward. One of the country’s most exciting talents. Travy is someone you should know about. Before getting to some more in-depth interviews, I want to take from a January interview from THE FACE:

“I like peace. London’s just hectic full stop”, says Travy, reclining on a couch in an oversized hoodie.

The rapper is enduring a trip to the English capital to do a bunch of interviews, but feels much more at home in Ireland. Born in Nigeria, at the age of six Travy moved to Tallaght, an outer suburb of Dublin, where he was sent to boarding school by his mum: ​“I remember bringing J‑rice [jollof] to school. That was my first introduction to putting Irish people on to African culture,” he says. ​“They would try it and I’d just see them running up and down like what is this? This is so crazy! That was one of the first times I thought, maybe I should show my culture more, who knows? They might really fuck with it.”

After dropping out of college in Dublin, Travy pursued acting, modelling and music. Teaming up with his best friend and fellow rapper Elzz in 2022, the pair founded Gliders, a Dublin-based clothing brand, event series and cultural collective. Travy and Elzz have since dropped two hard-hitting collaborative albums, Full Circle (2023) and Doghouse (2024), which reached No.2 and No.1 in the Irish charts respectively. But when Travy went to collect his plaque from the record label’s office, he was underwhelmed: ​“They’re not having meetings to [expand] new areas,” he says. ​“There’s like one person in these offices. Seeing that made me realise that I have to build my own industry”.

Travy attributes his confidence to his mum, a chef and business owner who was the first to introduce African cuisine to the shelves of Irish supermarket SuperValu in the form of ready meals and snacks. ​“My mum’s kind of like the way I am with music – she’s full of belief and nothing can stop her. I’ve seen where it takes her and it’s rubbed off.”

Most recently, Travy’s been working on his upcoming solo mixtape Spooky, a more personal record exploring his experiences as an immigrant in Ireland. ​“People were hearing the music in places like New York and seeing that [though I spoke English] I was coming from a completely different perspective.” The tape is dropping on the 10th January. Don’t sleep on it”.

I am moving onto a deep interview from CLASH. Without doubt one of the breakthrough artists of this year, I am excited to see where he heads next. If this an artist new to you then make sure you explore his work. I predict the next few years are going to see him grown and conquer the world. It is fascinating reading what Trav had to say about Ireland and how that shaped his career. What the challenges were for him living in Ireland coming onto the scene:

“There’s a dark force sweeping through Dublin. It’s scary. It’s ominous. It’s breakthrough Irish rapper Travy, who jumps feet first into 2025 with his debut solo project, ‘SPOOKY’. Irish rap has undergone a seismic evolution over the years, carving its own singular regional identity. What was once a fledgling scene, often battling misconceptions and a niche audience, has matured into a genre-bending movement. At the forefront of this charge, is man of the people, Travy, backed by his collective, Gliders.

I first became aware of Travy when I ventured to Brighton on a solo trip. I perched up in the nearest fish & chips scrolling through my phone, when a video for Travy and Elzzz’s 2024 hit ‘Blockbuster’ arrived in my DMs. Lifted from their collaborative project, the slick edit correlated with Travy’s charged, staccato verse; the song was bold and punchy, the video striking.

‘SPOOKY’ affirms Travy’s status as one of the most exciting musicians to come out of Ireland in recent years. Having previewed his tape ahead of release, CLASH caught up with the buzzy rapper to talk Dublin rap, the familial inspiration behind his alias and fostering community with his multi-purpose collective.

Who is Travy?

A Nigerian artist raised in Ireland. A very ambitious kid trying to take over the world, using my voice to inspire the ones that don’t really have a voice. That’s me in a nutshell.

What inspired you to pursue a career in music, and how did growing up in Ireland shape your artistic journey?

My friends and the people around me inspired me. Back in the COVID period, we used to freestyle because we obviously didn’t have much to do, so we’d be freestyling every day, rapping over beats. Every time I’d rap, they’d look at me and be like “Yo you actually have a voice for this, there’s something there.” What really pushed me over the edge was my videographer. He got his camera and said, “I want you to rap and I’m going to record you.” Then we recorded my first song. Looking back, the song wasn’t that crazy but the vibe was there. We posted it and actually got a decent amount of engagement. Since then, I haven’t looked back.

I started paying attention to you after watching the video to ‘Blockbuster’, and what was refreshing to see, is that you proactively engage with your audience, rather than react, which is how we got talking all that time ago.

You’re a person first, right? Someone texted me the other day saying, “the stuff that you’re putting out is so insane and yet you’re still so reachable. You’re replying to DMs, you’re actually engaging with the people.” This is how I started. I never took it seriously.

Your music blends UK drill, US rap and Nigerian highlife. How do you balance these genres and cultural signifiers in your sound?

In Ireland, we have a lot of influences from England and beyond. I grew up listening to Skepta and other UK stuff, like what the English people would grow up listening to. I also listened to a lot of American music, as we grew up watching American TV. Ireland is the only English-speaking country now in the EU since Brexit. When I started doing all this stuff, I blended all the influences together. Things would just happen. It was like “Let me add this sound from this American thing but then put it on to a drill beat, or grab this because I like the way he’s rapping on this.” I listened to a lot of music growing up. I listened to loads of 50 Cent.

Tell us about your new project ‘SPOOKY’. How would you describe it?

‘SPOOKY’ is “feel something” music. You’ve heard the sonics and it’s heavy hitting, whilst the bars are punching. It’s something people would want to listen to. It’s my first solo project, so it’s based on all the experiences that I’ve lived. Being from Dublin, it’s a good place to live and it’s a good place to raise kids. It’s very family-oriented but it’s also quite dark. There’s a lot of bad stuff happening. There’s a lot of oppression. Every time I meet people from London, the first thing they say to me is “I swear Ireland’s mad racist!”

I’ve had to go through so many different things that my peers in the UK just wouldn’t have had to face in England because there’s more integration, and Ireland is still predominantly white. We’re pushing and building culture whilst we’re creating it. Making ‘SPOOKY’ was like a therapy session – a massive therapy session. All the experiences, bad or good, I just wanted to cram it all into one project. If you want to feel something, feel alive, just put on ‘SPOOKY’.

Why did you call collective Gliders?

We used to say we’re going on a glide, if we were to go to a party or going to go do something. People would be like “Yo, those are the Gliders.” People gave us the name.

As a co-founder of Gliders, what role does collaboration play in your music and vision?

One voice can’t be the only voice. I feel like in Ireland, when people aren’t collaborating, things don’t really move as fast. When you collaborate, the scene forms. I think people are starting to see that. I’ve made songs with so many different people but at a time where collaboration just wasn’t a thing. People didn’t really clap, they just did their own thing.

I started to collaborate with people because I was trying to bring that out and that’s how Gliders was made. Everything happened organically. Me and Elzzz decided one day to make hats and put the word Gliders on them. They sold out in a day and we carried on the momentum. We found Sam Fallover (artwork and visuals) and brought him on board, and then one of our friends, TJ, but he’s moved on now. That whole period we were creating a brand. Again, collaboration is massive.

You’ve generated a lot of success with your collaborative work with Elzzz and Gliders. What are your plans to grow the movement?

We have ideas for the brand and one of those is that we’re doing a collaboration with Pellador, which is another Irish brand, on the clothes side of things. We’re trying to organise a Gliders fest where we’ll bring other artists on. Hopefully we can get that done within the year. In Ireland, they have funding initiatives to help run all those things. I’m working with some people within the council that are going to try and help.

With Gliders, we have a few things coming and then with me and Elzzz, we’re aiming to do another project – we have one in the pipeline. Once I’m done with ‘SPOOKY’, I’ll be looking to figure out what the next stage is, whether it’s another solo project or another collaborative one. It’s all about picking out which one to focus on.

You touched on it before. What are the main challenges emerging artists are facing in Ireland? And how do they overcome these challenges?

It’s very hard to take music seriously in Ireland because there’s literally no support. I get my support from the people around me. For new artists in Ireland, I give them any piece of knowledge that I have. Find someone that believes in you. That might be your close friend who does videos or does graphics, or does something creative with a camera or makes beats. Anyone can add to the musical journey. For instance, like Liam and Sam, we all came together very organically. Dublin rents are also peak; the housing crisis is a different situation altogether and it makes it very hard to sustain a music career. I don’t even know how I’ve done it. It’s only by God’s grace that I’m even here.

Do you hope your music impacts conversations about identity and more cultural integration in Ireland?

For sure. I posted a TikTok one time, and it started doing the rounds but then I saw it on Twitter. Someone screen grabbed it and they were cussing it out like “look what Ireland has turned into, a load of people from Africa doing dances in front of a memorial.” I didn’t even know whose memorial that was. I was just dancing and rapping my songs. The majority of Ireland is still in its early stages of culture, and we’re the ones bringing culture to it, if that makes sense? It’s still very difficult because they don’t necessarily want to take it in yet. I found out recently that Gliders was blacklisted. I was wondering why we weren’t getting any shows and some guy told us we ask for too much because we roll with an entourage. This is rap culture. I’m living in a place where they don’t understand it yet.

There’s no one that’s like me in these high places to tell them that this is how it is. My mum said to me the other day “You must keep going, you must keep shining. Kill them with success and that’s the only way.” My mum was the first Nigerian lady to bring Nigerian dishes into Irish supermarkets. She basically went through the same thing I had to go through. She just recently opened a restaurant, and will be interviewed by the BBC soon.

Growing up in Ireland, there was a lot of black people that had an identity crisis because they’re told you’re not from here. I’m Irish, though? I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve done the exact same thing you guys have. I’m on the same corner you guys are, so what’s the difference? Ireland has a mad suicide rate because a lot of people don’t know where they stand. They don’t know where their community is and it’s quite sad. The bigger we grow, the more of us there’ll be. How many generations of black people have been in the UK for time? They’ve grown up with grandparents that were born in the UK and in Ireland we are the first generation.

With that said, how do you feel about leading the charge for the next generation of Irish artists?

I like these questions because they get me thinking. My dad was a General in Nigeria and my mum is an ambitious woman. I get my ambition from them but I’ve always wanted to inspire people. For example, there’s this kid named Baby July from Galway. He popped up on my TikTok one time. I liked his beat selections and the fact that he was doing it himself. I share his stuff every so often. I didn’t have that, so I want to be there for the ones that are coming up in the space”.

I am going to end with an interview from NME that was published earlier this month. Last year’s DOGHOUSE was an album that should have got Travy award-nominated and better represented. Perhaps not completely embraced and accepted in Ireland at the moment, I do hope that the culture changes pretty soon. In spite of the fact there are barriers put up, Travy has achieved so much and is inspiring so many people:

“The 26-year-old is at the forefront of a generation of Black Irish artists forging a new path within the country’s music scene, alongside the likes of Sello, Monjola, and long-time collaborator Elzzz. His first two projects, ‘Full Circle’ (2023) and ‘Doghouse’ (2024), both made with Elzzz, secured the Number Two and Number One spots on the Irish Album Charts respectively, and ‘Spooky’ (produced by Galway-born beatmaker Liam Harris) has further boosted that momentum.

‘Spooky’ was crafted over a two-month period spent renting a flat in Paris, striving for nonstop creativity and endeavour. “Me and Liam had this place in the second district in Paris, and sometimes we didn’t even have a penny bro, I was just chowing on these pasta boxes every day just to keep going!” Travy laughs. “But I knew what I was gonna get from the project, so it was just them graveyard shifts, really being in that creative flow… it was nice having that time and space to record at any given moment. I was thinking, ‘If I record in Paris, will the music sound different?’ But I still have the same vim, so it’s not just the cold weather that’s making me rap like this!”

Travy’s fresh, distinctly Irish rap sound stems from a wide array of sources. He tends to lean on dark, swelling instrumentals that blend the edginess of mid-2010s south London drill with a more upbeat, bouncing UK grime energy, his vocal cadences and calmly-delivered bars akin to Homerton’s Unknown T. A swish braggadocious quality nodding to booming New York drill runs through the project, too. Anchoring it all in his home city are little touches of Dublin slang like ‘FSSH’ (an expression harnessed on the mixtape’s eponymous lead single) and ominous choral samples that transport you to midnight mass in a cold, cavernous Catholic church (‘Meet Spooky’).

But creating this sense of identity hasn’t been easy; Travy has repeatedly spoken up about the lack of music infrastructure he’s had access to in Ireland, and the lack of successful role models to learn from. “What I’m facing, it’s completely different,” says Travy. “That’s why the music might have a bit more vim, because I’m up against more. Trying to push culture in a country that doesn’t care, it’s infuriating!

PHOTO CREDIT: Kyle Bolam

“There’s this festival in Dublin called Longitude which we performed at one time, but never again,” he continues. “This festival was once the Mecca of culture for everyone growing up, but now they’ve got 50 Cent and David Guetta headlining, and it’s so out of touch it’s ridiculous. It was so inspiring seeing people from Dublin tearing up that main stage, but I think the people running the entertainment business in Ireland don’t care enough to look within their own area. If they booked us for these tings, people would be pulling up.”

As a result, Travy has often looked to the UK for inspiration – and recently met legend Skepta at Paris Fashion Week. “He said to me, ‘The only reason I’m still here is because I kept going’. Everything he did in England is basically what we’re doing in Ireland now.”

Travy has often been compared to the Tottenham rapper thanks to the strides taken by his collective, Gliders: “Back home, people would compare Gliders to Boy Better Know or A$AP Mob.” Initially a spontaneous nickname for the group of friends Travy rolled around with in Dublin, Gliders eventually morphed into a collective throwing house parties in the capital. Over time, the group have blended musical releases with a hugely successful clothing line, growing a community of like-minded artists, videographers and illustrators.

The chief musicians are Travy, Elzzz, Harris, while Sam Fallover handles art and visuals for Gliders. Fallover played a key role in the conceptual development of ‘Spooky’, designing the album artwork and helping shape the devilish alter ego Travy embodies on the project.

“Spooky was a nickname my friends gave me growing up, ’cause I was kinda a mischievous kid,” Travy explains. “I knew I wanted to make this project explore who I am as a person, the Nigerian and Irish perspective… I want people to be like ‘This guy’s an alien!’ It’s getting to the stage where I’m starting to believe I’m an alien!”

Sadly, alienation is something Travy has consistently experienced in the Irish music scene. He was absent from the Raidió Teilifís Éireann (RTE) Albums of the Year list, despite ‘Doghouse’ making history last year by becoming the first Irish rap project to reach Number One, a snub that understandably angered fans. “I posted about it because the younger generation needs to know what kinda forces we’re working against,” Travy says”.

An artist who should be in your sights, I would urge everyone to check out Travy. Even if you are not a fan of Rap or are not familiar with his sound, I would still encourage you to take a listen. A huge artist who is going to be a major name very soon, all eyes should be trained his way. He is one of the most important voices…

<

IN modern music.

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FEATURE: But This Time It's Much Safer In: Kate Bush’s Breathing at Forty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

But This Time It's Much Safer In

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush relaxing with some video extras (including her brother Paddy) during filming the video for 1980’s Breathing/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

 

Kate Bush’s Breathing at Forty-Five

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ONE of Kate Bush’s…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush shot whilst on the set of Breathing/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

finest and most important singles turns forty-five shortly. Released on 14th April, 1980, Breathing was the first single from Bush’s third studio album, Never for Ever. Featuring Roy Harper on backing vocals, Breathing debuted on BBC Radio 1 on 11th  April, 1980. The single peaked at number sixteen on the U.K. charts and remained in the charts for seven weeks. I am going to explore the song further ahead of its forty-fifth anniversary. One reason why Breathing was so important is because of its lyrical themes. A tale of a foetus being protected by its mothers womb but still fearful and vulnerable to nuclear fallout. The only performance of the song was during a Comic Relief concert on 25th  April, 1986. It was a solo piano version. The second and final single from Kate Bush’s second studio album, Lionheart (1978), was Wow. Maybe wanting a more ‘serious’ song to be her next U.K. single, the first statement from an album that reached number one in the U.K. was important. She could have gone for the more commercial and Pop-influenced Babooshka. That was the second single. Instead, Breathing was selected. The closing track from Never for Ever, I guess it was a gamble releasing it as the first single. However, there was criticism from some in the press who felt Bush was a novelty or not someone who could fit in with the Punk scene of the late-'70s. An especially patronising interview from Danny Baker around the time Bush was making Never for Ever – or at least seeds were planted - might have provoked her to react. Army Dreamers, the third single, is also political in nature. The futility of young lives being lost during war. I am going to end with a couple of features around Breathing. Perhaps her most accomplished song to that point, it was an extraordinary achievement for someone who was only twenty-one when Breathing was released. Before getting to some features, the Kate Bush Encyclopedia sourced some interviews where Bush talked about the inspiration behind Breathing:

“It’s about a baby still in the mother’s womb at the time of a nuclear fallout, but it’s more of a spiritual being. It has all its senses: sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing, and it knows what is going on outside the mother’s womb, and yet it wants desperately to carry on living, as we all do of course. Nuclear fallout is something we’re all aware of, and worried about happening in our lives, and it’s something we should all take time to think about. We’re all innocent, none of us deserve to be blown up.

