Trollheart

Freedom for Nelson Mandela, February 11 1990

With the fall of the Berlin Wall the previous year, the nineties opened with another event I had never expected to see in my lifetime, as former leader of the Africa National Congress (ANC) and political prisoner Nelson Mandela finally walked free from prison after twenty-five years of incarceration for his beliefs. Ostensibly, Mandela had been jailed for his activities with the ANC, which included a bombing campaign against the then-ruling white majority government of P.W. Botha and the Afrikans Party, but in reality he was just too powerful a symbol and too dangerous an opponent to the government of South Africa to be left free.

Mandela's campaign against the government was a direct reaction to the then policy of apartheid, under which blacks had virtually no rights, or as many or few as the white-led government chose to give them. They had no vote, no say in politics and could hold no decent jobs. They were allowed minimal education, and could be arrested at a moment's notice and held without charge almost indefinitely.


When Mandela turned, reluctantly, to violent methods in his attempt to overthrow the government and attain equal rights for black South Africans, he was accused of sedition, sabotage and attempted revolution through arms (all of which were true) and sentenced to life imprisonment in June 1964. His time in prison was not easy: the government believed implicity in the term "hard labour", and Mandela's cell was in a very poor state. As well as this, the warders were of course all white, which added to his discomfort. He was so despised (or feared) that he was not even allowed out of prison on compassionate grounds to be able to attend the funerals of his mother or his son, the latter killed in a car accident.


As time went on though and the world began to change, calls were heard more and more for Mandela's release, though it's telling to note that neither US president Ronald Reagan nor UK Prime Minister the late Margaret Thatcher were among them, both firmly believing Mandela, as a "communist and terrorist", should remain behind bars. However, they were in the minority and the world was getting sick of apartheid, with more and more voices raised in support of freeing Nelson Mandela. In 1985 the South African President, P.W. Botha, offered him a conditional release, but he refused, as part of the conditions were essentially denouncing the ANC. Unrest grew over the following years as Botha cracked down on dissent and instigated a state of emergency, with the ANC stepping up their campaign of resistance. Even Thatcher added her voice to those demanding Mandela's release, but more because of the situation caused by the cessation of investment in South African banks due to a backlash and protest against apartheid than out of any suddenly discovered sense of morality. In Thatcher's world, one word ruled and that was money: put that under threat and everything else became secondary, even her own personal beliefs and opinions. If getting Mandela out of prison was good for business, good for international commerce, then he should be out. Never mind the fact that he had spent over twenty years behind bars in terrible conditions for the crime of trying to achieve a better life for his people and a better future!


As Mandela's seventieth birthday dawned, news was brought to him that his wife, Winnie, had been indicted on charges relating to her operating a criminal gang which used terror and intimidation, including against children, torturing and killing her opponents. He remained however faithful to her until she stood trial and was sentenced to six years, after which he separated from her. In 1989 Botha suffered a stroke and was replaced by F.W de Klerk, who could see that the idea of apartheid had had its day and had no place in the modern world. With the fall of communism South Africa was becoming increasingly politically isolated due to its repressionist policies against blacks, and de Klerk arranged the release of all ANC prisoners, bar Mandela, that year, with the man himself finally walking to freedom a few months later.

Although apartheid did not disappear overnight, strenuous negotiations were entered into and eventually not only did the outdated, outmoded and evil system disappear completely, with South Africa holding its first general election in which blacks could vote, but in 1994 Nelson Mandela was elected the first black president of South Africa.

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Big Ears

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Union --- Yes --- 1991 (Arista)


I'm one of that perhaps rare breed who really has only heard and enjoyed "new" Yes, that is to say, albums from "90125" on. I'm not one of those who salivates over "Tales from topographic oceans", "Close to the edge" or "Going for the one" --- in fact, I've heard very little seventies Yes and what I did hear sounded at the time overblown, overlong, self-indulgent and boring. I could of course be completely wrong in that view; perhaps I should take the time to listen to more classic Yes. However as it stands the albums I like are the eighties and nineties ones, and this is one of the latter. The last, in fact, Yes album I listened to before getting "Fly from here", which I have yet to spin.

Regular readers of my journal will know that quite early on I featured the debut --- and indeed, only --- album from Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe, which was seen more or less as a sub-supergroup grown organically out of the parent band. Their only album was a triumph, to me, and I was disappointed there was no more. But "Union" kind of fills the gap, as it features all the ABWH crew as well as the previous members of Yes who were off doing their own thing. In effect, this album was originally meant to be the second release from ABWH, but a thawing of relations between them and Yes resulted in a reconciliation, and they all joined up to play on the album and tour, hence the title. In reality, it was mostly a Yes album, just the one track contributed from the demo sessions for what was to have been the second ABWH album, with the result that this album sounds very little like that one, but it still ranks as one of my favourite Yes records (of those I've heard), yet miles behind both "90125" and "Big generator".

