Category Archives: Uncategorized

New website up; EP to follow

Hi everyone. Just a quick one to let you know, if you’re interested, that I’ve got a new website up for my musical doings. You can find it at https://www.rosspalmermusic.co.uk/

I’ve also finalised the mixes for an EP that I’m going to actually release on physical media, which is the first time I’ve done this. Over the last year or so, I’ve frequently found that I’m the only guy at every show I play who doesn’t have any CDs for sale, and I figured it’s time I remedied that, so I’ve brought together a couple of songs I had up on Bandcamp as standalone tracks with two other songs never previously released in any format, one old and one new. The EP will be available on Bandcamp, Spotify and iTunes (if iTunes is still a thing – word is it may not be soon) as well as on CD. I imagine that most of the CDs I sell will be at gigs, but it’ll be available to order as a CD from Bandcamp too, just in case.

I asked an old friend of mind to do the cover art for me (the brief was for something autumnal and rural), and he obliged with this beautiful drawing of Belfairs Woods, near where we both grew up:

Last swallow mock-up

Exciting times! An album will follow later in the year – this EP is the first CD I’ve released, so as well as it being a good thing to have something I can sell at gigs, it’s also great to learn how to do all this stuff.

Back soon with a real post. Take care.

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Fleetwood House? Crowded Mac? Lindsey Buckingham leaves FM; Neil Finn is in

So, Fleetwood Mac have reportedly fired Lindsey Buckingham.

As much as I love Fleetwood Mac, I’d be the first to admit that they are a living, breathing rock’n’roll soap opera; nothing that they can do to each other would surprise me or any other FM fan. I fully expect Buckingham to rejoin them within the next couple of years.

In the meantime, it’s Buckingham out and Neil Finn in, along with former Tom Petty sideman Mike Campbell. Which tells you all you need to know about how special a talent Lindsey Buckingham is: it takes two people to replace him, and even then you’ve not replaced his production and arrangement talent.

That said, Neil Finn kind of makes sense. Kind of. There are definitely moments in Finn’s discography that have that spooked Fleetwood Mac vibe, that introspective mood of dusk and twilight bordering on the mystical that almost all the writers who have passed through the band have tapped into – the mood you find in Peter Green’s Man of the World and Albatross, in Danny Kirwan’s Dragonfly, in Bob Welch’s Hypnotized, in Buckingham’s I’m So Afraid, and in countless Stevie Nicks songs. Catherine Wheels from Together Alone fits, 2007 reunion single Don’t Stop Now definitely fits. I can imagine it working reasonably well.

But I just don’t think it’ll have to for long.

Dinosaur Jr @ The Roundhouse, 23/03/18

When Dinosaur Jr spluttered to a halt in the late 1990s after touring the unenthusiastically received Hand it Over, it seemed unlikely that 20 years later the band would be celebrating a decade, and four strong albums, back together in its original form. If they’re not Exhibit A in in defence of the idea of old bands reforming (I’d maybe cite the Go Betweens, who I think made their best album right before Grant McLennan sadly passed away), they’ve certainly proved that a group can get back together and rival their best work.

Having never seen them back then, and always being short of money in the early years of their reformation, I’d never seen Dino play live, although I did catch a J Mascis solo show a couple of years ago, and I thought it was about time I made the effort. The gig was originally scheduled for December last year, but J Mascis had a throat infection and the band had to cancel. So last night, finally, I went to the Roundhouse to be deafened by Mascis’s mighty wall of Marshalls.

In the event, the band weren’t the all-out sonic assault I’d read about in Our Band Could Be Your Life and sundry other places. It was perfectly safe to be without earplugs, though I found that keeping them in attenuated some of the high frequencies from Mascis’s guitar and made Murph’s snare drum more audible. Certainly they never got into My Bloody Valentine territory, which is kind of what I was expecting.

So today, with hearing intact, thinking about the gig, I feel like the band put a shift in, but something didn’t quite take off for me. I think fundamentally, Dinosaur Jr are a small-room band. So much of the pleasure of their music is the physical sensation of the J Mascis guitar sound and Lou Barlow’s distorted bass (which is strummed more than anything), and hearing it in a large room changes your relationship to that sound. It’s very noticeable that the band make their records in Mascis’s home studio and they seem to use small iso rooms to track drums and guitars, which makes their records sound very close and upfront.

