Jam

"We must live each day like it's the last..."

On July 30th - the date of our next Pop 'Til You Drop party - it will be exactly nineteen years since I saw Michael Jackson perform at Wembley Stadium as part of his 'Dangerous' tour.

The memories are indelible. It was an incredibly hot day. My friend fainted and I was sick before MJ even came on, due in no small part, I'm sure, to the double-whammy assault of support acts Kriss Kross and Rozalla.

Michael's characteristically muted entrance involved him being catapulted upwards out of a trapdoor centre-stage, following a blast of 'Carmina Burana'. He stood motionless for some minutes (too many, I remember thinking) while we all screamed our throats raw. And then 'Jam' kicked in. Teddy Riley's granite-hard beats were like blows to my vital organs.

The rap in 'Jam' is performed by Heavy D, who, Wikipedia informs me, is now a 'reggae-fusion' artist. Rap middle eights, especially very poor ones, are a source of fascination to me - my Mastermind subject, if you like. So those attending on the 30th would be advised to brace themselves if I am spotted picking up the mike. To complete the tribute I will also be leaving the stage at Deaf by jet pack, via a skylight, dressed as an astronaut. Go with it! Go with it! Jam!

TVC15

"I brought my baby home,
She sat around forlorn..."

Watch TOTP dance troupe Ruby Flipper wrapping their legs round Bowie's 'TVC15'.

Incredible shenanigans.

Taken from the amazing One For The Dads blog.

Thanks, as always, to the eagle-eyed JSZ.

Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep

Whilst I will always be a pop kid at heart, I have a strong dislike for excessively chirpy records. As an insomniac, I frequently find myself tormented by certain tunes that seem to squat in my brain and thumb their noses at me all night, relenting only when that ultimate of chirpy taunts – the dawn chorus – begins.

In an attempt to exorcise some of these smug ditties (that’s what they are: ditties), I hauled myself up at 4am yesterday morning and wrote a list. Here are ten tracks that have an unacceptable chirp-to-tune ratio. They will never be played at Pop ‘Til You Drop. They are the musical equivalent of someone tapping you urgently on the shoulder for twelve hours, and then shouting ‘NOTHING!’ when you finally turn around.

1. Maria Muldaur – Midnight At The Oasis

2. Jim Noir – Eany Meany

3. Jon Cutler featuring E-Man – It’s Yours

4. The Velvet Underground – I’m Sticking With You

5. Peter, Bjorn and John – Young Folks

6. Luther Vandross & Janet Jackson –

The Best Things In Life Are Free

7. OutKast – Hey Ya!

8. Len - Steal My Sunshine

9. Joni Mitchell – Big Yellow Taxi

10. Presidents of the United States of America – Peaches

SEND YOUR FUCKING CAMEL TO BED.

Love Will Save The Day

"When you're feeling full of doubt

And fear has got you in a bind

Love will save the day..."

I have done my best throughout my life to avoid the work of Whitney Houston. That never-ending winter of 1992 still casts a shadow. There was I, fifteen years old, miserable, watching ‘I Will Always Love You’ on The Chart Show for the umpteenth week, just yearning for something (anything) else to hit the number one spot. And there was Whitney, splay-legged, hands in that saintly clasp, wobbling her jaw to achieve maximum vibrato… God, she made me want to slash my armpits with boredom. No wonder records like this sounded so good.

But recent events have forced me to re-evaluate one tiny section of the Twitney back catalogue. At the second Pop ‘Til You Drop back in April, my partner in crime DJ Danielle Moore dropped ‘Love Will Save The Day’. I had just wedged myself into the toilet and was happily adding to the graffiti (I <3 Shep Pettibone) when the disquieting realisation that I was enjoying a Whitney Houston record hit me. Then, seconds later, lettuce barely shaken, I found myself careering around the dancefloor like an inebriated farmhand whilst paying customers looked on aghast.

By coincidence, last Monday evening, during an extravagantly lubricated Spotify session here at Pop Heights, ‘Love Will Save The Day’ surfaced again, confirming my suspicion that the tune is a wig-lifting, wab-wobbling, gusset-splitting anthem of titanic proportions, in spite of its cloying ‘message’.

The next day, after a couple of light ales, I was persuaded by my Whitney-loving friend to investigate the White Vest album further. One fraught listen off cassette on a car stereo, during which I left bite marks on my own fist, revealed there is little else on there for the taking. Whitney’s version of ‘I Know Him So Well’, performed with her mother (somewhat inappropriately), sounds like two car alarms arguing in an empty turbine hall. ‘Didn’t We Almost Have It All’ is another wallpaper-stripping ballad that Ms. Houston approaches with all the subtlety and restraint of a newly promoted Drill Sergeant. The whole album is plastered in the kind of electric piano that makes you feel like you’re having the contents of a Cadbury’s Creme Egg squeezed into your earhole as you listen. It really does make a girl want to smoke crack.

