2021 in music

 

I love music with a passion. Every year I buy the December editions of both 'Mojo' and 'Uncut' and scour the darkest corners of obscure music-sites in search of missed treasure from the twelve months just passed.

 

This time I thought it might be more fun instead to do my own round-up. So here are the best CDs (yes, I am decidedly old-school) which dropped through our letter-box during 2021. I should mention I had to pass them off as gov.uk lateral flow tests in order to avoid scrutiny by my ever-watchful wife. Her legendary raised-eyebrow is a thing of awe in our family.

 

Not all the albums mentioned below were released in 2021, but each chalked up a welcome diminution to my children's fast-dwindling inheritance.

 

Reggae

 

It's been a bad year for much beloved old-school reggae stars; Robbie Shakespeare, Trinity, U Roy and Lee Perry all drew their last breath, hopefully laced with one final draw of herb.

 

It's Perry's music which captivated me most. His mad genius has brought me so much joy over the years, starting way back in the 70s when I first heard the sublime, head-melting dub that is 'Super Ape'. As both a producer and an artist he was an innovator without peer, practising his dark magic under a suitably bizarre range of 'nom de plumes' including Scratch, Chicken Scratch, Little, The Upsetter, Pipecock Jackson and many others beside.

 

The occasion of his passing prompted me to dive deep into his exhaustive, and frequently exhausting, back-catalogue. I returned triumphant to the surface clutching this little-known 'pearl' from the latter period of his lengthy career...

 

 

 

You can hear it here.

 

No year would be complete without the addition of a compilation or two from the mighty Soul Jazz label. I squeezed 'Studio One DJ Party', 'Dreads Enter The Gates With Praise' and 'Fashion Records: Style and Fashion' into the over-flowing CD shelves, but it's this one which stands out most.

 

 

'An England Story' traces a fantastic line of UK MC's through Dancehall, Dubstep, Hip Hop, Jungle, Grime and Garage.

 

Here's Tenor Fly with his joyful version of 'Bump and Grind'. I must add it to the playlist for my dear wife's seminal 'Tea'n'Scone' bashments at her local Women's Institute. I sense it would go down a storm.

 

My final choice from the world of reggae is yet another compilation - 'Version Excursion', a selection put together by Don Letts for the legendary 'Late Night Tales' series.

 

 

 

It features the most bizarre cover of 'Uptown Top Ranking' you're ever likely to hear. 

 

SPOILER ALERT: The band who recorded it were Black Box Recorder, whose vocalist Sarah Nixey sounds not unlike new kid on the block, Florence Shaw, of whom more later.

 

Americana

 

New releases by Steve Gunn ('Other You') and William Tyler ('Lost Futures') lived up to their normal high standards.

 

Here's the title track from the former.

 

It was, however, an emerging genre known as Ambient Americana that most captured my imagination. It's almost entirely instrumental and somehow manages to weld together 1970s German experimental electronic music and modern American memes without creating some weird monster hybrid. Difficult to describe properly, but blissfully meditative.

 

I explored 'Altar of Harmony' by Luke Schneider, 'Balms' by Chuck Johnson and 'Ghost Box' by SUSS. They all have something to offer, but it's the last I liked most. It has a haunting but peaceful quality that bears repeated listening.

 

  

Check it out here.

 

Country

 

At one time I would have run a mile rather than own up to liking country music. How times have changed. The possibility of being able to run a mile (country or otherwise) is but a dim and distant memory, yet the music - well that's an entirely different story.

 

'Country Funk Volume III 1975-1982' was a catchily entitled release from the esteemed Light in the Attic label, the latest in its ongoing musical mash-up series. I remain to be convinced this is an actual genre but the joy of rhinestone disco is a fine thing to behold.

 

 

 

Here's JJ Cale in good form.

More convincingly authentic was 'Choctaw Ridge', a fantastic compilation put together by Ace Records, one of the UK's best-loved re-issue specialists.

Each song, whether from a stellar act or a relative unknown, shines light on the human condition. This CD comes top of my charts for 2021 listening and rather surprisingly wins a rare badge of approval from my dear wife.

Here's one voice you might conceivably recognise. It's not hers.

Indie

 

It was a surprisingly good year for new bands with three great debut albums each promising much to come.

First up was Squid with 'Bright Green Futures'. G.S.K. was the lead-off track, extolling the virtues of medicine-producer, glaxosmithkline.

 

And for those who are interested here's a verbatim extract from the wacky world of the interweb.

 

Ten Interesting Facts About Squid

• Biologists estimate that there are as many as 500 species of squid.
  