Still, while I never felt immersed in the music in the way I’d hoped to, the band played well. They opened with Thumb from Green Mind, which is a very different experience live from the Mellotron-based studio version with the weird drum sound (what was going on there? It sounds like a drum machine. It couldn’t be, could it?), and followed it with three strong songs from new album Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not. I was particularly happy that Barlow and Mascis swapped instruments and Lou got to take a lead vocal; if you’ve been on my blog before, you’ll know that Lou’s my guy.

Watch the Corners from the last album was one of the set highlights (Mascis’s solo at the end was great), then they went back to the mid-1990s for Out There and Feel the Pain. Those aren’t, if I’m honest, favourites of mine, but the crowd loved them, especially the latter. In fact, the audience was pretty energetic throughout (first time I’d seen anything that could be described as a mosh pit at a gig I’ve been at in about a decade and a half), and Feel the Pain got them pushing and shoving like it was 1993. One clown kept trying to crowdsurf, even as he kept being dropped to the floor. There’s always one.

Then came a pair of key early tracks: the mighty Sludgefeast and Raisans, from You’re Living All Over Me. They sounded as weird and heavy and claustrophobic as they ever had. With some key exceptions I’ll get to, I respond to early Dino much more than the group’s major-label material, made after Barlow was fired. Mascis isn’t the world’s most expansive melodist, so the twisty-turny structures of the early songs make them more compelling to me. It provides the interest that for me isn’t there on something like Out There.

But there is one mid-1990s Dinosaur Jr song I love. Start Choppin’. And so when Mascis hit that oddly Nile Rodgers-like guitar intro, I was delighted. They did a good version, but this was one of those occasions where I’m so into the studio recording that any live version that doesn’t copy it exactly is going to disappoint me slightly. The tempo seemed a bit too fast, and Mascis’s solo didn’t have the tension and release of his studio effort, which begins as noise and then takes flight when he suddenly breaks into a glorious melodic section that shows off the flashier end of his technique.

Budge and Freakscene went over as well as you’d expect them to, and were delivered coolly, with no fuss, then there was a real treat as they finished the set with Forget the Swan, from their debut, Dinosaur. Mascis-penned but Barlow-sung, Forget the Swan is one of their best early songs, but it’s always been better live than on its anaemic studio incarnation. I wasn’t expecting them to play it, and they pretty much nailed it. Barlow’s delivery is of course massively more assured than it was in 1985, and he and Murph were brick-wall solid as Mascis wailed on top for four minutes or so to end the set, leaving his guitar screaming as the band walked off.

The versions of Tarpit and Raisans during the encore were a little perfunctory, as in honesty, they couldn’t top the way they’d ended the regular set.

So while it was maybe a notch or two below what I’d hoped for, a lot of which I’d put down to the venue just not being right for them, I enjoyed finally seeing them play, and I love the fact that Dinosaur Jr are still together with Barlow and Mascis are working side by side when for years there was such animosity (at least on Lou’s part), and that they’re making records that stand proudly with the work they did in their youth. So few other bands can say that.

Grant Hart RIP

It’s not just that Turn on the News deserves to have been heard by a bigger audience than it has by virtue of its sheer quality. It’s that it, like other songs I can think of, doesn’t make sense as a cult song. It’s just bigger than that.

If it had been written and recorded by Bruce Springsteen for Born in the USA rather than by Hüsker Dü for Zen Arcade, it would now be a rock ‘n’ roll standard. If it had been recorded by the Clash, it’d be up there in the band’s catalogue with London Calling. It’s Rockin’ in the Free World, five years early, and Neil Young would have been mighty happy to have written that riff and that chorus. It has the melody, the power, the drama and the timelessness of any classic rock warhorse you care to name.

