Archives for September 2009

France wasn't particularly big into punk rock bands. Yes I know there were minor legends like Métal Urbain and Stinky Toys, and you must remember that Plastic Bertrand and his peppy 'Ca Plane Pour Moi' had shipped out of Belgium. However there were some bands that sneaked in the back door with their skinny ties and new wave accoutrements. Which I guess is where Téléphone made that call.

I can't say I'm an expert on their oeuvre, but I did hear one particular song about a thousand times. It was called 'Cendrillon' and it appeared on the fourth album, 'Dure Limite'. The song was punk rock in the way that Cyndi Lauper was, or maybe The Cars. Which is to say that it was delivered by people with unacceptable hairstyles and large studio budgets.

But still I grew to like the record. It was a slightly poignant spin on the Cinders fairytale. In this version, the girl becomes wizened and drunk, turning tricks and lamenting her lost moment. There's a lyrical quiver at the end when the authors (Jean-Louis Aubert and Louis Bertignac) turn some of the blame on the self-absorbed parents.

The ending is a feeble cop-out, but it's the tone of the song that got to me. A bit of melancholia, a hint of spiky potential and the kind of rare innocence that was around in the early Eighties, when everyone thought they were being sophisticated but were mostly copping poses. In my case, it was a prolonged summer in Montauban, near Toulouse. I was picking fruit for the cash, hanging with college friends and essentially waiting 'til my light turned green.

In one of the shared flats, the playlist was Michel Polnareff and the bonkers 'Tam Tam', alternating with Téléphone. It was no great nourishment for a young man, but when I occasionally think of 'Cendrillon', my memory goes immediately to redial.

It was ten years ago when the motoring journalists broke into a collective grin and voted the Fiat Multipla their car of the year. There were more attractive vehicles out there, some astounding bits of engineering, glamour and status. But the Multipla was amusing and functional and it was made for legendary drives with the family.

The designers had placed the gear stick on the dashboard, allowing space for a third seat at the front. That's six seats in only two rows and all of them were cantilevered and swish, allowing them to turn into ad hoc tables or to be removed completely. Meantime the top of the car was bulging ourwards, letting the passengers gaze out of this mobile fish bowl. The Multipla was the Captain Beefheart of people carriers, peculiar and bold and not fussed about winning the next beauty contest.

We saw our first Multipla in Spain around the summer of 2000 and we were infatuated. It was like a giant Mister Man car, And the face (which all great cars posess) was wholely convivial. So a few years later we saved up for our first version, a gleaming black model that was unfortunately mistaken for a taxi on several late night journeys back from the BBC. So now we have a blue one that's frankly getting a bit shabby, but which still brings good humour to the team.

Sadly, the Multipla was redesigned a few years ago, and now it looks like it wants to be cool. It's vaguely streamlined and I'm not so impressed. Meantime, prices for the old versions are plummeting, which would suggest that demand has lessened. Still, I hear there's a Chinese production model out there, and I sincerely hope that they all enjoy the ride.

Some day I will get the MG in racing green and a tweed cap to complete the Leslie Philips ensemble. Not sure that I'm exactly ready yet...

Andy White was co-presenter the first hour of Friday's show, surrounded by reams of lists and many swell recordings. He's still rambling across continents and sustaining a career with songs and words and looking well on the regeime. He was particularly lyrical on the subject of Martha Wainwright and it was with great difficulty that we dragged ourselves away from gassing about Van Morrison and 'The Way Young Lovers Do'.

The second half of the show gave us the remit to play more Prefabs and to get enthused about The Big Pink. On more Friday to go, kind listeners, before the Monday switch over....