I had always believed "The ladder" followed this, as it was the next Yes album I saw on sale, but apparently there were two more, plus a double live effort in between. I found I was quite disappointed with "The ladder", so really my experience of Yes, album-wise, centres on these four albums, plus the ABWH one. You would think though that with so many people involved --- eight in all --- and surely massive egos on either side not to mention simmering resentments still smouldering like dull coals in a fire that had not quite been extinguished, chaos would have reigned and a very mismatched, hit-and-miss album would have resulted, but no. I have to say this has a really professional sound and is quite cohesive, so much so that you would barely believe that, say, Rick Wakeman was glowering across his multiple banks of keyboards at Trevor Rabin, or that Chris Squire was making unseen obscene gestures at Bill Bruford. It sounds like an album created by one big happy family, even if that was far from the case.

In contrast to what you could generally regard as the last Yes album, the ABWH one, certainly Jon Anderson's last outing prior to this, "Union" opens much more strongly. Whereas "ABWH" started with Wakeman's piano and keys and it was a few minutes before any vocals came in, Anderson leaves us in no doubt that he is back, and back with a bang. The first thing you hear is his powerful crooning of the song title, joined by pounding guitar, skittering keys and crunching drums as "I would have waited forever" opens the album and gets us going. There's something of a harder edge to this than the ABWH effort, perhaps due to Chris Squire's stacatto bass, or indeed the different, more modern guitar work of Trevor Rabin. The famous Yes vocal harmonies are there in abundance, and in many ways this album reminds me more of "Big generator" than "ABWH". Some great guitar work from Rabin indeed, and this leads us into another fast-paced but more crunchy track.

"Shock to the system" comes in on punchy almost Led Zep guitar and a bouncy, echoey drumbeat, a song very much driven on guitar with a great riff running through it and a catchy little hook in the chorus. It slows down near the end for an almost acoustic accompaniment to Anderson's soulful vocal, then takes off again to its powerful conclusion on the back of some fine Wakeman keyboard work. Things slow down then for a Steve Howe showcase on "Masquerade", a little acoustic instrumental that he added to the album at the request of the label, quite a harpischord sound on it, pretty medieval sounding. Then we're off and running again with "Lift me up", one of the highlights on an album that has many. Living up to its title it's a very uplifting, boppy and uptempo song, starting off on sort of popping percussion and wibbly guitar which then powers forward, taking the song into a big progressive rock arpeggio by Rick Wakeman, and it's not until well into the second minute that we hear Anderson's vocal, more impassioned and harder than previously.

A sort of sitar sound is created by one of the guitarists, though I couldn't tell you which one, and this runs through the song as it goes along with a big rolling drumbeat carrying it into the extremely hooky chorus with some superb vocal harmonies. Not as fast as "Shock to the system" or the opener, it also has some lovely violin-like synth near the end, and finishes on a big flourishing arpeggio from Wakeman before fading out on clanging guitar from Rabin.A gentle opening then to "Without hope you cannot start the day", Wakeman's soft piano backing Anderson as he sings gently but with purpose. A sort of gong-like percussion slides along the tune as it slips almost away before coming back with hard guitar and punching drums, almost marching along as the song takes on a whole new shape. More great vocal harmonies as are something of the trademark of Yes, and if this song recalls anything to me it's "Hearts" from "90125". After it fades out we're treated to yet another standout in the amazing "Saving my heart", which almost moves along at the pace of a modern waltz at times, with snatches of a reggae or calypso beat thrown in as well. Not quite "Teakbois" from the "ABWH" album, but there are similarities.

There's another stupendous hook in the chorus of this song, and with music of this quality I have to wonder, as an outsider, why they wrote such long, rambling compositions in the seventies. Still, before any classic Yes fans lynch me, I'll just leave that comment and move on. This is so commercial that it really could have made a great single, and would maybe have been quite successful: I could definitely hear it playing on the radio. Great guitar solo which has to be Trevor Rabin, and we're into the longest track on the album, though diehard Yes fans will sniff and say that seven minutes is not even an introduction to one of their better-known earlier songs I'm sure! "Miracle of life" opens with a big, powerful progressive rock run on the keys and blasting guitars, and truth be told, those classic Yes fans who are even now plotting my downfall will likely recognise this as the sort of song they've been used to hearing from this band. Everything suddenly stops for a close-harmony vocal that would make Queen envious then it takes off again, and we're about two minutes in before it settles into a new groove and Jon Anderson's vocal comes in.

A real mid-paced rocker, it has everything: big guitar solos, great bridge, harmonies and keyboards, and another truly wonderful hook in the chorus. Some great growling bass work from Chris Squire here too, and a powerful ending that sets the seal on yet another standout. A mixture of solid organ and blistering guitar open "Silent talking", with Squire's thick bass getting in on the act too. About halfway through it slows down on the back on Anderson's angelic vocal, with backing vocals a little out of phase behind him and ends on a really nice fade, taking us into a heavier keyboard opening as "The more we live - Let go" gets going, a dramatic, almost ominous sound to it, carried mostly on Wakeman's keys. It's a slow, crunchy pace as the song moves along at a stately walk, and reminds me in places of "The order of the universe" from the "ABWH" album; just a bit, here and there.

