Laura Nyro and a moving coincidence

sketch by keith fitton

I was listening to Laura Nyro the other evening thinking about how late I had come to this blessed singer/songwriter. Possessing the most sonorous and powerful soulful voice, raised in the Bronx, hailed by many of the songwriters of our generation including Bob Dylan, Elton John, Elvis Costello, Joni Mitchell, Kate Bush, Rickie Lee Jones and Todd Rungren, she broke the mould of traditional songcraft and created a world where the artist could run free. Her beautiful  arrangements harked back to the world of harmony groups and do-wop bands she listened to as a kid hanging out and singing on street corners for dimes. Her songs have been recorded by the great and the good, yet she remains relatively unknown. And there is something about her that I didn’t know until very recently. She died of ovarian cancer in 1997 at the age of 49, from the same disease, and at exactly the same age as her mother. And herein lies the coincidence, joining lines with my own family history. My beautiful sister, Valerie died from ovarian cancer at the age of 49 in the very same year as Laura, 1997. But that’s not all. My beautiful mother, Mavis also died of ovarian cancer, also at the age of 49. The BRCA1 gene mutation affects my family – and no doubt, Laura’s too. Its all a little too much.

Her music somehow now means even more to me.

Check out this lovely and moving short home movie from 1995, shot before she knew.

A little stick of Blackpool rock

sketch by keith fitton

It was like a dream, illuminated by the purple lights of The Tower, pointing into the cold November air, like a shameless phallus reaching toward the heavens. For this is a shameless town. The Golden Mile for the golden smile. The backstreet strip joints, massage parlours, show bars, kiss-me-quick hats,  pink candy floss acting as an elaborate stage for sensory bombardment and tacky over-indulgence.  Come and ride me she says with a wink in her eye and an open crotch whilst she tells your fortune, pockets your cash and then asks for more. She’s insatiable. Her loyalty is to the smile.

Yet there is a sad beauty that lies beneath her decaying Victorian facade. A two fingers up to the virtual world of faked indifference. She deals in real flesh. The stories of humanity in all its sordid yet vulnerable revealed nature.  The release of cotton mill workers frustration into the endless beach, riding the trams to a better future, a mirage of a better life waymarked by exotic lights, animals, sights, smells, tastes and hopes.

It was here I came as a young boy on an odd day trip from my home in the Rossendale valley, the heartland of the Lancashire cotton weaving industry. I was warned of the “catchpenny” stalls and the gypsy fortune tellers that would pinch your soul if you looked into their eyes. Nevertheless, with fringed cowboy hat, I was romanced by the old whore so that fifty years later I’m entranced by the idea of hero Bob Dylan choosing to play three nights at the Winter Gardens on his current UK tour. Now this is a big deal for Blackpool. After struggling to get a ticket with my usual source on vacation when the tour is announced I manage to secure an official ticket at cost price and it proves to be a good ‘un, giving fine views in the intimate wonderful old theatre of his Bobness and band lit in sepia light, playing out of the shadows to an audience made up of a mix of hardened Bobheads and first timers. Amongst the latter there was a little after show disappointment because they expected him to sound like he did in the sixties (they haven’t been paying attention in class then!) As for me, I was transported by the music in a way that hasn’t happened at previous gigs. I found myself lifted by the circling power of the notes as they rose through the hall. Like the swirl of a Wurlitzer the sound reverberated through the body and upwards. Dylan himself was on fine singing form, moving from harmonica and keyboard with well practised ease. Many of the songs were from the latest album “Tempest” with songs of regret, leaving, foretelling, longing, redemption confirming we were in the presence of a prophet, not just an artist. My state of mind may have been partly attributable to the pints of Spitfire consumed in The Galleon listening to the very excellent Simply Dylan at a pre-gig gathering. But I like to think it was also the ethereal power of the music.

So, another Dylan gig, another in the county of my birth, in the town of my unravished youth. As I wandered back to my B&B I was sure I caught the glance of a young boy I recognised, walking with wonder in his eyes, clutching a stick of rock thinking what life might be like in fifty years time. And as I passed, I’m sure he winked at me.

