Showing posts with label Ani DiFranco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ani DiFranco. Show all posts

Thursday, 23 May 2013

Playback


Since the Fall/Rupture/Event, Dave Keenan has been plummeting backwards through key moments in his life. It's not an uncommon phenomenon, given all the people that were living in the past when the rift opened.

For Dave, though, it's different. For Dave always loved music and always wanted to be a musician, but he lacked the dexterity or discipline required to learn an instrument. So instead he would listen alone and air guitar and picture himself performing for all the people who never took him seriously. How naive of him to think musicians would be held in any higher esteem than the rest of society.

Since the Rupture, though, this is exactly what Dave has done. Now a virtuoso guitarist, he jerks backwards through time, playing gigs to the people in his past, accompanied by a fleet of the finest musicians. The following are transcripts of his liner notes, including personnel and set lists.

Note on text: 'played spontaneously' indicates where a member of the audience stood up and played an instrument that appeared in their hands. The majority of those involved reported the experience as being a positive one and many went on to take up an instrument for real.

 ***

Dave - Vocals (but where stated) & Guitar
Ricardo - Vocals & Guitar
Sid (½ of SidLee) - Vocals & Bass
Andy - Drums
Dee - Vocals, Keyboards, Strings, Guitar & Banjo
Lee Mai (½ of SidLee) - Wind & Brass

Where I came in. Can't say when. Sam was there. Murray & Sarah too. Can only have been days before. Making peace.

Ever have that dream where you're caught jerking off in public? I felt like that, standing there, holding something in my hand, everyone looking at me. Instead of my dick, though, it was a guitar I was holding. Nylon strings. Rico asked if I was ok. He started to pound out the rhythm again and I somehow knew what to do. From there, we did a great gig and none of it seemed odd for an instant.

Dave and Ricardo

Diablo Rojo - Rodrigo y Gabriella
How Does it Feel? - Roy Harper
Tom Tiddler's Ground - Roy Harper - Lee Mai handing out recorders to some of the kids and showing them the melody to play along.
By the Riverside - Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee (Rico - vocals/guitar, Dave - harp)

Four Piece

Song for the Dead - Queens of the Stone Age (Sid - Vocals) - These first few songs are about us establishing our authority over the audience. Then we can start bringing people in with us.
No One Knows - Queens of the Stone Age
Machine Men - Bruce Dickinson
Down Payment Blues - AC/DC
Gone Shootin' - AC/DC
Bad Boy Boogie - AC/DC (Rico - Vocals: Dave - Lead Guitar)

Full Band

Great King Rat - Queen - Lisa spontaneously played acoustic guitar in the middle. We hugged at the end and she kissed me and said she'd forgiven me.
My Fairy King - Queen (Dee - Vocals) - Rico's out in the audience. Couple of guitars with people out in the crowd, hooked to up a short delay to play the middle section. Each sequence of notes are played forwards a couple of seconds before the reverse comes into effect through the speakers. He used to the same with the Beatles, 'I'm only Sleeping', though we don't play that one so much these days.
You Don't Understand Me - Raconteurs (Dee - Piano/Vocals) - Just the band here. Gives them a break and you find at this stage that they admire just watching you play.
Top Yourself - Raconteurs (Dee - Banjo) Sid's brother's mate spontaneously bashing away on piano at the end there. Not much of a trick to it, any chord in key will do.
You Know You're A Man - Captain Beefheart (Rico - Vocals) - All kinds of brass action and other spontaneous shit going on all over these Beefheart songs. We love playing Beefheart, the possibilities in his music are endless. With just about everything else we play, the instrument is played by the same person for the duration of their part. The Captain won't be restricted to such narrow roles though, and his music flies all over the place, three notes played by this person here, next four played at the end of the room. Not even the band play every note. The rest of the evening is almost in our complete control, but we throw these songs in to mix things up for ourselves, as much as anything. It's terrifying. Also exhilarating.
Bat Chain Puller - Captain Beefheart
Grow Fins - Captain Beefheart
Big Eyed Beans From Venus - Captain Beefheart
Big in Japan - Tom Waits - Waits songs are all about the journey into self. We don't have to do anything special here, just play, sing the words and watch everyone spacing out on the trip of their lives. Occasional spontaneous players emerge from their trance to play.
Clap Hands - Tom Waits
Tango Till They're Sore - Tom Waits
God's Away on Business - Tom Waits - This one goes all Beefheart. The brass is all over the audience. Have the 'Ha!' in the middle down pat, so that I can make it ripple through the crowd, like a wave.
Talking At the Same Time - Tom Waits
Bad As Me - Tom Waits
Satisfied - Tom Waits
Brown Sugar - Rolling Stones
One More Weekend - Bob Dylan
The Man in Me - Bob Dylan - Everyone singing, La-la-la etc. Piece of piss.
Sabotage - Beastie Boys (Sid - Vocals) - Everyone shouting, Listen all of y'all there's a sabotage etc. At this point, we're very much phoning it in.
2 + 2 = 5 - Radiohead - Rock out. No other reason.
Down is the New Up - Radiohead - We do this one with a double orchestra of audience members. Dee conducts, me on piano, Rico making other electronic noises. Brought the house down tonight.
Jigsaw Falling into Place - Radiohead - More rocking out for the hell of it.
Why Don't You Write Me - Simon & Garfunkel - Member of the audience spontaneously plays one half of the intertwining sax solos with Lee Mai. One of John's mates this time, I think.
Superman's Big Sister - Ian Dury & the Blockheads- Double orchestra again. Same setup.
Cleaning Windows - Van Morrison - Lee Mai and three specially picked brass players. Girls she was at college with.

Encore

Give Us Bubblewrap - HMHB
Depressed Beyond Tablets - HMHB
When the Evening Sun Goes Down - HMHB (Lee & Dee on penny whistles with the kids)

 ***

2013

Dave - Vocals (but where stated) & Guitar
Ricardo - Vocals & Guitar
Sid (½ of SidLee) - Bass
Andy - Drums
Dee - Keyboards, Strings, Guitar & Banjo
Lee Mai (½ of SidLee) - Wind & Brass

I was in a bad place right about now. Drinking too much. Not working. So lazy, I didn't even bother the stand up to go through my one man mime act. I spent most of the time slumped down in a bean bag on the Xbox, same playlist ringing in my ears hour after hour, half singing, half growling, breaking off from Gears of War now and then to take a solo, giving two fingers to the fuckers who got me sacked. Depressing, when you think back. To be honest, if the world hadn't ended, I'd probably have ended myself.

In the rerun, things played out much better.

Four Piece

Grind - Alice in Chains
Hollow - Alice in Chains
My God is the Sun - Queens of the Stone Age
Beanman (Camera Part One) - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen - For me it's always been about the lyrics. All about singing the words I love best and communicating them to new ears. These A, P & S songs are all off their second albums, Snapshot. It's virtually unknown, which is bullshit, 'cause it's one of the best collections of sustained lyrical brilliance that I know.
Monster - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen
Blood Simple - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen - 'I've always known ya stubborn and malicious and pathetic, but I didn't realise until know exactly how stupid'. Take that bitch!