In case you don't know, Angkor Wat is a temple in Cambodia, in fact the largest religious building in the world, and also the title of the next track, very much a vehicle for Anderson's vocal delivery, with almost Doors-ish rippling keyboard from Wakeman, sound effects and a murmured spoken passage in some foreign language I don't know (Cambodian?) that recalls Vangelis's "Intergalactic radio station" from the album "Direct. No, you probably won't know it. Very little if any guitar evident, this track is atmospheric and ambient and driven almost entirely by Wakeman and Anderson, almost an exercise in minimalism and abstraction. Nothing really in the way of percussion either, very ambient. In total contrast everything rocks out then for "(Dangerous) Look in the light of what you're searching for", with big dirty guitars and punching drums and almost Art of Noise-style synth from Rick, while for "Holding on" he's right back in control, backing the multi-vocal intro and then Howe's jangling guitars meshing with Rabin's terser one, all coming together to form a fine piece of music. A slower, almost mid-paced track, it's more restrained than most of what has gone before, though the guitarists go a little crazy at the end, which is no bad thing.

And that's almost it. "Evensong" is less than a minute of soft bouncing percussion and keyboard work that sounds like someone dropping a metal ball into a well or something, echoes all over the place, with some grindy, wailing guitar, very short and hardly really deserves the status of a track at all, taking us to the closer, which is "Take the water to the mountain", and finishes the album on a high --- not that it's ever achieved a low point. You may have noticed that I haven't referred to any bad tracks on this album, and the reason is simple: there are none. Even discounting the tiny little instrumental just past, everything here is top drawer. The closer opens on humming, atmospheric keys and a low Anderson vocal that recalls Peter Gabriel at his most, shall we say, rainforest? It's a slowburner, starting gently but with a definite sense of something building, and in the last minute of the only three it runs for the drums burst in, taking with them an African-style chant and chorus as the song soars to the heavens, squealing guitar holding court and booming electronic synth effects finishing the song off with an echoed vocal that recalls the end of "Birthright" from, yes, you guessed it, the "Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe" album.

TRACKLISTING

1. I would have waited forever
2. Shock to the system
3. Masquerade
4. Lift me up
5. Without hope you cannot start the day
6. Saving my heart
7. Miracle of life
8. Silent talking
9. The more we live - let go
10. Angkor Wat
11. Dangerous (Look in the light of what you're searching for)
12. Holding on
13. Evensong
14. Take the water to the mountain

As I said I'm no huge Yes fan, but their later albums really grab me mostly. This I see as the natural progression from the breakup and then reformation of Yes, and there are songs on this album --- most of it really --- which should and maybe have gone down as classics. It's rare to come across an album that has not one bad track, the moreso when it's from a band you're not totally familiar with, and who has a large back catalogue you haven't explored.

So then, in musical terms a perfect union. But was it a permanent one? Sadly no: after the tour to support this album three-quarters of what had been ABWH left the lineup, leaving only the man who has led Yes since the beginning to carry on their legacy, until his medical problems forced him out of the band in 2008, to be replaced by Mystery's Benoit David.

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Powerstars

Cool, you got me interested in this album! It sounds cool.

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Urban Hat€monger ?

Let me see if I've got this right.
You do an entire musical tribute to the freedom of Nelson Mandela and yet you don't include Free Nelson Mandela by The Specials?

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Big Ears

Shock to the System is the best track on Union, but when they released a live version of the album, it was omitted.

Here's Jon in his pyjamas and don't ask what Steve Howe has done to his hair:


03 Shock To The System - YouTube

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Yeah I thought about it but decided it was WAYYY too obvious. I wanted to get some music that was more subtly relevant. It's what I try to do with this section. Anyone can go for the blindingly obvious; I just prefer to be a little more original if I can.

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Scoundrel days --- a-ha --- 1986 (Warner Bros)


I briefly touched upon this, as I did all their albums, when a-ha formed the subject for my second "Taking centre stage" feature way back in 2011, but it's one of their seminal albums, and I always meant to look into it in more depth, which is what I intend to do now. Though the band are now gone, broken up after over twenty-five years of creating great music, they left behind them some incredible albums, and though they will forever be dogged as "that band that did Take on me" there was so much more to them than that one pop song, popular as it was. What a lot of people who don't know them won't, er, know, is that a-ha had some very deep and serious material, and were not really in any way the typical pop or chart band, despite having two number one singles and a slew of other hits. Despite releasing nine studio albums though, their heyday centred around the first three, with their big hits coming from the first two albums, and by 1990, when their fourth was released, they were consigned to the bargain bin of music history, a sad state of affairs and something they did not as a band deserve.