BBC Radio Ulster, 92-95 FM

Online: www.bbc.co.uk/radioulster

Fridays, ten - midnight

PLAYLIST 25.09.09

Part 1

(Part 1 co-presented by Andy White)

REM - Losing My Religion (Warner)

Burl Ives - Froggie Went a Courting (Sony)

Andy White - If You Want It (Floating World)

Genesis - I Know What I Like In Your Bedroom (Charisma)

Velvet Underground - I'm Waiting For My Man (Verve)

Andy White - Turn Up The Temperature On The Machine Of Love (Floating World)

Van Morrison - The Way Young Lovers Do (Warner)

Martha Wainwright - TV Show (Drowned In Sound)

Andy White - Tuesday Apocalypse No 13 (Stiff)

Bob Dylan - I Want You (Columbia)

The Beatles - Hey Jude (Parlophone)

Part 2

10 000 Maniacs - Like The Weather (Elektra)

Prefab Sprout - Music Is a Princess (Kitchenware)

Michael Stipe - Everything's Come Undone (Mezzotint)

Tim Rose - King Lonely The Blue (BGO)

General Fiasco - We Are The Foolish (Infectious)

Pete Molinari - Indescribably Blue (Damaged Goods)

Keith Richards - The Harder They Come (Rolling Stones)

Fools Gold - Surprise Hotel (Iamsound)

Ken Boothe - Bring It On Home To Me (Trojan)

The Big Pink - A Brief History Of Love (4ad)

Simple Minds - Street Hassle (Virgin)

Carosel - Easy As It Flows (white)

Prefab Sprout - Angel Of Love (Kitchenware)

Everyone I've spoken to had fun with the Culture Night shenanigans in Belfast's Cathedral Quarter. It was like a Friday night factored by ten, with huge crowds, canny events, smiling faces and a genuine sense of discovery. The city is learning how to market itself and the citizens are responding to a sense of occasion. Each venue was marked out by balloons and doorway dioramas. Vacant lots were transformed and freshly lit. There were some traffic havoc, but that was understandable And somehow the weather seemed to be conspiring with the date. Everything seemed right.

It was the second resounding night in a row. Thursday was an event called Melting Pot at the Pavilion in Belfast, where a collection of decent souls were rocking against racism. I'm increasingly fond of the Pocket Billiards, revived and prepering to put out an excellent album. And from Enniskillen, we had Momma's Slippers, pugnacious punk rockers of the teenage variety. They like their Rancid and their Ramones and singer Ant is precocious in the best ways..

It's been a difficult old day. You deserve an amusing video from the Thrones Of Roll. Enjoy.

Yesterday, an English guy was speaking to me in an 'Ulster' accent. He used the adjective "wee" a lot, and he had a weird sing-song manner that lifted at the end of each sentence. It sounded rather daft, but I didn't smile at his efforts. Nor did I feel insulted, that he was somehow patronising me. I think the poor soul was trying to fit in, and he probably thought he was speaking the local vernacular with ease.

Of course, we've all grown up listening to the English style - to Received Pronunciation and the Estuary variants. As kids, we imagined the voice of David Coleman or some other commentator, praising our footballing skills. We believed that when success came, it would be pronounced by an Anglo. Now it seems that these same people feel the need to talk like us to be understood.

I'm quite cool with the idea of an accent as a moveable option. When I was in London, many of us spoke in a music biz Esperanto - a bit of Arthur Daley, some barrow boy, a touch of American movie mogul, Yiddish, B-boy patois plus our own regional dimensions. Everybody understood each other and the effect was rather rich. Sometimes when you escape your own literal background, you can be free to take on new energies and ideas. These days, when I meet old colleges from London, they remark on how 'Irish' I sound.

But not as '"Irish" as the fellow I spoke to yesterday. He sounded like he was an understudy for Darby O' Gill And The Little People. Hey, whatever makes you happy.

As you may have heard, I'm moving from the Friday night radio slot to Monday evenings. The last Friday is October 2. I still kick off at 10pm and the hope is that after ten years of entertaining the weekenders, I get to relax a little myself. I'll miss the Friday mixture of euphoria and mild fatigue, and in that frame of mind some special musical tones are invoked.