Turn on the News was written by Hüsker Dü’s drummer, Grant Hart, who died yesterday of cancer. Hart wrote a huge number of the band’s greatest songs (Pink Turns to Blue, Keep Hanging On, Green Eyes, Sorry Somehow and Don’t Want to Know if You Are Lonely – just to name the first five that come to mind), and his songs are just as treasured by the band’s fans as those by Bob Mould, even if Grant never got the mainstream exposure in the years since Hüsker Dü broke up that Bob enjoyed with Sugar.

He recorded less prolifically than Mould and his records tended to only turn up on little indies without any promotional budget, but from the EP version of 2541 (a song covered by Marshall Crenshaw and Robert Forster, who both know a thing or two about writing good alterna-pop) to the rather bonkers but occasionally inspired The Argument from 2013, an album based on Milton’s Paradise Lost, he never lost his way with a melody.

Ultimately though, it’s his time in Hüsker Dü that he’ll be remembered for, and that’s only natural; to say that rock music wouldn’t be the same today without Hüsker Dü is such a commonplace observation as to be a cliche. But if you want proof, just take a look at social media today and see your favourite musicians talking about what the band’s music, and Grant Hart, meant to them.

Chris Cornell RIP

A lot has been written about Seattle and grunge over the years – too much, probably – but something that really doesn’t get remarked upon enough is how unlikely it was for so many great vocal talents to emerge from that one city at the same time: Kurt Cobain, Mark Lanegan, Layne Staley and Chris Cornell, to say nothing of transplanted Californian Eddie Vedder, or those harmony-singing maestros Ken Stringfellow and Jon Auer from the Posies, or of charismatic, characterful yowlers like Mark Arm and Andy Wood. All of them, all at the same time.

It wasn’t an unprecedented flowering of talent or anything (Detroit and Motown provides an even more staggering example of the same phenomenon), but it’s not recognised and celebrated in quite those terms. Nowadays we remember the heavy guitars, the drugs, the media hype and if we’re lucky we remember the great songs, but not enough attention is paid to how much sheer vocal talent came to the fore in the service of those songs.

None of these singers, not even Chris Cornell, emerged fully formed, but once he hit his peak on Badmotorfinger, Cornell matured into one of the absolute greatest rock singers ever. He could do anything. He could outscream Cobain and outwail Gillan and Dickinson. He could sing with a vibrato-heavy operatic intensity that Freddie Mercury would have envied. The sound of Cornell really going for it was addictive. On Rusty Cage, his slide up to the high note on the word “cage”, which he held with a powerful vibrato, is the main hook of the song. It’s why Johnny Cash’s cover – cute as it was as a concept – was so disappointing in practice. Cash couldn’t do the thing that made everyone love the song.

As time went on, as we heard Seasons, Black Hole Sun, Blow Up the Outside World, Preaching the End of the World and the wonderful When I’m Down – on which Cornell proved that Mark Lanegan wasn’t the only singer from Seattle who could conceivably make a move into jazz and blues – it became clear just what range this guy had, not merely in terms of pitch, but it terms of range, mood, feel, timbre.

Chris Cornell died today aged 52. We don’t know yet how he died, and it would be impertinent to speculate when the facts will make themselves known soon enough. Compared to his friends Andy Wood, Kurt Cobain and Layne Staley, he lived a long and productive life. Hopefully it was mostly a happy one too. What’s certainly true is that his music made an awful lot of people happy, me included.

Like most any other day, today I listened to KEXP’s morning show, and it was pretty much wall-to-wall Cornell. What a body of work the man leaves behind. It will be remembered, and so will he.

Soundgarden perform at The Palladium in Worcester, MA on May 15, 2013

 

 

Day of the Dead, Disc Five – Some Thoughts

And so we come to the last disc of Day of the Dead. Making myself familar with over five hours of music has been a pretty big undertaking, and I’m looking forward to getting back to smaller one-off posts for a while. Hopefully within a day or two.

The first three songs on Day of the Dead’s fifth disc all feature the house band backing solo artists: Phosphorescent, the Tallest Man on Earth and Bonnie Prince Billy.