This however comes from their "golden period", when a-ha could really do no wrong. Riding high on the success of "Hunting high and low", their debut and that phenomenally successful hit single, the boys from Oslo came back with an album that far from being a pop followup desperate to cash-in on and capitalise upon the triple platinum status of the debut, comes across as a mature, well-constructed record that just happens to rain hit singles like a typical day in Ireland. It's one of my favourite a-ha albums, only beaten out for top spot by 2005's "Analogue", which I already reviewed. While it's not perfect, it's about as close to it as any a-ha album comes, with only two weak tracks (which could almost be cut to one) and the rest of the songs are so good that they more than compensate for the odd filler.

The album opens with the title track, with a running piano line and synth, then Morten Harkett's voice comes in low but with a sense of urgency as he asks "Was that somebody screaming? / It wasn't me for sure" and there's an ominous sound about the music as it builds, guitar coming in and then hard percussion, then for the chorus it kicks up in tempo and Morton's voice gets stronger and more powerful. I hear a sense of Alex Lifeson in Pal Waaktar's rocky guitar, great heavy drumwork and a lovely piece of orchestral strings with cellos and violins softening but not lessening the tone as the song goes on. It's a powerful opener and ends with a real punch on Harkett's pained vocal and strong synth from Mags Furuholmen, and takes us into "The swing of thing" on bright piano and bouncy bass with a sort of dancy vibe to it. Percussion from Michael Sturgis frames the middle eighth as the keys of Mags take the melody, with Pal's guitar chiming out in an uptempo, poppy manner while Morten's voice rises above it all; one of the most powerful voices in pop music at the time.

Halfway through the whole thing slows down on the back of soft, lush synth from Mags and Morten's voice drops back in tandem, then the rhythm and tempo slowly come back up, the percussion resurging, Pal's guitar stabbing through the melody and injecting a feel of rock back into it, and the big finish then is a joy to hear as Morten's voice gets rawer, more angry as he snaps "What have I done?/ What lies I have told! / I've played games with the ones/ That rescued my soul!" and on a big synth and drum roll the song ends. Drums then kick in one of the hit singles taken from this album, the rocker "I've been losing you" with bops along really well, with a great vocal performance from Morten and some great backing vocals. Quite guitar driven compared to previous tracks, it is one of the rockiest on the album. There's a great build up and then a false ending before the drums hammer back in and the song fades out, perhaps a little unsatisfyingly, it has to be said.

After all that power, we slow right down for the first ballad, and "October" is about as slow and laidback as you can get. Opening on soft wind sounds and distant chiming bells, with a gentle percussion that sounds almost like a distant steam train, it's built on an orchestral-sounding keyboard line from Mags and an almost muttered vocal from Morten, with trumpet and organ sounds meshing in the synth, thumping but almost castanet-style drums. This song demonstrates ably that Harkett can rise to the highest registers, belting out a powerful line, but is equally adept at making his mark with the barest of whispers; truly a unique voice. Some whistling complements the singing and the synthy trumpets as well as Pal's little almost unnoticed guitar touches, and the track ends on an expelled breath and the sound of rushing traffic as we move into another hit single, "Manhattan skyline".

With an almost harpsichordal piano intro and synth backup, it features another understated vocal performance by Harkett until Waaktaar's guitar snarls in, changing the whole thing, powerful percussion thumping in and Mags' synth squeaking almost in alarm as the tension in the song increases. Harkett's voice rises to meet this change, becoming powerful, soulful and lovelorn at once, crying to the wind almost, a man lost but not without hope. The song features a great guitar solo from Pal Waaktaar, and a slow and powerful ending, leading into yet another hit, the bouncy, poppy "Cry wolf", which would become a favourite in discos and clubs across Europe. An almost proggy synth opening soon metamorphoses into a dancy pop song with a great hook, though the chorus could possibly have been thought about a lot more: "Cry wolf/ Oooh!/ Time to worry!" Not for a-ha though, as it became a big hit single for them and raised their profile, although perhaps reinforcing the idea that they wrote all their songs like "Take on me" in certain quarters. There's a deal of progressive rock in Furuholmen's synthwork though, and some stellar drumming.

This is however where the songs begin to disappoint a little, and "We're looking for the whales" is a bit silly, though the melody is nice. A big heavy bass gets us underway and some nice effects, but then the chorus gets just totally poppy and quite throwaway, with a lyric that makes it difficult to know what the song is supposed to be about: "We're looking for / A little bewildered girl/ We're looking for the whales" --- er, yeah. There's not too much to recommend this song really, other than the fact that it's nowhere near as bad as "Maybe maybe". But before that we have a much better song, in the frankly excellent "The weight of the wind", which just screams class. With a fast, almost funky keyboard and bass line, quite new-wave in its sound, reminding me of Depeche Mode or some band like that, it features another low-key vocal from Harkett, with rolling percussion and sprightly keys, a dramatic atmosphere and some great guitar work from Waaktaar.