Take last night when I pulled out 'Nina Simone' by Tom Russell. It's a song about the descent into darkness and the blazing assurance that no matter how bad the journey gets, the voice of Nina will be there to guide you. Almost on a whim, I followed with Dr Simone (as I was once ordered to address her) singing 'I Loves You Porgy'. I don't know about you lot, but it blew my bones. I just hope the same principle will export to a Monday, straight after my old pals at Across The Line.

BBC Radio Ulster, 92-95 FM

Online: www.bbc.co.uk/radioulster

Fridays, ten - midnight

PLAYLIST 18.09.09

Part 1

Part one is a special themed around Irish producer Mudd Wallace and his 30 years in the business



Cat Malojian - Alphabet Song (Bad Paw)

The Peasants - I Can Help (Homestead)

Therapy - Meat Abstract (MFN)

Mighty Shamrocks - Breaking Up With Harry (white)

Andy White - Religious Persuasion (Stiff)

Andy White - Reality Row (Stiff)

Cat Malojian - Can You Hear Me (Bad Paw)

Silhouette -Last Breath (white)

Brendan Quinn - A Fagen Place (Deep Cove)

Katrina - 19 (white)

Cat Malojian - Made In America (Bad Paw)



Part 2

Public Image - Rise (Virgin)

The Bowerbirds - Northern Lights (Secretly Canadian)

Glen Tilbrook - You Never Give Me Your Money (Quixotic)

Port O'Brien - Sour Milk / Salt Water (City Slang)

Tom Russell - East Of Woodstock / West of Vietnam (Proper)

Wilco - You And I (Nonesuch)

Nat Johnson - Don't Worry Baby (Damaged Goods)

Susan Enan - Bring On The Wonder (Feast)

David Bazan - Hard To Be (147)

Electronic - Get The Message (Factory)

Tom Russell - Nina Simone (Proper)

Nina Simone - I Loves You Porgy (EMI)

Beth Orton - Sugar Boy (Heavenly)

If you've been involved in the NI music scene over the past 30 years then the chances are that you've come across Mudd Wallace. He's a legendary recording guy - his Homestead set-up was once in Ahoghill before shifting to Randalstown. Now it's a moveable feast, setting up where it suits him best.

Back in the day, Mudd worked with the first Therapy and Andy White releases. These days, he's down with Cat Malojian and Junior Johnston, and the enthusiasm has not left him.So tonight we'll be spending an hour in his company, talking to friends and associates and remembering the best of times and the maddest of occasions. The story of the saxaphone player in the jacuzzi always makes me chortle.

Saturday night was spent happily at the Island Centre in Lisburn, where the annual Music Quest event took place. The prize was substantial and the four acts were all attractive in their own way. Nanook play earnest, strumming tunes in the tradition of college rock, but more recent experiments suggest a broader canvas. Silhouette were probably the boldest in terms of sound, with a cello, a double bass and a stand-up drummer. Some moments had the sweep and mystique of Kate Bush while others were moderne and cool. Seven Summits played it low key with modestly haunting songs and hints of Radiohead and Pink Floyd. It was close enough, but the winners were Ram's Pocket Radio, emotionally focussed, with Pete bashing out the sweet piano chords and the songs steering into some twisted destinations. They got the vote of the crowd and the judges. Keep this frequency clear.

Nuff respect to Julie Feeney for managing to model 18 head-dresses in the course of a couple of minutes. The song also rules.

I've been having fun listning to The Rod Stewart Sessions 1971-1998, a box set on Rhino that reveals some of the creative sauce that the singer was imbibing. After 1975 and 'Atlantic Crossing' the art was rourinely overlooked in favour of the leopardskin and posturing, but that still means you get a full CD of excellence and intrigue.

The jewel is a work-in-progress version of 'Maggie May' that carries the recogniseable tune, lead guitar and tumbling drums. But the lyrics are frankly dreadful. "I don't need to tell ya, you look like a fella," he gurgles, with little conviction. Happily, the setting changed to late September, the storyline gained a deal of pathos, and a classic was born.