Standing on the Moon is a highlight of Built to Last, the Dead’s ill-favoured 1989 studio swansong. Garcia’s lyric is one of his sweetest, and the line “Standing on the moon but I’d rather be with you” obviously connected hard with Garcia, who often stretched the coda out so he could repeat the line over and over again in live performance. Phosphorescent & Friends (ie Phosphorescent & the National) do a creditable job with one of this late Dead highpoint, but where Garcia’s tremulous vocal spoke of wisdom and awe, Matthew Houck’s tremulous vocal speaks mainly of tremulousness.

The Tallest Man on Earth’s early music was so beholden to early Dylan vocally that it was very hard to take seriously. Thankfully he’s dropped the worst of those excesses over time, but even so, it’s amazing how much better Will Oldham sounds coming after him and Houck. Whether you like his vocal tone or not, Oldham is his own man; he sounds fully formed.

Brown-Eyed Women is one of those songs, like Jack Straw and He’s Gone, that was a highlight of the dazzling Europe ’72 live album yet was never recorded in the studio; it would have been nigh-on impossible to better the versions from the live record. Hiss Golden Messenger capture something of the fleetness of the Dead’s version instrumentally (they sure sound light on their feet after three consecutive tracks of the National’s rhythm section) and the gang vocals in the chorus are a nice touch. A hit.

Here Comes Sunshine by Real Estate is appropriately sunny and pretty. Six minutes of it is about a minute and a half more than I needed, though full marks to Alex Bleeker for giving one of the most convincing Phil Lesh impressions of any bass player involved in this project.

Charles Bradley and the Menahem Street Band give an Electric Mud treatment to Cumberland Blues. The groove the band cooks up is compelling and Bradley’s souldful rasp is committed. However, Cumberland Blues does lose a lot by being slowed down and having its rhythms and harmonies simplifed. I’m not sure about this one. I like it well enough, I suppose, but I love Cumberland Blues as the Dead play it, especially the magnificent version on Europe ’72. In comparison, Bradley’s is all a bit simple and I wonder whether I’d get much from it if I didn’t know the lyric inside out.

Next, a couple of real outliers. Man Forever is the experimental-percussion project of Kid Millions, drummer from Oneida. Sõ Percussion, who we met back on Disc Three’s Terrapion Station, are a percussion troupe usually performing work by Steve Reich. On Drums/Space, several minutes of slack-tuned toms and marimbas are followed by some chintzy electronic noises of the sort that will gladden the heart of any Mickey Hart fans. Out of nowhere, a couple of uber-distorted guitars crash the party, paying no heed to each other (it sounds like Saturday afternoon in a guitar shop), before the track finishes with a couple of minutes of alternately rumbling and squalling feedback.

Cream Puff War is possibly the Grateful Dead’s most garagey track, at least during its verses, with Garcia’s voice unrecognisable to anyone who might have got into the band later and worked backwards; he hollers his way through the track and sounds more like Bob Weir than himself as we usually knew him. Not many Dead tracks would be a natural fit for Canadian punk band Fucked Up, but Cream Puff War pretty much makes sense. Jonah Falco on drums makes the straight 4/4 beat groove nicely (the dynamics of the hi-hats, I think), and the band handle the sudden switches to 3/4 well. There is something a little absurd about this vocal style being deployed on a Grateful Dead song, but in this case the vocal comes over to me as exuberant rather than aggressive, and actually works pretty well.

Mina Tindle (stage name of singer Pauline de Lassus Saint-Geniès) has what Mel and I, in our less patient moments, describe as an old-lady voice, the female version of the white dude in the old man hat voice. Not that an old-lady-voiced singer couldn’t make great music, but I’m personally not a fan of that kind of voice, and I think the music would have to be spectacular to overcome my irritation with the singing. Mina Tindle, then, starts with a huge disadvantage, even given that she’s got a beautiful song to work with. The Dessners do interesting things with synth and Mellotron – there’s a piercing, needling harmony line played on the Mellotron’s flute setting that is by far the best thing about the track – but Tindle’s vocal sinks this for me.

Daniel Rossen and Christopher Bear play High Time so much faster than the Dead that their version clocks in 58 seconds shorter without trimming away any of the text. They also replace Bill Kreutzmann’s waltz-time sidesticks with a rather intrusive tom- and cymbal-based drum track. Rossen’s vocal is fine, but the tempo and the music swamps him. The great thing about High Time on Workingman’s Dead is the space the band give to Garcia to deliver the twists and turns of Robert Hunter’s lyric. Here, some of that is lost. I’d have loved to hear Rossen sing it solo, slowly.

