Mary McCartney – If These Walls Could Sing

 

Mary McCartney – If These Walls Could Sing

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

With a recording studio as famous as Abbey Road, there is as much mystique as there is history. After attending an advance screening of Mary McCartney’s If These Walls Could Sing, I was reminded of that old adage “the recording studio doesn’t make the artist, the artist makes the studio.”

While that isn’t strictly true – there are numerous excerpts regarding the unique timbre of Studio 2 – it is the unique cast of characters who recorded at Abbey Road which make it the name it is today. The Beatles, Cliff Richard, Pink Floyd to name a few.

It is to McCartney’s credit as a director that she gives ample focus to the players, both through interviews and archival footage/recordings, while also reminding viewers of the omnipotent force that is the studio itself.

She uses beautiful shots of the studio rooms empty in modern times, which flow nicely into the archival footage. The interviews were especially popular with the audience, with a Liam Gallagher segment regarding Oasis’ ill-fated Be Here Now recording sessions drawing a lot of laughs.

The one complaint I have is that at 90 minutes, it almost felt too short. McCartney stated in a post-viewing audience Q&A that her initial rough cut was two and a half hours long. I said to her afterwards that I would love to see more of this material released. (Maybe a podcast is in the cards?)

If Walls is about crediting artists for making the most of their surroundings and drawing influence from those that came before, then I think we must credit Mary McCartney for making a great film using the same methods. I can only hope that this is just the first in a series of music films from McCartney, and not a one-off. If These Walls Could Sing premieres December 16^th on Disney+.

 

My Bloody Valentine – Ecstasy and Wine

My Bloody Valentine – Ecstasy and Wine

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve led a relatively unsuccessful gothic/post-punk band for a few years now. Your records have failed to make an impact critically or commercially. Conventional wisdom would suggest packing it in. And then you get a new lead singer who helps to change everything.

So was the story of Kevin Shields and My Bloody Valentine in 1987. The Irish-via-Queens, NY guitarist named his group after the 1981 slasher film about a miner who stalks a group of young adults. None of the characters led particularly successful lives, and it was an apt metaphor for Shields’ music endeavors – albeit an unintentional one.

None of the groups albums singles and EPs from up to this point show much of anything to write home about from Geek! to This Is Your Bloody Valentine to “Sunny Sundae Smile” – a bizarre song about necrophilia – My Bloody Valentine looked to be stuck in second-rate mode.

That is, until Bilinda Butcher joined the group. Having relocated to London, Shields found Butcher like a ray of sunshine in a rainstorm. It was discovered very quickly that Butcher and Shields could harmonize incredibly well.

Her soft, airy vocals offered a nice contrast to the fuzzed-out guitars that the band was know for. And Shields was adding new influences to his sound. From The Byrds to The Jesus and Mary Chain to the twee indiepop of the C86 compilation and 14 Iced Bears, Shields was concocting his own sound which would later influence bands such as Slowdive and Ride.

While “shoegazing” hadn’t formally been invented yet, it was this period which would define what the genre would sound like. The music on the band’s first two Eps with Butcher - Strawberry Wine and Ecstasy – would be compiled into an album, aptly titled Ecstasy and Wine put out by Lazy Records in 1989.

By then MBV had moved onto even more experimental territory, fusing their hard-charging post-punk sound with a method of guitar playing known as “glide guitar.” Shields would use the tremolo arm on his Jazzmaster while strumming barre chords so that the strings were constantly fluttering in and out of tune.

The groups 1991 album Loveless was a sonic breakthrough, going into even dreamier territory. It was their last for 22 years. Shields has since distanced himself from Ecstasy and Wine, not performing anything from the record live since 1989. But how does this early material with Butcher hold up? Does it deserve a second look?

“Strawberry Wine” starts the album in jangly fashion with layers of dreamy guitars and Shields harmonizing with Butcher on every line. The C86 influence is out in full swing, with ethereal textures and soundscapes. It evokes the end of a beautiful summer day as the sun sets on a beach with fireworks in the distance. And of course, plenty of fruit wine.

“Never Say Goodbye” is even more powerful, with fuzzy rhythm guitars, jangly leads, and Keith Moon-inspired drumming by Colm Ó Cíosóig (whose name I can’t pronounce, despite my Irish heritage.) The call-and-response vocals by Butcher and Shields describe a perfect day where they “never say goodbye” and they “chase the clouds away.” The effect is again evocative of the free spirit of summertime.

“Can I Touch You?” is The Beach Boys via The Mary Chain in the best possible way. Shields sings this one alone in a voice highly reminiscent of Jim Reid. The majestic backdrop of an ascending guitar riff and Ó Cíosóig’s tribal drumming gives the song a primitive 1960’s pop feel.

“The Things I Miss” features hellish keyboards and fuzzed out guitars contrasted with Butcher’s sweetest cooing vocals. It’s largely different from the later work of MBV, but unlike their goth period, it holds up really well.