Full Band

Hollow - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen - Violins spontaneously played by Lisa's mates
Trouble - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen - 'An innocent observer, rather like poor Joesph K, I find I'm implicated from a thousand miles away'. Come on! Got the audience doing all kinds during this one. My mate Mike did all the mournful moaning, spotlit, while Dee played the glockenspiel parts on the back of a T-Rex skeleton.
Sixteen Saltines - Jack White - This turned into a bit of Jack White mini-set. Blunderbuss hadn't been out that long.
Hypocritical Kiss - Jack White
Weep Themselves to Sleep - Jack White - Loved playing the duelling solos here, me and Rico fading reappearing in other parts of the hall with each distorted back and forth.
Old Enough - The Raconteurs (Dee - Violin)
Top Yourself - The Raconteurs (Dee - Banjo)
Carolina Dream - The Raconteurs - Another la-la-la singing crowd moment. Hard to get these wrong. Remembering all the lyrics is tricky. Just got through it.
Nadine - Chuck Berry (Rico - Vocals)
All Along the Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix (Rico - Vocals) - Weird shit
Twice As Hard - Black Crowes
Thick n Thin - Black Crowes
Duquesne Whistle - Bob Dylan- Song was a year of so old at the time, but no one in the band had actually played it before. Could we get it right first time? With a little help from the audience, yes.
You Know You're A Man - Captain Beefheart (Rico - Vocals) - Time for things to go all Beefheart. Love it.
Bat Chain Puller - Captain Beefheart
When I See Mommy, I Feel Like A Mummy - Captain Beefheart
Nowadays a Women's Gotta Hit A Man Captain Beefheart (Rico - Vocals)
Too Much Time - Captain Beefheart
Big Eyed Beans From Venus - Captain Beefheart
Sympathy For the Devil - Rolling Stones
Paint it Black - Rolling Stones
In the Dark Places - PJ Harvey (Dee - Vocals) - This gave me Goosebumps, I will confess.
Weird Fishes - Radiohead - Like Waits's songs, Radiohead is all about taking people into themselves, rewiring them and sending them on their way anew. No one leaves a worse person than when they arrived, and that's our guarantee.
Bodysnatchers - Radiohead
Jigsaw Falling Into Place - Radiohead
Down is the New Up - Radiohead - Same way we always play it, but with a new twist. We take them in to themselves with Radiohead and we bring them out, to find themselves sat in a horseshoe in tuxes and ball gowns, each tuning up an instrument. Dee steps forward, lifts her baton, and we're off.
New Shoes - Crazy Gods of Endless Noise - Sudden desire to play a couple of Crazy Gods songs. Wondered what would happen. Not as much as I'd hoped, though we did get very literal for a second there, every line triggering a vision in air that dissolved and reformed as the song moved on.
Trapped Water - Crazy Gods of Endless Noise - Ditto
Just A Man - Faith No More - Entire crowd coming in as chorus at the end here. Great way to end.

Encore

Enjoy Yourself - The Specials- Specials songs jump all over the crowd like a Beefheart song, but with a lot more predictability. Good fun just to watch it running through people.
A Message to You Rudy - The Specials
Gangsters - The Specials
Ghost Town - The Specials  

 ***

2011

Dave - Vocals & Guitar
Ricardo - Vocals & Guitar
Sid (½ of SidLee) - Vocals & Bass
Andy - Drums

Ah yes. This was the week '90 Bisodol (Crimond)' came out, I discovered Half Man, Half Biscuit (HMHB), and played little else for months. Little happened here of note, except for the simple joy of singing some great lyrics ('at the end of the day, just like I say, we'll take each Armageddon as it comes'). Everyone should know of the Biscuit.

4AD3DCD - HMHB
This Leaden Pall - HMHB
Numanoid Hang-glide - HMHB
Even Men With Steel Hearts - HMHB (a rare appearance tonight by Lee Mai on trombone)
For What is Chatteris... - HMHB
Shit Arm, Bad Tattoo - HMHB
Surging Out Of Convalescence - HMHB
Upon Westminster Bridge - HMHB
Joy Division Oven-Gloves - HMHB
Depressed Beyond Tablets - HMHB
Bogus Official - HMHB
We Built This Village On A Trad. Arr. Tune. - HMHB
Give Us Bubblewrap - HMHB
Evening of Swing (Has Been Cancelled) - HMHB
Bad Losers On Yahoo! Chess - HMHB
Took Problem Chimp To Ideal Home Show - HMHB
Totnes Bickering Fair - HMHB
On The 'Roids - HMHB
Tonight Matthew I'm Going To Be With Jesus - HMHB
Them's the Vagaries - HMHB
Thy Damnation Slumbereth Not - HMHB
When the Evening Sun Goes Down - HMHB (Lee Mai playing two penny whistles at once)
Left Lyrics in the Practice Room - HMHB
Rsvp - HMHB
Tommy Walsh's Eco House - HMHB
Joy in Leeuwarden (We Are Ready) - HMHB
Rock and Roll is Full of Bad Wools - HMHB
Paintball's Coming Home - HMHB

 ***

2007

Dave - Vocals (but where stated) & Guitar
Ricardo - Vocals & Guitar
Sid - Bass Sid (½ of SidLee) - Vocals & Bass
Andy - Drums
Dee - Keyboards, Strings, Guitar & Banjo
Lee Mai (½ of SidLee) - Wind & Brass

She was still on my mind, but there was a new love in my life, Lisa. Beautiful, beautiful Lisa. It all frittered away to nothing in the end, but I did end up using her as substitute for Sam, carrying on the same arguments that were still raging in my head.

By now I've come to see this experience as a journey into redemption, a chance to make amends and no excuses for leaving loose ends. Previously I arrived back a day or a few hours before each gig. Here it was a week. Just enough time to set things right and move on. If I had to pick, of all the gigs we've done down the years, this is the one I had the most fun performing. Big sloppy grin on my face all night.

