75 Years of the Album: 33. 1981

Without further ado…

Television Personalities – …And Don’t The Kids Just Love It (Rough Trade January).

The 1980s peculiar obsession with swinging sixties London began here. The sleeve featuring Patrick MacNee and Twiggy couldn’t be more sixties. The grooves contained fourteen slices of literate, clever mod-pop from the pen of Dan Treacy, a troubled, but sporadically brilliant soul. Cultural references abound in the titles (“La Grande Illusion”, “A Picture of Dorian Grey”. “Look Back In Anger”), and of course there is the timeless “I Know Where Syd Barrett Lives”. Without Treacy, no Creation records.

Brian Eno & David Byrne – My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (Polydor February) / Tom Tom Club (Sire October).

Following on from the superb Remain in Light, Byrne and its producer Eno continued on the polyrhythmic path set on that album’s first side. Instead of vocals, there were samples of radio preachers, exorcists, phone ins, and middle eastern singers. The track “Qu’ran” featuring the voices of Muslims reciting the book was quietly dropped at the behest of the Muslim Council of Great Britain, but in a grown-up way as opposed to the whipped up hysteria that would happen now from both sides of the debate. All told, it’s a hugely influential record. As is Frantz and Weymouth’s first Tom Tom Club LP. Taking hip hop and electro as a base, tracks like “Genius of Love” became hugely influential on the influencers. And more than forty years on it still sounds like a load of fun.

Kraftwerk – Computer World (EMI May).

Before Computer World it could be argued that Kraftwerk were usually too far ahead of their time to have as great an impact as they could. But sample based synth and electronic pop was now becoming mainstream. And a concept album about computers was not a particularly radical idea. Paradoxically, the fact that the mainstream had caught up, made this one of the most influential Kraftwerk albums. The NYC electro scene of the Peech Boys, Jonzun Crew, Planet Patrol et al latched on straight away, as did the nascent UK synth-pop outfits. And years later Coldplay borrowed the melody from “Computer Love” for “Talk”.

Grace Jones – Nightclubbing (Island October).

Jones’s haughty speak-sing vocal style is not to everyone’s taste, but you can’t deny the funk! Of all her albums, Nightclubbing is probably the best. All but three of the nine tracks are covers, from sources as disparate as Vanda and Young, Astor Piazzolla, Bowie and Bill Withers. It was NME’s album of the year in ‘81 at a time when the paper was briefly trying to escape its indie rock straitjacket.

Black Flag – Damaged (SST November).

For all their huge influence on the hardcore scene, there was only a brief window where the band was a truly exciting proposition. Before Damaged they weren’t quite the finished product with singers Dez Cadena and Keith Morris. Henry Rollins, fresh from DC’s State of Alert, provided that intense focus, anger and self-loathing. It was three years before a follow up full length. My War was influential, too, on sludge-rockers like the Melvins, but quite frankly pretty tedious for the most part.

ABBA – The Visitors (Polar December).

Inescapable during the seventies, ABBA’s pop crown began to slip a little during the eighties. The Visitors turned out to be their last LP until Voyage was unexpectedly unleashed forty years later. It’s a restless, serious work. The title track is a protest against the treatment of political dissidents in the eastern bloc, and “Slipping Through My Fingers” a moving piece about how the relationship between parent and child changes as the latter grows up. Not exactly “Ring Ring Ring”. ‘Maturity’ often makes dull pop, but The Visitors is still packed with great melodies, and instantly recognisable harmonies.

Architecture and Morality was Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark’s commercial highpoint, packed full of pop nuggets, but balanced with more experimental pieces. Japan bowed out with the superb Tin Drum and one of the most radical top ten singles ever in “Ghosts”. There were a slew of great post-punk LPs. On the more experimental side you had Cabaret Voltaire’s Red Mecca, This Heat’s Deceit and Clock DVA’s Thirst. Then there were more commercially inclined sets such as The Cure’s gloom-fest Faith and Simple Minds’ Sons and Fascination / Sister Feelings Call package. Yello’s Claro que si and Yellow Magic Orchestra’s Technodelic were very different takes on synthesised pop, and producer Craig Leon’s Nommos proved an influential work on future generations of electronic musicians. The first of Bobby Womack’s two The Poet albums brought him back into the first rank of soul singers. Finally there were New Age Steppers’ brilliant self-titled dub-punk debut and The Birthday Party’s first for 4AD, Prayers on Fire.