• Squid are carnivores; they eat fish, crustaceans, and smaller squid.
• Squid have 8 arms and only the tentacles have suckers.
• Squid have three hearts.
• Squid swim faster than any other invertebrate.
• Squid have beaks.
• Compared to their size, squid have the largest eyes of any animal.
• Squid eyes have in-built contact lenses, which they use to protect their eyes and to focus on their prey.
• Humboldt squid become invisible by turning red, a colour that is virtually invisible underwater, as sunlight does not travel to the seabed. 
• Deep water squid have glow-in-the-dark organs.
  

Well that pretty much explains it all.

How many bands do you know who meld post-punk, free jazz, klezmer, and math rock into a meaningful whole? Few did it better than Black Country, New Road with their debut, 'For the First Time'. This is the opening track.

 

 

 

And the pick of the bunch? Dry Cleaning's, 'New Long Leg' grows on me (not literally of course, too many nightmarish flashbacks of Rolf Harris for that) with each fresh play.

 

The lyric sheet is worth the price of admission alone. Who but Florence Shaw could insert a line like 'I came here to make a ceramic shoe' mid-flow in 'Scratchcard Lanyard'.

 

Jazz

 

Whilst I ventured little into the world of jazz this year, I did manage to snag a cut-price Ethiopiques compilation on a foray into town for an alcohol-fuelled lunch with an old friend.

 

Fortunately, the CD made it back safe with me. This was despite the ingestion of a few schooners of a rather decent red washed down with several bottles of super-strength Belgium lager.

The haunting eastern scales are truly hypnotic. For some strange reason it takes me back to the final bottle of lager with my friend before we staggered our separate ways home.

 

Blues

 

Each year I explore in depth the music of an artist who is just a little 'off my radar'. I'm still paying down the overdraft incurred several aeons ago from twelve months of exploring the box-sets of Miles Davis.

 

In 2021 my artist of choice was the legendary Tony Joe White, master of Swamp Rock. Several long and late evenings parsing the back-pages of specialist second-hand site, Discogs resulted in three purchases, my favourite of which was this...

 

 

The album was released in 2001, some thirty two years into his recording career, and was entitled rather optimistically, 'The Beginning'. It features the unadorned voice, guitar and occasional kick-board of Tony Joe White.

 

Here's 'Going Back To Bed', a sentiment one suspects many of us will have shared during the past twelve months.

Of more recent origin is GA-20's, 'Try It...You May Like It!'

GA-20 were formed in 2017 but can play authentic Chicago Blues with the best of them. This album is their tribute to the early work of Hound Dog Taylor. Here's their take on Hound Dog's 'She's Gone' accompanied by a video showing a most disturbing proliferation of facial hair.

 

Incidentally, the track also provides my 'go to' aquarium-cleaning music during my fish tank's weekly algae-purge. Doesn't everyone have a favourite for occasions like this?

 

Japanese City Pop and Ambient

 

There's so much amazing Japanese modern music to explore that I feel I've just started to scratch the surface. Here are three compilations well worth a listen.

 

 

 

 

'Heisei No Oto' celebrates left-field Japanese pop released on the newly emerging medium of compact disc during the late 80s and early 90s.

 

Here's my favourite track, Dream Dolphin's, 'Take No Michi'. Michi (or '道 ' as it is writ in Japanese) means 'road'. Accordingly, I take this piece of music to be a prescient allegory for the endless works which clog up the M6 for the poor Midlands commuter.

 

 

Behind the rather cumbersomely named, 'Somewhere Between: Mutant Pop, Electronic Minimalism & Shadow Sounds of Japan 1980-1988' lies a fascinating body of work encompassing pop, ambient, electronica and techno, all with a uniquely Japanese twist.

They could do with a little work on that title though...

Like 'Somewhere Between' the second 'Pacific Breeze' compilation also appears on the Light in the Attic label. At first listen it appears relatively straightforward, but dig deeper and the sub-genre known as City Pop begins to unlock its hidden treasure.  Yes, it's pop, but not quite as we know it!

 

Re-issues

 

I finish this dull and somewhat meandering review with two more mainstream re-issues. The first is a rather splendid compilation of Nancy Sinatra's work from the 60s and 70s.

 

 

Pleasingly, a significant proportion of the tracks were produced, written or played on by the marvellous music maverick, Lee Hazelwood.

 

Listeners of a certain age may well enjoy this video rendition of the big hit,'These Boots Are Made For Walking'.

 

And so to my big purchase of the year, the Beach Boys' sessions for their 'Sunflower' and 'Surf's Up' albums.

 

 

 

I plumped for the super de-luxe edition of 'Feel Flows' and it was so worth it. Five fascinating CDs which follow this iconic American band during a challenging period of development.

 

 

So I'm done. Happy listening all the way from free flows to Feel Flows, the story of 2021 set to music! 