Dave and Ricardo

Diablo Rojo - Rodrigo y Gabriella

Four Piece

Wynona's Big Brown Beaver - Primus (Sid - Vocals)
Song For the Dead - Queens of the Stone Age (Sid - Vocals)
No One Knows - Queens of the Stone Age
Careful With That Mic. - Clutch (Rico - Vocals)
Red Horse Rainbow - Clutch
Cypress Grove - Clutch
Promoter - Clutch
Snakecharmer - Rage Against the Machine (Rico - Vocals) - Lisa loved Rage and Dub War and Rico spent longer on the mike than usual tonight as a favour to me. In total command, he was, though. Made every womb within a half a mile radius flutter (as usual).
Tire Me - Rage Against the Machine (Rico - Vocals)
Down Rodeo - Rage Against the Machine (Rico - Vocals)
Enemy Maker - Dub War (Rico - Vocals)
Silencer - Dub War (Rico - Vocals)
Can't Stop - Dub War (Rico - Vocals)
Spiritual Warfare - Dub War (Rico - Vocals)
Fool's Gold - Dub War (Rico - Vocals)
Voodoo Child (Slight Return) - Jimi Hendrix (Rico - Vocals, Dave - Toilet)

Full Band

This Must Be the Place [Naive Melody] - Talking Heads - After a slow start with the spontaneous events, they now take a hold with a vengeance. All kinds of electronic action going on here, keyboards flying around all over the shop.
Psycho Killer - Talking Heads
Beanman (Camera Part One) - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen - I see this song as anticipating Simon Cowell by a good decade: 'He rubs his hands together on what's rightfully theirs, and tells the stars it's he who makes them shine'.
Blood Simple - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen
Hollow - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen
Trouble - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen
Three Changes - The Good, the Bad & the Queen - From Three Changes to I Want to Be Straight, the music wouldn't stay in the same place for ten seconds. Hard to keep a hold of the reigns with all that's going on. Thank heavens for Andy! Steady as a rock.
Gangsters - The Specials
Dance Little Ruddy - Ian Dury & the Blockheads (Rico - Vocals)
Mash It Up Harry - Ian Dury & the Blockheads (Rico - Vocals)
I Want to Be Straight - Ian Dury & the Blockheads
Superman's Big Sister - Ian Dury & the Blockheads - Double orchestra. Kick ass.
2 + 2 = 5 - Radiohead - Introspection time. Mind blowing.
You and Whose Army? - Radiohead
Knives Out - Radiohead
Stop Whispering - Radiohead
Mississippi - Bob Dylan
Summer Days - Bob Dylan - Here, we play the rhythm sections and let all the little guitar licks dart about the crowd.
Bye and Bye - Bob Dylan
Ain't Talking - Bob Dylan
Grow Fins - Captain Beefheart (Rico - Vocals)  - Beefheart time. Madness and we're gone.
When I See Mommy, I Feel Like a Mummy - Captain Beefheart
Nowadays a Woman's Got to Hit a Man - Captain Beefheart (Rico - Vocals)
Too Much Time - Captain Beefheart
Big Eyed Beans From Venus - Captain Beefheart

***

2002

This one happened a few days before I found out what she'd been up to. This time, of course, I already knew. I arrived forty eight hours before the gig and had it out with her, and I wasn't even a dick about it. It was still bitter, some things you can't change, but more amicable. Less hateful. They came to the gig, and I still wasn't a dick. They even joined in on a couple of numbers. I heard both learned to play after. Formed a band. Good luck to them. I'm not bitter. Not much.

Longest set we yet played, over three hours. Good night. Good to see the look on their  faces. I took some pleasure in that. But then, I still had them to deal with. Always there's another angry couple that I have to set things right with.

Dave - Vocals (but where stated) & Guitar
Ricardo - Vocals & Guitar
Sid (½ of SidLee) - Vocals & Bass
Andy - Drums
Dee - Keyboards, Strings, Guitar & Banjo
Lee Mai (½ of SidLee) - Wind & Brass

Dave only

Black Eyed Dog - Nick Drake
Working Class Hero - John Lennon

Dave & Ricardo

Going to California - Led Zeppelin
That's the Way - Led Zeppelin

Four Piece

Travelling Riverside Blues - Led Zeppelin (Rico - Vocals)
All Your Love - John Mayall & His Bluesbreakers (Rico - Vocals, Dave - Lead Guitar)
Safe As Milk - Captain Beefheart - Here comes the Captain Beefheart , Crazy Bonanza ][
You Know You're A Man - Captain Beefheart (Rico - Vocals)
Down Payment Blues - AC/DC - Full on rock out
Gone Shootin' - AC/DC
Riff Raff - AC/DC (Rico - Vocals, Dave - Lead Guitar)

Full Band

Fearless - Pink Floyd - Just for the mischievous pleasure of making the entire crowd, even the Mancs, sing 'You'll Never Walk Alone'.
San Tropez - Pink Floyd
Great King Rat - Queen - Got him playing the acoustic part. Got a nod of approval from her.
Stone Cold Crazy - Queen
New Feeling - Talking Heads
Harry Rag - The Kinks
Big Black Smoke - The Kinks
Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks - Entire front row taking the accordion part. Quite a sound.
Autumn Almanac - The Kinks
Big Sky - The Kinks - Roof opened to the heavens, hall bathed in blue, clouds drifting in, until we feel like we're performing on top of the world.
All of My Friends Were There - The Kinks
Five Years - David Bowie - For all of these Bowie songs, we got other people playing the acoustic part, while I ran about like a dick, singing with my arm draped over each new guitarist, clothes and make-up cycling through Bowie personas. The guitarist here is Len, a guy I used to share a pedestal with at work.
Queen Bitch - David Bowie - Guitarist, Sam.
Rock n' Roll Suicide - David Bowie - Guitarist, my brother, Tony.
Fixing a Hole - The Beatles - Ghost of Mozart on the harpsichord
Being For the Benefit of Mr Kite - The Beatles - Like what we do with 'Down is the New Up', only 60s, la. Psychedelic baby. Groovy.
I'm Looking Through You - The Beatles - I took a little pleasure directing this one straight at them, knowing their turn would be next. I know where this is all going now.
Strawberry Fields Forever - The Beatles - Imagine how crazy the next two songs could possibly get, multiply it by a hundred and you still won't get close to what happened here.
I Am the Walrus - The Beatles - Beyond words.
Paint it, Black - The Rolling Stones - Ditto
Gimme Shelter - The Rolling Stones - Mind blowing        
Brown Sugar - The Rolling Stones - Ditto
Captain Beefheart - The Floppy Boot Stomp - **??*?
Street Fighting Man - The Rolling Stones (RATM version)
Into the Mystic - Van Morrison - Lee Mai has got incredibly inventive with her brass arrangements by now and these Van Morrison songs get complicated, one section of the audience playing off against another, point and counter-point.
Cleaning Windows - Van Morrison
Subterranean Homesick Blues - Bob Dylan - We get so many people involved on this one, so many people playing bits of percussive kit, that it ends up sounding more Tom Waits than Dylan.
Outlaw Blues - Bob Dylan - Introspection time. Everyone experiences this differently.
Tombstone Blues - Bob Dylan
Just Like Tom Thumb Blues - Bob Dylan
Visions of Johanna - Bob Dylan
Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat - Bob Dylan
Most Likely You'll Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine - Bob Dylan
Obviously 5 Believers - Bob Dylan
I'm So Bored With the USA - The Clash (Rico - Vocals)
The Ain't Half Been Some Clever Bastards - Ian Dury and the Blockheads

Encore

Kick Out the Jams - MC5 (Rico - Vocals) - We hadn't planned on a encore, but everyone was so deep in trance this night, that we had to play MC5 to wake them all that. If that hadn't worked, it'd have been Slayer next.