75 Years of the Album. 30: 1978

Without further ado, here is a selection of my favourite LPs of 1978.

Blondie – Plastic Letters (Chrysalis January) / Parallel Lines (Chrysalis September).

Recorded in the summer of ‘77, Plastic Letters was an adrenalin-fuelled collection of short, sharp pop songs, all but one clocking under three minutes. Parallel Lines, recorded a year later, but released just eight months after its predecessor was a whole different ball game. It’s one of those perfect pop albums, but it also runs the gamut from the sweet bubblegum of “Sunday Girl” to the ghostly “Fade Away and Radiate” via the band’s great disco classic “Heart of Glass”. Next album Eat to the Beat was decent, but by 1980s Autoamerican the magic had gone.

Pere Ubu – The Modern Dance (Blank February).

An almost perfect debut by the Cleveland oddballs. It would have been even better if room had been found for the first two Hearthen singles. It’s jerky, angular and a bit abrasive, but has more pop nous than many of the band’s subsequent records.

Buzzcocks – Another Music in a Different Kitchen (United Artists March) / Magazine – Real Life (Virgin June) / Buzzcocks – Love Bites (United Artists September).

Buzzcocks blazed a trail for independent labels and DIY music with the Spiral Scratch EP in January 1977. Before they could record anything more, Howard Devoto, finding the punk format too restrictive, had already quit. Under Pete Shelley’s leadership the band blazed on with a series of classic pop-punk singles. The two 1978 albums are full of hook-laden gems, but also have exercises in a more experimental post-punk vein. Howie, though, constructed a unique, keyboard heavy sound that both looked back to Bowie, and even prog, but also laid the groundwork for bands like Simple Minds. Devoto’s flat growl ensured that nothing was too smooth, and “Shot by Both Sides” was as urgent as any punk 45.

Congos – Heart Of The Congos (Black Art April) / Joe Gibbs and the Professionals – African Dub All-Mighty Chapter 3 (Joe Gibbs October) / Keith Hudson – Rasta Communication (Greensleeves October).

These are three of the greatest reggae albums, not just of 1978, but of all time. For many years, though, they were virtually unobtainable. Fortunately that’s no longer the case. They are very different beasts. Cedric Myton’s sugar-sweet falsetto leads the Congos’ set of laid back roots tunes, produced by Lee Perry, and invents lovers’ rock in the process. Perhaps. The third of Joe Gibbs’ African Dub sets is probably the best of the lot, and one of the greatest dub albums ever. Keith Hudson, always a bit on the eccentric side, croaks his way through a haze of dope smoke on the epic Rasta Communication. “I Won’t Compromise” claims the last track. He never did. Oddly, the dub version Brand preceded it by a year.

AC/DC – Powerage (Atlantic May).

The riffs were there, of course, as was the power, but there is something looser about Powerage which makes it unquestionably my favourite AC/DC album. Aside from “Rock and Roll Damnation” the songs aren’t, perhaps, as well known. When Mark Kozelek released his acoustic set of AC/DC covers What’s Next to the Moon in 2001, the three best songs on it were the title track, “Riff Raff” and “Up to My Neck in You”, all from Powerage. I think that shows that these songs had something a bit deeper than AC/DC are generally credited with.

Kraftwerk – The Man Machine (Capitol May).

Trans-Europe Express may have been the groundbreaking record was sampled within an inch of its life by early hip hop and electro artists, but The Man Machine was the one that laid the groundwork for the explosion of synth-pop acts that followed in its wake. Its less experimental, but more melodic, and like the “Neon Lights” shimmers. Even more poppy, and a lot more energetic was the debut album by the trio who came to be seen as the Japanese Kraftwerk, Yellow Magic Orchestra. More about them in a future instalment.

Chic – C’est Chic (Atlantic November).

Disco had been the dominant sound of the singles chart for some time, and with Saturday Night Fever it was about to become totally ubiquitous. Chic had the rhythms down pat, they also had the minimalist lyrics exhorting everyone to dance. But look deeper, and there was a rhythm section of supreme force in guitarist Nile Rodgers, bassist Bernard Edwards and drummer Tony Thompson. They played like a twelve limbed machine, each linked perfectly to the other. And the songs weren’t all happy clappy dance fare either. Check out the supremely moving “At Last I Am Free” (covered by Robert Wyatt, no less).