 

top ten albums - no. 7

Dear Sheddists,

 

as a keen aficionado of compilations, film soundtracks and weird Americana what's not to love about, 'Music From Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus'.

 

The original concept for the film came from Jim White's debut album, which to give it its full name is, 'The Mysterious Tale of How I Shouted Wrong-Eyed Jesus!'. It features three songs by Jim together with terrific contributions from a variety of alt-country and Americana luminaries including The Handsome Family, David Eugene Edwards and Johnny Dowd.

The film is directed by Brit, Andrew Douglas and stars Jim White in a beat-up Chevy Impala exploring some of the weirder sides of the Deep South.  It just drips Southern Gothic from every pore, the atmosphere set from the very start by a short scene featuring legendary author, Harry Crews, explaining how to cook a possum.

The themes of the accompanying music appear at first-sight to be equally bleak - murder, death, unrequited love - but like the scenery that provides the back-drop to the film the songs reveal hidden beauty as they unfold.

I just cannot recommend the film and its soundtrack enough - they're both absolutely terrific!


'Truth of the matter was stories was everything and everything was stories. Everybody told stories. It was a way of saying who they were in the world. It was their understanding of themselves. It was letting themselves know how they believed the world worked - the right way and the way that was not so right.'

Harry Crews (June 7, 1935 – March 28, 2012)

The spoken word version ….

Dear Chroniclers,

if you enjoyed reading 'Circumstance', here's a link to my very first video on YouTube - a spoken word version...

http://www.youtube.com/user/electrofriedmr/videos

It will appeal to those who appreciate the true awfulness of a faux Deep Southern Americana accent!

best regards,

electrofried(mr)

Circumstance

Darn you Skeeter boy, darn you.  Skeeter, we miss you so much.

All those fancy ideas and things, don't know where they came from, Skeeter, you mad boy. Not out the mud and critter-flat grits where they buried you.  Was it that bang to your head on Momma's broiling pot when you ran too fast for us to catch hold?  You sure ran darn fast!  Straight in the pot and we had to drag you back out the bubble-bubble water, cooked and scalded, screaming up to the light.

Maybe it's there you caught? Hunkered down in the tarpaulin, turpentine shack with your books and words and fancy thoughts.  All summer laid out and kicked sore, skinned like some kid-goat flayed and bloody raw red. And Momma sure wept some tears that summer, Skeeter boy.  Just the circumstance.

You read and you read and you read, like picking out the cotton. White page, black word, white page, black word. And you just kept on reading. All summer long, one big red scar from tipper-toe to tipper-toe.

Is that where it came on you, Skeeter boy?  The long build rail, steaming all the way up and outta the swamp, all the way to heaven. A million, million holy words cut, dried and stacked like the 'bacca leaves, hung out to dry and smoked in some weak, watery sun only to be coughed up like a morning hair-ball plug of phlegm.

That was the plan, wasn't it Skeeter boy?  Build 'em up tall, word and word and word, one after the other chasing all the way to the moon.  They laughed at you, mad boy. Skeeter, boiled in Momma's pot and building a tower, one word at a time.

They laughed when you cut up the papers, squared and ready like some rebel outhouse creek-wipe, smeared and steaming. And then you began to stack 'em, layer on layer.  All those words just tethered to the ground.  One foot, two foot, still it kept on rising as the trees shed leaves and the sow bugs crawled into little balls beside the cold, dark bayou.

You worked it hard that winter, Skeeter boy and we watched the tower rise.  Up it went, some mad-boy smokestack pile of words. Not that they made much sense for us Skeeter, no more than a Cane Ridge Revival camp-meet with hot words and spitting snake-medicine vials.  You reached the top of the barn by Christmas, lagged with dead indigo, cotton and hemp to keep the cold from leaching out those letters.

It didn't stop there, no Sir. On and upward as winter snow turned slush to spring and mud-baked fields turned hot summer dreams that threshed in the corn-dollied autumn days.  Climbing and climbing.  You disappeared from view the second year.  Up to the clouds with more letters and words.

You took a C
and you took an I
and you took an R
and you took a C
and you took a U
and you danced
you danced like a crazy boy on top of the world
and you took an M
and you took an S
and your scars bubbled
in Momma's scalding pot
and still you climbed
to bring
the T
that followed on with A
and an N
and you laboured in the sweating, grey folds of a sulky drawn Confederate dawn
as you reached for the C
and ….

fell to ground clutching the last letter of your cold-blow day on earth
and we buried you
deep in the critter-flat grits
while we whistled down the wind
with cracked and broken
molasses teeth

and left you

with ….. E

alone and blowing in the bayou wind.

Darn you, Skeeter boy, darn you.