 ***

1996

The Year of Her. I was there a couple of days before & glad to get out almost as soon as the gig finished. That was the night things came to a head. It had been coming a long time. I guess it was mostly my fault. My jealousy and maybe if I'd ended up with her instead of Murray, it would of been him and Colin walking and me and Sid forming a new band with her. As it was, me and Sid walked, bruises inflicted on both sides.

Half of which must be wrong. I mean, I wasn't in a band, was I? It was all in my head. Gets so hard to remember what used to be fantasy and what was real. All the same thing by now, I guess.

Nothing strange happened. Not that rerun. I made my peace with all three of them and we played a killer set and I moved on.

Dave Keenan - Vocals & Guitars
Murray Anderson - Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards
Sarah Dodd - Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards
Sid Taylor - Bass
Colin Anderson - Drums

Misery - Soul Asylum
Shut Down - Soul Asylum
Promise Broken - Soul Asylum
String of Pearls - Soul Asylum
Nothing to Write Home About - Soul Asylum
Runaway Train - Soul Asylum
New World - Soul Asylum
April Fool - Soul Asylum
Without A Trace - Soul Asylum
Richard III - Supergrass
Sorted For Es & Whizz - Pulp
Zero - Smashing Pumpkins
Bullet With Butterfly Wings - Smashing Pumpkins
Galopogos - Smashing Pumpkins
X.Y.Z. - Smashing Pumpkins
Sting Me - The Black Crowes
Remedy - The Black Crowes
Jailbird - Primal Scream
Rocks - Primal Scream
Would - Alice in Chains
The Bends - Radiohead
High & Dry - Radiohead
Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead
Bones - Radiohead
Just - Radiohead
Sulk - Radiohead
Street Spirit (Fade Out) - Radiohead
Hold Me Now - Elastica (Sarah - Vocals)
Waking Up - Elastica (Sarah - Vocals)
Connection - Elastica (Sarah - Vocals)
Give the Anarchist a Cigarette - Chumbawamba (Sarah - Vocals)
Timebomb - Chumbawamba (Sarah - Vocals)
Mouthful of Shit - Chumbawamba
Bad Dog - Chumbawamba (Sarah - Vocals)
Enough is Enough - Chumbawamba
Stitch That - Chumbawamba (Murray - Vocals)
Alice What's the Matter? - Terrorvision
Oblivion - Terrorvision
Pretend Best Friend - Terrorvision

Encore

Take Our Sorrows Swimming - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen
Open Season - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen
Come Around the World With Me - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen
P.V.S. - Apes, Pigs & Spacemen

 ***

1991

The Cultural Fascists' first gig. We were all 17. Just the lads. One tight four piece, the way we liked it. No one else chipping in either. Arrived back a few days before the gig, in time for last rehearsals in Murray and Colin's dad's garage. Good times.

Again, nothing weird happened. We just played.

Gig was at our old Bell-end School. We were not what they were expecting. But we made them listen anyway. Mwohaha etc.

Dave Keenan - Vocals & Guitars
Murray Anderson - Vocals, Guitars & Keyboards
Sid Taylor - Bass
Colin Anderson - Drums

Prowler - Iron Maiden
Waking the Dead - Suicidal Tendencies
Sabbath Bloody Sabbath - Black Sabbath
Epic - Faith No More (Murray - keyboards)
No-One Came - Deep Purple (Murray - keyboards)
Stone Cold Crazy - Queen
For Whom the Bell Tolls - Metallica
Fade to Black - Metallica
One - Metallica
Sad But True - Metallica
South of Heaven - Slayer
Reign in Blood - Slayer
Souls of Black - Testament
In My Darkest Hour - Megadeth
Dawn Patrol - Megadeth
Got the Time - Anthrax
Anti-Social - Anthrax
Broken Doll - Wolfsbane
Twice As Mean - Wolfsbane
Crucify - The Almighty
Overkill - Motorhead
All Along the Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix
Crosstown Traffic - Jimi Hendrix
Paint It Black - The Rolling Stones
Mr Brownstone - Guns n Roses
Back in the Village - Iron Maiden
Still Life - Iron Maiden
The Phantom of the Opera - Iron Maiden
The Call of Ktulu - Metallica
Am I Evil? - Diamond Head

 ***

1984

Oh, right, this. If I tell you I was ten. It was our class's turn to put on a turn for assembly. Halloween was nearly upon us. Michael Jackson ruled the Earth. Thriller. Oh the horror.

I still sometimes have nightmare about that performance. Not because of the make-up (though I remember some of the kids had nightmares in the weeks after, the gimps). No, just the sheer, tacky, poorly co-ordinated horror of it. If anything, going through it a second time was worse than the first time, but at least I didn't really know what I was doing, which if anything, improved matters.

On the plus side, it was good to just be lads with Colin and Murray and Sid for a couple more days. Simpler times. Enough to make you remember all the mistakes you make. The mistakes you rectify.

The day of assembly and the whole school joined in, even the teachers. Even the parents. Think of that prison that did it in Indonesia, years from here, and then think bigger. Think, actually everyone becoming undead for nearly six minutes. Feeling what it's like to actually be a zombie. Not pleasant.

Then we heard the sound of Vincent Price's manic laughter echoing across the playgrounds and fields and, for me at least, the whole scene faded to black, and the next thing I knew, I was grown up again.

***


Dave Keenan - Vocals, Guitars & Keyboards
Murray Anderson - Vocals, Guitars & Keyboards
Sarah Dodd-Anderson - Vocals, Guitars & Keyboards
Sid Taylor (½ of SidLee) - Bass & Vocals
Colin Anderson - Drums
Lee Mai (½ of SidLee) - Wind, Brass & Vocals

Murray and Dave - The Musical Slammer

Okay, so this mini set stemmed from when I met up with Dee and Rico. We got to talking about whether you could recreate the olfactory experience through music. Like, songs that represented different ingredients in a meal or on a plate. That led, inevitably, to the same conversation, only with alcohol instead of food, and we finally settled on the motif of the Tequila slammer. Three songs, performed or played in quick succession, each representing one ingredient. This is what me and Murray came up with:

Salt: Tonight Matthew I'm Going To Be With Jesus - HMHB
Shot of Tequila: Blue Valentines - Tom Waits
Slice of Latin Lime: Diablo Rojo - Rodrigo y Gabriella

Full Band

Really tight on these new songs now. Played them often enough.

