COLUMNS I
OLD & GREY PICK OF THE POPS WITH THE FRAU
n Terry Gilliam’s latest escapade into the bizarre and surreal, The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus, lurks an unexpected and unconventional figure in the character cast: clad in black suit and top hat, darkly witty and coolly sardonic appears the Devil himself, played by no other than cult musician Tom Waits. He has aged befittingly since his musical heyday in the 1970s, his face now haggard with the mischievous and ironical humour that characterises the extreme versatility of his music. Whether growling, caterwauling, drawling or (rarely) singing his distinctive, often seedy anecdotes over thumping jazz rhythms ‘(Underground’), eerie saxophone licks (‘Small Change’) or deliberately out-‐of-‐tune piano melodies (‘The Piano Has Been Drinking (not me)’), the performer communicates a persona that is strikingly befitting to such a sarcastic and blackly comical figure as Terry Gilliam’s creation. He even appears as the lunatic Renfield in Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. herever Waits happens to turn up he is a surprising figure. His deep howling voice is reminiscent of the rawness of the early Delta Blues singers; I imagine more than one mouth was open in surprise when he appeared on the Old Grey Whistle Test in 1977: a young, slim pale American with a full head of combed hair and characterful features. Dressed in a dark suit he sits alone at a grand piano with only a drummer, double-‐bassist and saxophonist – half-‐hidden and semi-‐audible – for company in the atmospheric semi-‐darkness of the small studio. At the piano he draws out the beautiful melody of ‘Tom Traubert’s Blues’, while his gruff voice strains into the microphone. It is not a musical voice, but it is passionate, touching and unmistakable. Perhaps lacking is some of the eccentricity of his cabaret-‐ like performances caught on live DVDs – such as ‘Burma Shave’, in which he hangs around a stage lamppost clutching a continual cigarette, and the audience howl with laughter at his seemingly semi-‐ inebriated version of ‘Silent Night’ – yet he has not lost even an inch of conviction, and shows himself to be just as passionate as he is theatrical. To illustrate: my father attended a Sheffield concert in the late seventies. The lights went down, and in the pitch blackness Waits simply howled like a wolf – a haunting welcome, and endearingly bizarre. HB
W
It’s nice to hear the vocals of a couple of 80s legends on some recent releases. The Cure’s Robert Smith is taking over singing duties on this new version of the track ‘Not In Love’ by Crystal Castles which throws the electronic duo in a new light minus Alice Glass’ vocoded screechings. The original version can be found on their self-‐titled second album released earlier this year, but any fan of the Cure will know how brilliantly Smith can sing about love, so this version’s the winner! Stop Press! Ronson has released a track which does not feature trumpets! A song writing collaboration between the likes of Jake Shears, Cathy Denis (the maestro behind Kylie’s ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’), and Dirty Pretty Things’ Anthony Rossomando proves that too many witches do not in fact spoil the broth. The single is what you’d expect Culture Club to sound like if they were still going and regardless of the madness of Boy George, his Motown-‐ inspired vocals are just plain delicious. After the mediocre ‘Rhinestone Eyes’ and sugar-‐sweet ‘Superfast Jellyfish’ Gorillaz are ending the year with a track as good as early 2010 single ‘Stylo’. ‘Doncamatic’, named in homage to a Japanese drum machine, features the Manchester talent Daley, who, before watching the video, had me fooled that he was a she. A lovely bit of androgyny on this stomper of a pop tune which sounds like Kraftwerk covering German beer hall music. (continued on next page)