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Neil Young – Chrome Dreams

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Several years into his prolific archive project, Neil Young’s vault still hasn’t come anywhere near reaching the end. Chrome Dreams, the newest member of Young’s Special Release Series, is possibly the most fabled lost album in his shadow discography, looming so large in fan lore that Young cheekily released a sequel in 2007.

But “lost” overstates the obscurity of Chrome Dreams, which was originally slated for release in 1977. Bootlegs have sat behind store counters and shady URLs for decades, and Young himself stripped it for parts almost immediately, reassigning songs to American Stars & Bars and Decade, re-recording others for Rust Never Sleeps. In recent years, he delegated Chrome Dreams exclusives to other lost records that jumped the line; most notably with the solo versions of “Pocahontas” and “Powderfinger” that came out in 2017 on Hitchhiker.

That leaves only two performances – a woozy, stripped-down “Hold Back the Tears” and a live “Stringman” – as “new” tracks, turning Chrome Dreams into more of a deep cuts mixtape than long buried treasure. But it’s one that makes another spectacular case that Young’s ’70s run was unparalleled among his singer-songwriter peers. In an alternate timeline, Chrome Dreams anchors a second post-Ditch trilogy, filling in the missing pieces between the boozy, beachside recovery of Zuma and the rootsy revival of Comes A Time.

Like many of Young’s best LPs, Chrome Dreams captures both sides of Young’s sonic spectrum, from the fragile fire-crackle of “Will To Love” to the fuzz-stomp misanthropy of “Sedan Delivery”. It also finds his songwriting at a pivot, with remnants of his early ’70s depression (“Look Out For My Love”) and a return to Harvest’s sentimentality (“Too Far Gone”) joined by folk epics both surreal (“Pocahontas”) and narrative (“Powderfinger”, “Captain Kennedy”).

The album’s only fault is that it should have come out a lot earlier – not just in 1977, but in the timeline of Young’s archival releases. Where others of his generation have trusted outside experts with the rollout of their unreleased material, Young has handled it himself, bringing his famously eccentric hand to the wheel.

From the lovably bizarre user-unfriendliness of the NYA website to the perpetually delayed boxsets to the releases settling decades-long scores with bootleggers, Young’ s fickle fingerprints can be felt all over the project. While it’s a blessing that he’s so prolific in emptying his musical attic, the quality control can sometimes suffer, echoing a dynamic that has played out over his entire discography.

As a result, Chrome Dreams doesn’t get the spotlight it deserves. In isolation, it’s a dozen of Young’s best songs, powerful no matter how many times they’ve been reshuffled since. But in reality, it risks getting lost in the shotgun spray of Young’s self-curation.

Send us your questions for Kristin Hersh

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It’s always exciting to have a new Kristin Hersh album on the slate, whether that’s with Throwing Muses, 50FootWave or solo, as in the case of Clear Pond Road, due for release on Fire Records on September 8.

You can watch a video for the song “Ms Haha” below and pre-order the album here.

To accompany the release of Clear Pond Road, Hersh will embark on an extensive tour of the UK and Ireland, starting in Exeter on September 27 – see the full list of dates here.

But before all that, she’s kindly agreed to host an Audience With symposium for Uncut. So what do you want to ask a pioneering and prolific alt.rock legend? Send your questions to audiencewith@uncut.co.uk by Wednesday (August 9) and Kristin will answer the best ones in a future issue of Uncut.

Ray and Dave Davies and Mick Avory pay tribute to John Gosling

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John Gosling, who played keyboards with The Kinks between 1970 – 1978, has died at the age of 75.

In a statement posted online, Ray and Dave Davies and Mick Avory paid tribute to their former bandmate.

“We are deeply saddened by the news of the passing of John Gosling,” they wrote. “We are sending our condolences to John’s wife and family.”

“Condolences to his wife Theresa and family. Rest in peace dearest John,” Ray Davies wrote.

“I’m dismayed deeply upset by John Gosling’s passing,” continued brother Dave. “He has been a friend and important contributor to the Kinks music during his time with us.

“Deepest sympathies to his wife and family. I will hold deep affection and love for him in my heart always. Great musician and a great man.”

Mick Avory added, “he was a great musician and had a fantastic sense of humour”.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cvh2vgugyo0/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=fb32eb99-0555-4cd8-aec3-834e1a82d929

Gosling made his debut with the band on “Lola” and he went on to appear on Kinks’ albums including Muswell Hillbillies and Everybody’s In Show-Biz—Everybody’s A Star.

He was replaced in 1978 by Gordon Edwards, before Ian Gibbons took over a year later.

In 1994, Gosling then formed Kast Off Kinks with fellow former band members Mick Avory, Jim Rodford and John Dalton. He appeared in the band until his retirement in 2008.

Grian Chatten interviewed: “We know what the next Fontaines record will sound like”

The Uncut dated August 2023 features a lead review of Chaos For The Fly, the debut solo album from Grian Chatten of Fontaines DC. Here’s the full, unedited transcript of our conversation, in which Grian discusses the album, “some tough patches” and how the record will affect the next Fontaines LP: “I’m always writing… one outlet isn’t enough.”

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Tell me about the origins of the albums – when did you write the first songs?
I went for a walk around the coast of Dublin; a town called Skerries, where I’m from. The whole arrangement of “Bob’s Casino” came to me more or less fully formed. I didn’t want to insult the intelligence, or the ability of everybody else in the band by asking that they play 100% what I had written, so I decided to do it myself. The album started towards the end of lockdown and the rest came together during tour, when I was in a bit of a bad way.

What’s the timeline of writing and recording and how did it fit around your work with Fontaines?
Fortunately I’m always writing currently, no matter the circumstance. One outlet isn’t enough, especially when you consider how long it takes to put out a record, so I need at least the two outlets at the moment.

What were the advantages and disadvantages of working without the band around you?
The main advantage is that it’s been incredibly quick. It’s usually quick when we make things as Fontaines, but we’ve not really had to check in on anyone, there’s been no chance of anything being compromised by democracy and there’s never been too many cooks in the kitchen – not that we have that problem too badly in the band – but the speed at which you can write and produce as a solo artist is really nice. The disadvantage is that it’s fucking lonely, and I laugh an awful lot less when I’m on my own than I do when I’m with the lads.

What themes did you want to explore and why did this need to be done as a solo record?
I found myself exploring the themes of addiction, isolation and depression, to be honest. I’ve been very hesitant thus far to talk about that in any interviews; maybe that’s because I’m afraid of a family member reading it and being worried about me, but I’m grand now. I went through some tough patches over the past year, where my personal life was in tatters and I didn’t really feel like I had anyone to turn to because we were bound to the road. That loneliness gave way to a lot of bitterness, alongside scepticism, cynicism, judgement and paranoia. One song, “All Of The People”, is the most misanthropic thing I’ve ever written.

Who helped you create the album – who were the other important figures in the writing and recording process?
I co-produced it with Dan Carey, I had two weeks off between tours and in those two weeks I went into the studio with Dan. There was a lovely sense of being able to do whatever we wanted; we could have a break and jump on the trampoline, it was that kind of energy. A lot of the production and arrangement decisions would have been discussed with Dan, but the majority of the project was written by me, and that was kind of the point.

It sounds like you needed to exorcise some demons for “All Of The People” – did it work?
It did work, yeah. About a month passed and the individual in that song had already started to feel like a snapshot of someone else. I was almost embarrassed by some of the lyrics when I wrote it, in the sense that it was so crudely misanthropic, there’s a line in it which says ‘people are scum’, and I thought it might have been a bit too much, but I decided that it was valid because it’s how I felt in the moment.

