Village People and Bjorn Again

 

When the web site stated something along the lines of “Bjorn Again will support Village People, but both acts will play for the same amount of time”, you suspected that either there had been some tense running order discussions or perhaps the promoters had realised that nobody with a credit card wanted to watch a full set of Village People, even on their 40th anniversary.

I’d seen Bjorn Again previously, so knew what to expect: kimonos, peroxide and a lot of cheese: cheesy Swedish accents, cheesy dance moves and cheesy “this half of the hall sing with me” type banter. Ah, who cares, what you also get are tour-perfected selections from one of pop’s best greatest hits catalogues. The Aussies have been doing this for a while now and obviously know at 8pm on a Friday night their audience is going to consist of people who have put their work week beyond them and have already had a couple of Tiger beers. So their slightly truncated set list found room for stompers such as Ring Ring and Honey Honey, but not the reflective Winner Takes it All. During the set it struck me that there a few better catalogues than Abba’s at removing arses from seats. They went down a storm.

Village People never had a chance. But they could have at least tried. In case you’re wondering, three of them were the original line-up (the Native American, the Soldier, and the Cop – and judging by the shape of the last, the San Francisco Police Department needs to revise it’s annual medical screening). During the second song I found myself saying to Mrs Hawkfall “They’re miming. Only the lead singer has his microphone turned on”. These sentiments were also expressed more loudly to the band by a couple of members of the audience a few songs later. This soured things a little bit, though towards the end of the set they managed to get some of the goodwill back (it was noticeable that the younger, non-original members were able to charm the crowd much more effectively than their elders).

The Halo Effect

 The Halo Effect: “If we see a person first in a good light, it is difficult subsequently to darken that light”

In David Hepworth’s book on 1971, he uses the Halo Effect to explain why “What’s Going On” has such a reputation for being a great album (basically, the excellence of the opening and closing tracks casts a halo over the rest of the album).

That got me thinking about where else this effect can be seen. Oddly enough, the first name that came to mind was David Letterman. When he retired a couple of years back, tributes poured in about his 30 years as a talk show host. Yet most of the clips that were recalled were from the 1980s. As someone who only saw his show from the late 90s onwards it was difficult to see what the fuss was about: a fairly cranky middle-aged guy making jokes with his bandleader? I think a lot of the goodwill that was extended to him was a result of the Halo Effect created by his early 80s shows, when he really was a breath of fresh air.

In sports, few teams benefit from the Halo Effect as much as the Brazilian national team. Even though they abandoned their old style of play in the late 80s, we still think of each Brazil team as being the heirs of Jairzinho, Pele, Carlos Alberto and the others of the great 1970 team. Each time a World Cup comes around, there’s talk of “jogo bonito” and “samba style football” that doesn’t bear much resemblance as to what’s happening on the pitch. Similarly, the Dutch team have been counter-attacking bruisers for over a decade, but we still carry a torch for them, because of the Halo Effect cast by Cruyff, Neeskens et al.

Perhaps it’s unfair to talk of the Halo Effect with musicians. There’s a general acceptance that they produce their best work in their 20s, so why give someone a hard time if they’re still around 30 or 40 years later and not producing great stuff? Having said that, there are a couple of names that come to mind. Neil Young is one who seems to retain a lot of goodwill from people who got to know him in the 70s (or 90s), even as he tests their patience with each record. And Morrissey’s career seems to be sustained by the residual energy of the intense relationship with his fans in the 80s.

The Singles Of 1987

1987 is now 30 years ago. I was 18 in 1987, so should love it, but I don’t usually consider myself a big fan. Too much Hair Metal, Stock Aitken & Waterman, Stadium Rock and Karel Fialka. However, I may have to change my opinion a bit because if you look at the singles released in this year, it may have a claim to be great.

Rent
I’ve always preferred Minor Key PSB (Being Boring, Left to my Devices) over hi-NRG PSB (most of the other ones), and I think Rent is their best song. I recall that when Melody Maker did their end of the year review, Andrew Eldritch listed it as his Single of the Year by virtue of the fact that it was the only single he bought that year. “Really. With your money” sniffed the MM.

Rebel Without a Pause
It’s on It Takes a Nation of Millions, but it was recorded and released between their first two albums in 1987. This might well be the group at their peak, and it was easily the most exciting thing I heard that year, far more so than any of the rock or indie records released. What a bloody racket! The genius of Public Enemy was the combination of Chuck D and Flavor Flav, and it’s at its best here. E.F.F.E.C.T otherwise known as effect, you understand what I’m saying?  

Paid in Full
Big year for Hip Hop, 1987. The album version is good, but to be honest it’s the Coldcut remix that really takes this song to the next level, particularly the Ofra Haza sample. Great rhymes too: “a pen and a paper, a stereo, a taper”.

Fairytale of New York
It’s getting overexposed now, and a Xmas when I don’t hear it counts as a success, but it’s still a great song. Didn’t make the no. 1 spot of course; when I saw them at the Edinburgh Playhouse in 1988, Shane McGowan introduced the song as “Here’s one you liked almost as much as the Pet Shop Boys…”

Pump Up the Volume
I actually think that 1987 was another 1965. We’re living in an era defined by dance music and hip hop and 1987 was the year that both really broke through. I’d never heard anything like this before when it hit the charts. Ofra Haza there again.