Deanne Pearson, ‘The Me Inside’. Smash Hits (UK), May 1980

When I wrote the song, it was from such a personal viewpoint. It was just through having heard a thing for years without it ever having got through to me. ‘Til the moment it hit me, I hadn’t really been moved. Then I suddenly realised the whole devastation and disgusting arrogance of it all. Trying to destroy something that we’ve not created – the earth. The only thing we are is a breathing mechanism: everything is breathing. Without it we’re just nothing. All we’ve got is our lives, and I was worried that when people heard it they were going to think, ‘She’s exploiting commercially this terribly real thing.’ I was very worried that people weren’t going to take me from my emotional standpoint rather than the commercial one. But they did, which is great. I was worried that people wouldn’t want to worry about it because it’s so real. I was also worried that it was too negative, but I do feel that there is hope in the whole thing, just for the fact that it’s a message from the future. It’s not from now, it’s from a spirit that may exist in the future, a non-existent spiritual embryo who sees all and who’s been round time and time again so they know what the world’s all about. This time they don’t want to come out, because they know they’re not going to live. It’s almost like the mother’s stomach is a big window that’s like a cinema screen, and they’re seeing all this terrible chaos.

Kris Needs, ‘Fire In The Bush’. Zigzag (UK), 1980”.

I am going to move to a feature from Treblezine. At the start of a decade where fear of nuclear destruction was strong and very much in the news, few expected an artist like Kate Bush to document or channel some of that anxiety in a single. Forty-five years since its release, it remains this startling song that still affects me every time I hear it:

“Fear of nuclear war dominated the music of the ’80s. It began much earlier, back in the early days of the Cold War in the 1960s, with songs like Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction” offering potential warnings of the inevitable destruction that would occur between two or more countries engaged in a nuclear arms race. But in the ’80s, when tensions between the U.S. and Soviet Union came ever closer to a boiling point, Cold War anxiety dominated popular music in a way that sometimes revealed itself in subtle ways, like on Nena’s “99 Luftballoons” or Alphaville’s “Forever Young,” and in more overt ways as well, as on Time Zone’s “World Destruction.” For a couple years the threat of total annihilation even seemed to preoccupy Prince, who released both “Ronnie Talk to Russia” and the end-of-the-world party anthem “1999.” If you turned on the radio in the ’80s, there’s a good chance you’d be hearing songs about a coming apocalyptic scenario, whether you realized it or not.

It’s a terrifying thought. Even more so when taken into account that, at least according to the lore, a made-for-TV-movie made the matter one of utmost urgency for then president Ronald Reagan. But then again who can be blamed when the idea of having your nation destroyed somehow becomes real, however absurd the method of communication. Personally, I find Kate Bush’s take on the matter much more devastating.

Five years before releasing her blockbuster Hounds of Love, featuring her iconic single “Running Up That Hill”—which ended up back on the singles charts this year thanks to Stranger Things—Kate Bush released her own song addressing our potential impending destruction, “Breathing.” The final track on Never For Ever, an album that also contained the much more playful “Babooshka,” “Breathing” looks at nuclear destruction from the perspective of an unborn fetus, one that, if it survives, will inherit a world that’s essentially gone, and at best nearly uninhabitable.

True to much of the pop songs with fear of World War III on their mind at the time, “Breathing” isn’t scary on an aesthetic level—and Kate Bush can do scary. Check “Waking the Witch” or any number of moments on 1982’s The Dreaming for proof of that. It’s not tense and climactic like Iron Maiden’s “Two Minutes to Midnight,” either, though Bush’s sense of scale and theatrics at times could stand toe-to-toe with the best of the decade’s metal bands. “Breathing” is, instead, a characteristically dramatic ballad for Bush, one of the most powerful songs she’d written just two years into her career, made all the more unnerving by a closer read of the details within the song. Its first line tells us the stakes, the fate of the child wholly dependent on the life of the mother. “Outside gets inside,” she sings, at once extolling the safety of the fortress inside the womb, while offering reminders of the vulnerability therein, like breathing in the nicotine from her cigarettes.

The sense of doom and desperation grows deeper into the song, Bush lamenting, “We’ve lost our chance, we’re the first and the last” in its third verse, and in its final chorus—just before the image of a not-subtle-at-all mushroom cloud in its Bush-in-a-bubble music video—she desperately pleads, “Oh God, please leave us something to breathe.” Bush scales up from the most intimate and vulnerable to a more universal appeal for mercy, from the fetus that’s at the mercy of the life of its mother—which in this scenario is arguably every bit as helpless—to the civilization at large that stands to be wiped out with the press of a button.

It’s a masterful kick in the gut. Bush described the song as her “little symphony,” and though she’d released songs prior that carried a similar sense of ambition and grandeur, all of that escalated on “Breathing.” The thread of fear and anguish, as well as a subtle sense of anger at the power-hungry world leaders in dark rooms that would seal millions of innocent people’s fates without remorse, persists at every point, including its spoken-word bridge, describing the differences between a small nuclear bomb and a large one—the irony and even black humor of its placement serving only to emphasize that you’d have to be a psychopath to greenlight that kind of devastation. But ultimately it all comes back to that one very basic idea of defenselessness, whether it’s the child, the mother, or simply Kate Bush herself, desperately grasping for air in the fallout, and their pleas falling on deaf ears.

“Breathing,” heavy as the subject matter might have been, was the lead single from Never For Ever, and in doing press for the album, Kate Bush described a moment of revelation about the gravity of living during a time of continued threat of nuclear war. “Til the moment it hit me, I hadn’t really been moved,” she said in a 1980 interview. “Then I suddenly realised the whole devastation and disgusting arrogance of it all. Trying to destroy something that we’ve not created – the earth. The only thing we are is a breathing mechanism: everything is breathing. Without it we’re just nothing.”

That same year, Bush also sang the hook (“jeux sans frontieres“) on “Games Without Frontiers” from Peter Gabriel’s self-titled “Melt” album, which coincidentally, perhaps unavoidably also carried a similar sense of anxiety about nuclear war and brinksmanship between armed nations. And though that concept didn’t necessarily follow her to subsequent albums, what did was a similar sense of perspective, bringing a more personal, human identity to darker concepts, whether the inner monologue of a soldier desperate to survive in “Pull Out the Pin,” or the conceptual suite of “The Ninth Wave,” which follows a person lost at sea whose will to live is the thing keeping them afloat.

In the aftermath of Kate Bush’s big Stranger Things moment, there have been jokes about newcomers eventually discovering her song about sexual congress with a snowman. The flipside is a newcomer to her music discovering “Breathing,” a beautiful and heartbreaking song whose underlying narrative might just be her most vividly horrifying”.

I am going to end with a feature from Dreams of Orgonon and their detailed examination of Breathing. Forty-five years since it was released to the world, have we taken anything from its messages? Maybe a warning and fear specifically of its time, I think one can read Breathing as a message for all humanity and time. The true horror of warfare. Something that was on Bush’s mind when she wrote Never for Ever, she is still thinking about it now. Last year’s Little Shrew (Snowflake) raised money for War Child. She was affected by scenes of conflict in Ukraine and children being killed and displaced:

“Breathing” is the most unified and conceptually coherent work of Kate Bush’s career. Each aspect of its composition and production strives in a single accord. Its mastering of the techniques it uses can be found as much in its broad strokes as its fine details. Bush’s songwriting makes a huge leap in quality, achieving a new standard. It is one of the greatest British singles of the early 1980s, and its reasonable chart standing (#16 in the UK) is as baffling as it is delightful. Without “Breathing,” there is no The Dreaming or Hounds of Love or Aerial. There are two major discernable eras in Bush’s career: before “Breathing,” and its aftermath.

As a conventional and sane member of society, Bush achieves creative apotheosis through a fetus’s perspective of nuclear fallout. Again, that’s not hyperbole — that is actually what the song is about, if not straightforwardly. “Breathing” contains astounding clarity, with its premise explicitly stated through lyrics such as “outside/gets inside/through her skin,” “last night in the sky/such a bright light,” and “breathing my mother in.” It’s rather clear what’s going on: a fetus (probably human, but easily headcanoned out of specieshood) knows that a nuclear bomb has exploded and is experiencing the slow irradiation of its mother’s body with horror. Its fears are expressed in primal terms. It hasn’t gone to school. Nobody has told it what happened to Hiroshima and Nagasaki. All it perceives is a bright light that destroys everything that even its mother can’t protect it from. Bodies are destroyed — the emotional reality takes over, and no rational mind will help.

On a technical level, “Breathing” is Bush’s magnum opus. Her mastery of her own voice is as impressive as the achievements of The Dreaming and Hounds of Love. Throughout the first verse, she sounds as if she’s holding her breath (“out-SIIIIIDE” sounds like shallow inhalation), crooning in a way that’s both innocent and haunting. The two refrains largely follow the first verse’s lead, while the second one sees Bush push her range upwards, making “we’ve lost our chance” a guttural invocation. By the song’s coda, she’s outright screaming at the top of her lungs for breath. Melodically and rhythmically, “Breathing” is on similarly breathy wavelengths. It’s in Eb minor, excepting a few detours into Eb major: the verse commences with the i chord (Eb minor), joins an augmented fifth to it (B) to create a VI chord, and then inverts the i chord with its parallel major (a favorite technique of hers — see also “The Infant Kiss”). The verse ultimately comes out largely to i-VI-I-iv-I (with some tricky slash-chord articulates of E flat major). Rhythm is consistent throughout the verse, with shifting time signatures of 2/4, 4/4, and 3/4 changing by the measure, at a pace consistent with breathing. The refrain is almost entirely in common time, excepting its final measure (2/4). The refrain’s breathing is done by its chord progression (i-III-VI), rising and falling, like an agonized chest not quite inhaling enough oxygen to keep living. Sonically, there are echoes of earlier rock songs: the bridge sounds like Bowie’s similarly cosmic “Space Oddity” in places, and a mechanical hum in the second verse evokes memories of Pink Floyd’s luddite threnody “Welcome to the Machine.”

If your reaction to this isn’t “hey, Kate, who’s your dealer?”, you are a liar and you should be ashamed of yourself. But as we aren’t in East Wickham’s social circle of 1980 and thus lack access to whatever strain Bush smoked at the time, we can interrogate more pertinent issues of why the fuck Bush is using this perspective to explore nuclear war. Since the emotional state of fetuses is pertinent to some deluded members of society, we should probably address that particular discourse. If “Breathing” were released right about now, the pro-life crowd wouldn’t latch onto it (it’s much too weird for a group of people who are busy mutilating their eardrums with MercyMe), but one could see its subject matter being twisted for reactionary ends. The song does cope with fetal autonomy, or lack thereof, but it’s incredibly abstract and fails to resemble abortion in any way (the metaphor would be weird, too: “hey Del, you know what abortion reminds me of? The fucking H-bomb!”). Furthermore, abortion, while still a major topic of conversation in the UK, where abortion was only legalized in Northern Ireland in 2019, is a fundamentally different conversation than it is in the United States. Bush was clandestine about her thoughts on abortion, although one can deduce through an interview where she opines “that life is something that should be respected and honored even in a few hours of its conception” that her private opinions on the matter are on the reactionary side. But that’s not the subject of the song. The issue goes deeper than that — to the dredges of consciousness, the origins of human life, and the human mind’s need for survival.

Like a breath, the fetus in “Breathing” inhabits its mother (although unlike breath, it needs its emissary to survive). While it doesn’t treat a fetus like a parasite, the sheer weirdness of having a burgeoning organism inside one’s body receives emphasis (before you ask, Kate Bush did see Alien. More on that in “Get Out of My House” in August). Rather, the fetus emblematizes the earliest vestiges of human form — hints of consciousness, a complete unfamiliarity with the world. Certainly Bush’s fetus isn’t human, and perhaps only semi-corporeal — “I’ve been out before/but this time it’s much safer in” infers extraordinary capabilities beyond what we’d expect from a human fetus. Contemporary quotes from Bush support this reading: “it’s more of a spiritual being… it has all its senses, and it knows what’s going on outside of the mother’s womb.” A clairvoyant specter, one could say. What a weird epistemology.

“Breathing” contains the body horror of crass jingoism’s mutation of human life. “Breathing my mother in” summates what fetuses do normally while warping it into a desperate gasp for breath. A fetus contains nascent vestiges of human form — we all have to start somewhere. But we have to end somewhere too. “Breathing” offers no hope for survival. Its coda is a macabre apocalypse — Middleton’s dolefully frightened keyboard and Bath’s grimacing, sustained guitar licks underscore predator Roy Harper’s calls of “what are we going to do without?” as Bush’s gasps of “LEAVE ME SOMETHING TO BREATHE!” tear the world asunder. Earlier, the second verse is similarly pessimistic about the possibility that “we’ve lost our chance/we’re the first and last.” This is where it starts and where it ends — the bomb destroys bodies and ends the possibility of life.

Sensationalism often takes over conversations about nuclear war. Human casualties are often excused or minimized in the name of military power. Even without taking long-term deaths into account (not to mention cultural trauma), the explosion and firestorm of Little Boy alone are estimated to have killed between 70,000 and 80,000 people in Hiroshima. And that’s not accounting for the immediate deaths in the bombing of Nagasaki, which has a far broader but still ghastly casualty count of 22,000 to 75,000. The victims weren’t merely blown apart either or shot either — they were incinerated, burned alive, hardly recognizable as recently living people. This is the greatest body horror ever wrought by humanity. And nuclear warheads’ harm to people isn’t limited to civilians in wartime either. The United Kingdom gave countless British soldiers cancer, infertility, and children with birth defects in its postwar nuclear tests. Far from being a national security interest, this is fundamentally a weapon that changes the makeup of human biology.

Throughout the years, Bush has sung about the power and vitality of the body. It’s perhaps her most crucial theme: the body is the most beautiful organism we encounter and should be preserved. “Breathing” is fully in line with this idea, and yet it’s a radical departure because the body doesn’t win. It’s turned against itself and destroyed. Never for Ever ends on a note of nihilism.

Where do we go from here? Bush’s dream (of Orgonon?) has been corrupted and will never be the same. The Dreaming reels from the trauma of “Breathing.” The body keeps fighting, but the soul has been weakened. Emotions are less straightforwardly positive than they used to be. But they’re also crucial: “Breathing” is pervaded by emotional reality as well as bodily pain. A scary light in the sky is scary because of its emotional reality.

Bush claimed that the political content of “Army Dreamers” and “Breathing” only served to “move [her] emotionally.” Characteristically, Bush is both wrong and insightful here. The idea that songs are less political because you’re emotionally invested in the political issues they discuss is utter nonsense. But… of course political issues are emotional. Bush even acknowledges this in the next part of the quote, saying “it went through the emotional center… when I thought ‘ah, ow!’ And that made me write.”

Perhaps nothing is more political than personal emotions. Emotions are always present in a person’s values, decisions, choices, and aesthetics. Human beings are ventilation devices for emotions. Perhaps without realizing it, the entity that moved Bush is the radical politics of emotion in the service of bodily liberation. Emotions are political. Everything is political, as no man is an island. And crucially, breathing, and who gets to do it, is political.

Recorded in March 1980 at Abbey Road. Released as a single on 14 April 1980, then as the closing track of Never for Ever on 7 September that year. A censored version of the music video was aired on Top of the Pops on April 14. Performed live by Bush (solo) at a Comic Relief concert in 1986. Personnel: Kate Bush — vocals, piano, production. Stuart Elliott — drums. Jon Kelly — production, engineering. Max Middleton — Fender Rhodes. Alan Murphy, Brian Bath — electric guitar. Larry Fast — Prophet. Morris Pert — percussion. Roy Harper — backing vocals. Image: Hiroshima immediately after the dropping of “Little Boy” (photographer unnamed)”.

I will finish things there. Maybe repeating words I have published about this song before, Breathing turns forty-five on 14th April. It is a hugely atmospheric song that should be better known and highlighted. It is a shame that Bush never performed the song live around the time of its release. I would be interested in another album like Director’s Cut (Bush reworked/re-recorded songs from 1989’s The Sensual World and 1993’s The Red Shoes), where Bush revisited Breathing. Last year, when MOJO ranked Bush’s best fifty tracks, they placed Breathing twentieth. In 2018, The Guardian placed Breathing tenth when they ranked Bush’s singles. In 2023, PROG examined Kate Bush’s best forty songs. This is what was written about Breathing:

“A startling reaction to the prospect of nuclear war, told from the perspective of an unborn baby that doesn’t want to leave the safety of the womb to face the horrors of the world outside.

Marjana Semkina, Iamthemorning: “It’s heartachingly beautiful, fragile and dark at the same time, which is a juxtaposition I very much appreciate and always try to achieve in my music. The subject of the song is especially dark and resonates with me in the light of the political events of the past months, since it’s a song about a foetus experiencing the world outside during the nuclear fallout.

“Kate Bush calls us to turn to the most basic of all human needs: breathing, for no matter how bad things get, you need to breathe. The studio version also features some spoken word about what a flash from a nuclear bomb looks like, and listening to it now has a very strange effect on me – it’s almost too scary to keep listening. But it’s also absolutely beautiful how the song shifts from being ominous and dark to light and hopeful, telling us that not all is lost yet, as long as you only keep breathing”.

In 2021, Dig! published a feature where they wrote about twenty must-hear examples of Kate Bush’s work. Breathing is a song that might not be as regarded as her work on Hounds of Love. However, it is an early-career masterpiece that should be seen as such. A song that showed just how phenomenal Kate Bush is:

“Recorded in early 1980 and released as Never For Ever’s lead single in April that year, Breathing is written from the perspective of a foetus preparing to enter a post-apocalyptic world. As she told Smash Hits at the time of the single’s release: “It’s about a baby still in the mother’s womb at the time of a nuclear fallout, but it’s more of a spiritual being. It has all its senses: sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing, and it knows what is going on outside the mother’s womb, and yet it wants desperately to carry on living, as we all do of course. Nuclear fallout is something we’re all aware of, and worried about happening in our lives, and it’s something we should all take time to think about. We’re all innocent, none of us deserve to be blown up.” Again, despite the foreboding subject matter, it’s a gorgeous-sounding entry among the best Kate Bush songs – a sumptuous prog masterpiece that showed her musical ambition”.