Talking Post Apocalyptic, Time Travelling Blues (Keenan)
Hypatia (Dodd-Anderson: Sarah, Vocals)
Sabbath Bloody Sabbath - Black Sabbath
Epic - Faith No More (Sarah - Keyboards)
Operation Moorcroft (C Anderson/M Anderson/Dodd-Anderson/Keenan)
Centre: Level: Roar - Youngblood Brass Band - This is Lee Mai's baby, but we all join in, playing what instruments we please (Andy tonight guesting on drums), farming out the rest of the parts to members of the audience.
Neophyte (Sid/Lee: Sid -Vocals)
Interject (M Anderson/Dodd-Anderson)
Evolve - Ani DiFranco (Sarah solo)
My Fairy King - Queen (Sarah - Vocals) - An old favourite, done exactly the same way as always.
Promises Broken - Soul Asylum - Crowd broken down into sections for this one, me, Murray, Sarah & Sid each leading a section. Results are amazing.
Whither Be My Wonder? (C Anderson/M Anderson)
[think up title] (M Anderson/Keenan)
NO MAYO (Dodd-Anderson/Keenan)

28 minute, freeform jazz improv, utilising half the audience, playing everything from sax to vibraphone.

Bat Chain Puller - Captain Beefheart - Usual Beefheart craziness
Big Eyed Beans From Venus - Captain Beefheart
Time - Tom Waits - It's why we're all here.
The Changing of the Guard - Bob Dylan - A three song finale, packed with more brass than a meeting of three star generals.
Where are You Tonight? - Bob Dylan
N.F.Y. (Normal For You) (C Anderson/M Anderson/Dodd-Anderson/Keenan)

Spent. Couldn't play an encore if I tried.

Peace, I'm outta here.

***

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Saturday, 17 November 2012

The Sombrer Opacities of the Gloom: PJ Harvey & Let England Shake

I 

In  common with Nick Cave, I have little time for popularity contests. That said, the contest for Album of the Year 2011 was effectively over by mid-February with the release of PJ Harvey’s masterpiece, ‘Let England Shake’. Universally acknowledged as an instant classic the album’s almost spectral soundscape serves as perfect backdrop to Harvey’s evocative lyrics; lyrics that deal with the singer’s often tempestuous relationship with her country, especially at times of war.

While much attention was drawn to the aspects of ‘Let England Shake’ that deal with war, less was to be said about its lament to a nation’s decline. Perhaps the reviewers all felt too embarrassed, as the English generally are when it comes to discussing patriotism. Yet while PJ Harvey saves her most graphic images in capturing the consequences of conflict, the one word that reverberates throughout ‘Let England Shake’ sits at the core of its very title. England is the heart and soul here; the bringer of shame (you leave a taste, a bitter one) and yet even in its greyness and its grime it is the daydream of soldiers sat stagnating in battles past and present.

Oh America. Oh England.

'Let England Shake' is not a jingoistic album. A difficult balance is maintained between passionate cry and dispassionate appraisal; between the love of the land, the acceptance of its shortcomings and the disapproval at its darker episodes. England, that name resounds through the three opening tracks. Songs that are sung in eulogy of better days, that conjure Blakean visions of the Thames ‘glistening like gold’ in the memories of battle scarred minds, that chide the US and UK in disappointing tones for the orphans that their wars have left untendered (What is the glorious fruit of our land? Its fruit is deformed children. What is the glorious fruit of our land? Its fruit is orphaned children). 


Personally, I have a troubled relationship with the country of my birth. Technically I am Scottish, my submariner father having been stationed at Faslane when I arrived, mewling, into this world. For years after coming south, I clung to a pseudo-Scots identity, especially after moving to East Lancashire, where anyone born further away than Rishton was treated with idle suspicion (see Modern Epilogue). With my professed Celtic origins and my accent cobbled together from half a dozen places we had lived in over the years, I felt a perverse pleasure at being so alien in a place already so suspicious of outsiders. There I heard casually spoken the kind of racist vitriol that should have filled any rational being with revulsion, aimed against people one barely saw really. That crystallised in me a certain hatred for the English, with their petty mindedness and their hypocrisy and their cries for fair play, unless it involved diddling some third world country out of its natural resources. And I knew that it wasn’t so much that I wanted to be Scottish as that I didn’t want to be English.


And here’s the nub of the matter. Generally people aren’t looking for somewhere merely to belong, they’re looking for something to rally against: To be in dynamic opposition against. That’s really why people go to the football or form breakaway religious sects, so they can condemn and abuse those who hold marginally different views to them. I was no different. I had no Scottish friends, I was a member of no societies, I observed no traditions or holidays, yet the fact that I was born in Scotland meant I wasn’t English and I could wind up my English mates every time they got unceremoniously dumped out of the latest footballing tournament. I felt an affinity with the Asians in the town, paying special attention to be polite, courteous and grateful in shops, in a futile attempt to show that not everyone around here was gormless and ignorant. As usual I sided with what I perceived as the underdog, a curiously British, if not English, trait.

I should’ve figured it out much sooner than I did, but eventually I came to a solution. The people that I was angry with weren’t English. They were working class men from a depressed, post-industrial northern town that had had a new ethnic group introduced into its population right as the town’s fortunes took a nose dive. Many mistakenly saw in that cause and effect rather than symptoms of the same malaise. Ironically, it was the increase in living standards that the mills brought to the towns of the north west that ultimately led to mass immigration. Better schools meant better education, which meant better prospects for the general population and the mills were suddenly deprived of the factory fodder on which they had always relied, leading their owners to import cheap labour from the hot house of the sub-continent, already acclimatised for the hot house of the mills. So when I look back on those countless idiots spouting off about the trouble with the Asians, I can take a perverse pleasure in knowing that the Asians probably wouldn’t be there at all if these bozos’ parents hadn’t had the nerve to want their children to be able to read.

The person who did more than anyone to force me to confront and rethink my own prejudices was John. John was born and bred in this part of the world and yet unlike most everyone else I knew he didn’t just look out of his window, identify the first person that looked different to him and heap all of his misfortunes on their shoulders. John wanted to be different. So did I and that made us fast friends. That and a weird sense of humour.

Often we would sit up ‘til the early hours, amusing ourselves writing spoof newspaper articles or offering continuous commentary on the shit on late night TV or just talking into the early hours on matters weighty and irrelevant. Time and again in these debates the same two topics reared their confrontational heads: pride and nation. Their appearance was always guaranteed to raise the stakes. John delighted in challenging my notions of pride, which I saw as an entirely negative emotion. I kidded myself that I preferred to be humble in my achievements, but really it was that I preferred simple understatement for greatest effect.

Discussions of nation were always subdivided into two sub-categories; a) John’s pride in his nation and b) Rob’s sniffy attitude towards John’s pride in his nation:

J: I’m proud to be British.

R: Why?

J: Why? Because of warm beer and red post boxes and cricket on the green, that’s why.