David Bowie

Sketch by Keith Fitton

So David Bowie is back at number one. His first album for a decade, “The Next Day” has galloped to the top of the charts, and the musical innovator and fashion icon is once again hot property. It takes me back to a cold February night in 1969 and the historic (now sold to a private developer and made into a hotel!) Free Trade Hall in Manchester. Together with a few of my pals from the Rossendale valley we were really there to see Tyrannasourus Rex, whom had just released “Prophets Seers and Sages…. .. the Angels of the Ages”, their second LP. At that time they were an acoustic duo feted by John Peel, with Marc Bolan on guitar and Steve Peregrine Took on bongos. Peel was present at the concert, there to spin records and host the show. The opening act we had never heard of. Introduced by Peel, he entered the stage accompanied by the loudest music I have ever heard at any gig, bar none. It was a wall of deafening white noise. Dressed in a tutu suit, David Bowie then delivered a stunning mime performance. Whilst he uttered not a word, his theatricality was undeniable. An unforgettable first impression. Then the records; the classic “Hunky Dory” filled with mythical storytelling, fantastic musicianship, sensitivity and craft, it was a record to listen to in a darkened room, or in the back room of a pub, drinking beer and playing darts with your mates. And on and on through the Berlin trilogy, the concept albums, the dance music inspired pieces, the art-nouveau creations and so on to “The Next Day”. Here we have a graceful artist, actor, musician, actor who sails above the ordinary, beyond cliche, or trend. He is a one-off, quintessential English gem. A true national treasure. Let’s dance.

The Lucky Generation?

I recently listened to a keynote speech by Dr John Izzo, an American thinker, speaker and organisational consultant that ‘s getting pinged around the blogging world at the moment. Its a talk about the challenge to the baby boom generation. He describes us as as the lucky ones, born just after one bad load of shit (the world wars) and just before the next load (terrorism, the meltdown of global capitalism, over-population ………….). Here it is. Now in this aspect, of course he is right. We have been very fortunate. As a matter of fact I can’t think of many other times in world history when such a flowering of economic prosperity, consciousness and cultural growth all coincided. Maybe the Renaissance. Then again, maybe not. Thinking about it, Harold Macmillan was right. In many ways we really had “never had it so good”.

Izzo then describes the challenge to the baby boomers. We have a small window of opportunity to use this good fortune to help the next generations out, to leave a legacy. After all weren’t we the ones that bellowed about creating a better world than the generations before us. We had the education, the tools of wisdom, the expanded consciousness and the moral high ground. Do we want to be remembered as the generation that creamed our own pockets (fat wages, pensions), raped what was left of the earth’s resources (heating, cars, air travel), waged war on those that didn’t share our beliefs (Iraq, Afghanistan,) or, perhaps there’s still a chance to do something radically different, to leave a better world behind?

Izzo doesn’t give, at least in this talk, much of a sense of how we do that, but it’s an interesting question he raises, albeit in a typical American quasi-preaching (he used to be a minister), gung-ho, call to arms kind of way. In fact its become something of a fashionable swipe. Let’s blame the baby boomers.

But just hang on. Life is rarely this simple. After all we were the generation that broke out of the stifling gloom of fifties England, lifted the lid on racial and sexual discrimination, raised consciousness of environmental issues, brought an increased awareness of spirituality, created vast cultural growth in all aspects of the visual and media arts including music and oh yes – we won the World Cup!

Besides there’s a fundamental error in thinking that we, the human species, can alter things that much. We are only a tiny speck in the unlimited universe. Why should we think we can sort out the mess we have made? It is the ultimate expression of human self-delusion to believe we are able to save the world from the awaiting disaster. War, perhaps, famine, maybe, disease possibly – but human will. No way hozay. Obsessed with vanity to the point of building our own ark. That’s not going to happen. The end of the world is nigh. And you know what – it  maybe won’t be the end. Perhaps we are living in a film going backwards. Spinning destined towards our beginnings, in the vastness of galaxies unimagined. Or maybe we’ll just hand the baton on to the next breed of sun-worshippers. But whatever we do – it won’t be the fault of the sixties generation.

Sweet sweet revenge

Here is my latest short soundscape, composed for the Soundshoots project. This time the theme was “Revenge”.

Metropolis247

Here’s my latest short musical piece for the Soundshoots project. It’s a soundscape for the future based on the “Metropolis” theme. I hope you like it.