If you have not heard Never for Ever and do not know why Breathing is so well placed and important, then listen to the album. The first single from her third studio album, it was as big step forward. Not just in terms of the composition sound. Bush’s vocals at their peak. Her lyrics concise and terrifying. Vivid and haunting. The combination meant Breathing should have done better than number sixteen in the U.K. Regardless, it is a masterpiece that I wanted to shine a spotlight on. It is undoubtably one of Kate Bush’s…

GREATEST achievements.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Revisited: Lola Kirke

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight: Revisited

 

Lola Kirke

_________

BEFORE getting to her music…

IN THIS PHOTO: Domino, Lola and Jemima Kirke/PHOTO CREDIT: Jason Bell

it is worth pointing out that the amazing Lola Kirke released Wild West Village: Not a Memoir (Unless I Win an Oscar, Die Tragically, or Score a Country #1) at the end of last month. The acclaimed musician and actor has been discussing her book. I am going to start with an extract from a recent piece she published for Vogue. I am spotlighting Kirke again because she has achieved a fair bit since I last featured her. I am a big fan of her music so wanted to circle back around:

“For most of my life, whenever I heard a woman claim to be “best friends” with her sisters, I’d smile sadly at her, then change the subject. Obviously this meant she’d been home schooled or locked in a basement for much of her childhood. Obviously, I was desperately jealous. I wanted to be closer with my two sisters and spent years trying to mold myself into the kind of girl I imagined they’d want to be near. I embraced their hobbies (lying to our mother and ballet). I pledged allegiance to their favorite bands (Elvis and Jeff Buckley). I regurgitated their ideas (tan lines were awful and I was annoying). But at 17, after getting caught up in a fist fight between them (one came home with the other’s ex-boyfriend’s name tattooed on her bicep), I gave up. What I never could have foreseen was that the unity I yearned for would come readily years later, when I stopped trying to recreate their experiences and started to write honestly about my own.

Between Jemima and Domino, who are five and eight years my senior respectively, and my mother (mystically nine years my junior, celebrating her twenty-fifth birthday annually), it is safe to say I was raised by the ultimate “cool girls.” Not cool as in chill (they are not). But cool as in beautiful, rebellious, and, when they need to be, icy. Constantly smoking and consummately glamorous, the women in my family were more Ab Fab’s Patsy and Edina than June Cleaver. I couldn’t wait to grow up and be exactly like them. Incidentally, my friends couldn’t either. My sisters’ hand-me-downs were highly coveted by us all. Vivienne Westwood pirate boots. Betsey Johnson hot pants. Shredded vintage T-shirts, complete with holes exactly where your nipples were. Once the goods made their way to me, I’d be drunk with a power I rarely felt otherwise. Endowed with the keys to my sisters’ kingdom, it was no longer just them but also I who could transform a young girl in a racer back Speedo into a harlot in threadbare Eres. But while on the surface I yearned to be like my sisters, deep down, all I wanted was to feel loved by them. In my family, however, between the affairs and addictions, love was often lost. Not gone—just misplaced. We all tore the house apart looking for it.

As I got older, I was able to find a lot of that love through writing what would become my first book, a memoir-in-essays largely about growing up in the fun and dysfunction of our squint-and-it-looks-like-you’re-in-an-expensive-French-brothel West Village brownstone. On the page, I could make sense of the chaos and characters that had so mystified me in life. With the freedom to express myself came the freedom to forgive others and even see my part in things. Perhaps I hadn’t felt my sisters’ affection for me because I hadn’t really let them know me. I seethed with unspoken resentments well into adulthood. (Why had I spent so many of my spring breaks at their rehabs?! How come they still didn’t remember any of my friends’ names?) I was a grown woman replete with the same sense of ineffectiveness I’d felt as a little girl. But was it them relegating me to the old role in the family system? Or had I just been reluctant to grow out of it?

After sharing the manuscript of my finished book with my family last summer, I was filled with a sense of dread. No matter that I’d attached a very intentionally worded email I’d crafted with my therapist, a sage man somewhere in Oregon I’ve never actually met in person but who I understand has a predilection for sweater vests. I knew that my writing could be hurtful to them, even if it had been healing for me. For so long, I’d believed my value was contingent upon my seemingly unique ability to steer our family’s ship towards safe harbor. I was the voice of reason in screaming matches. The champion of the underdog in any fight. Perfect when they were imperfect, or so I thought. Now I was the one rocking the boat.

When my parents first read my book, my worries were affirmed. I would have never done that. What about the good times?! They wrote. You weren’t 11 pounds when you were born! The way I saw my feelings clashed with the way they saw the facts. I yearned to talk to the only other people who knew my parents the way I did—my sisters—though I feared they’d feel similarly. I braced myself as I dialed Jemima.

“It’s your perspective, Lola,” she said emphatically after I explained my situation. “You don’t have to change it just so it matches someone else’s. You’re an author. Not a stenographer”.

I am going to move on in a minute. First, another interesting interview that caught my eye is from People. It is a really interesting interview that I would urge people to check out in full. For the purpose of concision (which might be ironic given the word-count for this feature!), I have chosen a short section for highlighting:

“How did your want or need to fit in with American culture help you connect with country music?

Well, I don't think there's anything more American than country music. It's maybe a little on the nose, but one of the things I don't necessarily name in the book is that I think country also is synonymous with freedom, whether it's the capital “F” freedom, that “freedom isn't free” idea or this idea of like "I'm going out into the country, into the wild and the Wild West.” There's a part of me that has craved freedom, whether it's freedom from my own ego or freedom from the intense freedom that I think the privilege I grew up in smothers you in, almost. So beyond just the America that country sings about, it’s the freedom within the idea of America that I was really drawn to, if that makes sense.

Why was it important for you to conclude the book with your Grand Ole Opry performance?

I couldn't believe, in a way, that performance and experience coincided with when I was writing the end of my book. The ending for the book actually was the chapter before. [Originally], it was like, I live in Nashville now [and] I realize it's okay to like be me. And then I had my Grand Ole Opry debut, and I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. But after, my whole family descended upon Nashville and then left. And through writing this book, I really learned how much writing helps me not only understand the world around me, but myself, and how healing writing could be. So I was like, “What do I do with this experience?” And I wrote about it. This incredible circumstance [at the Opry] really got to articulate so much about what my life has become and where my life has been. That just felt like a really better ending.

What was your experience like working with Greta Gerwig on Mistress America?

Oh, it was fantastic. Greta is incredible, and it doesn't surprise me at all that she absolutely has become one of the most sought-after and powerful directors. I certainly have continued to use some of her mannerisms. I mean, she's just such an inspiration. And now that I'm 34, I can't believe that she was 29 when she wrote that. I'm like, “Oh, f—, she was so driven and so talented even then.”

Have you discussed working together again?

We were supposed to do an ill-fated production of The Three Sisters in 2020 that then got postponed for like two years, and that ultimately [was] canceled. So, not since then. But I would love to”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Ohad Cab

I might circle back to the book to close things out. Her latest single, Raised by Wolves, is one of Lola Kirke’s best. Here are some further details: “Raised By Wolves’ is the first song I wrote with Daniel Tashian,” Kirke explains. “I’m a huge fan, so I was extremely nervous for our session and weirdly decided to break the ice by forcing him to let me read the first chapter of my then unfinished book, in which I say ‘I was raised by wolves in the wilderness, but the wolves in question repurposed vintage nightgowns as dinner dresses and the wilderness consisted of various brownstones scattered below 14th street.’ Fortunately, he found this inspiring, not self-indulgent, and we wrote the song”. I am not sure whether Country music is genuinely in fashion or whether it is a reaction to Beyoncé and the success of her 2024 album, COWBOY CARTER. I maintain it is a genre that people should listen to and give time to. However, for artists like Lola Kirke who are not new to Country and have been part of the scene for a long time, how easy is it to ‘convert’ people?! I want to take us back to last year and Kirke’s interview with Building Our Own Nashville. Lola Kirke discussed the Country 2 Country (C2C) Festival, her Country E.P., Country Curious, and more:

“Actress and singer/songwriter Lola Kirke made her Country 2 Country (C2C) Festival this year (2024) and made such an impact on the country music fans that she will undoubtedly return to the C2C Stages in the not too distant future! But fans of the genre and of Kirke won’t actually have to wait long for her return to the UK as she is back in August for a headline tour including an appearance at The Long Road Festival.

Kirke has been making country music for a fair few years now! More recently however, Lola Kirke released her EP titled Country Curious which features First Aid Kit, Roseanne Cash and is produced by Elle King! A wonderful combination of traditional and modern country, the EP is smart, witty and highly relatable!

We caught up with Lola just after her set on the Wayside Stage. Her set was met with great reception and she showcased a few new songs which made for great conversation. Lola Kirke was great company and I thoroughly enjoyed talking with her. If it hadn’t been for my having another interview straight after, I could have honestly chatted for hours! A very laid back and cool country woman, Kirke speaks with such ease and passion about the country music genre and we are so excited to follow her journey from here on!

How are you? How has your C2C Experience been so far?

It’s been good. I was born in England, my family is from England so I have had this incredible time seeing family and friends and places that I grew up in! Then randomly getting to come to the O2 Arena and play on small festivals stages. It’s been a real lovely trip and the weather’s been amazing!

Is it London that your family are from?

Yes!

Oh that makes it easy then!

Yeah it’s great, it’s been a homecoming and I think part of it is getting to play country music in London, it’s a lovely marriage of things I love and music has brought me back to England than anything has in my adult life.

I just saw your set on The Wayside Stage which was incredible! I have written down a new song that you performed and all I have is mum, Madonna, Malboro’s….

Yeah, ‘Malboro Lights and Madonna’. I just wrote that song with Natalie (Hemby) and Jason Nix. I had run into her at the Brandi Carlisle ‘Girls Just Wanna’ weekend in Cancún. For whatever reason, I told her this story of when I was a little girl about 5 years old and how Madonna had been at the same restaurant as us in Miami on a family vacation. My mum was like “go up to her and get her autograph” and I was like “what would she sign? We don’t have anything?” My mum said “oh take this” and gave me her empty Malboro pack and I went over to Madonna like a five year old girl and asked her to sign it for me and she did. I told that story to Natalie Hemby and we were writing together a couple of weeks ago and we were just about to get into it and she said “wait, remind me of that story, it was so funny”. Then I re-told her the story and she said “Malboro Lights and Madonna, that’s a great title”. When I think of my mum, I think of Malboro Lights and Madonna and yeah, we wrote that song. I love how songs fall out of anything if you’re looking at them the right way.”

I don’t think that there’s a better premise for a country song than that!

Thank you so much I really appreciate that!

It’s very Natalie Hemby too

It is, it is so her! I love Natalie!

I love that line in the song about your mum. “always on a diet as she thought she was fat” that’s a line so many women are going to relate to!

We had a bunch of other lines in there too and then I was like “well this is the truest one, that’s not weird right?” And Natalie was like “that’s every mother in the world”. It makes me sad, my mum is so beautiful and I think watching beautiful people think they are not beautiful is just the world we live in. It’s the fuel for every industry and age of capitalism that we live in, and what I love so much about writing, whether it’s songs or other forms of writing that I do, is the ability to bring light and humour to these things that are the subtle underbelly of everything that we do and make them relatable. I do know that’s everyone and that is something that country music has always done for me. I think that my kind of mission within country music is ( I’m not from places that a lot of people from country music are from, I am from New York City and I was born in London, ) to expand on that accessibility of another corner using the country form which is so fun and that was visible playing new songs for people today and by the end they are singing along because there is rhythm to the music that makes it able for people to enter into much easier. I just want to expand on what you can write a country music song about!

Another song that caught my attention during your set which is also not released is Tennessee Sober…

Yeah! Tennessee Sober I made up haha, it’s the opposite of California Sober. California Sober is a term for like “I don’t drink but I smoke weed”. Willie Nelson and Billy Strings just did a song called California Sober so you can refer to that one for the reference but Tennessee Sober was my play on that because I’m drunk all the time haha. I only drink, I drink all day long haha!

Really?

No haha I’m joking!

Haha good – I see that Pistol Annies are an influence of yours and I can hear that in your music, what is it about them that draws you in? Have you worked with any of them?

I have actually written with Ashley (Monroe) and Angaleena (Pressley) I love them so much! That has been one of my favourite things about Nashville, getting to write with my songwriting heroes and singing heroes. Their voices are voices of angels I just adore them. What I love about them is their ability to be tough and funny and heartbreaking. That’s to me what I love so much about country music, about women in country. You don’t see it all the time but for those that are drawn to do that in the genre, they really can. It’s really cool. I love Miranda Lambert for that reason, she is just who she is.

Tell us about ‘Country Curious’ because that is such a great EP!

So Country Curious, I have always been drawn to country music, it has always been an inspiration for my music and slowly over time it’s just got more and more country. I made a duets record back on 2019 (Loka Kirke and Friends and Foes and Friends Again) and that was more classic country influenced and then my record Lady For Sale that came out on Third Man Records on Jack White’s label was much more 80’s country with a lot of Judd references, a lot of synth, pedal steels stuff, it was really fun but it was pretty niche. I started challenging myself after that to write music that was much more in my mind what I was hearing on country radio. I live in Nashville now and listen to a lot of country radio because why not? I wrote all these songs that I wanted to be like bro-country for women. That felt really exciting to me. You just reflected that there was that line in Malboro Lights and Madonna that speaks to you. I wanted to expand on what we can talk about in a country song and I wanted to talk about women taking back their house (song My House) and hiring strippers and going on adventures. Elle King (produced Country Curious) felt like a really great and perfect partner on that, I have always loved how she has blended a rootsier, influenced with a more contemporary sensibility, we had a lot of fun!”.

Even if Lola Kirke moving into Country territory for Country Curious was a surprise to some, it is actually authentic. This is an artist not new to the genre. Even if previous work is more Pop-based, she is someone not jumping on a bandwagon or experimenting. This is music pure to her. I can see her recoding more Country music for years more. I want to move to an interview from GRAMMY, who featured Lola Kirke last year. Chatting about her stunning E.P., it made me think this is an artist the whole world should know:

“On its four songs, Kirke goes from gushing over a southern accent ("He Says Y'all") to saying adios to those not worth her time ("All My Exes Live in L.A." and "My House"). It's been a calculated adventure for Kirke, who's slowly expanded on her country sound with each passing record, moving from the glimmering 70's and 80's influenced Heart Head West and Lady For Sale to the empowered contemporary stylings that dominate Country Curious.

The title of her EP also stems from a childhood infiltrated with country music that she credits to her father, who played in classic rock bands and introduced her to artists like Gram Parsons, Emmylou Harris, Tammy Wynette, Johnny Cash, and Patsy Cline. Despite her long fascination with the genre — and even fronting an all-female country band in college — Kirke acknowledges that, from the outside looking in, she doesn't look the part of a cowgirl.

"As a girl from New York City who was half Jewish and half English, it wasn't exactly up there," she jokes about the possibility of a career in country music. "For whatever reason I delusionally believed I could be an actress and that would be easier, and it worked for a while. One thing I've always loved about music is that I don't need a green light from people like I do as an actress, I can always raise hell and sing a song."

Calling from her Nashville home between rehearsals for a new acting role, Kirke spoke candidly about her path to country music, imposter syndrome and how acting and making music compare.

Country music is often tied to a place, but it can also come from the heart — something people often neglect when debating authenticity in the genre. Is that idea what you're hitting back on at the beginning of "He Says Y'all" when you sing "I've got my Wrangler's starched and I'm pearl snap pretty, which is kind of strange 'cause I'm from New York City?"

I definitely want to empower more people to listen to country music. But these days it doesn't seem like I have to because it's becoming increasingly ubiquitous, which I love since it's my favorite kind of music.

The most authentic thing we can do in this world is love something with every ounce of our being. That's what should be the price of entry, because in the end that's all that really matters. If you love something then you're going to do right by it — and I love country music, so I hope to do right by it.

What are some differences and similarities of how you approach acting and musical pursuits?

Well, for acting I would never take a shot of tequila before I did a scene, but maybe I should because it could be very fun! [Laughs.]

I'm able to do that more when I'm performing due to the social element of it, which is really exciting. I do try to bring my whole self to whatever it is I'm doing, whether I'm on a stage singing or I'm in front of a camera acting. That being said, the Lola Kirke that I am when I'm playing music is not the Lola Kirke that I necessarily am at home.

For one, I look like s— when I'm at home, but on stage I really love wearing fun costumes. On that note, with acting, I was starting to get a lot of feedback about the way I looked that wasn't positive and made me sad, hearing I was too fat for roles. I didn't want to be part of an industry that did that. I'm not naive to the idea that music can be kinder to female artists, but so far I haven't felt that same pressure in my music to look a certain way because I have a lot of control in how I look when I'm doing it.

There was always this confusion with me as an actress where I felt like a really glamorous person even though I was constantly playing an assistant. You can be a glamorous assistant for sure, but there was a leading lady role I wanted to step into that I just wasn't being cast as. I feel like with the role I've created for myself with my music that I've been able to embody that.