Several of these songs seem rooted in place – Fairlies, East Coast Bed, Bob’s Casino – can you tell me about what inspired this?
“East Coast Bed” is written about my old hurling coach from when I was growing up, a woman called Ronnie. She used to pick me up after school and I used to stay at her gaff on some weekdays because my parents were working a lot. She passed away last year, so the song “East Coast Bed” is about a bed in her place on the east coast of Dublin where I was able to find respite and home. Then, when we laid her in the ground, that was also an east coast bed for her, so the two choruses correspond to each of the beds. “Fairlies” is about escaping, there’s a line that says “I’m moving to America, you won’t see me for a while“; it’s about running away from reality and it feeds into the feelings of addiction. That song was influenced by a poem by Yeats called “The Stolen Child”.

What do you think you will bring to the next Fontaines LP from the experience of making a solo record?
This album has cleared the pathways a little bit, in terms of what I’ll be taking into the next Fontaines record. We already know what the next record is going to sound like, more or less, I can’t say too much about it, but it won’t be very similar to Chaos For The Fly, and that’s partially because of Chaos For The Fly.

Graham Coxon interviewed: “Blur sing about the world they find themselves in”

The Uncut dated September 2023 features a four-page review of Blur‘s new The Ballad Of Darren album, including a lengthy Q&A with Graham Coxon. Here’s the full, unedited transcript of our chat, in which Graham discusses the speedy recording, the difference between …Darren and Modern Life Is Rubbish, and why a bit of vagueness in songs is good: “The thing is to not always think that you know what the subject matter is, because you can be quite wrong…”

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Is it exciting to be back talking about a new Blur album after eight years?
Yeah, it’s nice! The experience obviously was very quick, six or seven weeks in the studio, so not long. It was a really nice time recording – it seemed to spring out of nowhere, but I have to resist saying that because it was it was quite an intense time working.

When did you know there was going to be a new record?
In January, I think. Damon says, “I’ve got a few songs.” Dave, Alex and I had been rehearsing, to see if we could still play with each other, and I’d felt a certain unease of having some shows to do but nothing new to play. So when Damon said he had a bunch of tunes he’d been writing as he went around on tour, that was quite good.

Had he been writing these with Blur in mind?
Maybe… I don’t know whether it was with Blur in mind, I know that songwriters write whetever they are. I know Damon doesn’t like doing nothing, so he used his time to work – that’s his affliction, I suppose. So we had a few demos and then some new ones came along in the early part of the year too. So we had a good load of demos to look at. We were going to have a sort of a period of pre-production with James Ford and Damon and I just sort of sifting through, but then we thought, ‘Well, sod that, let’s just get everyone in, we haven’t got much time, let’s just make a start. Let’s just get a song up and get on with it.’ We just did that really, we just got our heads down and before we knew it these songs were taking shape. I really felt the pressure being the guitar player to really give a lot of the songs some sort of different identities. The songs were inhabited by similar sounding things really, you know, bass and drums. I found it hard work because they’re not these simple two-chord songs that you can just get a big fat riff over, you know? There was a lot of chords and there’s a lot of music in there, and quite often they’re not just simple major and minor chords, there’s major sevens and other sort of jazzy chords and other lovely bits and bobs going on that I really wanted to get inside and amplify, and make as nice as possible. When the vocals were going to be eventually recorded and lyrics written, I really wanted there to be a recognisable difference between the songs sonically, so that capsule of a song could carry the words and lyrics in a nice palatable way.

How did you approach the guitar parts, then?
Every time I put any guitar down, it really had to be musical, it really had to communicate something about how I was feeling as well. There’s a lot of very mellow sounds. I suppose it’s not a particularly contemporary sonic concept, necessarily – it’s pretty trad, although it feels kind of relevant, because Blur always sing about the world they find themselves in. So I suppose the relevance is in those lyrics and also the sort of universalness of the subject matter. It’s quite open and emotional. It does offer communion, if you know what I mean – it’s not about some bloke on the train who you don’t give a shit about, you know, it’s really about bigger feelings than that.

You certainly make some weird sounds, but they’re subtly integrated into the songs.
I kind of limited myself, we all did, but it didn’t stay that way. Damon had an electric piano, a couple of Russian synthesisers and a Chamberlain thing, and I had my Manson guitar and my Jeff Beck Strat and a Pink Flow pedal by Jam, and that was it. So all of the sounds are pretty much from that. So it really had to come down to what you were doing with the fingers. In the end, we did get a brass section and we got some strings, but a lot of those lovely [synth] sounds are still there. There’s a lot of sounds on the guitars on “Albion” that shouldn’t be there, that should have been deleted, but they’re still there.

The Darren of the title, is this specifically [longtime band friend/bodyguard] Smoggy or is it a wider thing?
I suppose Darren is the symbol of somebody we have talked about or lived alongside for decades. It might be just that person who’s a similar age to you, lives up the road, who you don’t know much about. It’s kind of everyone really, isn’t it? But I realised that Darren is a man and there’s a sort of a man on the cover. But it really is, I guess, a representative of the human race going through what they have to go through each day, each week, each month, each year of their life to survive this insane world.

The songs are very emotional – there are a lot of hints at a break-up. Is this a concept album… fictional… autobiographical?
I think there are some loose concepts in everything that Blur do, in as much as any album could be looked at as a concept album, whether it’s a sonic concept or something to do with the lyrics. I suppose conceptually it looks over the years – I think it goes right back to mine and Damon’s musical friendship and how it started in 1982 or 1981. I mean, “The Narcissist” starts way back in the early days of Blur, and there are a few references to landscapes, landmarks, personally and physically. I suppose there’s a sort of relationship business in there, but the thing is to not always be too heavily personal about and to not always think that you know what the subject matter is, because you can be quite wrong.

Before the album was announced, there was a lot of stuff on your social media about 30 years of Modern Life Is Rubbish, and you’ve been playing a lot of noisier Modern Life Is Rubbish live, but then the album comes along and it’s quite different.
Both albums are overall kind of melancholic. There’s definitely elements of melancholia that are sort of paranoic and bitter, so that is there bubbling away as well. I think “St Charles Square” has a pretty paranoid view; there’s a lot of regret and loss, but I think with Damon it’s never as simple as singing about one thing, it always encompasses a lot of things. Like “Faraway Island” seems almost to me to be a song that is sung from a ship, to the dryads on some island somewhere. I wanted it to be quite a seafaring-sounding track with the acoustic guitar on it. Someone listening to it completely simplify it and see it as about an ex, or a long-distance relationship. I think keeping a type of vagueness to the subject matter is the best thing, to invite people in to experience the songs in their own ways. Otherwise it’s a bit dictatorial.

On “St Charles Square”, you’re unleashing some proper Fripp-style mayhem!
Yeah! It’s not a new thing for me to put slapback echo on, but that’s not a tuning I’ve used an awful lot – it’s my own kind of weird tuning where I have to bend one string every time I play a chord so that it’s in tune. That dictates whether it’s a major or a minor chord, and actually it allows you to play a major and minor at the same time, which can be a little bit too much, but I thought it called for that. That one did come together pretty quick, once we found that that was the vibe – if we’d have been doing a Modern Life Is Rubbish-type thing that would have been faster and it would have gone into a lot less of a swing, a lot less of a sassy kind of tempo, and it would have been a bit more snotty. As it was, I really wanted to keep it in a weird way sassily lumbering and menacing. If you played it a little bit faster then it would lose that and it would just be like a punk thing. It was important that it wasn’t like that. It’s the old-fashioned idea that whatever is menacing is lumbering inexorably towards you, in a very awkward, crooked way. You know, we’re describing this God-knows-what that’s within the walls and under the floors, and I really, really got what Damon [meant], because I had a similar experience in a flat.