R is confused by this. Post boxes are yellow in France, blue in the United States. So what? And as he was to discover years later, post boxes in Britain were originally painted green, but people kept walking into them.

I argued that if he took pride in anything as random as the colour of a post box, he should also feel shame for slavery and assorted other colonial crimes. John declined this invitation, stating that slavery had nowt to do with him. I countered that the Royal Mail’s colour scheme had little to do with him either, but he still seemed to want partial credit. He’d put up a spirited defence and we’d argue over the main points again, like running a biro over a well-worn shape on a pad.

Still, there was little that was said there that failed to make its mark, no matter how stubbornly it was rejected at the time, and over the years those same arguments sat fermenting at the back of my brain. I expanded my scope beyond mere borders. It was useless to talk of England and Scotland in this context. What were England and Scotland anyway? Northumbria used to be part of Scotland and most of the north west was at one time part of Wales. In order to be scientific, I had to consider a geographical region, not an arbitrary, amorphous tax zone. That could only mean Great Britain at large.
While I could wriggle out of being English, I couldn’t escape being British. It’s amazing how one’s attitude changes when one is forced to integrate with that group (humour). Actually, I have to admit that I am typically British in many ways. There’s the love of the plucky underdog, the obsession with the weather, the twenty a day tea habit. People here are also very tolerant, chiming well with my chosen philosophy, which states that what people do behind closed doors is their own concern (excluding the abuse of others). When comedian Richard Herring grew a toothbrush mustache in order to gauge modern day public reaction to something synonymous with Hitler, he was left pretty much unaccosted throughout the country. During the Second World War that same toleration and love of the underdog led English publicans to refuse US Army requests to segregate their premises. Segregation didn’t square with British notions of fair play.

Which isn’t to say Britain always plays fair. The concentration camp was a British idea; the first ever aerial bombardment of a civilian target was committed when Britain bombed Iraq. And of course Britain was heavily involved in the slave trade: the fortunes of its North American colonies were predicated on slavery, as were those in the Caribbean.

However, it’s all too easy to get caught up in post-colonial guilt and start to believe legends based on half-truth. While it is true that British troops gave small pox blankets to Native American tribes people, this was done as a gesture of good faith rather than genocide. The small pox hospital in question was empty at the time and the British had no need of the blankets. Meanwhile, it turns out a virus like small pox spreads by person to person contact not through soiled linen. The Native Americans got sick because they were exposed to diseases carried by Europeans from the Old World, which is why in the end they tried to keep themselves to themselves (until we went looking for them).

No matter how you divide or sub-divide a community, you will always find good and bad at the margins, with the rest regressing to a societal norm. Those wishing to lionise or demonise that community look only to its margins, and to only one side at that, forming a brand new nation in their minds as they do so (it’s the very confirmation of the theory of confirmation bias). Yet before you can know where you're going, or what you should be doing, you have to know where you are and how you got there. More importantly, you have to accept where you are: be grounded in the reality of where you are. And this brings me back to PJ Harvey.


While the disembodied voices of long dead soldiers echo through its halls, ‘Let England Shake’ is an album for the here and now. Harvey knows where England is and how it has arrived at this point. And she knows its future looks bleak. I fear our blood won’t rise again. Is it her fear or folksy acceptance of the inevitable? It’s a damp, grey place, full of fog and graveyards and dead sea captains and fetid alleys that host acts of drunken violence. And yet this is home.

What's striking about ‘Let England Shake’ is how brutally honest it is in its patriotism. It shows England at its most depressed and holds it up as a thing of beauty. It’s a tough love to be sure, the way only a parent can love a child, but it's the kind of national attitude I can tip my hat to, in my tolerant British way. I don’t have to agree with the sentiment to admire its honesty.


As with Polly Jean, so with John. John doesn’t wear his national pride on his sleeve, he keeps it locked in his chest. You won’t see him hanging a flag of St George on his car or out his window, but he’s still proud of where he comes from. And how far he’s come. And despite my still tricky relationship with pride, I’m proud of him too.

Isn’t it great that we’re all better people?

As for me, I no longer suffer the same violent reactions towards expressions of national pride. I still feel a little uncomfortable when the bunting is hung out for international tournaments, but I’ve long since come to realise that it has nowt to do with patriotism. The individual, that’s who I always most wanted to be, the kid doing his own thing.  Of course large groups of people united through a common focus make me uncomfortable, it goes against everything in which I idiotically believe. Still, it’s a small price to pay, because while it may be a way short of the best, Britain is a better place to live than most. It is still one of the very few places in the world where one can be an individual without harassment from religious or political authority. And in that respect at least, I attribute my British passport to good fortune.

Ultimately it comes down to familiarity. It’s familiar here. It would be the same wherever I was born. Yet before you can know where you are going, you have to know where you are; be grounded in the reality of where you are. Yes, I was born in Britain. I attach no pride or shame to that event. It was a long time ago and I don't really remember that much about it. It's fine. Moving on...

 

II

Even seen from the distance of two centuries, Goya series of prints 'The Disasters of War' still have the capacity to shock. They depict the numerous atrocities that both sides committed during Napoleon's invasion of Spain. It's hard to know how much of what Goya drew he actually witnessed, but he reproduces each scene with visceral immediacy. Executed men tied to posts, pathways littered with corpses, body parts hanging from trees; it makes one thankful we live in such a sedate corner of the world these days. 
Europe was entrenched in yet another war at the beginning of the nineteenth century. It was a time when politics fired artistic passions. French artist David had helped unleash the guillotine upon the aristocracy during the 'Terror' and now fawned over Napoleon. Beethoven had idolised Napoleon, but turned against him upon hearing he'd declared himself Emperor. Tchaikovsky celebrated the beginning of his downfall with the appropriately triumphant '1812 Overture' and Tolstoy wrote at length about the affair long after it was all over.

Although not displayed until long after Goya's death, 'The Disasters of War' were one of the first attempts at a kind of documentary photography. Long before the invention of the camera, Goya was sketching in sharp focus. There is much of 'The Disasters of War' in the photography of Robert Capa and Don McCullin. The images were also influential in the mind of one  PJ Harvey.

'arms and legs were in the trees'
Goya's greatest composition came out of that same outrage at Napoleon's incursions into his homeland. 'The Third of May, 1808' is perhaps the most powerful comment on war ever committed to canvas. Everything that war is about is encapsulated in that one image. The bloodied pile of corpses, the anonymity of the executioners, the fear in the faces of the onlookers, the sacrificial, Christ-like, pose of the condemned man. It is an image that truly speaks a thousand words.

 
For as long as men have gone to war, they have sought to recreate the experience through a variety of artistic forms. Writing, painting, music, photography and film have all been employed to varying effects to capture something of the sights, sounds and smells, the sensory overload and outright dislocation of battle, rendered knowable for the benefit of those thankful to be spared its horror. The twentieth century saw slaughter conducted on an industrial scale from its beginning to its end. Wilfred Owen equated the men conducting the First World War with Abraham going against God's commandment and slaughtering his son, 'and half the seed of Europe, one by one', in a return to the practice of human sacrifice. He died a week before the Armistice was signed.