In some of your songwriting and in past interviews you've alluded to your battle with imposter syndrome, especially in terms of your music and moving to Nashville. What's motivated you to be so open about those struggles?

It's really important to try new things in life and to test your own limits of what you believe is possible. If you get into the habit of doing that a lot, you'll often find yourself feeling like an imposter because you're constantly learning and growing. There's a healthiness and bravery in allowing yourself to feel like that.

However, that feeling of not deserving anything I have is something I've also dealt with a lot.  It can seem self-centered at times, but it's made me realize that life doesn't have to be as hard as I make it. You don't have to be scared all the time that everyone's gonna come down on you for doing something wrong.

Overcoming my imposter syndrome has been a lot of looking at my own judgmental nature because I have a lot of negative self-talk that I'm working on. While it's nice when somebody else validates you, that ultimately has to be an inside job.

Is that what you're singing about in "My House," not only getting toxic people out of your life but your own toxic thoughts and insecurities as well?

I think all of my romantic or heartbreak songs have a double meaning. On "All My Exes Live In LA," while it is a true story, it's also about leaving behind the proverbial abusive ex-boyfriend of Hollywood and being like, "I don't want this anymore. I'm gonna go find my own place in this world and maybe I'll come back, but if I do it'll be more whole and not defined by you."

Sometimes it's easier to write about these bigger ideas through the foil of a man or love because somehow it sounds less cheesy — even though we break up with a lot of things in this life, not just romantic partners. I hope listeners find double meaning in all of my songs about breaking up with a man, or being empowered by a relationship, to be a different thing because we have relationships with a lot more things than just lovers.

Regarding "Exes in LA," I love the inclusion of First Aid Kit on the song. They're not a band that I necessarily think of when country music comes to mind, but I love them jumping on these and feel like they really nailed the vibe. How'd the opportunity to collaborate with them come about?

It all came from a mediocre 6.4 review that Pitchfork gave my last record, Lady For Sale. Overall it wasn't a bad review aside from mentioning it was egregious that someone from New York City like me was making country music. That became the thesis of a TikTok I posted that the First Aid Kit gals commented on jumping to my defense, saying they loved my music and would be interested in hearing what Pitchfork had to say about them making country music from Sweden.

After that we became close friends online and I got to go on tour with them throughout the UK, which was so special. A real friendship blossomed from that, so when I was dreaming up collaborations for [Country Curious] they were at the top of my list with Rosanne Cash.

I imagine that your collaboration with Rosanne, "Karma," was a pretty serendipitous and full-circle experience, since she's one of your biggest country influences?

Many years ago during a moment of heartbreak, I was consulting a psychic — as one does — and she told me that I really needed to listen to the song "Seven Year Ache" because it'll be a huge window into my future. The song doesn't have the most optimistic perspective so I thought that was weird.

Then when I was sitting down with [Lady For Sale producer Austin Jenkins] he mentioned it'd be really fun to make a record like Seven Year Ache and it brought me back to that moment. We ended up making this record that was very inspired by Rosanne's.

Eventually, I got back on the phone with the psychic again, where she re-emphasized the importance of working with Rosanne Cash. I remember thanking her but inside thinking she was crazy — until a couple years later and I was lying in bed one night after a pretty rough day professionally, and refreshed my email one last time to see if any opportunities trickled through. Lo and behold, a message popped up from Rosanne Cash.

She said she'd been trying to reach me for a while to see if I'd like to do this workshop project in New York with her for a theater piece. It was such an honor and such a beautiful experience as an actress and musician to get to work with her in both capacities. When it came to this dream EP I reached out fully expecting a no in response, but to my surprise she said yes.

I love "Karma," particularly for its double-edged sword dynamic that has you referring to karma as your friend one moment and declaring you don't mess with her because she can be a b— moments later.

That's a song I wrote for a dear friend of mine. I originally thought of it as more of a quippy Pistol Annies upbeat number, but when my co-writer Jason Nix sent me a tape of him playing it in this really sad way that I thought was brilliant, so we did that with it instead.

You talked earlier about being steeped in old country influences growing up and on past recordings. I feel like "Karma" very much sees you with one foot planted in the nostalgia of '70s and '80s country and the other in its contemporary, pop-tinged present.

A lot of that also came from Elle King's influence as producer of Country Curious. She has much more of a rootsy sensibility that I was really happy she brought because it was able to ground this more contemporary sound in a lot of the classic country influences that I really love”.

I am going to end with a feature from Cultured. Apologies is tonally scattershot and random! I wanted to talk about Lola Kirke as an artist. However, with a book out, I cannot avoid that. It is important. Another side to her that needs to be explored. For Cultured, they write how for “Boots on the Ground,” Emmeline Clein takes readers to a Perverted Book Club and catches up with one of its more surprising guests”:

“Speaking of beauty, you write a lot about the allures and dangers of defining oneself via physical appearance––about beauty as currency with an ever-fluctuating exchange rate, or perhaps even a currency revealed to be counterfeit when you try to spend it, and as one earned through pain and excruciating labor. What does beauty mean to you today?

What beauty means in my life is constantly evolving. Mostly, I would say that it's internal. Beauty in my life today means looking like the main character in a neo-noir '90s film. They're wearing librarian glasses and tweed jackets with shoulder pads, and they're still somehow the sexiest women in the entire world. I think that something the '80s and '90s really promoted about beauty was beyond the all-encompassing thinness that still defines a lot of beauty standards. Instead, it was like, no, it's the woman's intelligence that is really the sexy thing about her. But I think true beauty is love, caring for yourself in a deep way. And wisdom. We've always privileged youth, and I don't think that that's particularly interesting. I'm more interested in being a woman than I am a girl.

I love that, especially with all the cultural emphasis on girl-ifying everything. Let’s have "woman dinner" for once. This book is also obviously pretty rife with tea in a fabulous way, and I was curious whether you were worried about the reactions of the people you wrote about? Are you of the school of letting people in the book read drafts or are you engaging in ask-forgiveness-later culture?

I definitely let people read drafts. For the most part, my rule was, I'm only going to talk about something that happened to another person if they've talked about it themselves, publicly. But I was absolutely terrified. I think I really terrified my family too. I talk about that a little bit at the beginning of the book, but I don't think it was the news that everyone wanted, particularly my parents, when I was like, "Hey, I got a book deal…" They were like, "Um, is it fiction?" My friends would be like, "Well, why didn't you turn it into a novel?"

As we’ve seen with a lot of autofiction, it would probably have been pretty legible.

Yeah, exactly. Welcome to the "Jirke family." Also, you have a lot more freedom when you're writing fiction. I think in a way people might be a little bit more protected, at least with me as the writer, with it being non-fiction.

I was really interested in the way you write about the country music genre as one that rigidly adheres to rules, and compared it to Manhattan’s grid. Your book felt so much like a story of unlearning rules and roles that constrained you, so I’m curious to hear your thoughts on both the comforts and dangers of genre––in music and in books.

I appreciate that reading. I think it comes back to the corny acting truism: you can live more truthfully through the mask. Oftentimes, limitations can give us a lot of freedom. So, I appreciate all the limitations. Something else about growing up with privilege, as I talk about in the book, privilege is a form of freedom. But it's a very privileged thing to do away with your freedom. Genre, whether it's noir or country, actually offers a lot of freedom within limits.

You live in Nashville now, but so much of the book and your life takes place in New York? Are you planning to be in Nashville forever?

I will always go back to New York, and I love New York, but I have really enjoyed not living there. Growing up the way that I did, there is the kind of storied closed-mindedness of people who believe they're very open-minded, i.e. bougie New Yorkers who think the world is as big as New York, LA, and London, and wherever else there are flagship stores of luxury brands. Growing up thinking I was going to be an actress, I never believed that I could live outside of those places. But I always did have great reverence for the South, whether it was because I loved country music or because I loved barbecue.

Okay, last question, which I’ll bring back to sex, since I did get to hear you read erotica recently. I thought your description of your own sexual stance as “largely unskilled but enthusiastic” at a certain point in your life to be iconic and relatable. I was curious if you could talk about your experience writing about sexuality, which can be so fraught for so many women, and which you handled with so much grace and wit.

I typically do feel like sex is just moving around a bunch. That is the best way I could describe it. Despite growing up in a highly sexualized home––not that we were sexualized early, but because we were made into beautiful girls and we modeled our mom's clothing, and there was a lot of emphasis on beauty––there was never a discussion of sex. No one ever was like, "Here's what you do. Here's how you don't get pregnant." I'm always so impressed when I read writer friends of mine write about sex in such a sexy way. Like, oh my God, you know what you're doing?”.

With Wild West Village: Not a Memoir (Unless I Win an Oscar, Die Tragically, or Score a Country #1) and a new single out into the world, this is a perfect time to discover and bond with Lola Kirke! I have been following her music for a few years now. Perhaps better known in the U.S. than here in the U.K., I do hope that she comes and plays here soon. She does have a very brief stop-off here on 12th March at Next Door Records Two in Stoke Newington. Either side of that she has dates in the U.S. and plays a string of North American shows through to late-June. If you have not discovered this phenomenal musician, actor and writer, then make sure you acquaint yourself with her. Born in the U.K. and based in the U.S., this is a very special talent that now…

BELONGS to the world.

____________

Follow Lola Kirke

FEATURE: Standing at the Bottom of the Hill: Kate Bush and the Foundations of Hounds of Love

FEATURE:

 

 

Standing at the Bottom of the Hill

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in November 1985 performing The Big Sky on the German T.V. show, Peter's Pop Show/PHOTO CREDIT: ZIK Images/United Archives via Getty Images

 

Kate Bush and the Foundations of Hounds of Love

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I have been leaning on…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: Dave Hogan/Getty Images

some essential Kate Bush books for a number of features. I am once more returning to Leah Kardos’s 33 1/3 book on Hounds of Love. I will be returning it multiple times as I am leading up to the album’s fortieth anniversary in September. Forensically looking at the tracks and discussing the legacy of the album. For now, I wanted to look at the foundations of the album. A little bit of background to the 1985 classic. I want to start with a detail from the book that I did not know. Not necessarily significant, it did interest me when I read it. By the end of 1981, Bush revealed that she was taking on a lot for The Dreaming (her fourth studio album was released in September 1982). She was throwing everything into it so was losing sight of her direction or what she wanted to say. In a rare break from recording, Kate Bush attended Sotheby’s annual rock memorabilia at the end of 1981. She picked up a Perspex of John Lennon and Yoko Ono in their famous Two Virgins pose. She also bought a copy of the shooting script for The Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour film. Leah Kardos notes how the imagistic and colourful textures of The Beatles’ film combined with the spectre of John Lennon’s recent death (he was killed in December 1980) impacted the final stages of The Dreaming. Released in September 1982, there is this blend of emotions and themes. Raw, intense and layered songs together with lighter and more accessible numbers. How a track like Get Out of My House and its incredible intensity and energy sits with something comparatively gentle like Suspended in Gaffa or There Goes a Tenner. Night of the Swallow alongside the violence and smoke of Pull Out the Pin.

It is interesting to note that Bush achieved so much with Hounds of Love. It was an album that was very much guided by her. Not an album where others were directing things. There was collaboration and interaction but, at the end of the day, this was Kate Bush producing an album in her own vision. None of her female peers were doing this. The only other artists at the time who had access to technology like hers and their own studio would have been Prince. Bush had a 48-track console in the childhood barn where she used to play a pump organ (one that has more than a few mice living in it!). I think home and family are the seeds of Hounds of Love. Bush stepping away from London and connecting with her childhood home once more. Spending time in Ireland to write lyrics. She spent precious time there in a country her mother was born in. Family connections very much crucial. I have mentioned some of the kit that was in Bush’s studio. Her father Robert helped manage the constructing the studio alongside Del Palmer (who engineered and played on Hounds of Love). It was ready by 1984. There was no line of sight between the control room and the recording space. Communication was achieved through walls via mic and foldback monitors. This made Bush perhaps less inhibited and nervous. Not wanting to be watched when she performed. A bespoke studio at her family home very much integral to the sound and brilliance of Hounds of Love. Not beholden to studio costs and the rush of the city, this was a setting that was a lot more conducive with productivity and an easier recording process. That said, it was an ambitious album, so there were moments of stress.

The control room in the studio was very much made up like a living room. Blue wallpaper with fluffy clouds. It is a shame there were not a load of photographs taken by Bush’s brother, John. No cameras in there filming this wonderful studio and the making of Hounds of Love. Windows let Bush and her team see the sunshine, garden and trees. It was a perfect environment that seemed a contrast to the more closed-in and stuffier environment that Bush experienced when making The Dreaming. A Soundcraft 2400 series mixing desk, two 24-track Studer tape machines synced with a Q Lock 310. A 48-track recoreder might sound excessive but Bush said in an interview with Keyboard how 24-track was limiting. It didn’t seem to go anywhere. There was also a pair of AMS speakers. The control room had a Grotrian-Steinweg grand piano. Bush shifted between the studio and her home eight-track home recording setup. There she had her Fairlight CMI, a second sampler, an E-Mu Emulator and a Yamaha CS-80. Outbound equipment in the control room had a range of processing options. There were the Urei 1176 and 1178 compressors, Drawmer and VP Gate Keeper II noise gates. Scamp filters and A&D F760-RSA compressors/expanders. Essential for ensuring that Bush’s vocal performances could go from a whisper to a scream. There were also racks of reverb effects: some AMS units, a Lexicon 224 and Quantec Room Simulator. This sounds like an expensive set-up and financial burden. Rather than Bush moving between London studios and spending £90 per hour (£375 per hour in today’s money) in the studio, she could work without having to worry about fees. She could be more creative and was not limited. It was mainly Kate Bush and Del Palmer in the control room. Hounds of Love was sleeker and more economical compared to The Dreaming. Del Palmer downplayed his role in Hounds of Love. He would set up a sound for Kate Bush and she would then record all the vocals and call him to get them all put together.

 IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in an outtake from the Hounds of Love cover shoot/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

In a recent feature, I did say how there was room for improvisation and collaboration on Kate Bush albums. True I think on Never for Ever (1980), The Sensual World (1989) and Aerial (2005). Hounds of Love did allow that, though Bush gave specific instructions to musicians. There was a lot of respect in the room for Kate Bush, so there was this easy relationship. Youth (Martin Glover) recalls Bush instructing him and also let him do what he liked. This combination of clear instructions and some freedom to add something personal. Bush as this wonderful producer and Youth as a skilled musician. I want to talk about the foundations of Hounds of Love. The feel of the studio and the equipment in it. Alongside all the impressive kit was an invaluable Nagra recorder. Nature very much playing a crucial role. This recorder was a unit that could be taken outside to record environmental sounds. Bush could get sounds of the sea and wind without relying on somewhat inauthentic sound effects. Even though Kate Bush’s vocals on songs such as Waking the Witch and The Big Sky are hugely evocative and powerful, she did feel inhabited. She had to psyched herself up to get that level of drama. I have written about this before. How Bush, emotionally or literally, got a little drunk. Bush’s vocals on Hounds of Love sound different to those on The Dreaming. Del Palmer revealed in a 1993 interview how a Neumann U47 was positioned in a reflective live room with stoned walls and a bricked floor. The sound was then proceeded through what was described as an ‘overdose of compression’. That was engaged with a noise gate to clean up the spill. Bush moved away from the microphone to breathe and “managed her distance based on the volume of her performance”. Not technically perfect or right, Bush and Palmer did love the results. Leah Kardos notes how Bush works well with a lively room to change her vocal performance, often mid-lyrics. Bush’s high register notes in the verse of Hounds of Love melting into a low croon at the end of a phrase. No loss of focus in the mix. No diminishing of volume.

Key to the foundations of Hounds of Love is the colour scheme. Consider the album cover where Bush is pictured laying with her Weimaraner dogs, Bonnie and Clyde. Shot by John Carder Bush (her brother), Bush’s face is made up with shades of lilac, blue, pink and coral. A streak or purple in her hair. Hounds of Love as this purple album. If red is the colour of love, then Bush mixed in some blue. Maybe representative of water or sadness. Not only is the album cover purple. The sound of the album is purple. Lush and mysterious (thanks again to Leah Kardos!). According to the Maitreya School of Healing, which was co-founded by Bush’s friend, the healer Lily Cornford (who is honoured on The Red Shoes’ Lily), the colour (wisteria amethyst) promotes “strength, dignity, spiritual growth and courage”. Water, sky, storms, the dream world, passion, fears and contrasts. Chills and warmth. Passion and restraint. Bush both soft and strong. It is important to think about these aspects when we discuss Hounds of Love. I will talk about in another Hounds of Love feature. The legacy of the album. It inspired artists like Tori Amos. Her 1992 debut album, Little Earthquakes (which Amos co-produced) mixing in big, gated percussion sounds (hear Precious Things and Crucify). Vocal similarities on her Crucify and Kate Bush’s Cloudbusting. Cloudbusting strings connecting with Amos’s Girl; Bush’s Hello Earth – a chillier vocal sound and sweeping orchestra – and Tori Amos’s China.