With all these demos that were flying around, is there anything left over?
I’m not sure whether there were more than 15 or 16 songs that were knocking around, but it became apparent quite quickly which one’s were going to work and which ones should be put aside. I don’t think there’s unfinished business, I don’t think we’d be going back to any of those. The ones we attacked were the ones that really we should have attacked.

You and Damon have both worked with James Ford before – he was clearly a big part of this record?
Yeah, he’s great, James, because he’s just there as a musician. He isn’t an authority figure or a sort of uncle or anything, he’s an equal. What’s nice about that is that we’d be recording and he’d just get up and start playing something on a keyboard. He’s just great with drums. He’s a good laugh, he’s very relaxed, and he really is there for the music and for no other reason – that relaxed approach got absolutely the most out of us. It did on my other encounters with him too. I thought Damon did great on the vocals – I think his voice sounds really, really lovely, and I think that shows how relaxed we were. We felt like we were really making this for ourselves, as four people now getting together again to make music. That was the spirit in which it was done. When we were finishing it, and I was putting the last backing vocals on it, I was thinking, ‘Oh my God, there’s two or three songs on here that could be absolutely huge songs.’ There’s really something about them, something anthemic or almost simple, but very emotional. I was like, ‘Crikey, yeah, I think it’s pretty good.’ That’s a nice thing to discover about something you’ve been so inside for such a long time. I think people are gonna really get a lot out of it.

 

Beverly Glenn-Copeland – The Ones Ahead

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Singer, songwriter and composer Beverly Glenn-Copeland was so far ahead of his time when he began writing and performing music that several decades had to pass before his audience revealed itself. A long life lived in between then and now fully informs the sweeping, expansive music on his new album The Ones Ahead.

Born in Philadelphia and based in Canada, Glenn-Copeland’s musical trajectory began in the 1960s at Montréal’s McGill University, where he was the first Black student to be accepted in their Faculty of Music. His first couple of albums, both self-titled releases that came out in the early 1970s, blurred genre lines from the beginning, though they have the clearest connection to folk. Glenn-Copeland’s career went on to include performing as a backing vocalist with Canadian singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn, working as an actor on the children’s show Mr Dressup for 25 years, and writing songs for Sesame Street. A defining moment occurred in 1986, when Glenn-Copeland discovered the world of digital synthesis and recorded Keyboard Fantasies, a gorgeous new age album. Only 200 cassettes were produced, most of which never even made it out of storage.

As the years rolled along and Glenn-Copeland explored different facets of music, art and life – including publicly identifying as a trans man in the early 2000s – the mysterious beauty of Keyboard Fantasies made its way around to record collectors and purveyors of adventurous underground cult music. It’s hardly a surprise that by the mid-2010s, that album would find a new global audience, eager to learn more about its enigmatic creator. Glenn-Copeland was in his seventies when he hit the road for his first ever European tour, in the process continuing to build out some of the songs that make up The Ones Ahead, his first album of new studio music in nearly 20 years and the first since the resurgence of interest.

The Ones Ahead is a triumphant, ecstatic album. It feels lived-in; it feels loved. This makes sense, as some of the songs had been gestating for over 30 years. His previous albums were largely individual efforts, but The Ones Ahead makes full use of Indigo Rising, the band that formed to support Glenn-Copeland live on that European tour. The additional musicians imbue his electroacoustic arrangements with depth and vibrance, the full band format an ideal vehicle for the prismatic genre-blurring that is seemingly inherent to Glenn-Copeland’s style.

And that style? The best word for it is syncretic, fusing as it does elements from folk, jazz, classical, new age, electronic and even gospel with his own distinct flair. The music is eclectic and far-reaching in scope and ambition, bringing most to mind artists like Kate Bush, or even Scott Walker without the darkness. The songs range from anthemic calls to action to sentimental ballads, traversing an emotional landscape that veers between the personal, the political and the complicated nuance of where the two meet. Glenn-Copeland is exploring his own history too, most immediately evidenced on “Africa Calling”, the album’s opening track. Described as a tribute to his West African heritage, the song makes use of the rhythmic skills Glenn-Copeland honed when studying with a djembe player named Dido. Despite being most well-known for his electronic experiments, Glenn-Copeland actually feels himself to be primarily a percussionist. In time, his drumming became a way to examine the longing he felt to more fully know his African roots.

Glenn-Copeland’s voice soars with emotion on the piano-driven “Harbour (Song for Elizabeth)”, a deeply heartfelt love song written for his wife and life partner of 14 years. The music is relatively sparse, but Glenn-Copeland’s voice is matched in strength with additional vocals from Indigo Rising singer Jeremy Costello, giving the song an operatic feel. On the other hand, “People Of The Loon” is instant energy, transmitting a sense of immediacy while channelling the power of indigenous teachings (another connection to his heritage, as his grandmother on his father’s side was Cherokee). The title track is another standout, unfurling like a dreamy spoken-word poem, expanding and refracting from serene keys behind Glenn-Copeland’s voice to a community of voices that practically transforms the song into a hymnal. Throughout all nine songs, Glenn-Copeland’s voice seems to exist on the eternal plane, powerful and vulnerable in equal measure, an elder sharing his knowledge in stirring sonic form.

Blake Mills – Jelly Road

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When Blake Mills released his debut solo album Break Mirrors in 2010, he admitted it was essentially a calling card to get more session work. Given that he’s since been handpicked to play with both Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell – not to mention Jenny Lewis, Randy Newman, Norah Jones and a zillion others – you have to say that it worked. Mills is primarily in demand as a highly skilled and intuitive guitarist, but he’s one of those musicians who can play anything: harmonium on Rough & Rowdy Ways, drums on Feist’s Multitudes. He’s also a producer and co-writer, with his fingerprints all over recent albums by Laura Marling, Perfume Genius and Marcus Mumford.

Yet despite his ubiquity, Mills remains something of an enigma. Often when a sideman steps out of the shadows, it’s because they want their own voice to be heard; but this is Mills’ fifth solo album, and with each one he seems to become ever more elusive. 2021’s Notes With Attachments, a collaboration with Pino Palladino, was very cool but almost mischievously slight, the two seasoned sessioneers competing to see who could disappear most effectively into the music.

In another confounding move, Jelly Road was largely written and recorded with the relatively unknown Chris Weisman. Presumably Mills could have called in any number of celebrity pals – and some of them do make cameo appearances here – but Weisman has been plucked from the obscurity of Vermont, where he’s stealthily amassed a vast catalogue of eccentric, home-recorded albums. Dipping into Weisman’s Bandcamp archive, you can hear why Mills spotted a kindred spirit; both men balance a respect for classic songcraft with an urge to subvert it at every opportunity.

Jelly Road presents itself as a live ‘in the room’ record while quickly screwing with that perception. It starts with Mills whispering the title of “Suchlike Horses” as though it’s a raw campfire demo, acoustic guitars fumbling around in search of a tune. But then his vocal beams in from another dimension entirely, slathered in warm space-echo. The acoustic guitars disappear, replaced by electric piano and tinkling cosmic synths. It’s as if he’s pulled a green-screen trick on your ears.

The album is full of these aural optical illusions. Guitars are strung upside-down, or run backwards. The Revolution’s Wendy Melvoin wanders in to sing backing vocals or play wah-wah guitar – but not on the song called “Wendy Melvoin”, which instead foregrounds Mills’ lugubrious harmonica and the bizarre but addictive squawking of Sam Gendel’s contrabass recorder.