But we can't unfortunately avoid it forever, and "Maybe maybe" is up next. Sigh. Building on the pop sound of "Cry wolf", and something of the melody from "We're looking for the whales", it's probably the worst track --- hell with that, it is the worst track! --- on the album, and almost embarrassingly bad. It's a real pity, because without it, and if you could see the occasional flashes of brilliance in "We're looking for the whales" and accept it as a "not bad" track, then this could be an album of nothing but high spots, but the reggae-flavoured pop tune just takes the quality down to almost zero. Thankfully it's not long, just over two and a half minutes, with a sub-Genesis eighties keyboard riff and annoying clashing drumming, bit of nice jangly guitar, but it's so different --- and not in a good way --- to the other songs on the album that you'd be forgiven for thinking it was a cover, or written by someone outside the band, but not so.

Luckily the album recovers from this minor bump and finishes in glorious fashion with the dramatic yet gentle ballad "Soft rains of April", with a rolling drumbeat that starts in the distance and then comes up in the mix, dragging with it Mags' sonorous synthesiser melody and joined by Morten's gentle, almost breathy voice, the song moving at a stately pace with a real sense of grandeur. When Morten sings "Is it raining back home? / I'm so alone!" you really feel for him. Great piano solo from Mags, backed with lush synth and then the drums pound back in and Morten's voice takes off much more strongly, wounded and alone, crying out his frustration, and the song ends on his acapella whisper: "Over." Stupendous.

TRACKLISTING

1. Scoundrel days
2. The swing of things
3. I've been losing you
4. October
5. Manhattan skyline
6. Cry wolf
7. We're looking for the whales
9. The weight of the wind
10. Maybe maybe
11. Soft rains of April

The heart and devotion put into this album is nothing short of stunning. It is of course often the case that a band's second album will eclipse their debut, and this certainly happened here. Though "Hunting high and low" had the big hit single on it (and yielded others) I found it a little hit-and-miss; while I wasn't disappointed with it exactly I find I play it a lot less all the way through, whereas "Scoundrel days" I can run regularly, even despite the one or two weaker tracks. It's part as I said of a trilogy of albums that bracketed the purple patch a-ha went through, and though some of the other albums were as good, few if any equalled or better this, their second outing. Although they continued to have hits across Europe throughout the nineties and beyond, after 1988's "Stay on these roads" their massive popularity was more or less over. People who wanted more songs like "Take on me", "The sun always shines on TV", "Cry wolf" and the later "Touchy" as well as the title track to the third album shied away from later releases like "East of the sun, west of the moon" and "Memorial Beach", and a-ha were left to play music for their fans (of which there were plenty) but never again troubled the top echelons of the charts.

In the US they were even less known, having only the two hits over there, both from the debut. Singles like "Cry wolf" and "Manhattan skyline", despite the title of the latter and its reference to New York, went totally unnoticed in the US of A, and over there a-ha would have been considered as a one-hit (or maybe two) wonder. Here, too, their greatest claim to fame and the monkey that remained on their back for ten years was and is "Take on me".

As I outlined recently in my section "The Albatross", that song is, for so many people, all a-ha ever achieved, and what they will always be known for, something that continued to haunt them throughout their quarter-century-long career. But this album shows that good as that song was, they were capable of so much more.

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Well, maybe not two sides of the same coin. Kind of the same side but slightly different. Ah, what do ya want from me? I've temporarily run out of ideas for the names of new sections, and this will do as well as most. What's it about? I'm glad you asked. No, really, I am. It's going to be taking a look at how different songs or different artistes view the same basic situation. Someone might, for instance, write a slow, sad song about the evils of war, while another might have a fast, angry take on the same idea. Or one band might think the way to go to talk about religion is a punchy uptempo number while another might do an acoustic folk ditty. Others might think colours, rainbows, nature or any other concept can be handled in a variety of ways. And this is what we examine here. How two artistes can write on the same subject but tackle it two completely different ways. The songs are the same, at a very basic level, but different.

The first two I want to use to open this section concern making it big in the city. You know, that "this-smalltown-is-stifling-me" or "there-must-be-better-waiting-for-me", the kind of inner cry that so often builds inside people, usually younger and bored, or people who feel they are not achieving their full potential, are being held back in some way. Those who think they'll never make it in their small burg and head out for the bright lights of the big city.

"It never rains in Southern California"
(Albert Hammond)
from the 1972 album of the same name
When Albert Hammond penned "It never rains in Southern California" he envisaged his hero just deciding one day to get the hell out and make something of himself. "Got onboard a westbound 747/ Didn't think before deciding what to do" because he knew that he could make more of himself, his talents and his potential on the west coast --- "All that talk of opportunities/ TV breaks and movies rang true". But he soon finds that the streets of San Francisco or LA are not paved with gold in the way he had hoped they would be, and along with a thousand thousand other aspiring actors, singers, songwriters and musicians finds it hard, even impossible to get that big break that will take him into the big time. After some time in California he's reached his wits' end and is struggling.