Amos’s Little Earthquakes influenced Alanis Morissette’s 1995 album, Jagged Little Pills. In a 1998 interview, Tori Amos talked about the effect of Hounds of Love’s The Ninth Wave on her. How it changed her life. How she left a man she was living in. Amos has recognised the debt owed by covering Kate Bush songs in her set (And Dream of Sheep and Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God), both from Hounds of Love). In 2016, Grimes named Kate Bush as one of her two biggest musical influences (the other was Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor). Bush’s lead of building her studio, producing her album and controlling the aesthetic is inspiring to D.I.Y. artists the world over today. In 2019, Grimes campaigned for the recognition of ‘Ethereal’ as a genre. These auteur artists who direct their videos and produce their own work. In 2019, Spotify partnered with Grimes and there was a seven-and-a-half-hour playlist dedicated to experimentalism. Naturally, Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) was in there. Artists that no doubt were inspired by Hounds of Love also in there. Caroline Polachek, SOPHIE, James Blake, FKA twigs, and Imogen Heap. In 2022, Björk talked about Kate Bush creating this matriarchy in music. Producing her work and being emotionally expressive but also autonomous. How the success of Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) following its Stranger Things placement kicked down doors and changed the scene. Gave strength and agency to women. It can be traced back to hose foundational moments of Hounds of Love. Bush designing the studio and creating this wonderful environment. Great technology and calming colours overlooked by nature and the open air. All crucial building blocks that would lead to this monument of an album. One that turns forty on 16th September. In the first of a run of fortieth anniversary features, I wanted to show love for one of the…

GREATEST producers of all time.

FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Tour of Life: Lifestyle Changes Heading Into 1989

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Tour of Life

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1989 in a promotional photo for The Sensual World/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

 

Lifestyle Changes Heading Into 1989

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I am in a position myself…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush with dancer Stewart Avon-Arnold in a promotional image for 1993’s The Red Shoes

where I need to overhaul my diet. Less active than I was last year, I have been eating too much and not able to exercise as much as I should. Eating too much sugary food! I know it is hard to reverse but, feeling lethargic and bloated – and not in as good as a shape as I would like –, it is time to act. It is something we all face in our lives. When thinking about Kate Bush, there were times when she was working intensely, dancing and keeping fit. If she is busy recording an album and spending a lot of time in studios then there is not the same opportunity to keep up with dance and fitness. I have written about Kate Bush’s diet before. How there were periods when it slipped but, for the most part, she had this healthy vegetarian diet. Something that was crucial when it came to her mind and body. As a dancer, diet and wellbeing was near the top of her priority list. I think there were moments in Kate Bush’s career where the work-diet-exercise balance was skewed. I know that Bush took up dance, changed her diet and spent more time with family and friends before recording Hounds of Love. She was in better physical and mental condition following intense recording for The Dreaming. After the promotion of that album, something had to change. It was not really a radical change required. Bush is such a physical performer, so it would have been easy to let her muscle memory fade. If Bush is in the studio all the time then she has little time for exercise, dance or even spending a lot of time outside. Another shift needed to occur just before she started work on The Sensual World (1989).

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush cuts her thirtieth birthday cake at Blazers Boutique, where she was raising money for AIDS Victims, on 30th July, 1988/PHOTO CREDIT: Mirrorpix

One of my favourite points in Kate Bush’s career is when she turned thirty. That was 30th July, 1988. Rather than having a big party or it all being about herself, she spent the day volunteering for charity. She spent the day working at Blazers in London alongside a host of celebrities to raise money for an AIDS charity. The disease would impact Bush’s life directly as she lost friends to it. One of many occasions where Bush donated her time to charity. It is interesting thinking back a year to 1987. At The Secret Policeman’s Third Ball in April 1987, or when she performed a duet with Peter Gabriel for Don’t Give Up. The reason I mention this is because there were cheap shots and rumours about Bush. That she might be pregnant; It was something that Bush had to face from the misogynistic press. Just before she released Hounds of Love, rumours she had retired. Shots about her weight, a possible drug habit and other rumours. When it was revealed in 2000 that Bush had a child, the press talked about this secret child and this reclusive artist hiding him away. She was not immune to it in the late-1980s, when she was arguably at her commercial peak. It is something that is a problem for all artists. Getting that balance right when it comes to exercise, work and relaxation. Most artists tour quite a bit so their mental health might suffer. For Bush, she was not touring but in the studio recording a lot. Not getting the same physical workout as her peers.

In reality, there was nothing dramatic happening for Bush. As mentioned, she had been through this in the 1980s. 1983 was a year when Bush built her own studio and recommitted herself to dance and exercise. Her diet changed. Bush began work on The Sensual World in 1987. She was committed to this new album so was probably not spending enough time to put her physical health first. It was all about new music. Dancer Stewart Avon-Arnold was drafted in. He had worked with Kate Bush since the 1970s. A good friend of hers, he was interviewed for the Kate Bush Fan Podcast in November. Having danced with Bush for almost a decade, he knew that she was capable of getting right back into the swing. The regime put forward was not too strenuous. Again, Bush had really not gained much weight. It was about keeping her body active and engaged which, in turn, would benefit her mind and creativity. Avon-Arnold put together quite an intense workout, though not one that lasted too long. A couple of times a week he would come round and Bush would be totally engaged. She would finish the class (as he ran it like a professional class) sweating and worn out. This ninety-minute workout was definitely beneficial. They would end the class and then sit around having a cup of tea.  A nice chat and relax was something to look forward to. Bush, at a stage in her life when she was working on a new album and there would be videos coming, had to reconnect with her body. It is awful that the press speculated that Bush was pregnant. Any woman who put on weight got these jabs and horrible comments!

I am getting information from Graeme Thomson’s book, Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush. One might think that Bush, in the lead-up to The Sensual World, completely transformed. In reality, it was a fractional change. She cut out her Benson & Hedges and switched to the milder Silk Cut. She was not going to give up a vice like that! Bush was and never has been a recluse. She was going out to shows and changed her diet to include fish. A vegetarian since childhood, Bush did change it up slightly. I think this, plus her new exercise regime, did help when it came to recording The Sensual World. That connection between her physical health and her creativity. She took a break with her family to France but nothing more exciting than that. As I mentioned in another feature, gardening was in her life. She gardened before making Hounds of Love and no doubt before Aerial (2005). Bush was to be found gardening in 1988/1989. In August 1988, she briefly appeared on the BBC’s Rough Guide to Europe, where she shared her sightseeing favourite spots in London. I would love to know if this footage still existed. Bush was back in the city and resided in Eltham. I am going to explore her homes and where she lived through her career for another feature. However, it is interesting thinking of the changes in 1988. From getting back into shape, to reconnecting with London. Again, and something I can explore at another time, Bush’s thirtieth birthday (30th July, 1988) saw not only a change in her personal life. Her music has always sprinkled in the darkness, fear, horror, the macabre and spectral. However, something more human and perhaps less tangible was coming in. The loss of people, separation and a sense of morality.

Bush, maybe perceived as child-like and immature by some, was definitely a woman. It would impact her next two albums. The Sensual World and 1993’s The Red Shoes were very much more about personal relationships and loss. Bush worked with the Trio Bulgarka for The Sensual World. She first heard their work in 1985. Three Bulgarian women (Yanka Rupkina, Eva Georgeieva and Stoyanka Boneva) contribute to the album, Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares. That album was first released in 1975 but reissued in 1986. Significant as this was the first time that Bush collaborated with female singers. Another shift that happened in her life. She would work with the Trio Bulgarka again for The Red Shoes. I am interested in the years 1988 and 1989. How there was this definite change. In terms of her priorities and what she would write about. Bush in this collaborative mindset. Folk music playing more of a peart. If Hounds of Love is defined by technology and particular sounds, her palette would have different colours for her sixth studio album. In her thirties, this was a woman writing more about matters of life, love and loss. There is some of that in Hounds of Love, though it sounds more personal and tangible on The Sensual World. Even more pronounced on The Red Shoes. Bush was still intensely studio-based, yet there work-life-exercise balance was healthier. She filmed The Line, the Cross and the Curve in 1993 and there was a lot of dance and movement in that. Bush was dealing with the loss of friends and her mother (in 1992), so it was a pretty intense period. It is clear that there needed to be changes after 1987. More than shedding a few pounds and working with Stewart Avon-Arnold, there was this transformation that ran deeper. Bush more aware of her age (even though she was only thirty) and her embarking on this new phase of life. It is fascinating to dissect The Sensual World and The Red Shoes. What Bush was writing about and the shapes her songs took. What was happening around her in terms of her relationships and working in the studio. What started with Stewart Avon-Arnold and his regimented classes then led to so many significance changes and alterations. This fascinating artist and woman…

IN new bloom.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Revisited: Lambrini Girls

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight: Revisited

PHOTO CREDIT: Joseph Bishop for NME

 

Lambrini Girls

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I am doing some…

PHOTO CREDIT: Jessie Morgan

features where I update and revisit my older Spotlight inclusions. Artists who I tipped for big things who, whilst further along their career than they were before, are perhaps not known to all. I want to make sure that those unfamiliar discover them. My next feature will revisit Lola Kirke. An artist I really love. For now, Lambrini Girls are back under the spotlight. Their incredible album, Who Let the Dogs Out, came out in January and is already an album of the year contender. One I think will definitely be nominated for the Mercury Prize this year. I will end with a couple of reviews for that album. Prior to this, I am including some 2025 interview from the Brighton duo of Phoebe Lunny and Lily Macieira. After some tour dates in Europe, they will be playing in the U.K. from 1st April. I would advise you go and see them live if you can. I want to start with an interview from DIY. In an interview from earlier this month, we learn more about one of the most important acts of their generation. Such an inspiring and empowering duo:

“Lambrini Girls, their vocalist and guitarist Phoebe Lunny explains, has always been “a passion project”. Born from the bones of a different band and a frustration with the Brighton music scene (and beyond), the project started in earnest when Phoebe met bassist Lilly Macieira-Bosgelmez - who’d been given 24 hours to learn the band’s set from scratch - and “something just clicked”.

Both were ambitious, determined to try and make music their career. More importantly, both were angry: about the ubiquity of misogynistic and homophobic ‘lad culture’; about the widespread occurrences of sexual assault at gigs; about the musicians and fans who perpetuate these behaviours. And so they set about addressing all these issues and more via the medium of fiery, three-minute punk scorchers - music that is virtually unignorable, intensely powerful, and utterly memorable.

“Hey mum / Why haven’t I had a boyfriend? / Um, maybe it’s because I’m potentially a lesbian?” Phoebe intones on debut single ‘Help Me I’m Gay’. Live, its performance involves asking the crowd to “put your hand up if you’re gay!” - something which can variously be “a celebration of people’s queerness” if there are lots of hands, or simply a way to show people that they’re not alone. And in encouraging this sort of community in others, the pair have gained confidence in their own identities, too. “I was a little bit more of a late bloomer with my sexuality,” says Lilly. “I started off saying ‘I’m half gay’, because I’m bisexual, and then with time I learned that actually, that’s not being half gay - [bisexuality] counts just as much. There are some parts of the queer community where you can be made to feel a bit invalidated as a bisexual person, so the band really helped me in that sense.

Elsewhere on Lambrini Girls’ 2023 EP ‘You’re Welcome’, tracks like ‘White Van’, ‘Lads Lads Lads’ and ‘Boys In The Band’ take aim at society’s deeply embedded problems with sexual harassment, with the latter placing the alternative music scene under particular scrutiny. Do they think that any significant progress has been made with tackling abuse culture within the industry? “In Brighton, it seems like people are being a lot more vigilant of it and opening dialogues,” muses Phoebe. “But I think there’s a lot of work to be done in London. It’s not a safe space; there are bands that are actively known to have done very dodgy stuff who still get to play the venues everyone else does.”

The first step towards stamping out these sorts of behaviours, the band believe, is “calling out your mates and believing victims.” Lilly explains that “we’re not trying to peddle a sort of inconsequential cancel culture where you hear something bad about someone then immediately cut them out. If someone is willing to take responsibility or explore the ways in which they might have hurt someone, that’s something really positive to go off.” The same can be said for their attitude towards the social discourse surrounding trans rights; in an era where social media has us primed to think in absolutes, it’s important to give people the grace to get it wrong (misgendering someone, for example) - providing they’re willing to learn.

“There’s ignorance on one hand,” says Phoebe, who is currently sporting a Lambrini Girls cap emblazoned with the words ‘FUCK TERFS’. “Then there’s wilful ignorance. There are people who are being actively hateful and are trying to stop other people just having human rights.” But, as Lilly acknowledges, “fifty years ago we’d be having this conversation about homophobia rather than transphobia. So I’d like to hope that [trans rights] will change with time.”

Phoebe also points out that these conversations shouldn’t centre around the band. Rather, their goal is “to show allyship and use [their] platform to bring these conversations into a slight mainstream” - something they believe is intrinsic to being a punk artist. “If you’re building your platform off politics, you have to put your money where your mouth is. If you’re a political punk band, then you do have a degree of responsibility to use your platform for good.”

So, having taken on the Twitter TERFS and a whole host of fragile male egos, next on the agenda is dismantling toxic patriotism and romanticised notions of national identity. Their upcoming new single, ‘God’s Country’, paints traditional ideas of ‘Englishness’ as stories we tell ourselves to distract from the grim reality. “It’s delirium,” shrugs Phoebe. “I think it’s embarrassing to be from England. We’re extremely racist; we’re extremely xenophobic; our government are fascists. I don’t understand why anyone would be proud to be part of that.” Lilly herself is Portuguese and Turkish, but notes that “these dynamics exist in every country, and it doesn’t really look that different. Patriotism is really dangerous because it’s a huge generalisation of a really complex thing, and because [it means] you’re not actually looking at what’s really going on.”

No topic, it seems, is off limits for Lambrini Girls - and with more new music in the pipeline, they’re only going to get louder. “I think how you incite positive change is by making sure you’re not just preaching to the choir,” nods Phoebe. “As much as it is about enforcing safe spaces and making people feel validated, it’s also about making people question themselves. I wanna piss some people off; I want Rishi Sunak to be in the back of his fucking limo and hear Lammy [Steve Lamacq] play ‘God’s Country’ on the radio and shit his fucking pants.” She pauses. “Actually, I reckon he listens to Radio Four or Radio Two.” What about getting Lambrini Girls on Woman’s Hour? “That’s the plan,” Lilly smiles. “Unironically, it kind of is - to get to a position where we’re reaching the people who need to hear it”.

I have been a fan of Lambrini Girls for a while now. It is great to see them succeeding and getting huge love. Their debut album was taken to heart. It is one of the most impressive and important debut albums I have heard in years. Next, let’s go to CLASH and their interview with Lambrini Girls. Things are blowing up for them right now. Such huge demand and attention coming their way:

“You’ve been on the go quite a lot – it must be pretty intense at the moment. How are you doing?

Phoebe: That’s a question! To be brutally honest, obviously very happy, very excited with how everything’s gone. And quite burnt out and overwhelmed by everything!

I haven’t left my house since Sunday, I’ve just been in bed. But that’s also on me for drinking loads of pints when I should be resting. All in all, very happy, just a bit frazzled.

Lilly: Pretty much that! This is the first time we’ve had some downtime in a long time, and I fear it will be the last probably until September. It’s been really exciting – much more exciting than I anticipated with the album. So I guess we have to do as much as possible now and then rest when we die.

How did it feel to see the sort of reception the album got – Number 16 in the charts?

Phoebe: The charts said they were predicting us to be number three. So it meant managing expectations kind of went out the fucking window. 16 is amazing news. We’re very happy, and thanks to everyone who bought the album, we got number one in the Rock Charts, which means we have a trophy. Because at the end of the day, it’s not about the cultural impact or the art, it’s about trophies!

What’s it like creating an album as opposed to, say, an EP?

Lilly: I mean, it’s more songs, innit! [laughs] I think the campaign surrounding the album was also a lot more rigorous than an EP campaign. I suppose albums are the first major stepping stone in any band’s career. 

It’s felt like the first big thing we’ve brought out, and it’s something we’d not really experienced before – like, the amount of press and photoshoots we’ve been doing was pretty unexpected. We’re extremely happy about it, because it’s nice that people care about the album and want to know about it. It would be terrible if that wasn’t the case, to be honest!

In terms of the writing and recording process, it’s pretty similar. It’s just that you’re in the studio for longer and there’s a sense of finality about it, because you know that a debut album is so important in the industry and people really look out for it. You feel like it has to be perfect. You’re showcasing yourself more so with an album than with an EP. It’s just very intense. 

Phoebe: I think there’s more pressure, because as Lilly said, it’s seen as the first stepping stone. It’s a hallmark of a band’s career – how it’s received, the reception that you get, how many sales it makes, all of that can have a massive impact.

I found it really fucking scary. Luckily, we didn’t have this problem, but my biggest fear was that if it didn’t go well, everything would stay the same as in, us going to the Netherlands for a month and playing 30 shows there, and doing the same thing over and over again, and not being able to get better gig slots.

So it was scary to think that might not end if the album didn’t go well, but it has! And now, I feel very optimistic and excited for what’s going to come of this year.

You’ve got a lot of live dates coming up, how are you preparing? 

Lilly: I’m still recovering, to be honest, from the year that we’ve had, and I’m trying to get in as much ‘me time’ as possible. You don’t lead a very normal life when you’re doing what we do, so I wouldn’t say I’m ready just yet. I need this next month to mentally prepare and regain my strength and my energy a bit, just because it has been really intense and non-stop. I think if we were to go out now, I would have a really bad time. 

But nonetheless, I’m excited to play shows consecutively again, because we’ve been doing a lot of one-offs, which meant a lot of travelling for not a lot of playing. We’ve been doing lots of, as I call it, extra-curricular, in the sense that we’re doing loads of press and photo shoots and interviews more so than playing gigs, by far, over the last few months.