It’s clever, but not too clever. Mills and Weisman are careful never to overdo it and obscure the song itself. Moreover, each individual part seems to be invested with its own hefty emotional charge. Take the haywire guitar solo on the slow, quasi-anthemic “Skeleton Is Walking”, played by Mills on his fretless sustainer guitar, and cited as a pivotal moment in the creation of the album. While the lyrics are fearful and unsure, the solo explodes like a dam bursting. As Mills observes, “It says a lot of things that the singer can’t say. And for that reason, it feels very cathartic.”

You can file Jelly Road alongside Dirty Projectors’ Swing Lo Magellan and those recent Bon Iver albums, where Justin Vernon successfully deconstructed his approach without sacrificing any emotional impact. Mills shares with Vernon a love of ’80s synths and guitar tones previously considered taboo by the folk-rock crowd, skilfully combining them with more traditional acoustic sounds to create an alternate timeline where John Prine hung out at Paisley Park.

Just as with the music, Mills’ lyrics toy with the tropes of rootsy American songwriting while simultaneously unpicking them. There are horses and moons and highways, but there are also metaphysical quandaries and “futuristic hellscapes”. He may seem to write in proverbs and koans, but his elegant, oblique style only makes the break-up described in “Jelly Road” all the more poignant: “The dinosaurs were happy, up until they froze/Though we’ve had some good times, this is what we chose”.

Perhaps unsurprisingly given his advanced studio tan, several of the songs appear to be about songwriting itself. “What can make a song unbearable?” Mills ponders on “Unsingable”. “What’s dignified? What’s just a pose?” Yet obviously it’s a song about life, too: the little choices we make every day that mould us into who we are. Whatever this album may or may not reveal about the real Blake Mills, he’s evidently a person who cares deeply – even obsessively – about his chosen artform, and its ability to delight, console and transform. Jelly Road regularly does all three.

Nathan Bowles, Jaime Fennelly and Joe Westerlund unveil Setting

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Nathan Bowles, Jaime Fennelly and Joe Westerlund have announced details of their new experimental project, Setting.

Below, you can hear “Zoetropics“, from their debut album Shone A Rainbow Light On.

Setting made their debut with “Night Drivers” on Uncut’s Sounds Of The New West Volume 6 compilation earlier this year.

The breakdown is Nathan Bowles (solo/trio, Pelt, Black Twig Pickers) on strings, keys, and percussion, Jaime Fennelly (Mind Over Mirrors, Peeesseye) on harmoniums, synthesizers, and piano zither and Joe Westerlund (solo, Califone, Sylvan Esso, Jake Xerxes Fussell) on drums, percussion, and metallophones.

Shone A Rainbow Light On is released on September 29 by Paradise Of Bachelors.

Tracklisting is:

We Center
Zoetropics
A Sun Harp
Fog Glossaries

It’s available on vinyl and CD and can be pre-ordered here.

Rufus Wainwright – My Life In Music

KATE & ANNA McGARRIGLE
Kate & Anna McGarrigle

WARNER BROS, 1976
My mother’s first album. So obviously I discovered it because I was born! But it really is considered one of the classic records of that era, the ’70s. There’s certain schools of thought which put that record up there with Abbey Road and Exile On Main St – it has a similar iconic vibe. The more I listen to it now, the more I’m really impressed by the quality of the sound, the way it was recorded, the economy of the production that Joe Boyd achieved. And of course my mother’s voice with her sister Anna singing, it’s just so beautiful. It’s a very auspicious item to have in the family pantheon.

EURYTHMICS
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

RCA, 1983
Once I heard that album, I was completely transfixed and altered into a sentient being. And whether it was the songs on the record, or listening to Annie Lennox’s vocals and her incredible ability… but also the cover of the album was very affecting. The androgynous presentation awoke in me all of the mysteries of puberty that were right around the corner. So that was great! One time when I was in Los Angeles as a kid, I saw Annie Lennox at a restaurant and she looked like she did on the record cover. That to me was like meeting a god – or at least seeing a god at a distance.

GIUSEPPE VERDI
Don Carlo

EMI, 1971
When I got into opera, I was about 13. At that time a lot of gay men were dying of AIDS and I ended up with all these old opera records. And there was this sort of transfer of knowledge from that beleaguered group of people to my young mind. Don Carlos is considered one of Verdi’s deepest works, and I just got completely lost in the drama and also the historical weight of both the music and the subject matter. It’s about Spain around the time of the Inquisition – and certainly living in Canada, the freezing cold north, it really whet my appetite to travel the world. It’s also one of the all-time great father/son stories, which I related to a lot.

LOUDON WAINWRIGHT III
I’m Alright

ROUNDER, 1985
Speaking of fathers and sons… Around the same time as I got into opera, my dad put out this record. It has “One Man Guy” on it, and a bunch of other great songs, but it’s very sparse. It’s mostly him and the guitar – it was part of his lonely London period. He was touring and travelling a lot and I didn’t see him very much, so this record helped me understand who he was. My father has always communicated with his loved ones through song, for better or for worse. And even though occasionally it can be a little traumatic, at least he’s reaching out, you know? It’s about trying to figure out the state of things and get to a better place.

NINA SIMONE
Live In Europe

TRIP, 1972
That’s always been a very important record for me. She sings some Jacques Brel, she sings some Gibb brothers, all these great songs. When I discovered Nina Simone in general, it was the main beacon in terms of what I wanted to do, which was to be a piano-based singer-songwriter who could interpret my passion for classical music and transform it into more of a pop sound. So she was really my idol. And then with the whole live thing, I was struck by how important it was to be able to do it in front of an audience. She does a thrilling rendition of “…Life” from the musical Hair that I would blast when I was really stoned and just think the world was promise.

BJÖRK
Debut

ONE LITTLE INDIAN, 1993
When that came out, I was an older teenager. I started going out to bars and clubs and experimenting with drugs and stuff. All of a sudden I felt very connected to my generation and very impressed by what was going on in the mainstream, which I wasn’t really before. I mean, I appreciate Nirvana now, but at the time I didn’t really get it. So it was really when Björk put out Debut that I was re-engaged with what was happening at the time. I recently got to hang out with Björk in Iceland at one of my shows. It was really one of the great thrills of my life, and I hope to work with her in the future – on anything, frankly.

THE EVERLY BROTHERS
Songs Our Daddy Taught Us

CADENCE, 1958
On my new record, I sing a cover of a folk song, a murder ballad, called “Down In The Willow Garden”. And that’s because there’s this amazing album that we grew up with at home called Songs Our Daddy Taught Us, which is this wonderful record of The Everly Brothers singing folk songs that they learned as children. They’re often quite violent and dark, very moody. That album was so fundamental in my upbringing. I adore The Everly Brothers’ hit songs, the more rock’n’roll stuff they did, but there’s something so timeless about their renditions of these classic tunes. I wanted to tap into that purity of sound.

GLÜME
Main Character

ITALIANS DO IT BETTER, 2023
It’s important to champion new works, so I want to bring in a record that just came out that I’ve been listening to a lot. It’s by my friend Glüme and I sing on the title track with her. I’m always really honoured and excited to sing on a record, and some of them have turned out to be great. But this one particularly struck me: it was just so unusual and it really captures this LA/Hollywood environment that my husband and I live in. I’ve loved driving through the city listening to the whole album, and it’s become the soundtrack of my life recently. Glüme is like a more gothic, edgier Lana Del Rey – she’s just this strange, wonderful creation.

Rufus Wainwright’s Folkocracy is out now on BMG

Hear the Grateful Dead’s demo for “Eyes Of The World”

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The Grateful Dead have shared their original demo for “Eyes Of The World“.

It’s taken from the remastered and expanded 50th anniversary edition of Wake Of The Flood.

Here it is!