The Cribs record isn't as special as I was hoping but still there is Johnny Marr with his singular guitar and some squalling anthems.

BBC Radio Ulster, 92-95 FM

Online: www.bbc.co.uk/radioulster

Fridays, ten - midnight

PLAYLIST 11.09.09

Tommy McClain - Before I Grow Too Old (Ace)

The Cribs - Victims Of Mass Production (Wichita)

Lou Reed - September Song (A&M)

The Swell Season - Low Rising (Anti)

Rod Stewart - Maggie May (early version) (Rhino)

Noah And the Whale - Love Of An Orchestra (Young And Lost)

Prefab Sprout - Sweet Gospel Music (Kitchenware)

Ash True Love - 1980 (Atomic Heart)

Choir Of Young Believers - Action/Reaction (Tigerspring)

Lucinda Williams - Happy Woman Blues (Smithsonian)

Johnny Allen - South To Louisiana (Ace)

The Twang - Encouraging Sigh (b unique )

Nell Bryden - Second Time Around (cv)

Phoenix - Fences (V2)

Madness - Bed And Breakfast Man (Stiff)

Fanfarlo - The Walls Are Coming Down (Fanfarlo)

Little Feat - Easy To Slip (Warners)

Aaron Shanley - Oh My Girl (White Mountain)

Prefab Sprout - The Last Of The Great Romantics (Kitchenware)

Noah And The Whale - I Have Nothing (Young And Lost)

Rod Stewart - Girl From The North Country (Warner)

Raphael Saadiq - Never Give you Up (Columbia )

Tinariwen - Tahult In (Independiente)

Paul Simon - One Man's Ceiling (Warner)

The Cribs - Last Year's Snow (Wichita)

The Os You've - Got Your Heart (Idol)

Alice Russell - Got The Hunger (DJ Vadim Remix)

I've never really held an opinion about Chris de Burgh. He's sold many records, but none of them have ever troubled my collection. During slack periods in my life, I've seen him on afternoon television, talking earnestly to the digestive-dunking set. They always ask him about Lady Di, and he obliges with a stirring anecdote. And while he's probably got a generous self-image, that's not uncommon with best-selling crooners and romancers. He's entirely welcome to his life.



But poor old Chris has recently got into an intemperate lather about a live review in the Irish Times. It was a fairly routine drubbing from the ranks - no immense insight, but little in the way of actual venom. I have a mild sympathy for the critic who would really have preferred to be elsewhere, but the commissioning editor thought otherwise. So the writer is underwhelmed, the review is filed and then de Burgh turns several shades of crimson.



Now the singer's response has created a heightened interest in his art, his performing style and the mindset of his enraptured fans. The journalist has also become feted in some quarters - he has scored a cheeky little goal in the game of art versus entertainment. If I was Chris, I would have let it pass.

Back in 1982, Vivienne Westwood launched a fashion range called Buffalo Gals. It was an amusing variation on Oregon Trail pioneers and gold miner chic and the trendy folk of London were enthused. At the same time, her partner Malcolm McLaren was also wearing the gear and promoting a mad album called 'Duck Rock' which investigated hop hop culture, South African hi-life, square-dancing and many other varieties. We had our suspicions, give that Malcy had turned the Sex Pistols into a rolling fiasco, but his own album was quite good.

You can see the video here:

Anyway, I'm at a wedding in Nottingham over the August bank holiday and an acquaintance turns up wearing one of the old Westwood hats. It's in perfect condition, with the coveted World's End label inside and the orange hue is not such a terrible issue either. After a refreshing drink or two, I can't resist it. I borrow the hat for a few seconds and have my photo taken. Yes I know I look absurd, but hey, it's hardly the first time.