"Out of work, I'm out of my head/ I'm out of self-respect/ I'm out of bread/ I'm underloved, underfed/ I wanna go home!" Then someone comes to visit him, possibly out of the blue, and sees how badly he's doing. He begs this person, who is obviously returning to his hometown, not to let on how he has failed, and asks them to support the fantasy that he's getting along just fine: "Will you tell the folks back home / I've nearly made it? / Had offers but don't know/ Which ones to take?"

"Comin' home" (Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band), from the 1982 album "The Distance"
Bob Seger, on the other hand, ten years later, relates the tale of someone returning, reluctantly, to their hometown after failing to make it big, and having to admit that they never will. As the protagonist looks out the window of the bus bringing them back to where it all started, the place they ran away from, hoping for better things, he or she notes that nothing much has changed, in a depressing sort of way: "Passed the old church on the edge of town/ Trailways bus was right on time/ Passed your uncle's house on mainstreet/ His old truck was parked outside" and remarks how "This old town has hardly grown" wondering "Has it really been ten long years? / Now you're finally comin' home."

The song is called "Comin' home", and is on Seger's 1982 album "The distance". In contrast to Hammond's upbeat, almost desperately cheerful song, this is a slow, acoustic guitar and piano-driven ballad, reflecting the pain and humiliation of having to come back with, as the singer sees it, your tail between your legs, when things failed to work out as you had hoped. I've never been in that position, but I'm sure many who read this may have been, or know those who have, and I can imagine the shame of having to face people to whom you probably bragged that you were off to the big city, getting out of this hick town, going to make your fortune etc. Seger relates the decision in a morose undertone:

"Left your hometown for the city lights/ You were young and you were strong" but then things did not turn out as expected: "Lots of traffic, lots of sleepless nights/ Lots of dreams that all went wrong". He, or she, emulates Albert Hammond's hero too in a way. Whereas Hammond is determined to stay in California, stick it out, hope it all comes together and sends his friend home with a made-up story about how well he's doing, the protagonist in Seger's song decides to keep his bad luck to himself. "You'll just tell them what they want to hear/ How you took the place by storm/ You won't tell them how you lost it all..."

For Seger's hero, the dream is over but that failure will never be made public. The aspiring star has come back to his hometown without achieving his dreams but nobody will ever know. It's highly unlikely that anyone else from Hicksville, USA (TM) will ever go where he has, and if he does, is doubly unlikely to ever hear of the failure of his townsmate. The only one who will know is the main character, and though it may haunt their dreams for months or years to come, it's a secret they'll bear alone. Even at the end, near the song's fadeout ending, they make a half-hearted excuse or reason for returning: "You grew tired of being alone" with the slightest hope that they may not be there forever: "And don't know for how long..."

Not only in the way that the two songwriters approach the subject matter are these two tales of dreams dashed different, but the whole tempo of the songs differs too, with Hammond's a fixed smile through gritted teeth, as he pretends all is well, and Seger's hero, though also a failure, will also grin and nod, and make excuses for leaving "the big city", though his is shrouded in a true acceptance of that failure, not a determined refusal to see the facts, that they will never make it. Seger's song is therefore more reflective, slower and more moody and melancholic, with the truth an unwelcome visitor but let in, whereas Hammond has kept the door firmly shut against reality, and his carefree, upbeat song reflects this.

Here, finally, are the two songs if you would like to hear them.

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The Twilight Years --- 1982 - 1990 (Part one)

He may not have had much in the way of commercial success --- okay, none --- but Rory was critically acclaimed and in great demand as a session man, and played on albums by people like Mike Batt, Mike Vernon and another of his all-time idols, Lonnie Donnegan. He even got to jam with the enfant terrible of rock, Jerry Lee Lewis, and was present when the man almost flipped his lid when John Lennon unintentionally upstaged him at one of his gigs. Rory was a great diplomat, though, and when no-one else would approach the fuming rocker in his dressing room it was Rory who made overtures towards peace that were eventually accepted.

Life could perhaps have turned out differently for Rory. Before Ron Wood joined the Stones it was the shy Irishman who was approached by Jagger, and Mick liked him so much it looked like he might be a good fit for the band. But at the time Rory was in the middle of a tour and had to jet off to a gig. Events took their own course while he was away and history unfolded the way it did, but even at that, Rory's songwriting talent and his desire to sing would probably have been stifled in the egocentric atmosphere of the Stones, so it's probably just as well he didn't accept the offer.