Released on September 29 via Rhino, Wake Of The Flood has been newly remastered and expanded with previously unheard material.

A two-CD and digital set features the album’s seven original songs and previously unreleased demo recordings of “Eyes Of The World” and “Here Comes Sunshine”. The set also includes a bonus disc of live material from the final night of a brief tour that immediately followed Wake Of The Flood’s release, recorded at Northwestern University’s McGaw Memorial Hall on November 1, 1973.

Wake Of The Flood will also be released on September 29 as a single 180-gram black vinyl LP and limited edition 12” picture disc; other variants are available at select outlets in the States including Barnes & Noble.

The tracklisting for Wake Of The Flood (50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition) is:

DISC ONE
Mississippi Half-Step Uptown
Toodeloo Let Me Sing Your Blues Away
Row Jimmy
Stella Blue
Here Comes Sunshine
Eyes Of The World
Weather Report Suite
Eyes Of The World (Demo)*
Here Comes Sunshine (Demo)*

DISC TWO*
MCGAW MEMORIAL HALL, NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY EVANSTON, IL (November 1, 1973)
Weather Report Suite
Morning Dew > Playing In The Band > Uncle John’s Band > Playing In The Band
Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo

*Previously Unreleased

Josh Homme interviewed: “Queens is about taking grand leaps together”

We spoke to Josh Homme about Queens Of The Stone Age‘s In Times New Roman… in the Uncut dated August 2023 – here’s the full, unedited interview, in which Josh goes deep into the new record, tells us what working with Iggy taught him and explains why he’d like to make a record that destroys stereos.

Pick up a copy of Uncut here at the Kelsey shop.

__________________________

There’s no messing about on In Times New Roman… – there are no guests, you produced it, it’s just straight in.
Yes, that’s true. You know, I think you make records in your own time, and then you wonder if they’ll fit into their time that they’re released in. And somehow, this record seems very of its time. It’s very brutal, tonally brutal. And, I think you said it better than I will, there’s no mucking about, it’s wilful stupidity, right off the drop.

You’re always experimenting, but on the previous two albums, there was a definite element of trying out a lot of different things. And this one feels like you’ve learned from that, and you’ve taken some of the more successful new ideas on. It feels comfortable, but exciting at the same time.
Well, don’t even make me happy by saying that we’ve learned from that because that’s exactly… You know, I guess I always look for cycles of three – I knew the first record was part of something more, I already had this Rated R kind of concept when the first record was going down. The first record is stamping your ground for where you’re starting from, the second one is the experiment and the third is encapsulating all that you’ve learned in a way. And I think so many people have gone through so much in the last four years, and I too have have gone through so much. The music was recorded about two years ago, I just wasn’t ready to sing it – the guys pushed me a lot to get it to the finish. But I needed to be whole to finish, and it just took me a while to do that. It understands itself. So by the time I finally came to sing it and finish it with with Mark Rankin, and Mikey Shoes, it was one of those moments where you’re like, ‘no, no, I know who I are right now.’

Like you said, you have been through a lot – so the lyrics are very personal, but at the same time, they’re some of your funniest. There’s a pun every other line.
I mean, I suppose a pun is a word for making up a word, right? Oscar Wilde said ‘Be yourself, everyone else is taken.’ And looking around and hearing everyone tell you there’s so many rules – can’t do this, don’t do this, don’t touch that, be afraid of this, don’t look at this – I just thought, ‘Oh, fuck all this, it’s a bunch of bullshit, it’s not true. In fact, I can make up whatever words I like, I can do whatever I like.’ For example, on something like Them Crooked Vultures, everything was an animal, and I tend to do that for a record, pick a thing. After all, life is very spherical – if you think someone’s above you, all you have to do is turn the sphere and you realise there’s no above or below anybody. I also think that this [album] is right for its time, because I know everyone else sees the same obscenery I see. ‘Hellscape, party of two?’ I don’t mind that actually. I don’t look at it as negative. I think failing to be honest about identifying what you see is the negative. Understanding when something is right can only happen if you are willing to admit when something’s wrong, for you or in general. So, I think accepting reality for what it is, is what takes you from pessimism to realism.

Do you see this as the final part of a trilogy, then?
I do. I think [2005’s] Lullabies To Paralyze and [2007’s] Era Vulgaris were sort of like trying to find the open doorway or open window, if you will, to try to enter the next phase, and it felt [2013’s] …Like Clockwork was [that next phase]. I mean, when I look at this now, I think, ‘In Times New Roman the Villains come Like Clockwork’, that’s what I see. I feel that this album is the brutal truth of them all. I think that means you can start The Wizard Of Oz right now, and they should match up.

I guess they’re also linked by the lineup, which has been so stable – most of the guys have been around since Era Vulgaris.
[Artist] Frank Kozik, who just passed away, he was the guy that came up with the idea of [desert sessions]. I didn’t have a band at the time, and he was like, ‘You should take people out to the desert and just record, call it the ‘desert sessions’.’ It was his idea. You know, and then once I was out there, I thought, ‘I should make a band out of this.’ I guess [it’s like] orbital movement, like, as the Earth rotates the idea should be able to rotate and change without losing your sense of gravity to what you’re doing, so that was the notion of making a band that could modify and change. Much like the band Ween could play anything it wanted to whenever it wanted to, all you have to do is believe – you know, Ween put out a country record, and it’s an amazing country record. They believe they can do it. So I think Queens has always been like, ‘How do we keep changing, constantly, and risk losing people, but retain a sense of self?’ And I think before that had a lot to do with interchanging members and now it has a lot to do with keeping those members and taking these grand leaps together.

It’s experimenting with stability.
Ha, the disrupting of stability – exactly. There’s enough disruption [around now] that a little stability actually has become beneficial in a way. Yeah, because the experiments are now dealing with sonic brutality, so the words are supposed to say something real. But the sonic side of it should also speak to something, it should suggest a direction too. I think on the Iggy record [2016’s Post Pop Depression], I learned that… there’s a song called “In The Lobby”, and when he screams it drowns out the music, because I was like, ‘Why can’t he just drown it? Why can’t he bury it? Why can’t the dynamic be so wide that you’re like, ‘Oh’?’ And then that gave way to Villains, you know, the beginning of that record is so quiet on purpose that you crank it up and then when it goes you go ‘holy…’. Why can’t I play a dirty trick on people I love? Why can’t a record grab you by the shirt collar and kiss you on the cheek and scream ‘I love you’ in your ear? Like, it can, it can do that. And I think the brutality of even the first song “Obscenery”, it’s so brutal that when this orchestra just collides with the music, at least you know it’s on purpose, it’s some kind of counterbalance, something fragile and beautiful to destroy.

The end of “Carnavoyeur” is crazy – that compression!
It’s the most you can do without digital static. And I said, why can’t we go further? I’ve been thinking this since the end of the first record, but what if you put on a record, and at the end it destroyed your stereo? That would be… that would be unforgettable. It would be impossibly dangerous art forever, right. You know, the thing was, [people say] ‘I don’t want to be associated with that.’ It’s like, well, why not? I do. I would do that.

It’s a situationist kind of prank. That’s great.
Well, a real statement. I think it’s beyond a prank there buddy, because if you make records as real as you can, what does that mean? Because real is very broad term… as honest and vulnerable, and as legitimately close to the centre of who you are, as you can. And if you make something that you actually love, then someone else has a great chance of loving it, too. It may only be 300 people, but it’s enough. What if 300 people fucking loved what you did, it was their favourite thing? I mean, how many would be enough? Wouldn’t two people be enough? I think that that’s actually what our job is, is to make something that someone else could love, too.

