This is the first in a series of bite-sized posts about 7″ singles I own – shameless nostalgia from the days of vinyl.
Nowadays, everybody has their own definition of what Punk Rock sounds like but back in 1976 there wasn’t much to go on.
Reading NME and listening to John Peel were essential entry points to this ‘new’ sound. Something was clearly happening but few knew exactly what it was. Continue reading
Nick Kent was the “Zeitgeist-surfing dark prince of seventies rock journalism”. This is how he describes himself with only the vaguest of self mockery in his memoir of the decade entitled Apathy For The Devil.
The title is taken from a quip by Bob Dylan after being asked his opinion of a lacklustre Rolling Stones concert. It’s a highly quotable line but not a great book title and the cheapskate cover image by Jon Stevens for the Faber & Faber edition is pretty crap too.
Don’t let either of these details put you off though as this is a fantastic book.
Like many of my generation (I was born in 1958), I grew up reading NME cover to cover and Kent’s pieces stood out as writing that was both passionate and committed. He has always maintained that to write meaningfully about music it is not enough just to listen to the records and analyse the lyrics. He approached rock journalism in the same way a war correspondent covers conflicts, by braving the heat of the battle or what he calls entering “the belly of the beast”. This involved him being a kind of rock writer in residence on tour with bands like The Stones, Led Zeppelin, The Faces and Jethro Tull. Unfortunately, part of this full immersion into the rock star lifestyle meant he emulated his heroes to the point of being stoned out of his skull for most of his waking hours. He snorted heroin for the first time at the tail end of 1973 aged 22, opening the door to a “world of hurt”. The fact that he was able to produce good copy in this state is as miraculous as the fact that he has lived to tell the tale now.
Malcolm McLaren RIP
Punk has always been as much about the spirit as the music – a state of mind, an attitude that you recognise as soon as you see or hear it.
Malcom McLaren was a master manipulator of others who had this Punk spirit – notably Johnny Rotten & Vivienne Westwood – but, personally, I would argue that he was not a bona fide Punk. I see him more as an entertainer – a Svengali-like attention grabber; a Warhol-like self publicist with an ego to match .
His slippery personality means that when you start talking in terms of integrity or honesty his reputation begins to become a little tarnished. Nevertheless, you can’t ignore the fact that, but for him, there would have been no Sex Pistols. His place in history is assured.
On the day he died, Anarchy In The UK was played on the radio both going and returning from a concert in Bologna by present day carriers of the flame, A Silver Mount Zion (SMZ) from Canada. Continue reading
One flipside of the wave of optimism that swept Obama to power is the view expressed in grandiose terms byTiny Mix Tapes to the effect that we live in an age conscious of “the impending sense of annihilation that pervades this particularly nebulous point in history”.
This dystopic (‘no we can’t’?) perspective seems more in tune with the so called ‘Shitgaze’ generation, children of no revolution but who are nevertheless fired up with a Punk spirit of DIY ethics and petulant disdain for all that is shiny, bright and clean. Continue reading
Diane Cluck is one of those singer songwriters I keep coming back to and each time I discover something new.
Her songs have a wonderfully slippery quality that you can never quite get hold of and at the same time they take you to a place that feels special and real.
Perhaps her gift is down to the fact that she doesn’t force the songs but waits for the muse to come.
Continue reading
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