2013 has been a bit restless and hyperactive for me. I’ve begun some new and exciting projects, but I’ve not read or written or done as much as I should have done. I don’t really feel I’ve properly got my teeth into anything, and I would struggle if I was forced to produce one of those ‘cultural highlights of the year’ lists. I’ve not read any new novels that came out, because I hate hardbacks and don’t have an e-reader, and I’ve only been to the cinema two or three times.
So while restlessness is not particularly conducive to reading or writing or sitting in the dark concentrating on a film for ninety plus minutes, music is a bit different. You can consume it while doing other stuff or procrastinate by dancing around your room to it or by making playlists out of it. And it’s music which has probably provided most of my cultural nourishment this year. In general, I am LAZY when it comes to contemporary music, so a lot of what I’m talking about here are old favourites or the discovery of new dimensions in old favourites or new discoveries of old bands and singers. I can’t really be bothered to go out hunting for new stuff so if I’m to pay attention to anything vaguely current it needs to be handed to me on a plate. Happily, this happened with two songs this year (which may sound a pathetic number but this is good compared with past years). And, completely non-coincidentally I’m sure, these songs involved two of the veteran popsters I’ve recently discovered (and become mildly obsessed with).
The first song, earning me zero marks for originality, is Daft Punk’s Get Lucky, which involved the majestic talents of Nile Rodgers. It’s not strictly true that I’ve only recently discovered Rodgers as, like anyone with any knowledge of the last thirty years of pop music, I’ve known lots of his stuff for years and loved it too (how could you not?) But only in the last 18 months or so have i become properly aware of his specific role in the Sister Sledge and the Bowie and Madonna I’ve loved and of the funky, gorgeous, life-affirming beauty of his work with Chic. There was a time last year when I would play Chic’s I Want Your Love over and over, fixating on the beautiful simplicy of its guitar hook and I truly believe that I could do this with many Chic songs and never, ever get bored.
People had been going on about Get Lucky for ages before I finally caught on and, like with many songs before, I had to hear it in a particular context to properly appreciate it. It was during that ridiculous sweaty heatwave of late July and I was on the South Bank after work one evening, just under Waterloo Bridge. A crowd had gathered around the spot where some kind of youth music group was performing. There were samba drums and a brass section and a group of dancers performing routines in front. As we stopped to watch they launched into Get Lucky, the chorus transformed into a glorious cacophony of brass instruments, and it was one of those magic spontaneous London moments. You could feel the thrill of recognition going through the crowd and that sense of being in the presence of the Big Hit of the Summer. I was totally sold. “What a tune,” I thought. “What a TUNE.” It’s that beautiful simplicity of Chic that Nile brings: that infectious guitar riff and his effortless musical touch shining through. Every year needs to have its song, the one that you hear wherever you go and that you can’t escape. It was played on Radio 1, Radio 2, 6 Music and commercial radio and everyone became sick to death of it, but you know if it was played in a bar, at a party or at a wedding disco everyone would know it and sing along and dance a bit. And that’s when music truly becomes pop, when it’s out in the world, living and breathing and making people dance.
My second song of the year, involving another musical genius, is The Best Jewel Thief in the World by Prefab Sprout. My older siblings all loved this band when I was growing up but, like many people, I just knew them for the Hot Dog Jumping Frog song (or the King of Rock and Roll, to give it its proper name). Until quite recently, the only association I had with their lead singer and songwriter Paddy McAloon was the weird and pointless lie my older brother and sister once told me as a child about having seen him drinking in the Rose and Crown pub in Woodford (what fun we had growing up in the suburbs). But earlier this year, while faffing about on on Spotify when I should have been writing, I came across Prefab Sprout’s 1990 album Jordan: the Comeback and gave it a listen. I don’t know why or how it took me so long to get round to doing this, because MY WORD, what an album it is. Jordan, for those who don’t know, is a 19 song epic, a concept album about “Love, Elvis, God and Death”, according to the NME, and it is utterly sublime.
McAloon is more cerebral in his songwriting than Nile Rodgers – his lyrics are full of poetry and cultural reference – and much of his work is way more laden with sadness and longing (according to an unattributed line in this Wiki article , McAloon counts Stephen Sondheim as an influence, which totally fits). But he shares with Rodgers a kind of exquisite musicality. Like with those Chic records and their apparently simple, catchy hooks, there is something sublime about the melding of music and lyrics in Paddy’s songs.
Discovering Prefab Sprout is without doubt one of the best things to have happened to me this year. So imagine my excitement when I heard the new single on BBC London and realised they had a new album coming out. The Best Jewel Thief in the World is a quirky choice of subject for a pop song – it’s basically about what it says its about – but is very much in the tradition of McAloon storytelling. And more importantly it is a fantastic bit of exhilarating power pop. The musical arrangement is lush – layers of synth, jangly guitar, topped off with Paddy’s lovely dreamy vocals – and is almost breathless in its speed and pace. An absolute gem of a song.
It’s the last day of the year and I always get a bit sentimental at the end of things, so forgive me for this. But there are times when the music of Rodgers and McAloon seems almost transcendent. Something about them which – as with Shakespeare, Mozart and Scott Fitzgerald – leaves me wondering how on earth somebody could create something so good. When I listen to Chic and Prefab Sprout, there’s a part of me that feels as long as they’re in the world making music, that everything’s going to be ok.
Faith of a saint, soul of a gambler 