Well, there’s a bit more than two people for you.
That’s just gravy, I guess, because that’s more than anyone deserves maybe. I’m always waiting for, someday, someone to ring my doorbell and say, ‘Joshua, nobody likes your music anymore. So we’re coming in, we’re gonna just take all this stuff.’ And I always think I’m waiting for that day. And I’ll be like, ‘That was a long time, though. Pretty good. [I did] pretty well.’

The album’s only just done, but I bet you have plans for what comes after the trilogy…
Now why would I do something like that?! I think if you don’t make plans, you’re part of someone else’s. And I think it’s important to make the music from a very real place, but I’ve come to enjoy the wonder and the surprise of leaping out of the darkness and doing business on our fans, like, I love to shock and surprise and leave breadcrumbs and I like to participate in their excitement and their joy. It’s my job to make pleasure and joy and it’s a pleasure and joy to do so. I like to figure out how to do something that makes people that are into our music take one deep breath in and get excited, so I would never give that away. But oh, I got plans. They don’t all work, but that’s not the point either.

Hear “Evicted” from Wilco’s new album, Cousin

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Wilco have announced details of a new studio album, Cousin, which is released on September 29 on the band’s dBpm label.

You can hear the first track “Evicted” below.

“I’m cousin to the world,” says Jeff Tweedy. “I don’t feel like I’m a blood relation, but maybe I’m a cousin by marriage.”

The band’s first album since Cruel Country, Cousin has been produced by Cate Le Bon. “The amazing thing about Wilco is they can be anything,” Le Bon says. “They’re so mercurial, and there’s this thread of authenticity that flows through everything they do, whatever the genre, whatever the feel of the record. There aren’t many bands who are able to, this deep into a successful career, successfully change things up.”

You can pre-order Cousin by clicking here.

Tracklisting for the new album is:

Infinite Surprise
Ten Dead
When The Levee Is Fake
Evicted
Sunlight Ends
A Bowl And A Pudding
Cousin
Pittsburgh
Soldier Child
Meant To Be

The band also have a bunch of UK dates in August and September – including the End Of The Road festival in August.

Wilco play:

Wednesday, August 30 – 02 Forum Kentish Town, London [SOLD OUT]
Thursday, August 31 – End of the Road Festival, Wiltshire
Saturday, September 2 – Usher Hall, Edinburgh
Sunday, September 3 – Moseley Folk Festival, Birmingham
Tuesday, September 5 – The Bridgewater Hall, Manchester
Wednesday, September 6 – Mandela Hall, Belfast

Hear Peter Gabriel’s new track, “Olive Tree”

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Peter Gabriel has released a new song, “Olive Tree” from his forthcoming album, “i/o”.

Released to coincide with this month’s full moon, you can hear the Bright-Side Mix by Mark Stent below.

“Olive Tree” is the eighth track from the album, following “i/o”, “Playing For Fire”, “The Court” and “Panopticom” among others.

Written and produced by Gabriel, “Olive Tree” is about connection, both how we interact with nature and the other species around us, but also a greater sensitivity to the potential for broadening human experience, “in some ways I do think we are part of everything and we probably have means to connect and communicate with everything that we often shut off,” says Gabriel. “We only want to see and listen to the things that seem important and relevant to us and shut out the noise of everything else when, probably, hidden in that noise there are all sorts of things that can help us realise our place in this future world.”

Musically, “Olive Tree” provides another up-tempo moment for the i/o record, “I wanted it to have some speed to it but I also wanted some mystery, too. I think it is a celebration in a way and there’s a real sense of being alive.” The song features a string arrangement from John Metcalfe, with further contributions from Manu Katché on drums, Tony Levin on bass, David Rhodes on guitar, Josh Shpak on trumpet and additional percussion from Ged Lynch. The song was recorded at Real World Studios, Bath, The Beehive and British Grove, London.

The release comes with artwork from the artist Barthélémy Toguo and his work, Chroniques avec la Nature.

“Olive Tree” will come with differing mix approaches from Mark Stent (Bright-Side Mix), released on August a, and also from Tchad Blake (Dark-Side Mix) and Hans-Martin Buff’s Atmos mix (In-Side Mix), released later in the month.

The Clientele – I Am Not There Anymore

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The Clientele’s eighth album, I Am Not There Anymore is the band’s first since entering their fourth decade. There are a variety of ways for a group to make it to this milestone, though one is much easier than others. This tried-and-true method is to maintain the artistic identity established at the zenith of one’s popularity, thereby ensuring fans get what they always have and reaffirming the rightness of their continued loyalty. This route may be especially prevalent with artists closely identified with a particular orthodoxy, such as the chamber-pop sound that The Clientele emerged with, a style where a high degree of conservatism – little deviation from the sacred writ of Bacharach, Wilson and Hazlewood – is often expected.

Yet embracing more dramatic changes may sometimes be vital to the matter of survival. Carried off with the same unfussy yet exacting manner that distinguished the London band’s early chamber-pop marvels collected for their 2000 debut Suburban Light, the shifts undergone during The Clientele’s latter chapters have been surprising and remarkable. After putting his group on hiatus in 2011 to try his hand at more summery sounds alongside Lupe Núñez-Fernández in the duo Amor De Diás, Alasdair MacLean divined a new approach to The Clientele by incorporating fresh elements like the santur, a hammered dulcimer whose chiming sound is fundamental to Indian and Iranian classical music. A return to form that actually represented a considerable expansion of said form, 2017’s Music For The Age Of Miracles boasted a richer sonic palette than any of its predecessors. At the same time, there was no loss of the intimacy that MacLean achieved in his impressionistic lyrics about loves lost, memories revisited and lives quietly coming untethered.

Now comes further departures from convention. MacLean and his longtime bandmates James Hornsey and Mark Keen began work on I Am Not There Anymore in 2019 and continued through the pandemic. Even as the project began, MacLean found himself revisiting a particularly vivid period in his personal history, a prescient development given the ways that the lockdowns dislodged so many of us from the present. To accompany these images and impressions from the summer of 1997 – many of them centred on the passing of MacLean’s mother – the band built up a series of gorgeously plaintive musical settings and more elliptical soundscapes like none they’d fashioned before. Stretching over eight eventful minutes, the album’s opener “Fables Of The Silverlink” demonstrates the sometimes tumultuous results, with its dramatic, undulating strings, bursts of hectic percussion, more conventionally mellifluous passages and MacLean’s oscillation between haunting deathbed reportage and more mundane observations (“Somebody’s mowing the lawn”).

While the group’s belated embrace of digital music software and sampling is a big reason for the huge variety of elements – contemporary classical, post-bop jazz, hauntological electronica – within these songs, the band also evince an eagerness to discover just how much they can tinker with what they do without allowing it to fall to pieces. MacLean credits Miles Davis’s On The Corner with the drive to fill the songs with sometimes off-putting details. Yet the resilience of his flair for shimmering melodies can seem heroic, shining through songs as experimental as the orch-dub oddity “Garden Eye Mantra” and “Dying In May”, a grief-soaked lamentation whose disorienting shards of discordance and maddening loops place it in the nightmare realm of latter-day Scott Walker. Just as unnerving is “My Childhood”, a spoken-word piece whose disorienting effects are intensified by its quivering, Bartók-like strings.