Which I almost did, back in 1993, when eventually Whitney was knocked off her perch by this:

A punishing year for pop music ensued.

Let There Be Music

The 'Let's Change The World With Music' album was composed and recorded in demo form back in 1992, but rejected by Prefab Sprout's record label. This release is actually Paddy McAloon's original demo, performed entirely by him back in '92, but slightly remastered by Calum Malcolm in 2009.

'Let There Be Music' is a Pop 'Til You Drop early doors statement of intent.

See you on the dancefloor!

When I'm With You

When I get drunk, I have a tendency to hold interminable pub conferences about what makes a good love song. My list of favourites is several miles long, but I often come back to 'When I'm With You' by Sparks for its strange accuracy and lightness of touch.

The track was produced by Giorgio Moroder and Harold Faltermeyer and is taken from the superbly titled 'Terminal Jive' album from 1980.

And if the video doesn't give you the raging horn, you're dead from the waist down.

"When I'm with you

I never have a problem when I'm with you

I'm really well-adjusted

When I'm with you

When I'm with you

I lose a lot of sleep when I'm with you

I meet a lot of people

When I'm with you

It's the break in the song

When I should say something special

But the pressure is on and I can't make up nothing special

Not when I'm with you

When I'm with you

I never feel like garbage when I'm with you

I almost feel normal

When I'm with you

When I'm with you

I'm always hot and bothered when I'm with you

I always need a shower

When I'm with you

It's the break in the song

When I should say something special

But the pressure is on and I can't make up nothing special

Not when I'm with you

When I'm with you

I never need a mirror when I'm with you

I don't care what I look like

When I'm with you"

Reach For Love

"I freeze, baby,

At the thought of leaving you behind..."

The question I least like being asked when I am DJing is:

“Are you the DJ?”

Closely followed by:

“Whenyer gunner play some Manchester stuff?”

But over the years I have developed coping mechanisms for both. For the first I have an affronted and unyielding Ron Mael-esque stare that says, ‘If you come near me again I will pin your scrotum to this turntable and then press start.’

For the second I have Marcel King.

What a record.

I first came across the amazing ‘N.Y. mix’ of ‘Reach For Love’ on an American blog years ago, and after perusing Discogs was surprised to discover the track came out on Factory Benelux in 1984. It was produced by New Order’s Bernard Sumner and Donald Johnson of ACR – Manchester’s all-time *heaviest* drummer. Apparently, this collaboration came about after New Order manager Rob Gretton – a massive soul head, of course – found Marcel sleeping rough in the back of a car. I’m not sure how much truth there is in this rumour.

Rob would have known Marcel from his tenure as front man for Sweet Sensation – the eight-piece Philly-style Manchester soul group that won the talent show New Faces in 1973 and had a hit with ‘Sad Sweet Dreamer’.

‘Reach For Love’ is one of those records that never leaves my DJ bag. It’s like an old mate that can be relied upon to boot you smartly up the arse, buy you a pint and haul you onto the dancefloor when you need it most. Marcel’s vocal is something else: euphoric and yet easy-going, with just a tantalising hint of remonstration on those “I’ve been trying to show you a better way” lines. The production still sounds killer – even on shit café soundsystems. You have to be careful at what point you drop ‘Reach For Love’, though, because it can flatten other records with its knock-out punch.

Tragically, Marcel King died of a cerebral haemorrhage in 1995, aged just 38.

R.I.P, sir. You fucking rocked.

Juxtapozed With U

"I'm not in love with you

But I won't hold that against you..."

Whilst here at Pop Heights we do occasionally suffer from a touch of vocoder-fatigue, we never tire of 'Juxtaposed With U'.

According to Wikipedia, the song was inspired by 'Ebony and Ivory'(!) as well as the work of Marvin Gaye and Caetano Veloso. The track was originally conceived as a duet, with the band approaching both Brian Harvey (from East 17) and Bobby Brown to sing alongside Gruff Rhys. Both turned the band down, so Rhys sang the verses through a vocoder to imitate another person, something which he described later as a "very schizophrenic thing to do".

Union City Blue

"Tunnel to the other side

It becomes daylight

I say he's mine..."

How can a track like 'Union City Blue' - essentially a pop song with no discernible chorus - be so stirring, panoramic and unforgettable? Really, it's just several verses strung together in a rather humdrum cycle, and yet it is one of the strongest songs in the Blondie catalogue. It's so free-flowing and airy it sounds as though it took Debbie Harry and bassist Nigel Harrison (a Stockport lad, by the way) mere seconds to jam out. They obviously had the confidence to just let it fly. All power to them for not structuring the life out of it.

I find the track evocative of my teenage years in Preston. I used to blast it out in my ten-foot by ten-foot bedsit, often in an attempt to mask the sounds of the middle-aged man in the room opposite shagging his alsatian. The song personified everything I longed for at that point: escape; enterprise; the sheer glamour and scale of city life. All those words Harry throws at the listener - Skyline! Passion! Power! How they reeled me in.