I saw Luluc a couple of years ago supporting J Mascis and found them rather inert and one-paced. Here they team up with Xylouris White (Giorgios Xylouris, singer and Cretan lute player and drummer Jim White) to take on Til the Morning Comes, from American Beauty. Zoë Randall’s voice is calm teetering on affectless, but the outro jam between Xylouris and White is really good. White is an objectively really good drummer whose playing I don’t often like that much (too busy? too echoey? Something of both, I guess), but given the general echoey sound picture, his favoured reverby drum sound makes sense, and his busy style meshes well with Xylouris.

Next up, something of a shock. Winston Marshall, banjo player from Mumford & Sons, in collaboration with Kodiak Blue and Shura, does a fine job with Althea. Marshall’s American accent is a bit of a joke, but the music – tinkling marimba-like synths like raindrops on a pavement late at night – more than makes up for it. I think I’d like the track more if Shura sang all of it, but credit where it’s due: I am extremely dubious of all things Mumford, but this is actually very creditable.

Attics of My Life is one of Hunter and Garcia’s very finest songs and the track above all others where the guys put everything they’d been learning about harmony singing (some of it absorbed from hanging out and jamming with David Crosby and Stephen Stills) down on record. In the Classic Albums documentary about Anthem of the Sun and American Beauty, the pride Phil Lesh took in their work on that song was clear. Garcia’s beautiful hymn-like melody and Hunter’s lyric deserved no less. Still, there are rough edges, and that’s part of the recording’s power. There’s a palpable sense of self-discovery in Attics of My Life; you can hear that the guys are pushing themselves to a place they’ve never been before, growing and evolving even within the song’s 5-minute running time.

Attics of My Life is so perfect that a cover of it has to mean something different to be worthwhile. So Angel Olsen taking a different approach to the vocal harmony arrangement is not of itself a problem. But it doesn’t work for me. Olsen’s voice floats above the male voices and the never blends with them, with becomes needling and annoying over the course of the song’s running time, even as it’s 90 seconds shorter than the Dead’s American Beauty take. Then there’s the cavernous reverb. I’m just so over it. Angel Olsen has almost universal critical cred, but I fear her just isn’t my thing.

We haven’t talked much about Bob Weir over the course of these five discs. Let me say then how big a fan I am. I really like his voice and think he’s an overlooked guitar player; his rhythm playing is great and you don’t get to spend an entire life in the Grateful Dead without being able to take a solo or two. Weir is the only official member to appear on this album (as we noted about a month ago when we took on Disc One, Bruce Hornsby played over a hundred gigs with the Dead, but was never a full-time member), appearing on the final two cuts, both recorded live: St Stephen with Wilco, and I Know You Rider with the National.

Guitarist Nels Cline is suprisingly rocker-dude on St Stephen – lots of sextuplets, not much lyricism – but it’s likeable nonetheless. I Know You Rider sees the National playing faster than I’ve ever heard them (I associate them purely with slow- to mid-tempo). Weir gets to dominate the vocal on this one (Tweedy sings much of St Stephen) and the band works up a head of steam – the Devendorfs audibly excited to be on stage with a hero. It’s a fine end to the project, and they and the Dessners deserve a huge amount of credit for all their work on this thing. They had to record an ungodly amount of music to make it happen.

This is definitely the least essential disc for me, but my keepers are Bird Song, Brown-Eyed Women, Cream Puff War and Althea (I know. I’m still trying to get my round the latter).

day-of-the-dead

Some recent free-to-download music

 

 

 

 

BBC Essex live session – 20/01/17

Hi everyone.

I’ll be back tomorrow night or Saturday morning with a real post, but for now I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be on BBC Essex tomorrow afternoon at 2pm, chatting to presenter Tony Fisher and playing a couple of songs live in the studio.

Nervous, but very excited!

You can listen here when the time comes:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p04mjpft

Here’s new music to download (for free, if you like!)