Somehow the overall disposition of I Am Not There Anymore is brighter than it ought to be, the impact of its darkest moments softened by the short piano instrumentals that often follow them and the more enchanting likes of “Lady Grey”. “Blue Over Blue” is a featherlight wonder whose synthesis of sunshine pop, dreamy IDM and rumbles of distortion evokes the Left Banke as remixed by Boards Of Canada. Loyal listeners who may pine for the stately folk-pop glories that filled Bonfires Of The Heath will be satisfied with “Chalk Flowers” and “Through The Roses”. They may also feel reassured that the point of this exercise is not to abandon everything that’s been so special about The Clientele. It’s to find new means of inducing a feeling of being loosened from the here and now, or as MacLean sings in “Lady Grey”, “a feeling that I am everywhere but only here with you”. And through his efforts to convey a profound experience of loss in a long-gone summer, these songs offer an uncommonly generous wealth of grace and beauty.

Joni Mitchell – At Newport

It’s hard to evaluate a miracle using standard critical criteria. Joni Mitchell’s return to the stage at the Newport Folk Festival last July was an event as triumphant as it was wholly unlikely, following her long (and continuing) struggle back to health in the wake of a brain aneurysm in 2015.

The show preserved and presented here was intended as a public recreation of the Joni Jams, the informal, good-timey, therapeutic evenings of music and laughter which Mitchell has hosted with a bunch of musician friends in recent years. Chief among the Jammers is Brandi Carlile, who was the prime mover and shaker in setting up this event. The Newport concert was billed as Brandi Carlile & Friends, not simply in order to preserve the surprise but because, as fellow Joni Jammers Jess Wolfe & Holly Laessig from Lucius told Uncut last year, nobody was quite sure until the final moments whether Mitchell would do it or not.

The palpable sense of anticipation and release makes for a stirring opening to the record. Carlile’s warm and teasing introduction – “How are we going to have a Joni Jam without our queen? [Prolonged pause] We’re not!” – unleashes a joyful clamour from the audience, as the dawning realisation sweeps over those lucky souls in attendance that the woman herself is in the building. “Mitchell emerged from the side of the stage, swaying smoothly, in fine summer-style with beret and sunglasses,” writes Cameron Crowe in the liner notes. “Her good-natured mood instantly set the tone.”

Given the extraordinary context, then, normal rules don’t quite apply to this release. Mitchell’s first live performance in two decades, and her first at Newport since 1969, makes for an album that is more historical document than conventional concert recording. It is, variously, an act of love, a therapy session, a reclamation and an honouring. The headline artist is not always audible on all of the 11 tracks, but her presence throughout is indelible.

What we get is a loose ensemble performance, a long way from Mitchell’s intricate solo ruminations of the late ’60s and early 1970s, the jazz-flecked LA Express adventures of the mid-’70s, the later synth-pop years and dusky orchestral manoeuvres. Mitchell slides into the passenger seat alongside a cast of artists which includes Carlile, Marcus Mumford, Dawes’ Taylor Goldsmith, Wynonna Judd, Blake Mills, Allison Russell, Shooter Jennings and Celisse Henderson. Two songs from the full live set have been omitted from the album. There’s no room for the warm-hearted covers of “Why Do Fools Fall In Love” and “Love Potion No 9”, while the running order has been tinkered with, presumably to make the set feel more coherent in album form.

It’s fair to say that Mitchell rarely does the heavy lifting here. Her role onstage is a fluid one: muse-goddess, North Star, shredder, comic foil and sometime singer. There’s no shortage of quality to go around. The playing by her fellow artists is stellar and the backing vocals, in particular, ooze class. Carlile does a particularly nice job as a Joni manqué on a rollicking “Carey”, and although “A Case Of You”, sung as a duet with Mumford, flirts with cocktail schmaltz, Mitchell’s laugh at the end redeems it. “Help Me”, sung by Celisse, is less convincing. Arranged into a ponderous and slightly overwrought plod, it lands a long way from its slinky origins.

Amid all this affectionate sparring, Mitchell moves in and out of focus in sprightly and sometimes unexpected fashion. A spare guitar-and-vocals “Amelia”, sung by Goldsmith and shading into Bill Frisell territory, comes prologued with a chat between Mitchell and Carlile about the road trip which inspired Hejira. There are other scene-stealing cameos: her comical baritone at the end of a breezy “Big Yellow Taxi”; throwing out thrillingly discordant electric guitar lines on an instrumental version of “Just Like This Train”; jumping in with a growled “mean old daddy” at the finale to “Carey”; adding counterpoint to a lilting “Come In From The Cold”, sung winningly by Goldsmith, on which her Canadian accent sounds particularly and poignantly pronounced.

And then, on the relatively rare occasions when Mitchell does deign to take centre stage, she nails it. Performed to piano and low strings, “Both Sides Now” is impossibly touching, several shades deeper still than the moving reinvention she made of the song in the early 2000s. “Something’s lost but something’s gained, in living every day”, she sings in a low, smoky register, still full of nuance and guile, and it feels like a moment of some significance has been marked.

Gershwin’s “Summertime” is simply gorgeous, featuring rolling blues piano, stinging electric guitar lines, and a bravura singing performance which proves beyond doubt that Mitchell’s vocal prowess has merely shifted into new areas rather than diminished. Underlining that point again, she dovetails wonderfully with Carlile on “Shine” and takes control of the closing “The Circle Game”, leading the singalong. When she dissolves into giggles at the end – “So fun!” – you’re reminded of the high-pitched cackle dubbed on to the conclusion of the original recording of “Big Yellow Taxi”. That studio-spliced burst of levity always sounded a little contrived. Now, when Mitchell laughs – and she laughs a lot here – it feels earned, and true.

Roger Waters announces The Dark Side Of The Moon Redux live show

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Roger Waters will debut The Dark Side Of The Moon Redux at the London Palladium.

This auspicious event will take place on October 8.

Earlier this month, Waters confirmed that the project will be released as one of his solo albums, and is due in shops on October 6 – the album is available to pre-order here.

Joining Waters on stage will be his current touring band, who presumably all played on these new recordings: Gus Seyffert (bass), Joey Waronker (drums), Jonathan Wilson (guitars), Johnny Shepherd (organ), Via Mardot (Theremin), Azniv Korkejian (vocals), Gabe Noel (strings), Jon Carin (keyboards) and Robert Walter (piano).

The show will be designed by Sean Evans, Waters long time Creative Director.

Says Waters, ““We’re going to do it live at the London Palladium, in October… we look forward to that… hopefully performing it live on other occasions in the future.”

Pre-sales for Roger Waters live performance will start Wednesday, July 26, 10am, with general on-sale following on Friday, July 28, 10am.

You can listen to “Money” from The Dark Side Of The Moon Redux here.

John Lydon: “It’s a chaotic world!”

John Lydon is in this month’s issue of Uncut talking about Public Image Ltd’s new album, End Of World. In this extended Q&A – an online exclusive – Lydon digs deeper into loss, glam rock rock and what he really thought of the American punk scene…

First of all, I want to offer my condolences…
No. I don’t want to hear that. You don’t get to enforce your opinions on my tragedy on me. I do not want your disingenuous sympathy.

No, I’m not being disingenuous, I was very sorry to hear about it…
Nora’s death breaks me down and breaks my heart. But we’re here for a specific reason.

Okay. The final track on this new album, “Hawaii”, is something that deals with your late wife…
Thank you. [Calms down a little]. Yes. It dealt with the foreboding knowledge that she was going to die. It was heartbreaking to perform it live, at first. It’s easier to perform now she has passed away. I am very lucky and blessed that an Irish TV show called The One gave me the opportunity to go and perform that song, so I could show her that performance before she passed away. So blessings all around to those guys and girls in Ireland. It’s an opportunity I don’t get much in England.

Is that why you were trying to represent Ireland in Eurovision?
Well, they were the only people who asked me.

You’ve been in the States for several decades. What do you make of the old country when you visit now?
I don’t recognise the cities, it’s a mess, I can’t cope with the traffic, the smog, the filth of it.

