Gomesmerising

I first discovered Gomez at the Bluesfest a few years ago and was captured from the first few beats. They are such a "tight" band live.... three singers, all seemingly multi-intrumentalists. Their 5pm show was universally celebrated as the highlight of the event. Lapped up their last two albums, securing the latest "A New Tide" on vinyl.

Great to see them at a smaller venue, the Metro, and discover more of their hidden (for me anyway) treasure. This review from the Auckland show pretty well sums it up.

Time to check out the first five albums that flew under my radar.

Watching the...river flow

Setlist Anticipation - A condition where one becomes slightly preoccupied with the desire for an artist to play a particular song at a concert or event you attend.

Will he do “Into the Mystic”? (yes he did, first Van pilgrimage Fort Lauderdale) “Tangled Up and Blue”? first gig, no… second nah… a decade later at the third…BINGO! (thanks Bob).

A Set Ant© condition could be mild or very intense. If you have only a rare chance to see someone then the condition can become heightened… internal monologue running…”There must be only 10 minutes to go and they still haven’t played …”

So it is luxuriously liberating to attend concert by an act you care about and not experience a bout of Set Ant© at some point in the evening. Maybe this may comes with seeing an artist play many times… or you simply become enraptured in a performance.

Watching Elvis Costello solo the other night I found myself not being inflicted with any condition other than sustained bliss. Much is written about his songwriting prowess, but he is also a master of the cover. He rolled out George Jones (Roses), Van (Jackie Wilson Said), Bruce (Brilliant Disguise), Charles Aznavour (She) even his take on Ron Sexsmith’s version EC (Everyday I Write the Book).

This was my fourth visit to Elvisdom, each trip being radically different, from angry young man pumping it up, Garage Band Rocker, New Orleans sideman to Dylan tinged Song & Dance Man. “Alison” sounded sweet at all.

But who cared what he and his guitar played next? With such a deep and diverse back catalogue to call upon and his ability to reinvent songs best go with the flow for 130 odd minutes.

Elvis & Me…

1980 Sweetwaters… Elvis Costello and the Attractions.

2003 Tokyo… Elvis Costello and the Imposters.

2006 Cape Cod… Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint.

2009 Sydney… Elvis Costello Solo.

Genealogical

The Byrds have always jangled in by brain but, until now, I've never opened the door to Gene Clark's solo work. Even with the strong Dylan connection that should have shown the way, it was only a couple of weeks ago that I first dropped the needle on "White Light" and entered a feeling of blissful enlightenment, eventually followed by an urgent sense of needing to make up for lost moments with Gene. Awaiting the arrival of the lp this is lifted from...

So I've dived into a period of heavy Gene Clark immersion. It's almost like spending time with a distant relative who often appears in the family photo's but you've never really got to know... and it's great when other members of the family turn up to play too.

Blue Day in Spring

The jeweller my Mum got her prized opal ring from was a guy called Steve Gilpin... but soon he chucked in looking at stones and created rock as lead singer for "New Wave" band Misex. He'd cut this teeth at Dad's local pub in Lower Hutt singing 70's folk, Paul Simon, James Taylor confessional stuff.

One day in '72 Steve turned up at our house with his first 45 "Spring". He played it to Dad and gave me a copy. I spun that single over and over again on my little blue record player. Suddenly, at age ten, music wasn't something from someplace else, it was real. Hey, I knew someone who created music. "Spring" has long since been lost... I can't find a source anywhere.

Perhaps that's a good thing... better to be left with a classic... "Blue Day".

18 hours in the ear

Most people, it seems, dislike long flights. To ease the discomfort many take the opportunity to catch up with movies... but I find the trade off from the big or half big screen not worth the compromise. Peering at the screen, I feel the pain of the director as his or her widescreen art is squished into something the size of a tissue box.

No, at 30 thousand feet I relish immersing myself in some good reading (New Yorker) and plundering the back corners of the ipod. Sure the sound is compressed, but with your ears popping the engines swishing away, who cares. With any luck, after the meal and a wine, I might fall asleep for a while and wake up to something delectable in my ear.

This happened last week. Halfway to Hong Kong I drifted off in contentment to a When You Awake mixtape and awoke to some John Prine. 5 minutes of cinematic Prine is as rewarding as any 120 minute movie. I managed to fit a few more before touching down.

Here's a version of Sam Stone with another John in the leading role.

Time, Tides & Tim

The first time my brain came under the influence of things Finn was November 1973. I had yet to enter double figures in the age stakes. The Kiwi talent contest "New Faces" was airing Split End's (pre Split Enz) for the first time on NZ's only tv channel. The bizzare circus figures cast in black white images are still with me. Especially ringmaster Tim. This was a very different world to The Seekers, James Last, Herb Albert & Moog music that boomed from Dad's Garrard turntable/valve amp/concrete tube speakers.

It wasn't until the monumental True Colours album at the starts of the '80's that I finally heard the band live. Teenage rite of passage... first festival. Four of us stuffed the seats of a barely road worthy Vauxhall Velox full of cans of warm beer and made our way to Ngaruawahia for Sweetwaters. Tim was now sharing the stage with Neil and the Enz were now an "International" act. "I Got You", "Poor Boy", 'I Hope I Never" were the soundtrack to every party. Apart from the sounds, there it was blissful knowing these guys originated from over the hill.

Fast Forward twenty five odd years to April 2009 for the next time I saw Tim live. He blew the roof off the Jambalaya stage at Byron's Bluesfest. At my side are my son's... around the age when I first saw "the End's" on the Pye wood veneer box. A giant Aussie-Kiwi party broke out as he bounced through his songbook. Highlights, beyond the obvious, included the fragile "Persuasion", "Made My Day" (first time he played in 20 years) and "The Saw and the Tree" (from his most recent album, complete with a Saw soloist).

This week I had a more reflective Finn experience with the chance to see "Poor Boy", a musical play built around Tim's catalogue. Hearing his songs reinvented as part of a unified narrative over two hours reinforced how strong his work is. It also reminded me how through the years things nautical are woven into his imagery.

As with those in a leaky boat..."The lust of a pioneer, will acknowledge no frontier"

Eno's Take

When I was a child Eno's used to be something my Grandmother would take for an upset stomach. But it was my mate Phil who first introduced me to ENO. "Before and After Science" on cassette which we played on a tinny single speaker tape deck. We were "living" in a crappy two room shack referred to the hovel... because it was.

At 17 listening to dreamy soundscapes of "Energy Fools The Magician" made me feel very sophisticated, ready for the world. The sheer weirdness of "Taking Tiger Mountain" was exhilarating. Since then Brian has been part of my audible world through Bowie, Devo, The Heads, U2, even Paul Simon. Released a few years ago "Another Day on Earth" was his first vocal album in 25 years and rates as one his best.

Managed to get near mint "Another Green World" and "Here Come The Warm Jets" vinyl at Real Groovy in Auckland on the weekend. Never had a copy of "Music for Airports" but was interested to hear how Eno arrived at the ambient concept.

Churning through his biography "On Some Faraway Beach" at the moment.

First notes

Time to put word's to the music and experiences I love with a passion, hence this blog. While I can't play a note I can listen till to my ears bleed, falling into a slipstream created by artistry. As Van serenaded "There's a dream where the contents are visible, Where the poetic champions compose..."