The power of giving

1971 seems a long time ago. The pre-digital age when we all bought vinyl LP’s in a cardboard sleeve. Our musical heros would speak to us through the etchings made in a plastic disc, rediscovered by a needle following the contoured groove round and around. And the music was really really groovy. But, mixed with our love of the music was a collective shared vision in the promise of a new world order, one based on the humanitarian principles that enlightened the sixties sub-cultures. One founded on love, and peace. Of course, accompanying the mind expansion, came the excesses of liberation. Freed from the cultural stranglehold that was the post war western world and fuelled by the drugs that had now become generally available, some of our musical heroes burnt themselves out – Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix to name just the  better known. But yet, there was always the hope that someone might rise above the ashes of self-glorification – and do something practical to help. Use their fame to  highlight someone’s plight, draw attention to universal suffering and shame the cynics. Well someone did. Answering the call of Ravi Shanker, George Harrison pulled on many a string to arrange a benefit concert, to be filmed and recorded, the proceeds of which would go to alleviate the hardship being endured by the people of Bangla Desh. And what a concert. Fellow Beatle Ringo Starr, southern rocker Leon Russell, gospel soulster Billy Preston, guitar god Eric Clapton and topping it all, – the cream on the dream – in strides Bob Dylan doing his first live gig since his motorcycle accident of 1966, nervous as heck, but lured by the thought of supporting his close buddy George.

The accompanying film portrays the heightened emotion of this pre-LiveAid, pre-Geldorf event. The quiet Beatle, George Harrison had pulled it off – and helped to salve the conscience of a generation. Yes – we could all feel the power of giving.

 

Soundcloud gets a facelift

Friend of musicians, composers and general creators, Soundcloud has given itself a facelift. Loads of music you would never hear on mainstream radio (excepting wonderful BBC Radio 6) made by people who simply love making it. Have a listen.

A tale of two mikes

Continuing the meander down the track of my bygone musical wanderings, the year is 1972, the occasion a Bangladesh benefit concert organised by the Swansea University’s Progressive Hedonists Union for Culture and Creativity (known by its friends as the PHUCC club!) Really the club had little to do with the university, other than using its facilities and venues. It was a largely underground run by my buddy Tony Tillmanns who went on to run a very successful music advertising company. I used to help Tony out with the club and when George Harrison organised his hugely ambitious and successful Bangladesh charity gig in New York we wondered whether we could replicate the idea (on a more modest scale of course) in Swansea. A date was fixed, and a venue organised, namely the town’s Top Rank ballroom. Acts were contacted – and there was a real willingness to play for chips so  that we could maximise the money raised. Genesis, Arthur Brown’s Kingdom Come (one of the best live acts then and now and the classy Mick Abraham’s Band had all agreed. We were just short of an act to open this prestigious event. Who better than our own band, The Fitton’s Freaker’s Jugband? After protracted negotiations the deal was sealed. We would play for a crate of beer. On the night  we suddenly realised we had a problem – no amplification! No worries we naively thought. We’ll just use Genesis’s!

Unsurprisingly Genesis refused our request but with one  concession. We could use one microphone. So, huddled around this mike like flies trapped on flypaper we ran through our set with a sound caught somewhere between the Grateful Dead and Lonnie Donegan. I can’t say how we went down because we were all a tad pissed having consumed the free beer in something of a dash. I do remember one guy saying he liked one song – ‘Binding Myself To You’ – the rest is a little hazy.

Much to my astonishment a flyer from this show has survived the years. Here it is typed lovingly by Tony’s fair hand.

On a much sadder note – this was also the stage that later that year witnessed the tragic death of the gifted and still remembered Stone the Crows guitarist, Les Harvey, at a gig organised by the Entertainments Committee of Swansea University. Les grabbed hold of a mike with a wet hand, a mike that sadly was not earthed. An utterly shocking and heartbreaking thing to occur. I shan’t ever forget it.

Such is the passing nature of our fragile life…………….

Whipped Dream takes the cream!!

A huge and appreciative thankyou to everybody who voted for my track “Whipped Dream” in the Soundshoots “Dream” theme showdown. It made number 1 which means the track will also get featured on the up-and-coming music blog Sounds of Now Music. Thanks again.