What passing-bells for those who die like cattle?

Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.

Poetry was still in vogue back then, as it had been since the rise of Napoleon, and for many in Britain what was happening over the channel was first communicated to them through the poetry of Owen, as well as Siegfried Sassoon, Robert Graves and Rupert Broke. Today they are as part of the national conscious as Shakespeare or Blake. Poetry's influence would decline over the years as new forms of entertainment were invented, but the war poets impact is so great that they are almost mandatory on any English Literature course in Britain. Tune in to any radio or TV station around 11th November to hear them recited as part of Remembrance Sunday commemorations. Like Homer's Iliad, they capture the boredom and the inertia that sets in between the violence.

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England.

While the English related their experiences through verse, other nations turned to prose. American Ernest Hemingway used his time as an ambulance driver on the Italian Front as the basis for his 1929 novel, 'A Farewell to Arms'. Hemingway was badly injured by a mortar shell and the book focuses on his alter ego, Henry, and his relationship with the nurse who tends him back to health. It's a romantic novel, told in that tough, plain way that Hemingway is famous for, but he doesn't shy away from the grim realities of war.

German, Erich Maria Remarque gives us a perspective from the other side of the trenches. 'All Quiet on the Western Front' humanises the 'enemy', shows him as being subject to same propaganda, witness to the same horrors, paralysed by the same terrors. The Nazis burned it on their pyres of banned books.



For most horrific war novel however there is only one contender and that is the panic inducing, 'Johnny Got His Gun' by Dalton Trumbo. 'Johnny Got His Gun' relays the inner monologue of an injured American G.I. as he slowly comes to realise the full extent of his injuries. Both his arms have been blown off by an explosion, as have his legs, all his senses likewise destroyed, only one small patch of skin on his forehead has any sensation remaining. He is in solitary confinement in his own body. We hear his claustrophobia, his panic, his desperate wish to die. The technique is simple and yet the effect is devastating.


'Johnny Got His Gun' may be the greatest anti-war novel ever written. Indeed it is so powerful that it was banned during World War Two. A film version was made in 1971 and in 1987, fifty years after it was written, heavy metallers Metallica recorded, 'One', based on the novel. But then when it comes to approximating war, there really is only heavy metal can do it justice (see Slayer's 'War Ensemble', habitually used by US troops in pumping themselves up for battle).


With 'Let England Shake' there is no attempt at approximating the feel of war, merely an attempt to present a soundtrack against which to project its voices. PJ Harvey's lyrics call to mind many conflicts, but time and again they return to World War One. She knows the old adage that those who refuse to learn the mistakes of the past are doomed forever to repeat them and deliberately comes back to a conflict that is now a century in the nation's past. History repeats itself. There was death then, there is death now. A hundred years ago young men were massacred by their millions on the fields of Belgium and France. Today those figures are dramatically reduced. Yet whereas the vast majority of war casualties used to be soldiers, today they are mostly civilians. Not that we even call them wars anymore. Wars have battlefields.

Often neglected in history lessons is the Spanish Civil War that broke out in 1936. And yet as in Napoleonic Europe and the trenches of the First World War, it set artistic passions ablaze. It was a place to which to rush and defend from the fascist forces of the Nationalists. George Orwell joined the POUM Militia, a leftist Spanish political party. He wrote 'Homage to Catalonia' about his experiences, including being shot in throat and witnessing the street fighting that broke out in Barcelona and pitted factions in the left against one another.
 
Orwell in Barcelona, 1936, near the back, a clear head taller than anyone else
 
Hemingway made propaganda films for the Republicans and in 1940 published the novel, 'For Whom the Bell Tolls', the tale of an American soldier who joins a group of Spanish guerillas to dynamite a bridge used by Franco's fascists. It's another tough tale from our Ernest and his most accomplished. The English poet Laurie Lee meanwhile had been tramping around the Spanish countryside at the outbreak of war and at the end of 'As I Walked Out One Midsummer's Evening' his hosts are endeavoring to find him passage out of the war zone. In 'A Moment of War', Lee depicts his journey back into Spain to try and join the fight. He is imprisoned as a Nationalist spy, then released to join the International Brigade. After anticipating battle for so long, he finally kills an enemy soldier in a skirmish and decides war is not for him.

The Spanish Civil War is a fascinating moment in history because it was the first concerted effort against the rising menace of fascism upon the continent. Hitler was an opportunist, he gained territory by chancing his arm and getting away with it. The elites of Europe were still trying appease him and hoped he'd go away. Read the literature of the day and it seems it was already to clear to many by 1936 that war between Germany and Great Britain was inevitable. Spain was a first chance to take the fight to the fascists.

The Falling Soldier - Robert Capa
And in the spirit of Goya, the defining image of the Spanish Civil War, one of the defining images of art in the twentieth century, is Picasso's 'Guernica'. Picasso painted 'Guernica' in response to the bombing of the Basque village of the same name by German and Italian planes. You don't really appreciate the impact of' Guernica' until you have seen it up close and personal. The canvas is enormous, the twisted, tortured faces filling the vision. It's no wonder the copy in the UN was covered up when Colin Powell came to plead his case for war with Iraq.

Guernica
Yet the warnings were not heeded and we all know the result. The slaughter of the Second World War was once again on an industrial scale. The consequences and the aftereffects reverberated through the Suez Crisis and Korea, into the Vietnam War. More tons of TNT was dropped upon the counties of Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos than were dropped by all sides during World War Two, including both atomic bombs. The century ended as it began, with slaughter, and all that appeared to have changed was that we had outsourced the casualty figures to the 'enemy' of the day.

The twenty first century began with a bang, quite literally, and the shock wave from the attacks on 11th September 2001 have been circling the globe ever since. They should have caused us to pause and take a good long look at ourselves. Instead the same rhetoric was trotted out to push the same imperialistic ambitions that would have existed whether there was Osama Bin Laden and the Taliban or not. The war in Afghanistan has now gone on nearly twice as long as the Second World War, three times as long as the First World War, and few people understand what it's all about. Even if the reasons given for the invasion were accurate, they surely ceased to be relevant long ago.

PJ Harvey asks these questions. Her lyrics serve to show how no one involved in war benefits from its destruction. Family life is decimated, the fertile ground is ripped open, soldiers are haunted by the things they are ordered to do. Harvey uses the past to examine the future and ask why things seem to have changed so little in a hundred years.

Walker's in the wire, limbs point upwards, there are no birds singing 'The White Cliffs of Dover'.

Yet there is a glimmer of hope here. Noam Chomsky reminds us that things do tend to get better, despite concerted efforts to slow the pace of progress by those in power. We can, he notes, talk about differences of opinion within today's equal rights movement, yet try even talking about equal rights a century ago. The concept would have been baffling.  Civilisation slowly evolves.



