This is the holy grail of Top of the Pops LPs, mainly because it has - you guessed it - PiL's 'Death Disco' on it. It's my holy grail anyway. I think some other people's holy grail might be the one with 'Anarchy in the UK' or 'God Save the Queen' or whatever, on it. I don't know. The holy grails are always John Lydon-related, anyway. The fascinatingness of the intersection between Lydon, ostensibly so anti-normality, with the uber-commercialism of soundalikes. So in this case, the version of 'Death Disco' is a fairly credible remake of the original, hideous whining vocal and everything. It's a lot more like the original than the version of 'Breakfast in America' is like its original, although tbh the people who put the Top of the Pops albums together were a pretty skilled bunch of artisans and 99% of the time it's only the fact that you know you're listening to a Top of the Pops album that makes you listen out for the differences, otherwise you might not notice them at all. 

I don't know or care about the background to the Top of the Pops records though I gather that it was (a little like Countdown magazine) the case of a private company being smart and sneaky enough to get in either with a pitch to license the name which the main TV program might later have cause to regret and/or copyrighting the name independently of the program but getting by for a long time with a perceived association. Countdown magazine was licensed, by the way. Also, it didn't necessarily let the side down that often. The Top of the Pops albums, all hundred and shit of them, were as I said a very skilfully created soundalike series. I hope that the people who made them knew the importance of what they could do and they weren't always cavilling and wishing they could do the music version of 'write that sitcom about the sassy robot' or if they did they were satisfied with mixing some of their own songs in with some Simon and Garfunkel and Cat Stevens at the pub on a Sunday night. 

old-fashioned

 

I have no idea why I decided to read this book but I actually found it pretty readable in a way. However what really surprises me about it is its inherent sexism. It's ten years old (published 2011) and yet it seems as antiquated in its gender politics as the year it's 'about'. So interesting in that regard. So, basically, Browne puts a lot of interesting links (aside from: they were all massive and 'edgy' believe it or not acts of the year 1970, as western culture grappled with what the new decade was going to look like) sharing various backing musicians, managers, and being compared to each other (CSNY was regarded by many as the New Beatles apparently, as bizarre as that may seem now). Pleasingly to me with my historian's hat on, Browne generally resists telling us what happened after 1970, so basically if you know, you know but essentially someone could have written this book in 1970, it doesn't go far beyond, and even makes little insider references eg Art Garfunkel ends the year looking forward to an acting career, lol good luck mug. 

But also, we have the weirdest take on the times where Joni Mitchell is everywhere in Taylor's and CSNY's lives, and Carole King is a big part of Taylor's, and Rita Coolidge is yoko-ing CSNY (entirely in their own minds) but these women's actual careers are basically apartheided out of the story, happening in some kind of weird parallel universe. At very least, JM's a huge part of 1970, clearly, since she (for instance) gives Taylor's career a big fat boost and provides CSNY with a massive eternal hit in that (awful) Woodstock song. I would also say that seriously, while this is a story of 1970 and not a story of what came after it - except implicitly - Mitchell's 1970s were a hell of a lot more interesting than most of the people who are the subject of this book. I was surprised, for instance, to discover how much Stephen Stills was the Lindsey Buckingham of CSNY because tbf his subsequent fifty years of career have been kind of, well, less exciting than he or anyone might have hoped. Stills wrote some decent songs but Mitchell is basically a giant who the rest of these dudes barely match in ambition and scope - McCartney the obvious contender but even then, McCartney hasn't gone out on a limb in terms of threatening his own commerciality. 

So I guess essentially Browne was like hey, I've found a few connections in some classic rock stars, 'I want to write about the guys I want to write about. Some of them even dicked the same sheilas!' and Da Capo press were like cool Brownie. But I reckon even he would have to concede you couldn't write a book like this today, and perhaps also, there's a certain dishonesty to relegating the women of equal commercial and innovative status to homemaking duties? 

a scritti politti record review from fifteen years ago. not sure where (or if) published.

Scritti Politti

White Bread and Black Beer

Rough Trade/Shock

I never set much store by record labels, although I suppose there might be something in the notion that a certain culture at certain record labels give a certain something to certain artists. And this could perhaps explain why the new Scritti Politti album – the group’s umpteenth but their first back on their basically-original label Rough Trade – is their best since their first album, Songs to Remember.

The above paragraph was so freakin’ complicated, I didn’t want to have to add in the additional information that the group is not really a group, just a guy, or perhaps the guy, Green Gartside, this just-pretty-much-a genius, at home doing some recording on equipment that, if it doesn’t exactly constitute a home studio, is at least enough recording equipment to fit into his home. The album is sparse, fragile, slipperier’n an oily rag, and glows like a gold brick. I think it’s a masterpiece.

Scritti last bothered the charts in 1984 with ‘Wood Beez’, a song that was surely a hit because it was an early example of a record no-one, including its perpetrators probably, could ever sing along to (so you had to buy it). T(he)y had a pretty prominent near-hit in the ‘91 with a minor Beatles song, ‘She’s a Woman’, in which Shabba Ranks often popped in and said ‘Shabba!’ (or did I dream that?). And then there was a decent album called Anomie and Bonhomie a few years ago which I haven’t listened to since it came out.

Now, Green appears to have a beard and has become funnier than ever. Even as slight a slice of funk as ‘Throw’ is a hoot (‘you could throw a party and maybe I’ll be there’, he sings, which amuses me, anyway). Green, like Jon Michell, likes Marc Bolan, and like Jon Michell, it shows (just listen to ‘After Six’, forget the strange godbotherer references, and imagine it speeded up – it’s Jesus in a Jeepster). He also – you’ll remember he once covered the Beatles – likes, or likes to sound like, Paul McCartney; that final track, ‘Robin Hood’, one of the best, would have fit perfectly on any McCartney album except, um, Run Devil Run. There’s a crazy, slightly creepy song called ‘Mrs Hughes’ which is kind of Simon and Garfunkel and scary but totally brilliant.

Can’t recommend this record highly enough.

By the way (this is me in 2021 now), I still stand by this review, uninterestingly written as it may be. I see that in the original I slightly erred in the record's title - it's White Bread Black Beer, that's not particularly important. I would like to hear this album again because who knows what's happened to my CD of it. I think it might have come out on vinyl but I'm trying to keep a lid on my vinyl purchases if at all possible. Instead I'm spending all my dosh on books and films, what a prat. And ornaments and car repair. And food. And, you know, bills.