Strangely absent from the majority of the record is the sound of Deb Googe’s bass. Her thundering, metallic sound was a hallmark of latter MBV records. Here her work is buried deeply in the mix. Which is ironic, because she contributed lyrics to “Never Say Goodbye,” a trebly sounding recording with almost no audible bass.

But perhaps the strongest tune is The Byrds via R.E.M. jangle of “(You're) Safe in Your Sleep (From This Girl)." With more prominent bass and sounding like one of Mike Mills’ compositions from Murmur or Reckoning, it is the poppiest song on the album.

Shields sings in an upbeat voice about a relationship that is fraying at the seams. It’s the mark of a great songwriter to be able to compose uplifting music to contrast melancholy lyrics. And Shields does so in stride here. What makes the song special is that MBV would never attempt such straightforward pop again, despite succeeding at it. Oh well.

In the coming years, Shields would disown Ecstasy and Wine. Part of this had to do with Lazy Records putting it out after My Bloody Valentine had signed to Creation to cash in on the success of the group’s 1988 album Isn’t Anything. Which is a shame, because – while not as experimental as their later work – the seeds of creativity were clearly sown here.

While their early records showed almost no signs of innovation, My Bloody Valentine proved the value of persistence. On Ecstasy and Wine, the group showed that they had a knack for original sounds. And they helped inspire an entire movement to follow them.

Lazy Records/1989

 

The Who – It’s Hard

 

The Who – It’s Hard

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve achieved legendary status all over the world. You’ve released at least five albums which belong in anyone’s top 100 rock albums. And then the tragic loss of key member threatens to derail everything. How do you recover?

So was the story of The Who after 1978. Formed in London as The Detours in 1959, the group spent several years slugging it out on the club circuit before settling on a stable lineup, and a group dynamic that was all their own.

Of particular importance to the group dynamic was the tension between all of its members. Bassist John Entwistle didn’t play the traditional “backline” role but functioned as a de facto lead guitarist. His melodic lines worked against the pyrotechnics in human form bashing of drummer Keith Moon. And lead singer Roger Daltrey never got along with Townshend.

In spite of the tension – or perhaps because of it - The Who would go on to record classic after classic album of “Maximum R&B.” From the pirate radio tribute of 1967’s The Who Sell Out to the story of a troubled Mod in 1973’s Quadrophenia, the group were able to fully realize songwriter/guitarist Pete Townshend’s high concepts – thus taking rock ‘n’ roll in a more serious direction.

However, this is where things began to get messier. On the first night of the Quadrophenia tour, Moon collapsed onstage after overdosing on animal tranquilizers. The show went on – albeit with a fan behind the kit – but it was a harbinger of things to come.

Townshend was beginning to feel as if his glory years had passed him by. Despite only being 28 at the time, it appears that he was feeling middle-aged by rock standards. The next two albums – 1975’s Who By Numbers and 1978 Who Are You – reflected this weariness. Be it “However Much I Booze” or "Music Must Change," one can tell where Townshend’s headspace was. But none of this would compare to the difficulties which were yet to come.

On September 7^th, 1978 – just three weeks after the release of Who Are You – Keith Moon died from an accidental overdose of clomethiazole, a drug used to treat alcohol withdrawal. Moon’s death sent the group into a state of shock.

Ultimately, it was Daltrey who rallied the troops into carrying on, despite the loss of a seemingly irreplaceable drummer. After much deliberation, Moon’s replacement ultimately turned out to be Kenney Jones. The former drummer for Mod group Small Faces was also a drinking buddy of Pete Townshend’s.

Soon after Jones accepted the role, Phil Collins also offered his services. As no public announcement had been made, Collins assumed that he would be considered. Unfortunately for him, the role had already been filled.

With the drum stool settled, The Who were able to carry out their touring duties for Who Are You. At the conclusion of the tour, Pete Townshend recorded his first solo album of the new decade. Released in 1980, Empty Glass marked a shift in Townshend’s writing.

While still featuring classic elements of The Who’s sound – loud guitars, ringing melodies, choruses in a different tempo and key than the verse – it was very different than what was heard before. Musically, the tracks were influenced by the new wave movement of the time.

And while a weariness is still detectable in Townshend’s writing, he sounds almost settled here. There is the obligatory song dealing with Moon’s death – “Jools and Jim” – but Townshend seems to have found inner peace on the rest by looking inwardly.

Which isn’t to say that Townshend was “settled” in The Who. Their next album – 1981’s Face Dances – carried over some of the introspective elements of Empty Glass but received mixed reviews. And Daltrey’s relationship with Townshend was ever prickly, accusing the writer of saving his best songs for his solo albums.

With all of this in mind, The Who quickly entered the studio (in this case, Glyn Johns’ facilities) in June of 1982 to record another new album. But given their recent problems, how would this record sound? And could Townshend marry his new style of writing to The Who?

The ensuing album, It’s Hard was released in September 1982 on Polydor Records. From a production standpoint, it again featured the classic Who sound of loud guitars and clever synthesizer programming. And like Townshend’s recent work, it (again) featured songs dealing with more personal subject matter.