The two most thoughtfully polemic works written in response to the 9/11 attacks were both written by women: Suheir Hammad's 'First Writing Since' and Ani DiFranco's 'Self Evident'. Both were composed by Americans directing their anger back at their own nation and calling it to account. They actually asked how this could have happened and offered suggestions that didn't resort to simplistic accusations of jealously. They express the anger left by the attacks, but they ask for solutions that don't revolve around the same old cycles of death and retribution.


With PJ Harvey's 'Let England Shake' we have perhaps the most effective and succinct commentary on the wars of recent years. Until even recently women's only role in war was as grieving mothers or victims of invading armies. Finally they have achieved a voice. And there really is no way to say that without sounding patronising, because it should have of course been that way a long time ago. Yet this where we find ourselves.


The global arms industry is worth tens of trillions dollars each year and the international community at best ignore and at worst ferment local conflicts and fuel the trade in weapons (Chomsky and others argue that it was the outbreak of the Second World War that ended the Great Depression in America and the US economy has been reliant on its arms industry ever since). Austerity is everywhere and people still die like cattle and it can seem like we're sliding back to the days of the workhouse and trench warfare. Yet things still improve. Ultimately the will of the majority wins through, even if it does take a century of trying. History does not repeat itself, but moves in waves. It goes up and down, with some repetition, but is always moving forward, playing variations around the melody as it goes. History is the world's longest standing jazz solo.

It's refreshing to see an album written about such a controversial subject was lauded by the press upon release and found instant success. Only the Daily Mail seemed to misunderstand, saying 'Let England Shake' drew no conclusions about the Iraq War. That's the Mail for you. For the rest of us, it's good to be reminded how things still tend towards the better. And at the risk of repeating myself, before you can know where you're going, it's good to remind yourself of where you are. If you believe you're trapped in a vicious cycle, you will repeat the same mistakes forever. To know history is moving forward is begin to put the mistakes of the past behind you.

'Let England Shake' takes its place in the pantheon of crucial commentaries upon war. From Thucydides to Julius Caesar, Delacroix to Dali, The Clash singing of 'Spanish bombs in Andalucía' and Lemmy's uncharacteristically tender vocals on Motorhead's '1916', right up to PJ Harvey, each new addition to the genre freezes war as a moment in time for our appraisal and careful consideration. In these days of virtual online battlefields and drone bombers operated from halfway around the world, the western mind has become almost entirely removed from the consequences of war. Many are still affected by them, soldiers and civilians alike. The conflict in Afghanistan rumbles on into its thirteenth years with no end in sight. It may be the war-without-end predicted by George Orwell in Nineteen-Eighty Four. PJ Harvey is an antidote to the apathy felt towards wars being waged that barely affect European life. She reminds us of why we should feel aggrieved. Perhaps if we paid greater heed to our great war chroniclers, they might instruct us to a clearer path towards peace.


Gassed - John Singer Sareant


III

In common with with Nick Cave, I have little time for popularity contests. That said, it was good to see 'Let England Shake' win the Mercury Music Prize. It was the most predicable, least contested outcome in the brief history of the contest. PJ Harvey became the first artist to win the award for a second time. She got to enjoy this one. 'Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea' was announced winner in somber tone on 11th September 2001. Harvey was in Washington DC on the morning of the attacks. That experience began a decade long quest to understand the consequences of the event and to make a definitive statement about it. That the Mercury result never seemed in doubt is a testament to how well she succeeded in her efforts.

  
I remember seeing PJ Harvey at Manchester's Bridgewater Hall around the time her previous album, 'White Chalk', came out. Standing alone on a stage usually occupied by the Halle Philharmonic Orchestra, she filled the hall with sound with nothing more than electric guitar and vocals. It was a little disconcerting at first to realise she was going to be performing alone, but spellbinding to hear songs like 'Rid of Me' and 'Big Exit' stripped of any backing, making Harvey work all the harder to match their intensity.

She was chatty, nervous, confessing it terrified her playing solo. Switching to piano, she kept time with a metronome, apologising that she was still learning. It only added to the evening's charm. The new album was more melodic, more melancholic than the driving guitar riffs of her previous two offerings. Regret had replaced attitude. It was as she has always done, switching styles, trying something new. Yet the elements that would characterise the sound and the style of 'Let England Shake' were coming together that evening: the prepared piano, the autoharp, the long flowing dress of an Edwardian steam punk. The feather headdress was all she lacked at that point.


The concert ended with a standing ovation and we went away feeling that Polly Jean was well on her way to becoming a national treasure. Her idiosyncrasies developed over the years. Like wearing feather headdresses. Well if you going to be regarded a national treasure here, you have to develop a few eccentricities first. Ordinariness in our cultural icons just won't do. 

Following years of intensive research into the history of British conflict, Harvey emerged in her mercurial new guise as messenger and medium to the ghosts of war. Despite their shifting styles, her previous albums had been strictly personal affairs, raw and introspective. With 'Let England Shake', she almost removes her voice from the action altogether, serving only as a conduit to the lyrics. With that comes a greater aloofness, you can see it in her live performances, standing separate from the band, remote and distant. It's all part of the drama. 'Let England Shake' is as much a piece of theatre as it is a piece of music. All so different from that nervous, carefree night in Manchester not so many years ago.




My favourite fact about PJ Harvey is that she used to send advance copies of her albums to Captain Beefheart. My least favourite fact is that Captain Beefheart didn't like 'Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea'. Which is a pity, 'cause I have a fondness for that one. It reconnected me with PJ Harvey. The album almost entirely passed me by for a couple of years. Indeed, Harvey was owed the award for Least Contested Mercury Music Award having previously received the award for Least Noticed Mercury Music Award. Even Harvey seems to have virtually disowned the album these days. It's easily the most commercial thing she's released, but a solid rock album with some great tunes. And even some of Beefheart's best albums were commercial. Commercial for Beefheart that is (see 'Clear Spot'). I wonder what he would have made of 'Let England Shake'.

The sides of 'Let England Shake' that are shaded by war are perhaps universal to all, but there are other sides that can only really be appreciated when you've lived here awhile. Like reading Orwell's 'The Road to Wigan Pier', it doesn't leave you feeling patriotic or ashamed, just presents you with a picture of Britain that you can recognise and understand.

Like 'Johnny Got His Gun' or 'The Third of May 1808', 'Let England Shake' will remain timeless in its relevance and appeal. It's an album that speaks of the times it was written in, but has a atmosphere that is itself timeless. There isn't another album that sounds anything like it. I can't wait to see what Harvey tries her hand at next. With Beefheart for a mentor, anything is possible. An opera on the life of Emma Goldman perhaps? Whatever it is, I only hope she doesn't need to spend four years researching the next one.