The Sandman Cometh

Last Sunday, Metallica played on the premises of a sports and education centre near the very obscure Swiss village of Jonschwil. I’m not an enthusiast, but the band rattled through selections from their early repertoire and “Cyanide” from their forthcoming album “Death Magnetic” with more aplomb and precision than I’d come to expect from Metallica. So it was easy to forget the fact that the tow-hour concert was a bit like a juke-box from hell that catered to an audience that had discovered Metallica in its youth and abandoned the band when James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Kirk Hammett and then-bassist Jason Newstead started straying from the narrow path they’d ploughed for themselves in the Eighties.
A few hors before the gig, I and two other journalists were due to interview Hammett, and when we were ushered into the designated interview space, we found it to be the music room of the school building that was serving Metallica and support act Within Temptation as a backstage refuge. Francois Barras from 24 Heures and I grabbed guitar and bass respectively and started jamming on the riff to Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”, and had the record company representative not intervened, we would have treated Hammett to a taste of his own medicine. Being professionals, we ceased and desisted, but I couldn’t help greeting Hammett with the opening shot that we were holding auditions and that he was on drums. The quip broke the ice, especially as I told him what we’d be messing about with, and Hammett responded by saying that that must have been the racket he’d heard coming down the corridors. He turned out to be a sweet thoughtful and terribly jet-lagged human being, but I still wish Francois and I had had the bottle to ruin “Enter Sandman” in his presence.

Remembering „Shaft“

So it’s good-bye Isaac Hayes at only 65. His “Hot Buttered Soul” album (1969) had already disappeared from the shelves of my nearest record shop Roxy Records by the time I came looking for more music by the soul singer, composer and arranger who passed away last Sunday at his Memphis home, but I was able to secure a second-hand copy of “Live At The Sahara Tahoe” (1978) instead. It showcases Mr. Hayes in a reflective yet playful mood, responding to calls from the crowd as well as wondering about the state of the planet we’ll be leaving to future generations. What surprises me about the performance is the lightness of his touch. Although Hayes is commanding some 20-odd musicians and singers, he’s doing so with a supple immediacy that makes up for the slow tempo and sheer length of some of the tracks. Needless to say, the concert kicks off with Hayes’ theme from “Shaft”, a song I remember hearing for the very first time in 1974 when I was first getting into music. The track served as the intro to a tape called “Understanding Pop” on which rock critic Derek Jewell mused on the history of 20h century popular music and played snippets of everything from Big Bill Broonzy and “Pinball Wizard” to “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” and Yes. “Shaft” fascinated me immediately, as the music sounded futuristic yet earthy, driving yet sophisticated, and I still marvel at the fact that its composer could put together such an effective piece of sonic cinema without being able to read or write music. The piece was so enthralling that the film was a big disappointment to me when I finally got to see it in the Eighties, as the soft focus and long shots that director Gordon Parks employed back in 1971 seemed decidedly dated. However, Roger Ebert's review makes me want to see this period piece again, and perhaps the quality of the movie itself isn’t so important. Richard Round tree as John Shaft was an inspiration to millions of people all over the world, as the Brazilian composer and Basel resident Fabio Freire reminded me recently. Even in Brazil there were no figures a black citizen could identify with, so “Shaft” had a huge impact on Fabio in his youth. We now know that the blaxploitation genre of films was based entirely on shrewd marketing, but Hays’ score still holds all the street-level energy it had in 1971. Once the itchy wah-wah-guitar and crashing hi-hat kick-start the slow but inevitable build-up that makes the song so gripping, one wants them to go on for ever. And in some ways always will do just that. I can’t see “Shaft” or the best of Mr. Hayes’ repertoire slipping from people’s memories in decades to come. Thank you, Isaac.

Cat vs. prog-rock

Cats don’t like Yes.

This is hardly surprising as cats are notoriously cool and there are few things that are less cool in 2008 than listening to the meanderings of veteran progressive rock bands. In my defence, I can say that the Bristol drum’n’bass musician Roni Size got me re-appraising Yes and that it took me all of eleven years to follow his call. A few months prior to the release of Reprazent’s “New Forms” album (1997), I heard his track “Natural Ting” that features the Rhodes piano introduction to Yes’ “Sound Chaser” (off the 1974 “Relayer” album) and questioned Roni about the sample when I interviewed him in late 1996. Roni didn’t want to talk about “Natural Thing” lest he got into trouble for his uncredited appropriation of intellectual property, but the track left me curious about “Sound Chaser” which is the closest Yes ever got to being funky (albeit in 6/4 time).

So I purchased a CD copy of “Relayer” in 2007 and was appalled by some of the music I re-encountered there (notably the 22-minute long “Gates Of Delirium” and hastily shelved the album, but something must have impressed me. as I dug “Relayer” out again a few weeks back. I now found myself marvelling at some of the ideas the band had come up with back in 1974, and “Sound Chaser” seemed to have regained much of its old power, too. This set me wondering about the rest of Yes’ work, but listening to some of the snippets at the All Music Guide made me realise that many of the criticisms levelled at Yes were justified from 1972 onwards. I was, however, moved to buy the “Fragile” album (1971), as it contains several short (under seven minutes) pieces I felt I might learn something from as a musician.

On returning home with the remastered and expanded CD that actually cost less than the LP I had bought in 1976, I found that our tabby cat had done a mother of a dump in my wife’ Viviane’s office and other places to boot. I took this to be a sign of his displeasure at my recent musical choices and haven’t dared listen to “Fragile” yet. Cats are definitely too cool for Yes, but perhaps I’ll sneak a listen when he’s asleep.

After all, cats reputedly only spend a third of their lives awake.