Monday, 29 December 2008
BIRMINGHAM, BACH & BAMAKO
I know it’s not a particularly festive subject. But I haven’t been able to get Ozzy Osbourne out of my head after revisiting his last album “Black Rain” and finding it to be the best thing heavy metal’s self-proclaimed Prince Of Darkness has done in decades, a bone-crunching albeit catchy take on modern hard rock. And there are other reasons to be thinking about the former Black Sabbath singer. December 21 marks Frank Zappa’s birthday, and I can’t think of the maestro without being reminded of a story Ozzy told me back in 1995 to underline his belief that one should never read too much into song lyrics, least of all his own. He once congratulated Zappa on the clever drug cipher in “Montana” and earned a hard stare for his praise as Zappa made it absolutely clear that the song was really about a cowboy setting up a dental-floss farm and not as Ozzy had falsely supposed about cocaine. And that’s only the beginning: In a recent article I read recently about plagiarism (re Joe Satriani’s upcoming court case against Coldplay for supposedly filching a chord progression ), Ozzy was quoted as saying that all good bass-lines in the history of rock were first penned by Johann Sebastian Bach, a name-check one wouldn’t have expected from a man not known for straying too far from blues-derived guitar riffs. But perhaps Birmingham’s most famous son has roots that go even further than Bach: Amadou & Mariam’s recently released new album “Welcome To Mali” sent me back to “Tje Ni Mousso” from 1999, where the opening track “Chantez Chantez” sounds a lot like Black Sabbaths’ “Fairies Wear Boots” right down to the wailing vocal melody if you take away the Marshall stacks and Bill Ward’s muted drumming. Of course, as guitarist/singer Amadou Bagayoko is a big rock fan who cites Jimi Hendrix, David Gilmour and Eric Clapton as influences, you might suppose that he took some of Sabbath’s music into his own mix. But I like to think it’s the other way round and that Ozzy’s music owes as much to Bamako as it does to Bach or Birmingham-. Even the most Caucasian heavy metal has roots in Africa, a point one can in my opinion never emphasise enough.
Monday, 15 December 2008
IT COULDN'T HAPPEN HERE
I must be the only music journalist in the world never to have seen "Purple Rain" , the film that broke Prince world-wide back in 1984.
I've obviously seen the videos that accompany such stand-out songs as "Let's Go Crazy", "When Doves Cry" and "Purple Rain" itself, but the actual film has so far eluded me - along with that famous moment everyone goes on about where Prince is late for rehearsal, rushes into the room where his band is playing, straps on his guitar, plugs in and is right in the groove from the get-go. That sort of thing never happens in real life, you say, and until two weeks ago I would have agreed with you had something similar not happened to me. Gretel, the all-female band I have the honour of playing with, was scheduled to support San Francisco avant-garde fireball Death Sentence: Panda! at the Hirscheneck club here in Basel, and I had to step outside for ten minutes after sound-checking my bass to accompany our friend Michelle to the bus stop on the first leg of her long journey back to London. When I got back to the venue, the rest of Gretel was onstage playing a song called "Indians" which is set to make our next CD (no matter what our producer Kieran Kennedy says). I ripped off my leather jacket, picked up my bass from its stand, jumped onstage, plugged in and was on point within a beat or two. Not many people were present to witness my Prince moment, but that doesn't stop me from feeling it was one of the coolest things I've ever experienced. So next time I see something in a film that makes me think "that couldn't happen in real life", I'll think again before passing judgement.
Not easy for someone who makes a living out of being opinionated; I'm sure you'd agree.
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