Opener “Athena” began its life as a song Townshend wrote called “Theresa.” The lyrics dealt with a situation at a Pink Floyd performance of The Wall, where Townshend’s advances towards actress Theresa Russell were rejected. However, the title was changed to “Athena,” a move Daltrey criticized as getting too far from the subject matter.

Nevertheless, it is a strong opener, with a bright major key melody played by Entwistle on the horn. Entwistle is omnipresent on the track, as his contributions on the bass are noteworthy as well. The rumbling, ping-ponging effect – which Rolling Stone noted upon release of the track – leads the song into its verse and back into its iconic “she’s a girl (she’s a bomb)” chorus.

Actually, Entwistle is omnipresent throughout the album, contributing three compositions: “It’s Your Turn,” “Dangerous,” and the skipping rhythm of “One At A Time.” A strong case could be made that this was because of the quick turnover rate between 1981’s Face Dances and 1982’s It’s Hard, giving Townshend less time to write. But that doesn’t mean that Townshend’s songs aren’t uniformly excellent.

“A Man Is A Man” features spooky synths and gorgeous rising/falling vocal harmonies between Daltrey and Townshend in the chorus. “Cooks County” fuses pulsating synthesizers and passionate Daltrey vocal in the verses with up-tempo drumming and high harmonies from Townshend in the chorus.

The title track is also a blast. While not part of a rock opera, “It’s Hard” captures the feelings of The Who’s grandiose concept albums in one song. With lyrics such as “Any tough can fight/few can play” and “Any stud can reproduce/few can please” it would seem that Townshend was defending his honor as a songwriter after the criticism of Face Dances. (The fast chord changes also gave Townshend plenty of opportunity for windmilling when The Who played it on tour.)

“I’ve Known No War” features eerie tremolo guitars, pounding “Kashmir”-esque drums, and a passionate vocal from Daltrey. As both Daltrey and Townshend were born at the tail end of WWII, the subject matter fitting. Both the lyrics and the music echo the anxiety they must have felt in the Cold War-era of the early 1980s.

But Townshend’s best composition on the album is “Eminence Front.” An anxious pulsating synthesizer sample opens the track, before giving way to Jones’ drums and Townshend’s guitar riff grooving along at mid-tempo, followed by Townshend’s lengthy intro guitar solo. By the time Townshend steps up to the mic, a minute has gone by.

The lyrics deal with familiar territory for musicians – rockstar excesses, particularly cocaine. But whereas other songwriters (Lou Reed, Mick Jagger/Keith Richards) wrote about the effects of drugs, Townshend instead dealt with the idea of using drugs as a façade to hide behind – thus hiding “behind an eminence front.”

The song was both a huge commercial and critical success, reaching number 68 on the Billboard Hot 100 upon release. It was later ranked as the 10^th best Who song by Rolling Stone.

But perhaps the best song on the album is John Entwistle’s “It’s Your Turn.” The bassist writes from the perspective of an aging rockstar giving advice to a younger musician.

At first the lyrics appears to demonstrate the elder musician’s status and superiority over the younger one: “I was a face in a magazine/When you were still playin' with your plasticine."

But the elder soon realizes that by looking the younger artist in the eye, he sees a younger version of himself in the lad: “I know you young and dumb/I know where you're comin' from. Don't know where you're goin' to/But I been there same as you.”

The young artist takes it in stride, also realizing that the two aren’t all that different, saying that he has “made the same mistakes” that the elder made in his younger years.

By the end the veteran rocker has sympathized with the young buck, even offering a few words of wisdom: "It's your turn, step up and take it/If you've got the guts to hang on, you can make it"

Musically, the track bears a strong resemblance to “Behind The Lines” by Genesis, with some very tight drum fills by Kenney Jones and bing-bing-biiiiing synthesizers played by Entwistle. There are nice tempo shifts and key changes from the verses to the bridge and to the chorus, which give the track a nice sense of variety.

Unlike other Entwistle compositions, this one is sung by Roger Daltrey. And as with Townshend’s greatest compositions, Daltrey makes this one his own vocally. He grunts, pauses on just the syllables, and lets loose with his upper-register wail on the final “ooooh… TAKE IT!!!”

It’s easy to imagine Daltrey identifying with both characters in the song, having cemented his legendary status in rock by the mid-1960s, but singing these words in 1982. While Townshend had (mostly) settled down and gotten away from writing about where he fit into the “new” musical landscape of the 1980s, it must have been cathartic for Daltrey – and the rest of the group – to exorcise the demons one last time.

Which brings us to the present. In the 40 years that have followed It’s Hard, The Who have released just two albums, 2006’s Endless Wire and 2019’s WHO. They’ve broken up, reunited, broken up again, and reunited yet again. Townshend damaged his hearing and had a brief brush with the law.

Most significantly was the death of John Entwistle in 2002. As the last studio album featuring his contributions, It’s Hard is lent an extra poignance through his absence.

While The Who have made better records in the past, this was the last time that they felt like a “group.” It’s Hard might not get the acclaim of the earlier records, but it is better than most remember it being. And on that merit alone, it is worth checking out.

Polydor/1982