An interesting and humourous story is related by Rory to Liam Fay in his interview with him in 1992's "Hot Press": Most of the well-wishers understood the situation and left without any hassle but there was one strange-looking guy with straggly hair and a scarf around his face who wanted to talk to Rory and just wouldn't take no for an answer. When he became too insistent, Donal started to get more forceful and told him in no uncertain terms that Rory wanted to be left alone.

Eventually, this over zealous fan relented and turned to leave but not before telling Donal that he was a musician himself and that he was impressed with Donal's resolve and dedication to `looking after the man'. It was several minutes later that somebody pointed out to Donal that the person he had just chased away was actually Bob Dylan.

"This threw poor old Donal into a panic `cause he knew I was a huge Dylan fan.” laughs Rory. "So he ran out after him and looked everywhere for this fella with the scarf. Eventually he found him and put out his hand to shake Dylan's hand. Then, he literally grabbed him and dragged him back to the dressing room. Dylan was very nice. He said he liked the show and all the rest and we talked a bit about the blues and that. I'm usually not starstruck by any of these people but it really was great to meet Dylan. He's one of my all-time heroes."
(Source: The Rory Gallagher Story)

The early eighties saw quite a few changes for Rory. "Jinx", his first album in two years, saw a return to the raw blues style he had championed on albums like "Blueprint" and "Tattoo", and also saw another change on the drumstool, with Ted McKenna out and Brendan O'Neill in. Rory also added two sax players and reintroduced keyboards, this time via Graham Parker and the Rumour's Bob Andrews. Although again he sticks to his habit of writing all the songs, there is one cover version, a song he introduced to us at the gig I went to (in support of this album) as "an old Louisiana rail song". Although his albums as I've already pointed out never even came close to charting, never mind being hits, this was really the last high-profile album of his career, and it would be five years before he would release another.

Jinx --- Rory Gallagher --- 1982 (Chrysalis)


It kicks off with "Big guns", good heavy sharp guitar with a stop/start style something familiar to "Brue force and ignorance" off the "Photo finish" album, and you can certainly hear he's glad to be back playing again. I think this may have been released as a single, have some vague memories of buying it, but of course it did nothing in the charts. Great, powerful song with a lot of fun about it. "Bourbon" could almost be a self-portrait of himself as he sings "His mind feels like crazy pavement/ Gettin' more lines every day" and rocks along again with a great sense of energy and excitement. I don't really hear too much of the keys now I have to say at this point, but Rory of course is at his fretburnin' best. Perhaps feeding into that theme, "Double vision" is a slower, almost poppier song and you can hear the keyboards for the first time here, the song itself reminding me of something off "Tattoo" or even the debut.

Some almost Thin Lizzy style guitar work on this, then we're into "The Devil made me do it", a fast, rip-roaring trip of a song, and though Rory claims credit for writing it, I have to admit it's really, really close to "Devil in a blue dress", though don't ask me who it's by --- Little Richard? Anyway it's a great song for just putting the head down and shaking the hair to, if you have it! Rory really enjoys himself on this one, and it's very fifties rockabilly in tone. Great bouncing bass lines from stalwart Gerry McAvoy, though I'm surprised not to see a big jangling piano here; no sign of keys at all. "Signals" then opens with a little synthy bit --- obviously meant to represent a radio transmission of some sort --- then bursts to life with a chugging guitar and a really uptempo blues rocker. Great work on the kit by new man O'Neill, and again it seems Gerry is capable of meshing with any drummer: this is the fourth he's had to work with in over ten years. The man's just a total professional.

Santana-like guitar feeds in the title track with a mid-paced and broody blues number, not a ballad but definitely slower than anything else on the album. Again, no keyboard involvement; kind of makes me wonder why Rory took the (perhaps backwards?) step of bringing keys in to the lineup again. The ballad then comes in "Easy come, easy go", with a lovely slow blues groove, while the standout for me is that railroad song I mentioned earlier, the only one on the album not composed by Rory. With a big screech on the guitar to open some harmonica is thrown into the mix as "Ride on red, ride on" powers out of the station and takes the album on a rollercoaster ride. Very simple but effective song, driven on the twin rails of Gerry's bass and Brendan's chugging drumwork. Great blues solo from Rory, as ever, with his Strat almost talking for him. Like "Top priority" before it though, I feel the album ends weakly, as "Loose talk" is just not up there with the rest of the tracks on this album. It's a good mid-paced rocker, but nothing terribly special.

All through this album I have strained to hear a contribution from either piano/keys or sax, but I have to say it's eluded me. Maybe I need to get my ears checked, or maybe the part played by the three performers was so slight that it can't be heard on the album. Either way, it's a return to the blues for Rory and not as much a step away from the previous two albums as I had thought it might be.

