Hello!

My listening tastes are all over the place at the moment. I blame lockdown. As much as I like to keep an eye on what's currently shakin' on the hill I find myself wandering back, way back; see posts passim - not least this from yesterday. I guess if I was to sum up in a sentence where I am I'd have to borrow a strap line from the wonderful Sun Dried Sparrows : "I was born in the 60s so I grew up in the 70s - that's all you need to know." Perfect. That's me.

So, over the last few days, I have mainly been listening to 'the Quo'. Often derided, often ridiculed, but there was a time when the three chord wonders from south London with a penchant for double denim couldn't put a white trainered foot wrong.

And what time would that be I hear you ask? Well, since I've never been one to shirk a question (a career in politics has never beckoned) I can tell you that you're looking at the period 1973-75. In particular a trilogy (holy?) of albums that still stands the test of time - Hello! ('73), Quo ('74) and On the Level ('75). In fact I'd go as far as to say you don't need any other Quo albums (or indeed singles); everything you could possibly want is contained within these three giant slabs of no nonsense, heads down see you at the end, boogie. 

  

That said, a rather tasty book-end to their story came about  a couple of years back kickstarted by way of an acoustic (Aquostic, if you will) gig they did at London's Roundhouse in October 2014. Recorded only two years before Rick Parfitt's untimely demise in December 2016, it captures the band in a less frantic setting and eschewing their trademark duh duh duh duh sound. I caught it on BBC 4 when it was first broadcast and loved every minute of it.

This is from their Hello! album. You may remember it sounding like this.

Status Quo - And it's Better Now (2014)

C-Bop Friday

I can't tell you how pleased I am to announce that today's guest on Be-Bop Friday (my irregular featurette written by people I like about their favourite artist) is C - head honcho at Sun Dried Sparrows. C's musings have been a regular fixture on my sidebar for as long as I can remember. Reading her blog is an antidote to all the ills currently befalling civilisation. Thank you for taking the time, C. And I look forward to a time when we can hold our Bloggers' Summit (in real life and without masks!) Let's all meet up in the year 2021, to paraphrase that well known polymath from Sheffield.   

***

"It’s a dreary, damp Saturday afternoon as I write, the kind of Saturday afternoon that anyone who grew up in Britain knows well.  The kind that taps into our memories and effortlessly transports us to the most unremarkable yet evocative days of our youth. Afternoons when we dragged ourselves into town, sheltered from the rain in the jeans shops, fluffed up our hair in the reflection of the Freeman, Hardy & Willis window before diving into the record shop, eager to exchange the pound notes we’d been saving up for the most exciting thing in the world: a piece of 12" vinyl. The Clash, their first album, or Pink Flag by Wire, perhaps – in my case, anyway; whatever it was we favoured at the time.

But our love for those bands might be fleeting. It’s hard to have a favourite which lasts a lifetime; so much changes, both us and them.  So instead my focus turns to a band who somehow encapsulate that very idea – the way we change as we wend our way through life, the influences, the everyday.  The unremarkable yet evocative. Saint Etienne are the band I choose to hear on dreary, damp Saturday afternoons. But they are equally well received against the backdrop of Summer skies, crisp Autumnal Sundays, or street-lit city nights. I think a lot has to do with the fact that Bob, Sarah and Pete are my contemporaries - we share an English '70s past and thus also our middle-aged reflections.  I wrote once before about how, lyrically, they soothe my unease at getting older by reminding me that, actually, it’s alright to be where we are now in our lives because of all the great markers along the way which made us who we are. So, that all seems a bit deep and philosophical, but somehow Saint Etienne convey it with natural ease and no pretension.

It would be hard to pick just one song, there are so many to choose from, but with lyrics which perfectly describe the youthful joys of buying our first records, 'Over the Border' from the album 'Words and Music', seems the most appropriate right now." 

Saint Etienne - Over the Border (2012)

C is for Clash

I received a lovely email earlier today from C over at Sun Dried Sparrows. I'm sure she won't mind me reprinting it here - though I have taken her full name off the bottom!

Hi John 

Hope all is good with you! It was a lovely idea you had to gather some more 'Swedey McSwedeface'* shots from fellow bloggers recently. If you're still on the lookout for some, then here's mine! I finally managed to track down a vinyl copy of this, the first album I ever bought 40 years ago. Sadly I got rid of the original a long time ago to replace with a CD, kinda wish I'd kept it now, just for posterity. This one's not the same issue - I distinctly remember 'The Clash' being printed in a vibrant orange, practically fluorescent, whereas it's red here - but I paid under a tenner for it and it was lovely to be reminded of it full-size. If only it wasn't so tatty (mine was well-loved but well-kept too) and didn't smell like a damp cellar, where it's probably been for the last 40 years. I'll never forget hearing Janie Jones for the first time when I asked them to put Side One on in my local record shop, Startime. I'd saved up my pocket money for months. I just had to have it.

Thanks and all the best 

C

Here's a version of Janie Jones that caught my eye recently. I hope it meets with C's approval.

Pris - Janie Jones

* In case anyone doesn't know what a Swedey McSwedeface is.