Well, Friday night was the tenth anniversary of my Late Show radio experience. It began as an adjunct of Across The Line in September 1999 with 'Ain't That Enought', and over 10 000 tunes later, we had to reprise the old favourite. It's been a very enjoyable run, allowing me to spend time with the likes of Radiohead, REM, Nick Cave, Billy Bragg, Brian Wilson, Beth Orton, New Order, David Holmes, Neil Hannon, Nanci Griffith, Nils Lofgren, Laura Viers, Robbie Robertson and many more. Maybe I should have made more of the birthday, but it seemed more sensible to keep the head down and to play excellent records instead.

BBC Radio Ulster, 92-95 FM

Online: www.bbc.co.uk/radioulster

Fridays, ten - midnight

Teenage Fanclub - Ain't That Enough (Creation)

Raphael Saadiq - Sure Hope You Mean It (Sony)

The Gaslight Anthem - The Backseat (Sideonedummy)

The Duke And The King - Summer Morning Rain (Loose)

Big Bill Broonzy - Good Time Tonight (CBS)

Prefab Sprout - Let There Be Music (Kitchenware)

Wild Beasts - All The Kings Men (Domino)

Charlie Dore - Here Comes The Sun (Black Ink)

Nancy Elizabeth - Lay Low (Leaf)

Jimmy Webb and The Webb Brothers - Old Tin Can (Proper)

Echo And The Bunnymen - Think I Need It Too

Evon Jones - Four And Twenty Dreadlock (Rounder)

The Mamas And The Papas - I Saw Her Again Last Night (MCA)

Nain Amor - Precious Second (Orchestra Pit)

Prefab Sprout - The King Of Rock And Roll (CBS)

Port O' Brien - Leap Year (City Slang)

Chet Baker - Like Someone In Love (Pacific Jazz)

Lou Barlow - The Right (Domino)

Loudon Wainwright - High Wide And Handsome (Proper)

Jimmy Webb and The Webb Brothers - If These Old Walls Could Speak (Proper)

The Vals - These Little Reasons (Electrique Mud)

Stina Nordenstam -Lori Glory (Indenendiente)

Jane Birkin - Madame ( )

Kate And Anna McGarrigle - Heart Like A Wheel (Ryko)

Hey Negrita - One Mississippi (Fat Fox)

Prefab Sprout - Faron Young (CBS)

Paper Planes - Doris Day (Lucky Number Nine)

The Magherafelt/Castledawson corridor is doing pretty well in the rock and roll stakes. Ciaran Gribben is writing songs for Madonna and General Fiasco are getting ever closer to chart action and more. I wouldn't bet against it, bub.

Bill Guiney was one of the definitive punk rockers in Belfast. In the early days he was a scowling outsider, angry and disaffected at a time when the city was brutalised from all sides. He came from The Village and he found his community at the Harp Bar on Hill Street. My first memories of the guy date from this period. I was standing outside the notorious punk joint when I heard a whizzing at my ear. It was a metal bar, windmilling down the road. Guiney was just saying hello.

He featured in the opening scenes of the movie Shellshock Rock, his head shorn, lost in that jack-knifing dance that was launched by John Lydon but perfected at the Harp. Bill dabbled with a series of bands, but he was more recognised as a keeper of the spirit. He was scornful of the poseurs, but a loyal mate and in the following decades, he acted as a mentor to the young bands that took their first musical efforts in Lavery's back bar.

He was part of the the stage crew at the recent Prodigy gig when his illness became apparent. Seven weeks later and Bill succumbed to pancreatic cancer. They held a wake for him on Saturday night in the underpass by the Albert Clock. And yesterday he was cremated at Roselawn.

Lots of his comrades were there: members of Rudi, The Outcasts, The Defects, Terri Hooley and later generations of punk contenders. Tommy Doom spoke well, citing Guiney as a mentor and a mischief maker, and afterwards, more hilarious stories were traded. We exited to a Lee Perry production, 'Four And Twenty Dreadlocks', a combination of childlike wonder, musical bravado and sweetness. It suited Bill fine.

There wil be a celebration of his life at the Menagerie on Sept 10, with music from Shame Academy, Tin Pot Operation and others.