I’m definitely still trying to get rest in, trying to mentally prepare, trying to organize things for myself to do to keep me grounded on tour. I’m gonna start a new book series to help me get through and give me something permanent to take with me.

What do you do to unwind?

Phoebe: Um, I’m not very good at unwinding! So when it’s really, really busy, or we’ve been doing loads of shit every day I really struggle to switch off. 

So if I come home to an empty, dark room, I’m like, ‘Absolutely not. That’s not happening. I’m going down the pub.’ I’ll do that, and then I’ll burn myself out even more. It gets to a point where I can’t leave my bed, and I’m like, ‘Oh shit, I’ve done it again.’ I have to rot for a few days, and then it gets really busy again, so I do it all over again. When it comes to unwinding, I haven’t really got that figured out, and I don’t know when I will, but that’s what I do.

Lilly: I don’t think I do such a thing as unwind, because I get so burnt out that I’m the complete opposite to Phoebe. As soon as I step through my front door and it’s just quiet and home, I just deflate completely; I’m essentially rendered entirely useless for five to seven business days. 

And it takes me time to wind back into normality again, you know? I come home and I can’t do anything. I can’t do laundry, I can’t tidy, I can’t cook food for myself. I just sleep as much as possible and do nothing. And I’ve got nothing going on behind the eyes. So I do that for a few days, and then slowly introduce normal things back into my life, like having breakfast or doing my laundry. It’s not really a case of winding down and more just internally imploding.

In terms of the album, have either of you got a favourite track at the moment? 

Lilly: I think for both of us, our favourite track is ‘Special, Different’. Oddly enough, we seem to be the only ones! But I’m not surprised, because I am the type of person to really, really love and be obsessed with the one track from an album that isn’t the popular one. And that’s never on purpose. There just seems to be something about those kinds of tracks where I’m like, ‘Oh yeah, I really like that.’

For me it’s both because of the lyrical content and also the the musicality and the musicianship of it. For example, it’s the only song I’ve ever played where I play all four strings of the bass. I’m usually a one note type of type of girl. I think the parts are really interesting, the dynamics are really impactful, and I think it shows off some versatility in our playing.

I find the lyrics especially moving. We have angry songs, we have uplifting songs, we have upbeat songs, but this one feels quite dark, which I think makes the lyrics stand out even more. I’m a very emotional person and I really like very emotional music, also on the sad side. I hear a lot of pain in the lyrics, and I really relate to that pain, and that makes the song very special and very different to me [Phoebe laughs].

On that note, when you’re making music, do you tend to come up with the music or the lyrics first? 

Lilly: I think it’s different for every song, like, sometimes you’ll have a bunch of lyrics in your notes that are ready to go, and sometimes Pheebs will just write on the spot, like, with ‘Bad Apple’ I know that that was an idea that [Phoebe had] already been working on. And when we wrote that, it was me and our drummer, Jack Looker, who wrote and recorded the album with us – we were pissing around together and came up with a rough instrumental.

Phoebe went silent for about 20 minutes, half an hour, and came in like, ‘Right! I’ve got lyrics. Let’s do this.’ So, I think it differs. I’ll let [Phoebe] explain.

Phoebe: I think you’re putting it really well – it does change, like, sometimes I’ll have a bank of lyrics, sometimes we’ll start the songs with Lills coming up with a bass riff and work around that, I’ll fit lyrics to it. Sometimes it’s a guitar riff, which I’ll try and fit lyrics to. 

Sometimes, like with ‘Bad Apple’, it’ll be a case where lyrics are written to a track even if there’s already a theme that I’ve got for an idea of a song, but usually it is sort of a cut and paste with lyrics and instrumentals. 

It’s just like a kebab. And sometimes it feels like throwing shit at a wall with me and my lyrics, I throw shit at a wall and see what sticks. Sometimes things flourish and come together super easily. But it sometimes just feels like a bit of a mix-and-match, I would say. That’s a good consensus for how we go about it when it comes to marrying the two”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Jessie Morgan

Before getting to a couple of reviews for Who Let the Dogs Out, I want to come to an interview from Kerrang!. As much as anything, Lambrini Girls want us to drop the ‘women in music’ genre. Not singling women out that way. If you have not followed Lambrini Girls yet then make sure that you do as soon as possible:

“Homophobic attitudes were pretty rife in the era Lambrini Girls grew up in. The 2000s may be looked back on through a rose-tinted lens of Motorola flip-phones, baggy jorts, and the golden era of emo, but the only household name gay rights hope? Hillary Duff in that one ‘Think Before You Speak’ TV campaign.

Internalised misogyny also pressured a generation of young girls into thinking they shouldn’t be like other women, and it was near impossible to escape harmful narratives of fat shaming and diet culture throughout the media.

In what is possibly the most personal song on the record, Nothing Tastes As Good As It Feels dives into how this dangerous fascination with body shape tragically affected many young minds.

“I think most young women have been conditioned their entire life to have your total sort of idea of what’s healthy and beautiful be totally distorted,” Phoebe explains. “I think it’s also very hard to know when you’re actually struggling as well, because you’re ultimately praised and encouraged to do it more. I thought if you can hear someone singing about it albeit quite graphically, it might help you feel a little bit less alone. Maybe it [will] encourage people to feel like it’s okay to talk about a bit more. It’s very lonely, extremely lonely. People suffer and don’t reach out.”

Who Let The Dogs Out is a huge stride forwards from You’re Welcome, and an album the pair hope spotlights their instrumental work just as much as the messaging within it. Not only does it unpick a litany of issues close to Lambrini Girls, but it shatters any assumptions made about their artistry as a punk band. 

Phoebe and Lilly deserve their flowers as guitarists, and their ear for crafting and producing songs is far more tangible through experimental instrumentals, deft finger-plucked motifs, and dynamics that chop and change to support the narratives they lie beneath.

“I personally want people to listen to our actual music a little bit more,” shares Lilly. “We get labelled a three-chord punk band a lot, and that irks me a little bit because I don’t think we are. I’m hoping people get more involved in the music and the songwriting. Obviously, we’re a really outspoken political band and that’s kind of at the core of our identity, but I think sometimes people forget that we’re, first and foremost, musicians.

“I think another layer to it is that we’re also two very femme-presenting people, so naturally when people make comparisons about our band, we get compared to other political bands that sound absolutely nothing like us, rather than being compared to bands that we actually sound like. I find that a little bit frustrating sometimes.”

Since their inception, Lambrini Girls have often been touted as a riot grrrl band, taking inspiration from the era born in the '90s, and trailblazed by bands like Bikini Kill and Huggy Bear. In its time, the movement was instrumental in creating space for women in music.

Now in the 2020s, as our musical landscape is growing richer with brilliant and diverse bands, highlighting the presence of women can sometimes feel tokenistic. Bringing their gender into the conversation, Lambrini Girls feel, is counterproductive to equal representation and opportunity.

“Getting called a riot grrrl band is very much not a sign of the times anymore,” says Lilly. “We’re not a riot grrrl band, we sound nothing like the riot grrrl movement. The movement was very political so I see why people would draw parallels, but at the end of the day it does feel like we only get called riot grrrl because we’re women. I think it’s time for the genre of ‘women in music’ to be put to bed and to just let queer people and women make music and stop differentiating it from men making music.
'Female-fronted', 'female guitarist' – these are the prefixes that make the pair groan and share an eye roll.

“I’d love it if people stopped doing that and maybe compared us on the basis of what we actually sound like rather than the fact that we’re women playing alternative music.”

As our interview progresses, it slowly shape-shifts into a weird form of group therapy. Going in, we were prepared to chat all kinds of nonsense about the sense of party that is bottled inside Who Let The Dogs Out, but beneath the noisy aesthetic is two human beings.

To assume they’re always “on” in this manner would be foolish. The more we delve into the thoughts and feelings of Lambrini Girls as people behind the music, and not the music itself, a calmer energy lends itself to us, where eyes can become a little teary and a sense of compassion can be shared among the two friends.

Lambrini Girls is their greatest escapade, and one of euphoria, triumph, and chaos. Our biggest achievements are often the result of upheaval and 'the grind', but with musicianship the struggle can feel never-ending, even when you’re smashing the festival circuit or earning loads of streams.

Conversations surrounding the constant pressures put on an artist opened up on a much wider scale in 2024. In the pop world, Chappell Roan was both praised and criticised for setting her own boundaries around self care and safety as an artist. Lambrini Girls feel it’s also important that we talk about these things, and there should be no shame attached to the discussion.

“It gets really fucking hard and sometimes you’re like, ‘Am I going to have a mental breakdown? Am I already having a mental breakdown? I don’t know!’” Phoebe questions. “For me personally, the thing that keeps me going is a deep need to want to do it, and also, what am I going to fucking do”.

I am ending with a couple of (the many) positive reviews for Who Let the Dogs Out. In a year that has already seen masterpieces from the likes of FKA twigs and Heartworms, Lambrini Girls have dropped an album that gained huge critical acclaim. As I said, this is going to be an early frontrunner for the Mercury Prize. NME awarded Who Let the Dogs Out five stars and had this to say:

“The world is currently on fire. Donald Trump has been re-elected as president of the US, women’s rights are under threat, transphobia is rampant across the world and violence continues to rain down on Gaza. To ring in this new year, Brighton punk duo Lambrini Girls come bearing a gift: ‘Who Let The Dogs Out’.

After opening for IDLES and playing huge festivals like Glasto and Reading and Leeds, Lambrini Girls are unleashing their balls-to-the-wall debut album. Packed with anger and raw energy, ‘Who Let The Dogs Out’ is a giant “fuck you” to the state of the world right now.

Guitarist and vocalist Phoebe Lunny and bassist Lilly Macieira get straight to the point with album opener ‘Bad Apple’, a distorted riot of a track that calls out rotten cops. “Officer what seems to be the problem? / Or can we only know post mortem?” Lunny demands in her signature raspy screech. It’s a haunting reflection of modern police brutality and misconduct which saw a 50 per cent rise in the number of police officers sacked and barred in the UK last year. Meanwhile, 956 civilians were reportedly shot to death by authorities in the US over eight years.

A bulk of the album sees Lunny and Macieira hold a mirror to the current fractured state of society. They take aim at gentrification in ‘You’re Not From Round Here’, where Lunny’s howled protest against the destruction of neighbourhood identity makes you want to unleash yourself in the middle of a mosh pit: “Town hall becomes a brewery / Furthering disparity / Drowning out sense of what was community.” Meanwhile, ‘Company Culture’ addresses sexual harassment within the workplace, and the electrifying ‘Big Dick Energy’ highlights dangerous male entitlement.

However, softer, personal moments from Lambrini Girls still shine through. Complete with a rolling, fuzzy bassline and pounding drumbeat, ‘Nothing Tastes As Good As It Feels’ takes on the struggle of an eating disorder, Lunny declaring:“Kate Moss gives no fucks that my period has stopped / I wish I was skinny / but I’ll never be enough.”

The anthemic ‘No Homo’, reminiscent of The Donnas’ early discography, sees the rockers infuse deep basslines and a fierce guitar solo with cheeky and witty yet vulnerable lyrics about a same-sex relationship: “I said I liked the way she talked / But then I said no homo / But her eloquence a renaissance / The softest tone well spoken”. It’s a bright and refreshing take on a topic that can be deeply, dauntingly personal and daunting.

With ‘Who Let The Dogs Out’, Lambrini Girls prove punk is alive and kicking. They’re unapologetically amplifying chaos, calling out societal wrongs, and daring us all to feel something. This record is loud, raw, and impossible to ignore”.

I am going to finish off with a review from The Guardian. Even if they awarded it four out of five stars – and there are plenty of reviews that show more love -, I did find Alexis Petridis’s take particularly interesting and relevant. I am excited to see where Lambrini Girls go from here. World domination lies ahead for sure:

“For the most part, Lambrini Girls’ debut album barrels along in roughly the style that’s hoisted the Brighton duo to cult success over the last few years. There are huge, distorted basslines courtesy of Lily Macieira and equally distorted guitar playing from Phoebe Lunny that flits between post-punk angularity and occasional bursts of poppier, Ramones-y chords. The rhythms are frantically paced, and there are lyrics that focus on societal ills, delivered in Lunny’s distinctive vocal style: she sings like someone angrily trying to make their point in a particularly noisy bar, as a bouncer struggles to usher them out of the door.

Combined, this music has drawn appreciative nods from a range of forebears including Iggy Pop, Kathleen Hanna and Sleater Kinney’s Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein. Iggy is so enamoured of the duo that he got them to collaborate on a version of Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus that appeared alongside tracks by Andrea Corr and Rick Astley on a Trevor Horn-helmed covers album: improbable company in which to find a band whose first EP arrived in a sleeve featuring a pile of shit on fire.

But Who Let the Dogs Out’s closing track takes a different tack. There are synths, a four-to-the-floor disco beat and a hooky, chant-a-long chorus. In place of the aforementioned litany of societal ills, the lyrics offer a list of positive actions and scrappy pleasures: if you wanted, you could view it as a kind of Brat-era successor to Ian Dury and the Blockheads’ beloved Reasons to Be Cheerful (Part Three). In theory, it could be a cunning bit of career-building entryism, a shift from confrontation and aggression that could move Lambrini Girls away from 6Music’s recesses and playlists called things like New Noise, and towards a broader audience. In practice, not so much. The track is called Cuntology 101, it uses the word “cunt”, or variations thereof, 32 times in just over two minutes and ranks among its list of life’s small delights getting semen on your clothes, “shagging behind some bins”, “having an autistic breakdown” and – congratulations, we have a winner – “doing a poo at your friend’s house”.

You might thus surmise that Lambrini Girls aren’t at home with the concept of subtlety and you would have a point: in fairness, few punk bands ever did much business due to their refined understatement. But for all its unrelenting full-throttle approach and its way with a jagged riff – and Lambrini Girls are very good at coming up with jagged riffs – there’s a richness to Who Let the Dogs Out’s sound that suggests a range of potential routes forward. The rhythm of Bad Apple veers towards a drum’n’bass breakbeat. No Homo’s examination of flexible sexuality is spiked with sudden bursts of surprisingly sweet harmony vocals. Love twists and turns, dies away and gradually rebuilds itself, mirroring the narrator’s fretting over a failing relationship: “I love you so much it makes me feel sick, so hold back my hair until I stop.”

Most of the time, the lyrics focus on the kind of topics that have fuelled bands like Lambrini Girls for decades: police brutality (Bad Apple), toxic masculinity (Big Dick Energy, Company Culture), and what a generation of spittle-flecked Roxy-goers – now theoretically old enough to be Lambrini Girls’ grandparents – would have called “poseurs” (Filthy Rich Nepo Baby). Meanwhile, You’re Not From Around Here tackles gentrification, a topic so prevalent in recent US punk releases that one waggish writer dubbed it “the new Ronald Reagan”.

Of course, the fact that these topics are well worn doesn’t mean that they’re not still depressingly relevant. Bad Apple has very clearly been written in the wake of Sarah Everard’s murder – “hang the pigs that hunt your daughters,” Lunny rasps – while the issue of poseurs is compounded by issues of access in the 21st-century music scene, an era in which it’s substantially easier to get ahead if your parents are bankrolling you. More importantly, they tackle these issues with appealing scabrous humour: “Michael, I don’t want to suck you off on my lunch break,” snaps Lunny on Company Culture. The Kate Moss-referencing Nothing Tastes As Good As It Feels, a song that deals with eating disorders, balances its harrowing reportage with unexpected humour: “Also, diet drinks taste like absolute fucking shit.”

It makes you laugh even as it’s confronting you about something horrendous, which is not easy to do. Nor is seeding music that is nasty, brutish and short – that effectively spends half an hour screaming in the listener’s face – with this much depth and variety. It hints at a bright future: Lambrini Girls might be in the process of quickly screaming themselves hoarse, but you wouldn’t bank on it”.

An incredible duo who are definitely known to many but not all, I wanted to revisit them. Update my previous feature. Urge people to check out their music. Lambrini Girls are very much here to take over and be heard. It would be a fool who dares to…

STAND in their way.

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Follow Lambrini Girls

FEATURE: Shout: Tears for Fears’ Songs from the Big Chair at Forty

FEATURE:

 

 

Shout

 

Tears for Fears’ Songs from the Big Chair at Forty

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THE mighty Tears for Fears…

IN THIS PHOTO: Curt Smith and Roland Orzabal of Tears for Fears in London/PHOTO CREDIT: Michael Putland/Getty Images

released their debut album, The Hurting, in 1983. I was born that year. I have listed to it in years since and there is a marked difference between the sound of that album and what they produced in 1985. Their second studio album, Songs from the Big Chair, was released on 25tth February, 1985 by Mercury. Songs from the Big Chair was a stylistic and sonic shift from The Hurting. That album contained darker, introspective Synth-Pop, whereas Songs from the Big Chair includes a more mainstream, guitar-based Pop-Rock sound. Reaching two in the U.K. and one in the U.S., this was a massive success story. I have written about this album before though, as it turns forty soon, I wanted to spotlight it again. A more politically conscious effort from  Roland Orzabal and Ian Stanley, Songs from the Big Chair has endured to this day. I want to bring in some reviews and detailed features for this album. I am starting out with the full feature from Classic Pop. Writing in 2022, they observed how Tears for Fear made major waves on their debut but their follow-up made an even bigger impression:

“Having achieved a level of success which far exceeded everyone’s expectations with the synth-pop and psychoanalysis of 1983’s The Hurting notching up sales in excess of a million copies and scoring three Top 5 singles, pop’s patron saints of outsiders found themselves experiencing pressure of a different kind when it came to follow it up.

