Lennon and McCartney go head-to-head yet again.
Ram was McCartney’s second solo album, released in 1971, and is a prime example of how popular music, on its release, is adjudged by so many factors other than music. Macca was in disfavour in 1971, regarded, wrongly, as the man who broke up The Beatles and also as the politico-spiritual lightweight of the quartet (Ringo has always been given a pass on these matters!). 50 years later, disconnected from all such blather,
Ram is a jolly thing, scrappy but fun, with an unpretentious thrown-together quality, songs such as lo-fi Beach Boys pastiche “Dear Boy” rubbing up against the entertainingly silly, music hall rockin’ ode to marjuana “Monkberry Moon Delight”. It does, indeed, sound like a man decompressing after the monumental, generational expectations placed on his previous band. In gatefold, it also comes half-speed mastered so sounds great. Lennon’s first solo effort, the
Noel Gardner
, April 20th, 2021 09:12
From a read along sci-fi Italo/prog epic to rebooted darkside rave and juke via earthy Cornish analogue electronics, Noel Gardner is back once again with more tantalising sounds from the UK sonic fringes
Yazzus
I should probably draw up some sort of officially worded disclaimer for each intro to these columns, a kind of inverted pledge of allegiance, but to reaffirm: while it is fun and nice to write, every other month, about a pile of music whose ‘Britishness’ is its main common factor, I would erase every word of it from existence if that could somehow be a tradeoff for ‘Britain’ also ceasing to exist, conceptually. Shit, they can take me full stop if necessary.
Fact Residency: Blackhaine
Fact Residency: Blackhaine
Bringing the same visceral energy to music, movement, poetry and performance, Blackhaine has proven himself to be a vital new voice. Listen to what he has to say.
For multidisciplinary artist, MC and choreographer Tom Heyes, Blackhaine is both an artistic alias and shorthand for the “dark, hateful place” that his work is channelled from. Approaching sound, image, movement and poetry with the same visceral energy, Heyes seeks to transform the grey, bleak landscapes he associates with his birthplace of Lancashire and his native Manchester into sites of creative catharsis, elevating stories of depression, deprivation, substance abuse and small-time gangsters into vital transmissions from Britain’s darkest depths.
Armour
sounds so specifically Northern - what is it about Preston and Salford, about Lancashire, that inspires the music you make?
Blackhaine: The Lancashire I know is a lost place, trapped between hills and moors. That feeling drives me when I make music, being pressured between nothingness. There’s less sunlight and more rain in Preston, Salford - non of these areas are gentrified yet so it’s a lot more real here for sure.
The record was made over quarantine, how did that shift in living inform
Armour?
Blackhaine: Creatively I don’t think anything changed, I’m used to working on concepts in isolation. In terms of the lockdown it gave me time without distractions to get deeper into my process and research ideas more. Practically this record was created over the internet. Rainy Miller and myself have known each other for around ten years, we’ve always talked about working together but never really had the chance. When lockdown began I sent Rainy the Blackpool voc