Former Neu! Colleagues Michael Rother and Klaus Dinger both came up with great records in 1978. Rother’s Sterntaler was more consistent than La Düsseldorf’s Viva, but had nothing quite as miraculous as “Rheinita”, a gem of an instrumental. Kate Bush’ speed of work was much quicker then, and The Kick Inside and Lionheart were both formidable records. 1977 veterans (!) The Clash (Give ‘em Enough Rope), The Jam (All Mod Cons), and Wire (Chairs Missing) all came up with fine records that each would improve on in 1979. Other very good new wave-ish albums included Elvis Costello’s This Year’s Model, the Tom Robinson Band’s Power in the Darkness, Talking Heads’ More Songs About Buildings and Food, and Ultravox!’s Systems of Romance. Old troopers Bob Seger (Stranger In Town) and Tom Waits (Blue Valentine) came up with the goods. Darkness on the Edge of Town, Springsteen’s first record for three years because of contractual issues was raw and emotional. The subsequent shows were some of the finest he ever played. The Walker Brothers, stuck on a label that didn’t care and was probably going to fold anyway, just did their own thing. The result was Nite Flights. To be honest, Gary and John’s songs aren’t much cop, even though they were clearly aiming high. Scott’s, though, are magnificent. They would sit comfortably on Tilt. Finally, like punk never happened, there were the eponymous debut records of Dire Straits and Van Halen. Both are terrific.

75 Years of the Album: 26. 1974

1974 saw an IRA mainland bombing campaign, the three-day-week, an oil crisis, inflation and recessions. But there were also some good records out.

Brian Eno – Here Come the Warm Jets (Island February) / Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) (Island November).

Eno began his post-Roxy career with a brace of records of brilliantly skewed rock music that straddled glam, prog, the avant-garde and his own weird take on pop. Lyrically there was plenty of oddball Dada-esque ramblings, but the music (especially on the second record) was muscular. Only “On some faraway beach” and “Taking Tiger Mountain” itself were their hints of his ambient direction.

Tangerine Dream – Phaedra (Virgin April).

Tangerine Dream signed to Virgin, jettisoned some of their more extreme spaced out tendencies in favour of burbling sequencer riffs, and pretty much defined their sound. They also bagged a surprising top twenty album. Its possibly the definitive Tangerine Dream album, although Rubycon (1975) hones their sound even more. Cluster’s Moebius and Roedelius teamed up with Michael Rother of Neu! to create Harmonia. Musik from Harmonia (Brain) is the best of their records. Can’s Soon Over Babaluma (United Artists) was the last of the classic United Artists Can records. The move to Virgin in ‘75 began their decline. And Tangerine Dream leader Edgar Froese’s solo album Aqua (Virgin) is one to hear.

Blue Oyster Cult – Secret Treaties (Columbia April).

Eight tracks of perfect rock from the connoisseur’s metal band. Having Richard Meltzer, Sandy Pearlman and Patti Smith write the lyrics meant that there is an intellectual bent to the band lacking in any of their peers (with the exception of Hawkwind). And Secret Treaties has some of their very best tunes, such as “Career of evil”, “Flaming telepaths” and “Astronomy”.

Richard and Linda Thompson – I Want to See The Bright Lights Tonight (Island April).

April ‘74 was a pretty good month for albums. Richard Thompson and Linda Peters married in 1972, and this was their first (and best) record together. It’s also one of Richard’s darkest set of songs, with “End of the rainbow” giving a particularly bleak view of life. There are brighter points (the title track, for instance), and “The Great Valerio” sees the world pushed away in a dream-like concentration on the art of a tightrope walker. It reminds me of the Blue Nile’s “Easter Parade” in the way that a scene of excitement and celebration can be frozen into something so still.

Neil Young – On The Beach (Reprise July).

Harvest this definitely isn’t, and the sixties dream dissolves into a post-Nixon fug of alienation. The mood is sombre – almost more down and out than downbeat. For years contrary Young left it out of print before a CD finally arrived in 2003. I would argue its his best record, especially the trio of songs on the second side: the title track, “Motion Pictures” and the cynical “Ambulance Blues”. Neil’s fellow Canadian Joni Mitchell was a bit more upbeat with Court and Spark (Asylum), the perfect balance between the old singer-songwriter Joni and the new jazz Joni.

Kraftwerk – Autobahn (Vertigo November).