I went to see Blondie in 2000. It wasn't an amazing experience, but it was one I thought I'd never have. Chris Stein looked so frail and ill he gave the impression of being propped up and operated from behind by a complex pulley system. Debbie was throwing herself around like a pissed grandma on a bouncy castle to compensate. But when Clem Burke started slamming out the tom tom intro of 'Union City Blue', I nearly pissed myself with excitement. He looked and sounded perfect.

'Union City Blue' is as much Clem's song as it is Nigel and Debbie's. The end of the track is as heart-stopping as the opening. For almost the whole of the last minute, Clem is smashing the shit out of every cymbal available. Few other pop producers would countenance such a relentless hammering of splash, ride and crash, but Mike Chapman knew better than to argue. Pure exhilaration.

On a final note, I have always noticed that, live, Debbie Harry tends to sing "powder" rather than "power". I'm not entirely sure what this might be a reference to...

(Starts 3:45 minutes in.)

Freebirds

"Freebirds fly away

They just don't stay..."

Picked this up on a chunky little seven at the weekend. It has everything I need from a pop song at the moment: sleek production, soothingly predictable chord changes that you can sink into like a hot bath, and a desolate vocal about losing a lover to that ol' homebreaker 'freedom'.

Nice video too.

Lover Lover are Eleanor Bodenham and Martin Craft (M. Craft, Jarvis Cocker) with producer Nick Littlemore (Empire of the Sun).

You can hear an acoustic version here:

Lover Lover - Freebirds Acoustic by Cross Keys Records

http://www.piccadillyrecords.com/products/LoverLover-Freebirds-CrossKeysRecords-76286.html

Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'?

The next Pop 'Til You Drop party is Saturday May 28th at The Deaf Institute, Manchester.

With DJs:

Abigail Ward (Fist of Pop)

Neil Scott (El Diablo’s Social Club)

Pasta Paul (Piccadilly Records)

SET IT OFF!

Bernard Edwards R.I.P.

It’s fifteen years ago today since Bard of the Bass and all-round rapper’s delight, Bernard Edwards, died of pneumonia following a gig with Chic in Tokyo. He had reportedly mentioned to bandmate Nile Rodgers that he was feeling unwell, but couldn't be persuaded to cancel the concert. Nile found him dead in his hotel room only hours later.

There are a great many ‘Nard moments to rave on about, but I will always be particularly transported by his solo in ‘Le Freak’ (the extended mix). This is ‘Nard centre-stage, nailing it down with minimum sweat and maximum poise. Who else could play the same riff for over a minute and make it sound so spellbinding? I love those dizzying, ever-ascending strings that swirl around him like a blizzard, and also the layered handclaps that appear just as you're about to burst with anticipation for the chorus. When he drops that little slide in at 3.47, it’s almost like an exclamation mark (fuck!) and a quick gasp of breath before his outro lick and then we’re back in. Sexual.

Apparently, when he was starting out, ‘Nard used to drop his plectrum all the time, so he developed a technique (nicknamed ‘chucking’) that involved using his fingernail as though it were a pick. This meant, unusually, that ‘Nard’s downstrokes had the brightness and attack of a picked note, whilst his upstrokes had the warmth of a thumbed note. This unique hard/soft combination is perhaps best illustrated on the jaw-dropping intro to ‘Everybody Dance’.

Why not give it a whirl at home?

I'm Going Slightly Mad

Want.

Oh! Darling

"Believe me when I tell you

I'll never do you no harm..."

Over the years I have met many boring people in pubs who have opined, after their third pint of Too Familiar, that Paul McCartney's songs are 'less emotional' than John Lennon's due to Paul's supposed love of musical pastiche and the occasional Vaudevillian curlicue.

I usually greet these claims with a massive yawn.

'Oh! Darling' is about as raw (roar?) as it gets for me. I don't think there are many singers who could divide just one word - 'died' at 1.37 - into two such distinct halves: the first a Little Richard-esque squall, the second a wounded, boyish plea.

Paul experimented with a lot of vocal takes for this track over a number of weeks. Apparently, he would try it only once a day, believing the final version should be a first take. The unused Take 26 didn't make it onto the anthologies, but has been knocking around for years and gives us access to a very different performance - all soft and tremulous (or shot, maybe) on the second chorus. Fucking phwooargh.

Anuses like me may have noticed a slight bass fluff or edit on the finished version at 0.52, which you can hear clearly by panning the balance on your amp hard right. This will also expose George Harrison's sneering chorus lead in all its glory. I love that riff - so dry, stark as fuck, satisfyingly nasty, almost like the Telecaster equivalent of Herrmann's 'Psycho' stabs.

One thing that will always grieve me; however, is that 'Oh! Darling' is followed by 'Octopus's Garden'. Surely the sequencing equivalent of a whoopee cushion at a funeral.

John Lennon said:

"'Oh! Darling' was a great one of Paul's that he didn't sing too well. I always thought I could have done it better—it was more my style than his. "

Wanker.