TRACKLISTING

1. Big guns
2. Bourbon
3. Double vision
4. The Devil made me do it
5. Signals
6. Jinxed
7. Easy come, easy go
8. Ride on red, ride on
9. Loose talk

Brothers in Arms

Lou Martin
Position: Keyboard player
Joined: 1972
Left: 1976
First album played on: "Blueprint", 1973
Last album played on: "Calling card", 1976 (He did however contribute piano to Rory's two final albums, "Fresh evidence" (1990) and "Defender" (1987), playing on one track on each).
Born: 1949
Died: 2012

Lou was playing in Killing Floor with Rod De'Ath when the drummer was called in to fill a temporary vacancy in Rory's band on the departure of Wilgar Campbell, and Rod suggested Lou as a possible keyboard recruit to Rory, who was at the time looking to change the sound of his band and open up from the power trio he had championed through his first two albums, and indeed before that in Taste. Lou added keys, piano and occasional rhythm guitar to four of Rory's albums, three of them widely considered to be his best, and then moved on with Rod to form the band Ramrod when Rory decided to change the lineup again. Lou also played on the seminal "Irish Tour" album and indeed returned to play piano on one track each of Rory's last two albums, "Defender" and "Fresh evidence".

He then went on to play with such legends as Chuck Berry and Albert Collins, and returned to his original band in 2004 for Killing Floor's "Zero tolerance". He was diagnosed with cancer and suffered several strokes, and eventually died peacefully at home in August of 2012. Rod De'Ath attended his funeral, along with a host of Rory's fans. Of the keysmen Rory employed, and there were not many, Lou is most closely identified with the legendary bluesman.

Defender --- Rory Gallagher --- 1987 (Capo-Demon)


The penultimate album from Rory sees him take another step back into his blues roots, and move away from the somewhat hard rock/commercial rock of "Top priority" and "Photo finish". It's five years since we've had a new album from Rory, and nobody realises of course at this stage that there will only be one more before the great man passes. Like all his albums it's released with little to no fanfare, and I think I picked it up almost by accident, browsing as I was in my local record shop one weekend. It is, I have to be honest, not the greatest of his albums. There are moments of brilliance but they're few and far between, and the hiatus between this and "Jinx" seems to be telling on the guy. He sounds a little tired, a little less enthusiastic than he has on previous albums. Which is not to say he doesn't give it one hundred percent: that was what you always got with Rory no matter what. But I don't know --- something's missing I feel.

You wouldn't guess it though from the powerful, uptempo opener, and indeed standout of the album, "Kickback City", which has all the hallmarks of a great Gallagher song, and one of the best hooks in the melody of any song he's written since "Shadow play". It rocks along at a nice sort of midpace, and there's certainly nothing wrong with his voice as he growls out the lines. It's definitely a darker album than anything he's done up to this point, with a lot of heavy references and political/topical themes. "Loanshark blues" is a mix of rockabilly and Delta blues with a desperate plea in the lyric: "Gimme till Monday/ That's only a day or two/ I'll pay you back with interest/ If it's the last thing that I do." then he returns to his obsession with secret agents, cops and robbers in "Continental op", which swaggers and sways all over the place with a big, brash confidence and a hypnotic guitar riff.

Now here at the bridge is where I think a big sax solo would have fit right in, but no. Two sax players on the last album whose contribution I couldn't hear at all, and this time round no horn guys. Well, on we go with "I ain't no saint", something of a blues shuffle and I could swear I hear horns there, but none are credited. Oh my head hurts. Certainly would have gone well in that section though. "Failsafe day" then is one of those topical songs I mentioned earlier, referencing man's capacity to destroy himself. It's actually another of the better tracks, opening with an Alex Lifeson-like riff and tripping along then on Gerry's cool little bassline, the riff continuing on through the song. "Road to Hell" then starts off a little like "Off the handle" but quickly ramps up into a mid-paced rocker which again envisages the end of days with an almost Deep Purple hard rock groove running through it.

"Doing time" racks everything back up with a high energy rocker while "Smear campaign" returns to the political subject matter, and could refer really to any election of the last thirty, forty years, but it's clear Rory's pretty disgusted with "the dirty tricks brigade" as he calls them, though aware they'll always be there. The only cover on the album then is Sonny Boy Williamson II's "Don't start me to talkin'", with a return for Bob Andrews on the piano, and of course it's another standout. Some great harmonica on this too, courtesy of Mark Feltham, then we close on "Seven days", which sees an old friend back on the piano in Lou Martin. I don't know the history behind the song, but unless he came back for the one song, I assume this is an older song recorded when he was with Rory's band. Rory takes harmonica duties on this almost acoustic closer himself, picking at the guitar while the drums sound more like handclaps in the background. It's a low-key ending to an album that has to be fair no bad tracks, but more below par than you usually expect on an album by the blues great.

TRACKLISTING

1. Kickback City
2. Loanshark blues
3. Continental op
4. I ain't no saint
5. Failsafe day
6. Road to Hell
7. Doing time
8. Smear campaign
9. Don't start me to talkin'
10. Seven days

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