Monday, 3 August 2009

Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 03/08/2009

With all the controversy surrounding Phil Spector’s recent imprisonment, it is all too easy to overlook the music that the wacky-wigged producer made, however Leonard Cohen’s Death Of A Ladies’ Man – his fifth album – is one that is deservedly ignored, being neither a highlight of Cohen’s back catalogue nor Spector’s finest moment behind the mixing desk. The sound is murky and overall the album suffers a major identity crisis – the theme of the songs seem, predictably for Cohen, to focus almost exclusively on carnal matters, but the gauche musical backdrop veers from New Orleans-style processionals to louche disco on the best song on the album ‘Don’t Go Home With Your Hard-On’ (with backing vocals supplied by Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg). Apparently, the typically capricious Spector locked the singer out of the studio to focus on the music, even though Cohen hadn’t done much more than lay down guide vocals, hence why Leonard sounds as if he’s singing from inside a box. I can honestly say that the highlight of this album is the sleeve which sees Cohen on a banquette with two women draped over him, a trace of a sly grin spread across his ordinarily sombre face.

Leonard Cohen 'Death Of A Ladies' Man'

Incidentally, Cohen fan Nick Cave wrote a truly brilliant song called ‘Hard-On For Love’. Cave and his band The Bad SeedsLive Seeds collection captures the band on tour in Europe in 1992/93, and seeks to evidence their status as a premier live band. Many of the band’s best-loved early songs are here, only rendered still more powerful live: take a listen to the incendiary version of ‘The Mercy Seat’ – later covered by Johnny Cash – which knocks spots off the studio version on Tender Prey or my personal favourites ‘Papa Won‘t Leave You Henry‘ and ‘Jack The Ripper‘. The band also deliver a cover of ‘Plain Gold Ring’, a plaintive song recorded by both Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone, with the Bad Seeds‘ version winding up with some beautiful ear-bothering feedback. A more comprehensive review can be found at Documentary Evidence.

Nina Simone, in her twilight years, performed at Nick Cave’s Meltdown Festival on London’s South Bank. Simone’s only representation in my music collection comes in the form of a cheap compilation CD and I have never intended to develop a greater interest in her music beyond this cursory introduction. When I do stick this on I tend to eschew the pop of songs like ‘My Baby Just Cares For Me’ or the politicised ‘Mississippi Goddamn‘, in favour of her more out-and-out jazz recordings.

Still surveying the contents of one of my boxes of 7” singles, I alighted upon ‘The Riddle’ by Nik Kershaw this week. This was the first single I was ever bought, back when I was a mere seven year old. Even to this day I regard Kershaw’s brand of music and lyric writing as superior to anything else of its time, and don’t regard songs like this as guilty pleasures. ’The Riddle’ is, as its name suggests, thoroughly cryptic with a leaning toward Celtic mythology, unlike the B-side (’Progress’ recorded live at Hammersmith) which is out-and-out New Wave, ironically taking pot-shots at modern culture whilst casually deploying modern sounds. Although finally selling out and hitting the arenas as part of the Eighties flashback carnival, he’s still turning out excellent music – his 2001 album, To Be Frank contains some of the best song writing from him or anyone, forgiving him both his pay-the-rent touring commitments and his collaborations with Chesney Hawkes.

Nik Kershaw 'The Riddle'

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