“I suppose our whole thrust, musically and philosophically, as Tears for Fears came out in The Hurting,” Roland Orzabal told Las Vegas Weekly. “When we finished that album, it was almost like, ‘Okay, well, we’ve kind of said our bit. What are we going to do now?’ But, of course, we were successful, and the record company was pushing us to come up with another single.”

Bowing to record label pressure to “strike while the iron’s hot”, the band returned to the studio to work on new material, the result of which was standalone single The Way You Are. Peaking at No.24, it was a commercial disappointment following the momentum they’d achieved from The Hurting – though the band themselves thought even that lowly chart position was better than it deserved, feeling angry that they had compromised themselves artistically to fulfil a commercial obligation.

“The Way You Are was the least favourite song of either of ours,” Curt Smith later told Consequence of Sound. “Definitely one of the worst recordings we’ve done. We were basically coerced by the record company to go in and do something to release quickly after The Hurting was successful and that’s what we came up with. The A&R guy behind us at the time thought it was the best thing we’d ever done. It was just so fragmented to me and so not a song; it’s just something created in the studio.

“We realised for us it’s the song first and then you produce it. With that we definitely produced it, made it different, made it clever, and I think it was a failure. For us personally, I don’t think it was anything we enjoyed. And I think it was listening to other people, and what we tend to do, and what we prefer to do, is just go away and make our own records.”

Writing in the liner notes to the B-sides and rarities compilation Saturnine Martial & Lunatic, Orzabal describes the song as, “the point we knew we had to change direction”, though they were unsure of which direction, feeling unsettled by the failure of the song. “It was a stuttering beginning to the whole Big Chair thing,” he said.

“The Way You Are didn’t do very well and that got us a little bit worried. And then we almost did the same thing with Mothers Talk, but the record company at that point said: ‘No. Stop. You’re not doing this kind of music. We need more oomph, more of a human side than what you’re doing. We want more guitars, we want more force.’ And it was like, ‘Oh, Jesus.’ We re-recorded Mothers Talk in a much more robust way, but that set the tone then for the songs that followed. We had sort of broken the back of, in a sense, a new direction, which was less precious, less shoegazing, less moody, less black, as in a black mood.”

In order to create their desired sound described by Smith as, “a little more bombastic and a little more proud”, the band enlisted new musicians and worked briefly with Jeremy Green before reuniting with The Hurting’s producer Chris Hughes.

“After the first album was released, naturally, they went off and did their own thing,” Hughes told RBMA. “They were young pop stars, so they were doing tours, TV, and all that kind of stuff. I went off and did a Wang Chung album. When I finished that, I got a call from the group saying that they were looking to start their second album. They asked me if I wanted to hear some songs and to become involved again. It was quite easy, because by then, I knew them very well. When you’ve shared some success, those dialogues are always easier.”

To create something so different to The Hurting, the environment in which it was written and recorded was also markedly different.

“Making The Hurting had been a very, very painful process,” Orzabal reveals to Las Vegas Weekly. “We were young kids and spending a lot of time away from home. And it was just the way we were recording with Chris Hughes and Ross Cullum; there was so much analysis on every aspect of the recording, it just became a little bit too tedious. This time around, I bought a recording console and we put it in our keyboard player Ian Stanley’s house. And then all of a sudden we were going home every night and had familiar surroundings, surrounded by our girlfriends, wives, whatever. It was just so much easier.”

“It was a kind of hobby studio, really,” producer Chris Hughes told RBMA. “It wasn’t like a professional recording studio. We just built the record up over time at his place. It was essentially Roland, Ian and I working together as a three-piece. Then, Curt would come in and be involved with vocals and other ideas, but essentially, the day-to-day operations on that record was Roland, Ian, and I with Dave Bascombe who was the engineer.”

As well as having a base where they were surrounded by family and friends, the fact that they weren’t in an expensive studio paying by the day lent the sessions a laid-back feeling and allowed the song ideas to develop organically.

“Some of this music was worked out on a sofa,” Hughes recalls. “We weren’t in a big corporate recording studio, there would be people hanging around, our friends would come by – the house was quite large. During the evenings, girlfriends and friends would turn up. It wouldn’t be party time, but there was a good social scene – the vibe working on the album was great.”

“We would start working in the studio around 10am, and would finish around supper time at about 7 or 8pm. It would depend, though – obviously, if we were on to something and didn’t want to let it go or finish a section of [a track], our session would go on later and then we all might hang out and have a beer and maybe play some board games or something.”

Although Tears For Fears had evolved musically and adopted a much more upbeat sound for the record, they continued using psychotherapy as a source for their lyrics. Having been heavily influenced by Arthur Janov’s primal scream therapy for The Hurting, they continued the theme of catharsis on the second album.

Feeling that each of the eight songs (as some were over six minutes long they could only fit eight onto a vinyl album) that made the album’s final tracklisting had its own unique personality so different to the other songs, they decided to title the album Songs From The Big Chair after the 1976 film Sybil in which Sally Field played a woman with multiple personality disorders whose only place of comfort is her therapist’s big chair.

“The title was my idea,” Curt Smith told Melody Maker upon the album’s release in 1985. “It’s a bit perverse but then you’ve got to understand our sense of humour. The ‘Big Chair’ idea is from this brilliant film called Sybil about a girl with 16 different personalities.

“She’d been tortured incredibly by her mother as a child and the only place she felt safe, the only time she could really be herself, was when she was sitting in her analyst’s chair. She felt safe, comfortable and wasn’t using her different faces as a defence. It’s kind of an ‘up yours’ to the English music press who really fucked us up for a while.”

Although Orzabal flippantly remarked that he believed fans “didn’t listen” to their songs’ message, his refusal to dumb down his lyrics when the band gravitated to a sound with the unabashed goal of trying “to sell more records” ensured his songcraft maintained its integrity however it was packaged. On face value, Songs From The Big Chair contained upbeat happy material, but under analysis, themes of war, loss, power and corruption remained prevalent.

Released on 25 February 1985, after Mothers Talk and Shout had become hits (No.14 and No.4 respectively), Songs From The Big Chair was met by a string of begrudgingly positive reviews from critics who’d been sharpening their knives for the almost unheard of two-year gap between albums.

The huge success of the LP’s third single, Everybody Wants To Rule The World sent it to its peak position of No.2 and ensured its omnipresence in the Top 10, where it remained for over six months and spawned two further hits in Head Over Heels and I Believe.

The success of the album translated internationally, with massive sales following across Europe, Australia, New Zealand and the US, where it topped the Billboard album chart and gave them two US No.1 singles in Shout and Everybody Wants To Rule The World, dictating the itinerary of a world tour that lasted almost a year.

Returning home in 1986, the band picked up the Brit Award for Best British Single for Everybody Wants To Rule The World, a song which returned to the charts later that year as Everybody Wants To Run The World, a re-recording of the track which was the official single for Sport Aid, something the band agreed to do after being forced to cancel their Live Aid performance.

The pinnacle of Tears For Fears’ success, Songs From The Big Chair went on to achieve eventual sales of more than eight million copies – definitely something worth shouting about”.

If you have never heard the album or know only one or two songs from it then I would encourage you to listen to it. I think so many of its lyrics are relevant today. I will move to Albumism and their words regarding one of the best and most important albums of the 1980s. Tears for Fears would follow Songs from the Big Chair with 1989’s Sowing the Seeds of Love:

“With Hughes and Stanley ever present to contribute and bounce ideas off, Orzabal is more adventurous with his writing and arrangements. Striking a fine balance of collaboration and contribution, he plays to his strengths as well as those of Curt Smith.

This is evidenced in the ambitious departure that was “Everybody Wants To Rule The World.” With a shuffling back beat and bouncy bassline, the song was a manifestation of their desire to become more pop focused. On first listen, the twinkly guitar line, the sing-song nature of the hook, and shimmering production belie the darker content of the lyrics. Addressing greed, a lust for power, and the politics of the cold war, “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” is the cheery song you sing amidst the destruction, “holding hands while the walls come tumbling down.” In a moment of pop-meta, they even manage to reference the success of “Shout,” its truncation, and the ambition that accompanied its release with the quip “So glad we’ve almost made it / So sad they had to fade it.”

In a way to perhaps soften the content of the lyrics, Orzabal hands over the lead vocal duties to Smith who adds a sense of innocence and romanticism to the narrative; suddenly lines like “holding hands while the walls come tumbling down” have a tender element to them, a sense of surviving whatever the world throws at you, as long as you are together.

“Everybody Wants To Rule The World” would become a worldwide smash, and in a twisted act of self-fulfilling prophecy, it became the song that would indeed rule the world, helping the band realize the success they longed for.

If “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” was Tears For Fears’ shimmering pop at its apex, then “Mother’s Talk” was its antithesis. In its rerecorded form, it dials everything up. Opening with Barry Manilow sampled strings (itself a bold move) and pounding, hard-hitting industrial beats as its constant, “Mother’s Talk” captures the paranoia of the Cold War era and the threat of nuclear annihilation. Drawing from the 1982 graphic novel When The Wind Blows by Raymond Briggs, “Mother’s Talk” is an almost romantic telling of life under threat of the mushroom cloud mixed with the usual teenage angst reflecting on the pressures of growing up. Lines originally written about the Nuclear extinction, today play as observations on pending climate change where “Some of us are horrified / Other’s never talk about it / But when the weather starts to burn / Then you’ll know that you’re in trouble.” With a swirling cacophony bleeding through the track, the pressure of the song builds and feels pleasantly unrelenting. But with each circling of the chorus, there is an underlying optimism and sense of hope as the refrain “We can work it out” sounds.

As a way of closing out Side A, “Mother’s Talk” presents all the brash ambition and experimentation of Tears For Fears, front and center. It’s a whirling exploration of the sonic landscape and is the exclamation point on their new direction.

Side B by contrast begins with the quiet confidence of “I Believe,” a soulful, sparse arrangement of climbing piano notes, soothing chords, jazz time drums and Orzabal’s searching voice. It’s a raw and honest song that nods to the stylings of singer-songwriter Robert Wyatt (alluded to in the liner notes and on the single’s B-side retelling on Wyatt’s “Sea Song). “I Believe” is a song that provided a sense of comfort and warmth and seemed tailor made for late night listening sessions with the song on endless loop.

“Broken” returns the focus to strong, pulsating tracks. Without knowing Smith and Orzabal’s affinity for Arthur Janov’s “Primal Scream” therapy references, the song was still an obvious nod to the idea of “If you show the boy I’ll show you the man” and the pangs of youth and growing up. There’s also the melodic foreshadowing taking place with the signature melody of “Head Over Heels” sprinkled throughout, and both songs share the final line “One little boy anger one little man / Funny how time flies.” Lyrically there was a kind of comfort in the admission that life isn’t perfect, that we can stop “believing everything will be alright” and that despite the best intentions of our parents—or in some cases as a direct result of their actions—we are all broken. Life isn’t perfect. It’s messy. But within are moments of realness and beauty.

This is melodically represented by the “love song” of the album, “Head Over Heels.” I place “love song” in inverted commas because as Orzabal confesses, it “goes a little perverse in the end.” As, surprisingly, the only song on the album written by the duo, “Head Over Heels” presents a yin-yang approach to the idea of love. There’s a skepticism present and an element of surprise with love as inertia, creeping up on its subject and then, bam—“Something happens and I’m Head Over Heels / I never find out ‘til I’m Head Over Heels.” Melodically beautiful and captivating, “Head Over Hills” features some of Smith’s best bass work and the lyrical trade-off between him and Orzabal give the song a greater sense of support and purpose. A gorgeous example of the duo’s songcraft, “Head Over Heels” mixes ‘80s production with “Hey Jude” inspired singalong “La Las” and is joyous pop perfection.

Bookended with “Broken” (Live), this triplet of tracks takes you on a trippy, winding musical journey. One filled with a sense of exuberance with the final retelling of “Broken” as if somewhere in the middle, love made things bearable.

When you think back to Songs From The Big Chair, most people will recall the more pop oriented hits of “Shout” or “Everybody Wants To Rule The World.” What most forget is that in the full collection of songs, there’s quite an exploratory, experimental edge to the album. “Listen” is a prime example of this, with its multilayered ambience meets world music ethos. Ethereal and almost otherworldly, “Listen” binds political unrest to personal suffering in a beautifully haunting way. If “Shout” was the song to wake the world up, “Listen” is the one that will soothe its turmoil and let it drift off to dream.

With their second album, Tears For Fears had big ambitions. They set about making an album that cemented their place in the pop landscape. In doing so, they delivered an album that transcended it. A timeless album of prog-pop that still holds its vitality and urgency today, losing none of its luster, Songs From The Big Chair remains a must-own album for anyone passionate about music”.

I am going to end with a review from Pitchfork. They reviewed the album in 2017 and wrote how Songs from the Big Chair features “personal psychology, meticulous compositions, and world-sized choruses evoked the loss of control in an overwhelming era”. It is a work that still moves and creates reactions to this day:

“On their second LP, 1985’s Songs From the Big Chair, Tears for Fears took a cue from Lennon and applied what they’d learned from Janov toward studies of single subjects: money, power, love, war, faith. But where Lennon went small, Tears for Fears went huge. They took the goth and synth-pop foundation they constructed on their debut, 1983’s The Hurting, and piled on saxophone, Fairlights, guitar solos, samplers, and live drums on top of drum machines. They wrote cresting choruses, arena-ready anthems, elegant ballads, and multi-section songs that have more in common with prog-rock than most of new wave. And they improbably created not just one of the biggest albums of the 1980s, but an album that manages to exude the 1980s in the same way that Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours conveys the lonely narcissism and hedonism of the ’70s, or Love’s Forever Changes captures both the bliss and the ominousness of the Summer of Love.

When Smith and Tears for Fears co-singer, guitarist, and principal songwriter Roland Orzabal went to record Songs From the Big Chair, the two possessed the kind of ambition necessary to produce an era-defining album. More than anything, Tears for Fears felt like they had something to prove to both critics and to themselves.

The Hurting went to number one on the UK album charts, sold a million copies, and yielded three top-five singles—“Mad World,” “Pale Shelter,” and “Change”—but the UK music press approached it with near hostility. In his review of the album for NME, Gavin Martin writes, “Sure, they may be popular—so was the Reverend Jim Jones when he took 5,000 followers to Guyana to commit mass suicide.” Orzabal told The Quietus, in an interview, “We weren’t particularly liked by some of the music journals. If you were on the front cover of Smash Hits, you were doomed.”

Part of the problem was that Tears for Fears came off as being too sincere—The Hurting was so explicit about its debt to Janov and The Primal Scream, and so lacking in subtlety, that the album cover depicted a child holding his head in his hands. But that sincerity belies the cosmetic gloss of the music. With its gleaming synthesizers, tight drum-machine programming, and minor-key melodies, The Hurting is a hallmark of early-80s dark wave and goth. That beauty came with a price: “It ended up taking a lot of time and costing a lot of money because we were fussy,” Smith told Hall. “The problem with it taking so long was that when we looked back at tracks we’d done months before we’d think, ‘Ooh, I don’t like that.’”

For Songs From the Big Chair, the band regrouped at their keyboardist Ian Stanley’s home studio in Somerset and rehired Chris Hughes, who also produced The Hurting. After a few false starts, Orzabal formed a brain trust of himself, Hughes, and Stanley, with Dave Bascombe providing engineering assistance and Smith signing off on ideas and making suggestions. They took inspiration from the music they were listening to, cerebral art-rock by Talking Heads, Brian Eno, Robert Wyatt, and Peter Gabriel. Smith confessed that his favorite album at the time was the Blue Nile’s A Walk Across the Rooftops. He could tell the Blue Nile had total artistic control—the music sounded calculated, finessed, meticulous.

In the documentary Scenes From the Big Chair, Orzabal revealed that the method Tears for Fears adopted was “fitting songs into interesting sounds.” To create the sounds, the squad in Somerset set up a formidable assembly of equipment: “a LinnDrum II box, a Drumulator drum box, a Roland Super Jupiter synthesizer, a Fairlight synthesizer, a DX7 keyboard, a rack of guitars, a Steinberger Bass, a Fender Stratocaster and a Gretsch maple drum kit,” according to Hughes. The main foursome would go in the studio from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., five days a week. They started by experimenting with individual fragments and then building them out. They took their time and loosened up their approach. Most importantly, they enjoyed themselves.

No track on Songs From the Big Chair exemplifies this free-roaming, tessellating approach more than its opener, the No. 1 single “Shout.” As Hughes told RBMA, “[Roland] set up a little drum box and a little synthesizer with a bass tone. He pressed the button on the drum box, and he programmed this little beat and it had these little chimey bells and a clapping drum beat. He pressed one of the keys and started singing, ‘Shout. Shout. Let it all out.’”

The template was an opportunity for Hughes, Orzabal, and Stanley to indulge. The structure of “Shout” is minimal, just one or two vocal melodies played over a steady drumbeat for around six-and-a-half minutes. But the thrust of the song is repetition, because as the hook grows and grows, the band keeps adding patches and instruments that compound the potency of the songwriting: a Fairlight-programmed ghostly synth-flute line, chippy guitar licks, and then a perfectly timed breakdown at 2:40, with a warped keyboard patch followed by a huge rush of Hammond organ and then a return to that earlier synth-flute, in a sequence that sounds like a brass band bursting through, then all of it blanketed by heavy-feedback guitars and backup vocals, a knifelike guitar solo running on top, and Orzabal and Smith still singing: “Shout. Shout. Let it all out/These are the things I can do without.”