Fight For Your Right
The album came out in late 1986, so it’s cheating a little bit, but believe it or not it was the 3rd single from the album and didn’t come out till 87. Like most of the first record, it has more to do with Rick Rubin than Ad Rock & co, but who cares? It’s great fun. May have been responsible for Limp Bizkit.

It’s So Easy
The bigger hits would come out the next year, but it all started here, and unlike a lot of other stuff from the album, this one still sounds fresh, probably because it’s so sweary that it never gets played anywhere where sweariness may cause offence.

I’m sure I’m missed stuff. I was hoping to include The Mercy Seat, but that was 1988 apparently, so I may have to reassess that wretched year too. What do you think? Dog of a Year? Or a year of innovation?

Hip Hop Family Tree

Ed Piskor’s “Hip Hop Family Tree” makes innovative use of the comics medium to tell the story of Hip Hop. It’s basically a documentary, but instead of aged talking heads reminiscing over old footage, Piskor narrates the story, with the images showing the main characters and action. This technique takes you back and effectively immerses you into the sights and fashions of the periods covered.

The story starts in the Bronx in the 70s and for a while doesn’t travel very far outside; it’s remarkable how much of the early innovation in Hip Hop happened in such a small, concentrated area. Despite this, the number of characters quickly multiplies, and Piskor has his work cut out managing all the competing crews, DJs, club owners and MCs.  Piskor has cited Chris Claremont’s 70s/80s work on the Uncanny X-Men as inspiration for handling an extensive list of characters and it’s there to see in techniques such as introducing characters well before they take centre stage (graphic design student Carlton Ridenhouer is seen listening to early Hip Hop at college, and in a nice touch we see young comics fan Darryl McDaniels reading a copy of the X Men).

Going so far back in time enables Piskor to explain the cultural roots of the genre. The battles between the sound systems at the block parties and the roots in gang culture explain the seam of adversarial braggadocio that still runs through the music. 

The comics are well-researched (with endnotes pointing you to further reading and YouTube clips), but the tone isn’t dry, and though the genre is given the respect it merits, there’s a spiky playful tone throughout. This is evident in how Piskor portrays some of the characters: Rick Rubin is shown as a spoilt, slumming rich kid, while Russell Simmon’s lisp (or as the comic would put it “Ruthell Thimmon’th lithp”) is turned up to 11.

If you’re a Hip Hop fan, you’ll find more than enough detail and verisimilitude here to wallow in. If like me, you’re largely a sympathetic observer, you can enjoy the storytelling chops and artwork, plus find a few things to explore beyond those Public Enemy, Wu Tang Clan and Common albums.

The Broons in 2016

About twenty years ago someone wrote to the letters page of The Guardian with a set of three questions that could be used to determine whether someone was really Scottish or not. I forget the other two, but one of them was “Who lives at 10 Glebe Street?”. The answer, as anyone who has grown up in Scotland over the last 80 years or so will know is: The Broons. I received a copy of the latest book as a Christmas present (it must be a classic gift for exiled Scots) and it was the first one I’d seen for quite a few years.

If you’re unfamiliar with the Broons, it is a long-running comic strip published weekly in the Scottish Sunday Post newspaper with a book collecting the strips being published every two years or so (And it really is long-running, first appearing in 1936, it’s characters are older than Batman and Superman). The original writer/artist died in the late 60s and since then a series or writers and artists have continued the strip in exactly the same style (there have been no Frank Miller-type Dark Knight re-imaginings of the Broons, though it’s an intriguing thought).

There are four standard Broons storylines:

1. “The Bairn overhears something”. Simple but versatile, the bairn overhears someone talking about one of the family, gets the wrong end of the stick, mobilises panic-stricken family members until it all sorts itself out. Memorably used in Viz’s McBroons strip. Key phrase: “Ha ha! My wee lamb!”

2. “Pa is mean”: Pa Broon tries to save money in a ridiculous way while lecturing the rest of the family on their spendthrift ways. He always comes a cropper and ends up spending more to get less. Key phrase: “Auld Skinflint”

3. “The But and Ben”: All 9 Broons decamp for a holiday in a two-room house in the Scottish countryside. Key phrase: “Look at that teuchter!

4. “The Broons vs Modern Life”: A member of the family will enthuse about a new trend or technology, such as electric shavers or computer games, only for the Broons to put their own stamp on it. In this year’s book, Grandpa Broon comes up with a mince & tatties smoothie, the idea of which is making me feel a bit queasy as I type. Key phrase: “Now that’s what I call a –insert technology name-!”

 

Why is The Broons still going? It was old-fashioned even when I first read it in the 70s; it can look ridiculously so today. In one of the strips in this year’s book we see Pa Broon at work in what seems to be a shipyard while his son buys a second hand zoot suit for a date. It’s not even that well-written: the bairn these days talks like Jar Jar Binks’s Scottish cousin: “Me disnae think Paw kens how”.

I think one reason it still exists is that it benefits from the powerful Celtic Nostalgia that Scots tend to be subject to (think of Billy Connolly’s line about Scots singing about being far away from Scotland while they’re still there). But I also think it’s linked to the fact that The Broons are one of the first things that a Scot will read by themselves; there are generations who remember having Broons and Oor Wullie books in their childhood libraries. The Broons is a reminder of childhood independence. And because it’s so strongly linked to our childhoods we’re happy to ignore the fact that Pa Broon dresses like something from Peaky Blinders.