The first album that Ralf Hutter appears to own up to, Autobahn still has more in common with the three Philips albums than it does with, say, The Man Machine four years later. An edit of the 22 minute title track was a hit, of course. The second side is instrumental ranging from the gorgeous “Telstar”-esque “Kometenmelodie 2” to Florian’s flute-led, bucolic “Morgenspaziergang”.

Here are seven other records of note, in no particular order. Diamond Dogs (RCA) is heavier than Bowie’s previous few albums which maybe why it’s not as widely loved. Gil Scott-Heron teamed up with multi-instrumentalist Brian Jackson for the first time for Winter In America (Strata-East). Stevie Wonder’s Fulfillingness’ First Finale (Tamla) ditched the Moogs for a more organic, and reflective sound. Jackson Browne’s Late for the Sky and Tom Waits’ The Heart of Saturday Night (both Asylum) looked at two sides of seventies California: Browne’s fading sixties dream and Waits’ world of working class diners, bars and flop houses. Bob Marley’s first album without Tosh and Livingstone Natty Dread (Island) gave the world “No woman no cry”. Finally, Peter Gabriel’s last hurrah with Genesis was the patchily brilliant concept alum with a barely intelligible plot The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (Charisma).

TV: Krautrock: The Rebirth of Germany

After last week’s generally fascinating, if slightly flawed, Synth Britannia (no mention at all of Suicide, and some of the chronology seemed a bit iffy to me), BBC Four’s music documentary series moved on to look at some of the biggest influences on both the synth-pop movement, and indeed all post-punk and electronica music that’s happened since, from Acid Mothers Temple to Alva Noto and all points in between.

Krautrock: The Rebirth of Germany is rather a grand title, and it immediately apologised for the term. Krautrock was coined by anglocentric British journalists and has unfortunately stuck ever since to the various amusement / irritation of the musicians themselves. But at least their music was accepted here – in their homeland they remained, by and large, obscure. I remember when I first met my German friend Olly in the early nineties, I breathlessly waxed lyrical about all the German bands that I was a big fan of, and was astonished that he’d never heard of half of them. I’d simply assumed that acts like Cluster, Faust, Neu! etc would all be household names in Germany, something that turned out to be far from the truth.

The programme offered 1968 as year zero for the movement, suggesting that everything before then was Schlager and classical music. Although that’s certainly true for the electronic and experimental bands that followed, surely things weren’t that simple. After all, many British bands cut their musical teeth in Hamburg at the start of the sixties, and other ex-pat acts like the Monks were pretty successful in their adopted land. There must have been some indigenous equivalent, surely.

That question aside, this was an hour stuffed with great anecdotes and superb archive footage. Those interviewed were a great bunch of characters with intelligent, dry humour and none of the rock star pomposity of their Anglo-American prog-rock equivalents. The central theme was that this wasn’t a scene as such, but a bunch of disparate groups from all over the country whose music was equally eclectic, but whose philosophy was strikingly similar – to create a new art music for Germany untainted by the past and yet specifically German rather than a poor facsimile of the dominant Anglo-American forms. And to challenge the West German establishment, something still riddled with relics of the Nazi era. They succeeded, and collectively became a massive influence on much of the interesting music made in the last thirty years. Indeed, most are probably far more widely known today than they ever were in their heyday.

Nearly all of the big players were present and correct – Amon Düül, Popol Vuh, Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Neu!, Harmonia, Can, Faust and, of course, Kraftwerk. The only serious omission was Ash Ra Tempel. There were some great stories – Amon Düül’s uncomfortable association with Andreas Baader and Ulriche Meinhof; Faust being sold to Polydor as the German Beatles (?!); Damo Suzuki’s bizarrely spontaneous induction into Can; Klaus Schulze’s admission that he still had no idea how to properly work his first synth that he’s had for nearly forty years. And also some superb archive footage, including the pre-electronic Kraftwerk. Implied, but not explicitly said, was the contention that Eno was little more than a thieving magpie, appropriating ideas from his collaborations with Cluster and using them in his work with Bowie, that archetypal chameleon.

Cramming all this into an hour inevitably felt a bit rushed. But it was great that somebody had the foresight to step outside the usual Anglo-American axis and tell the stories of the makers of some of the twentieth century’s most forward-looking and influential music.

For UK residents, it’s on the iPlayer.

Kraftwerk – BBC Radio 4 Documentary.

I missed this when it was broadcast on Thursday morning. It’s still available on ‘Listen Again’ at:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio/aod/mainframe.shtml?http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio/aod/radio4_aod.shtml?radio4/kraftwerk_robots