“Shout” sounds tough. The drumbeat has an industrial, boxy shape and texture that resembles a march, with Orzabal and Smith’s joint vocals delivered almost as a chant. The song is just as explicit about primal therapy as virtually any other Tears for Fears track that predates it. But it’s less egregious, even though the execution is more direct. From the outset, Tears for Fears sound like they have a real purpose. The end of the verse is a declaration: I’m talking to you.

Tears for Fears named Songs From the Big Chair after the 1976 TV movie Sybil, in which Sally Field plays the title character, a woman with multiple personality disorder who could only prevent herself from using her different guises as defense mechanisms when she was sitting in her analyst’s chair. But the title also smartly references the music—because the songs all pertain to different sides of Tears for Fears’ personality—and that the band are delivering the album from an assured psychological state.

Tears for Fears could harness their self-confidence for a variety of tones and subjects, something that’s evident on “Head Over Heels,” another one of Songs From the Big Chair’s major singles. Whereas “Shout” is brooding and martial, “Head Over Heels” is dreamy and skeptical, with its glimpses of the joys of relationship chitchat (“I wanted to be with you alone /And talk about the weather”) and its swooning chorus, clouded in the band’s heavy, misty production. The music contradicts the narrative, in which the protagonist sabotages courtship because of his own self-hatred (“I made a fire, I’m watching it burn/I thought of your future”) and doubts that he can ever truly be in love (“I’m lost in admiration, could I need you this much?”). At this point, Tears for Fears could address their own insecurities without appearing wimpy or self-absorbed”.

Produced by Chris Hughes and released on 25th February, 1985, we are about to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of Songs from the Big Chair. Everybody Wants to Rule the World is the first song I ever heard and, as it has a special place in my heart, so too does the album it came from. Tears for Fear released their seventh studio album, The Tipping Point, in 2022. It is great that they still tour and play songs from their second studio album. Many people’s favourites. When they do deliver these epic songs, they reach new listeners. Songs from the Big Chair is a masterpiece that will endure and resonate…

DECADES from now.

FEATURE: Radiohead’s The Bends at Thirty: The Legacy of Their Second Studio Album

FEATURE:

 

 

Radiohead’s The Bends at Thirty

IN THIS PHOTO: Radiohead in San Francisco in July 1995/PHOTO CREDIT: Jay Blakesberg

 

The Legacy of Their Second Studio Album

_________

ON 13th March…

we mark thirty years of Radiohead’s phenomenal second studio album, The Bends. I have already written a feature about it. I want to revisit it ahead of its thirtieth anniversary. Whilst many rank it below OK Computer (1997) and Kid A (2000) in terms of the Oxfordshire band’s greatest moment, The Bends is my favourite album of theirs. I want to include some features that discuss the legacy of a classic that arrived in 1995. One of the greatest years for music, few more important albums were released that year than The Bends. Its legacy today is so strong. In terms of the bands its influence and how it changed British Rock and Alternative music. I want to start out with this feature published last year that celebrated twenty-nine years of The Bends:

“The Emergence of a Masterpiece

When Radiohead released The Bends in March 1995, few could have predicted its seismic impact on the music industry and the alternative rock genre. Coming off the back of their hit single “Creep,” the band was pigeonholed as one-hit wonders. However, The Bends shattered these expectations, weaving intricate guitar work with expansive sonic landscapes and Thom Yorke’s haunting vocals. But what makes The Bends such a revered album? Let’s dive in.

The Genesis of The Bends

At the heart of The Bends is a story of transformation. Following Pablo Honey’s unexpected success, Radiohead found themselves under immense pressure. This section explores the band’s journey from their grunge-influenced roots to creating an album that defied the expectations of critics and fans alike.

The Struggle and the Breakthrough

The recording process of The Bends was marked by tension and dissatisfaction. The band struggled to find a direction, experimenting with various styles and sounds. This period of trial and error led to the album’s diverse track list, from the anthemic “High and Dry” to the introspective “Fake Plastic Trees.”

Collaboration with Producer John Leckie

Key to the album’s sound was the collaboration with producer John Leckie. His experience and vision helped the band refine their ideas, pushing them to explore new sonic territories. This partnership was instrumental in creating the album’s richly textured soundscapes.

The Bends’ Key Tracks

The Bends is an album where each track contributes to a larger narrative. This section offers a detailed analysis of the album, highlighting the thematic and musical continuity that runs through its 12 tracks.

“The Bends”

The title track, “The Bends,” is a powerful opener setting the album’s tone. Its explosive energy and intricate guitar lines capture the sense of urgency and disorientation that permeates much of the album. The lyrics reflect the band’s discomfort with sudden fame and the shallowness of the music industry, themes that recur throughout the album.

“High and Dry”

“High and Dry” is one of the album’s most accessible and beloved tracks. Its melancholic melody and Yorke’s emotive vocals deliver a poignant message about vulnerability and disillusionment. The song’s mainstream appeal did not compromise its depth, as it continues to resonate with listeners for its sincere depiction of human fragility.

“Fake Plastic Trees”

Perhaps one of the most iconic tracks on The Bends, “Fake Plastic Trees,” is a haunting ballad that showcases Radiohead’s ability to blend emotional depth with musical simplicity. The song’s lyrics, dealing with artificiality and superficiality, are delivered by Yorke with a raw, moving, and profound intensity.

“Street Spirit (Fade Out)”

The album’s closing track, “Street Spirit (Fade Out),” encapsulates The Bends’ essence. Its haunting melody and introspective lyrics speak to the theme of despair and hopelessness, yet there’s a certain beauty in its melancholy.

Shaping the Sound of a Generation

In the years following its release, countless artists cited The Bends as a major influence. Its experimental approach to songwriting and production set a new standard for what could be achieved in the studio. The Bends inspired a generation of musicians, from Coldplay to Muse, by proving that rock music could be introspective, experimental, and commercially successful.

The Bends in Radiohead’s Discography

Positioned between Pablo Honey’s rawness and OK Computer’s experimentalism, The Bends bridges Radiohead’s evolution. This section reflects on its place within the band’s body of work and its role in setting the stage for their future innovations.

The Enduring Legacy of The Bends

Over two decades since its release, The Bends remains a pivotal album in Radiohead’s catalog and alternative rock landscape. Its exploration of human emotion and innovative sound has cemented its status as a timeless classic. As we reflect on its legacy, it’s clear that The Bends is not just an album; it’s an emotional journey that continues to resonate with listeners worldwide”.

Not only was The Bends important in how it changed music and fitted into the climate of the mid-'90s. It was also important in how it changed the perception of Radiohead. After the lacklustre 1993 debut, Pablo Honey, The Bends marked a confident leap forward. Feeling much more like a debut album. Their confidence from there grew and they took this into their following two albums. The album many consider to be their masterpieces. I want to move on to this feature from 2021. They discuss Radiohead’s The Bends as an album that changed music:

“The Bends was Radiohead’s Big Leap Forwards into unknown musical territory, and also distinguished them from the Britpop movement. The song writing is incredibly strong throughout and is enhanced by striking arrangements, extraordinary sonic landscapes, and a majestic production, courtesy of producer John Leckie. The Bends is Ground Zero for what has been called “the Radiohead aesthetic.”

PRESSURE

So how did Radiohead manage to make a masterpiece with their second effort? By all accounts, by the middle of 1993, the band found themselves in an odd place. They’d enjoyed some minor success with their debut album Pablo Honey, which had been released early that year, but lead single “Creep” had bombed in their homeland, as it had been declared “too depressing” by the BBC and was excluded from radio playlists.

Following an iconic performance of “Creep” on MTV in the summer of 1993, the song became a hit in several countries, and even gained popularity in the US as a “slacker anthem,” similar to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” and Beck’s “Loser.” EMI re-released “Creep” in the UK in September 1993. It promptly went to number seven.

As a result, the pressure was on for Radiohead to capitalize on the success of “Creep.” The band did not feel comfortable with this at all, and after a cancelled concert, Thom Yorke stated, “Physically I’m completely fucked and mentally I’ve had enough.”

TRYING TOO HARD

Pablo Honey had been engineered, mixed and produced by Americans Sean Slade and Paul Q Kolderie. For the new album, Radiohead chose British producer John Leckie to work with, who by 1993 was a big name in the UK alternative rock scene, having worked with XTC, Be-Bop Deluxe, Simple Minds, The Fall, Dukes of Stratosphear, The Stone Roses and countless others.

Radiohead and Leckie started work in RAK Studios in North-London in February 1994. Helping Leckie out was RAK tape op Nigel Godrich, who went on to produce all future Radiohead albums. With Radiohead resenting the pressure to create a hit, tensions grew high. Sessions were not working out, the band’s manager at one point nearly quit. Leckie concluded that they were “trying too hard.”

The sessions could easily have broken down or yielded substandard material. However, despite the stressful circumstances, progress was eventually made. Leckie had set the band up in the huge live room of RAK Studio 1, which is a former ballroom, with tons of space and daylight. The band members were separated by sliding doors and baffles.

COLLABORATIVE

Leckie remembers that the microphones on the drums involved were: on the kick AKG D25, AKG D12, Electrovoice RE20 or Sennheiser MD421, on the snare Shure SM57 or Neumann KM 84, on the toms Sennheiser MD421, on the hi-hat Neumann KM84 hihat, overheads varied between pairs of Neumann U-87, KM-84 or U-47, Coles 4038, AKG C414’s and C451’s. The bass was recorded via DI, and using an AKG D12, Electrovoice RE20 or NeumannU47. Guitars were recorded using a Neumann U67 and a Shure SM57, recorded without EQ and the final sound being a balance between the two mics. Some of the outboard that was used include compressors like the Urei 1176 blackface and DBX160.

Bassist Colin Greenwood used a 1972 Fender Mustang, and occasionally an Aria bass, going through an Ampeg SVT. Many reports state that a lot of time was spent on getting the right guitar sounds, with different guitars, amps and effects. Nevertheless, guitarist Jonny Greenwood eventually went back to his tried and tested Fender Telecasters. He used two Telecaster Plus models, one with a Tobacco Burst finish the other in Ebony Frost, going through Bluesbreaker and DigiTech Whammy WH1 pedals and a Fender Twin Reverb amp.

Ed O’Brien played a guitar that he had made with the band’s guitar tech, Plank. The guitar was appropriately called the Plank ED1, and his amplifier was a Mesa Boogie. Acoustic guitars were recorded with a Neumann U67 and maybe a Neumann KM84, no DI, but using the API’s EQ.

The band later recognized that Leckie had taught them “how to use the studio, and how to get the best out of our material.” Using the studio as a musical instrument became a major part of their approach. There also was a shift in their song writing, which until then had been more or less the domain of Thom Yorke. On The Bends it became a much more collaborative effort.

In addition, they had worked out a labour division between the three guitar players. Whereas on Pablo Honey the tendency was for all to play similar parts, creating a wall of guitar sound, on The Bends Yorke started focusing more on rhythm guitar, O’Brien on textural, effect-laden parts, and Greenwood on lead guitar. Greenwood also extended his palette to playing  keyboards and synthesizers, and writing string arrangements.

CONFIDENCE

The sessions were halted in May and June with the album still incomplete, because the band went on tour, in Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, the UK, Japan, Hong Kong, Australia, and New Zealand. It also appeared at several summer festivals, including Glastonbury and Reading in England, and Roskilde in Denmark.

Radiohead and Leckie, without Godrich, reconvened in July at The Manor, a residential studio with an SSL, located close to Oxford. The sessions at The Manor lasted a mere two weeks, but were extremely productive, because the band had enormously gained in confidence during their world tour, and had worked out new arrangements for many of the songs.

It has been widely reported that “My Iron Lung,” was based on an MTV live recording by Radiohead at the London Astoria, on May 27th, 1994, released on VHS in 1995 and on DVD in 2005 as Live At The Astoria. Leckie explains that it in fact is a combination of live and studio recordings.

Following the Manor sessions, Leckie and Chris Brown went to Abbey Road Studio 3, where they started mixing the album. Reportedly because EMI felt that Leckie was taking too long over the mixes, the company decided to have the songs mixed by Pablo Honey producers Sean Slade and Paul Q. Kolderie. Leckie ended up with a mix credit on just three songs.

The Bends was finally released on March 13, 1995 in the UK, on Parlophone Records, and on April 4 in the US, on Capital Records. Featuring artwork by Stanley Donwood, it was immediately successful in their homeland, spending 160 weeks in the UK album charts and reaching to number 4, but it was much less recognized in the US.

The reviews in the UK also were overwhelmingly positive, with The Guardian writing that Radiohead had “transformed themselves from nondescript guitar-beaters to potential arena-fillers.” Q magazine called the album a “powerful, bruised, majestically desperate record of frighteningly good songs.” And the New Musical Express praised it as “a classic” and “the consummate, all-encompassing, continent-straddling ’90s rock record.”

The Bends put Radiohead on course to become the biggest and most influential rock act in the world. The band itself recognized the album as a “turning point” in their career, and were aware that it had an immediate impact on their contemporaries.

The legacy of The Bends continues to shine. In 2006, it was included in a list of “50 albums that changed music,” that was published in the prestigious British newspaper The Observer. Today, twenty-six years after its release, many regard it as Radiohead’s magnum opus”.

 I am finishing off my second anniversary feature of The Bends with this feature from The Quietus. Thirty years after its release, I don’t think we have heard an album quite like it. It is a masterpiece that never gets the sort of love and attention albums like Kid A have. I hope that the thirtieth anniversary of The Bends changes that. For anyone who has not heard the album in a while, make sure you listen to it now:

“The Bends was made as Radiohead first began on this treadmill, and already they wanted off. It was, one suspects, a record upon which they knew they’d stand or fall, informed by everything that preceded it. In many ways, it feels more like a debut album than Pablo Honey – with its mixed bag of strengths – ever did, as though it were the culmination of a lifetime’s work. Second albums are notoriously difficult to make, and by all accounts The Bends suffered a more than troubled gestation, yet it still comes out sounding fully formed, defining them in a way that Pablo Honey by and large failed to do. The privileges and the prejudices, the accolades and the rebukes, their pasts and their presents: all of these and more converged as one, crashing and grinding into each other until they found their place, only to soar off on a new, graceful trajectory. It was the end of a rite of passage.

The songs themselves only need to be recollected here because The Bends became so omnipresent and inescapable, so much a part of the sound of summer and winter 1995, that its overfamiliarity bred a certain degree of fatigue. At the time of its release, however – in the wake of Definitely Maybe and Parklife the previous year – it appeared unusually literate and accomplished, and, in some people’s minds, it towered above everything championed by an over excitable press for years. If they’d been little more the sum of their influences on Pablo Honey, now Radiohead were like no one else at all – like no one apart from Radiohead, that is. Even this was a concept that would soon be demolished: each new record from the band would swerve passionately away from where they’d last paused. They’d reinvent themselves repeatedly, first reshaping alternative rock, then dragging intelligent techno and electronica into the mainstream, before exploiting their well earned, hard won independence by at least attempting to disrupt conditions precipitated by the arrival of the internet.

That was to come, though: in March 1995, they staked their first real claim to greatness with a 49 minute collection of accessibly timeless, visionary songs that may have gathered a little dust since, but which stand up remarkably well. Admittedly, The Bends was only quietly revolutionary: there were no heroics, no ill-suited bursts of attention-grabbing histrionics, merely layer upon layer of intriguing arrangements that demanded repeated plays to unravel. But that mysterious sound of empty space being filled by shimmering guitars at the start of opening track ‘Planet Telex’ now seems prescient: Radiohead were taking up camp in territory few people seemed interested in investigating.

This worked because The Bends‘ lyrics were more elliptical, and the songs more intelligent, than anything they’d ever tried. Indeed, they were smarter that almost anyone in mainstream ‘alternative’ music was trying to be, a far cry from the wilful idiocy and tabloid realms in whose direction every other band seemed to be drunkenly heading. The sonics of the album, too, were polished, yet rarely drew attention to themselves. Yorke’s voice, meanwhile, still seemed to slur from note to note in his quieter moments – though he continued to rage bitterly at other times – but he seemed to be inhabiting the songs rather than testing out a role, whether amid the crunching guitars of the title track or the tender acoustic strums of the heartbreakingly puzzling ‘Fake Plastic Trees’. On ‘Just’, the band might have given in to their American influences, but they still packed the song with colourful fireworks, and ‘Bullet Proof… I Wish I Was’ boasted a haunting, peculiarly English desolation. Then there was the lilting grace of ‘Nice Dream”s strings and Yorke’s impressively feminine falsetto, which gave way to an impressively dramatic flurry of squealing guitars, while, in ‘High And Dry’ and ‘Street Spirit (Fade Out)’, they mapped out a terrain towards which a pack of other songwriters would soon rush: anthemic, gutsy, midpaced songs of unapologetic, but never over-egged, sentiment. Few would ever do it so well”.

On 13th March, it will be thirty years since The Bends was released. A masterful statement from Radiohead, it is the album that launched them to the wider world. In a year defined by Britpop and the war between Blur and Oasis, Radiohead offered something alternative. With a lower-case and capital ‘a’. I have loved this album ever since it came out and do not get bored of it. Influencing artists to this day, The Bends should be held in the highest esteem. It is a majestic album that ranks alongside the…

BEST of the 1990s.