But apart from that it’s great…
It should be, but it’s not.

But yet this entire album sounds very informed by Britain…
I recorded the album in the Cotswolds. My entire career has been based on the country of origin. I come from a very, very definite and specific culture, one which has many problems and issues, but I’m all about the benefit and progress of the said culture.

The song “Penge” clearly isn’t about Penge in south London, is it? It sounds like a Viking invasion…
Yes. It has the ring of old authenticity. I just thought that Penge sounds like a very ancient place. It was a good maypole to dance the song around. What are your options when a Viking raiding party comes to ground? Will you seek refuge with the Druids in the next bay, in which case you might be opening up to a bit of child molestation? Or go with the invaders?

The song “Car Chase” seems to be told from the point of view of someone being held in a mental institution…
Yes, or just any of those homes where they send old folks. These places are torture clinics, where the inmates live a thoroughly miserable existence, and their only real escape is their imagination. I know someone who got sent away to a home for the aged, and they’re not having a very good time of it. It’s not something I’d ever have considered for Nora. Nobody should die unhappy. People should go on to meet their maker in the comfort of their own homes.

What is the song “Walls” about?
We all need barriers. We need some degree of separation from others, if only just for a sense of security. At the moment I’m struggling with a stalker who is letting herself in my yard at night, running around claiming that she’s my daughter. And she’s in her 50s. It’s the uncaring selfishness of it that is really upsetting. I’ve had stalkers in the past but this one is becoming just too irrational, and has potential for something much more serious, so I’ve had to report it. I don’t like to get people into trouble but it’s causing me stress. It’s making me a bag of nerves.

And you’re drawing parallels with Trump’s wall?
At the moment we’re watching a border here in America which is insane. It’s not just illegal people coming over the border, it’s the drugs, the fentanyl. It’s all cut in Mexico. It’s causing endless deaths, grief and addictions. And we have a government that seems unable to acknowledge that fact. It’s an outrageous addiction. And the homeless are thriving on it. Of course, they’re not really homeless. Nowadays, the homeless are men of a certain age, Nirvana-type fans, who have not grown up but grown down, and are selfishly expecting free handouts and whatever, and they’re beginning to have shootouts with drug-dealing gangs. It’s a chaotic world. And walls are necessary to stop that. I’ve always said, what’s mine is mine and get your fucking hands off it. I don’t steal from anyone and I don’t expect to be stolen from.

This is linked to “Being Stupid Again”, right?
That’s a very lighthearted song about student politics. I would love to have been a student. But today’s universities do not teach critical thinking. It is just institutionalised dictation. Students these days don’t seem capable of listening to arguments or different points of view. Universities have become indulgency camps. I love differences of opinion, that’s where I learn. I love being right, but I can only get there by listening to all the alternatives.

What is the song “Strange” about?
“Strange” is a hymn to nature. I think if you close your eyes and listen to it 30 times in a row, you’ll get the idea! The trees, they are my steeple. That is my church. I have grown to appreciate nature more and more in recent years. Even in Los Angeles, somehow, because Nora just loved colour. It was exciting taking her into our little backyard and planting flowers. I’ve kept that up. It’s amazing, the amount of birds that appeared in my backyard in the last year. These are things that thrilled her that wouldn’t even have registered with me otherwise. I’m now more capable of actually enjoying life.

Can you give us an example of that?
You know, when I did I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, I discovered great things about myself. Primarily, I discovered that I was made for surviving! It doesn’t appear difficult to me, to get firewood, to want to boil water, to take care of myself. I can naturally adapt in a lot of different surroundings.I had no idea what people were seeing. It’s a terrifying concept going into that, knowing that there are cameras on you 24/7. You have to drop the ego and just be yourself. It made me a better person all round, really.

This is the most settled PiL line-up you’ve had for years, isn’t it?
Absolutely. There have always been financial burdens but, since we’ve gone independent, it’s a different scenario. We make the stuff we like, we don’t have to be responsible to a bunch of indifferent strangers who hold the purse strings. We rely on touring to make the money to make the money to make the record. The Covid fiasco made it not so great. We were down to shoestrings to record this album. But I seem to thrive well when I’m hammered down.

There’s a lot of glam rock in a few of the tracks here, especially “The Do That”…
Oh yeah. I love a bit of glam rock. It’s a thoroughly British invention. There’s all this nonsense about how punk rock came from New York, it’s all fucking bollocks. I came from a very strong culture, one that didn’t need America to teach us how to be punks. The American punk scene was a bunch of twats in tight trousers, reading Rimbaud poetry from the depths of New York. We didn’t need America. We had exciting things in our youth that had nothing to do with America. Punk was coming out of glam. Slade, Sweet, T Rex, Bowie, Showaddywaddy, Mud. “I love your Tiger Feet.” – “The Do That” is very much of that glam scenario.

“Hawaii” has parallels with “Death Disco”, doesn’t it?
Very much so. They are different approaches to death. “Death Disco” was written in screaming agony, as my mother was dying in hospital. At first I was shellshocked. I knew she was going to die, I just couldn’t accept it. “Hawaii” is more accepting. It’s a much more joyful song. I cannot allow self pity in this. My mum and dad would turn in their graves if I did. There is no Edgar Allen Poe in me. Mum and Dad would go mad if I tended towards self-pity. If I came home and said, oh, I’m being bullied at school, they’d say, oh, boo, hiss, go back and sort it out.

What was Nora’s funeral like?
I come from an Irish background, and we like to celebrate funerals. And, quite coincidentally, her funeral was around the same time as Charles’s Coronation. Which she would have enjoyed, in a ludicrous way. I filled the backyard with Union Jacks, with cardboard cut-outs of Charles and Camilla. You could put your head where their faces would be, or you could punch their faces out, if you wanted. We had bangers and mash. It was a nice way to say goodbye to Nora with the neighbours.

Do you have many friends in Los Angeles?
A few, not many. I have neighbours I get on with. I try not to have too many friends. They sap the energy out of you. You should never have more connections than you have fingers on one hand. Otherwise you’re just opening yourself up for gossip. If you have too many friends, you have more people being judgemental, more hatred, more sniping. I’d rather cut out that side out of my life. I think of Muriel Spark, and how living a life in public wrecked her marriage and wrecked her family. I hate the idea of wilting in the limelight.

End of World will be released on August 11, 2023 on PiL Official via Cargo UK Distribution

Nils Lofgren: “Music is magic”

After Bruce Springsteen cancelled a planned E Street Band tour in 2020, Nils Lofgren spent many long pandemic hours in his home studio in Scottsdale, Arizona, jamming along to records by Albert King, Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters. Soon he realised he needed to do something more creative with his time. “So I decided to make a record. Whatever comes out, I’ll just share it with people.” The bluesy Mountains, his first album of all-new originals in a decade, sounds lively and engaged, by turns angry at the state of the world and ecstatic over the state of his marriage.

“I don’t have a lot of patience in the studio, so I waited until I had the entire album written before I started recording,” he explains. “If I sing live to a piano, I can get an emotional vocal, then it becomes exciting to fill in the blanks and experiment with different colours.” Often that meant matching the right song with the right musician: Ringo Starr, E Street vocalist Cindy Mizelle, jazz bassist Ron Carter, among others.

His wife Amy Lofgren, who co-produced, inspired two new songs. “I Remember Her Name” is a sweet story-song about how they met at a show in the ’70s, then reconnected nearly 30 years later. “I thought it would be a great one for David Crosby, and of course he sang beautifully on it. I’m sad that he didn’t live to hear the album, but I did send him a rough mix of the song. He did get to hear it before he died in January.”

For the gentle love song “Nothing’s Easy”, Lofgren reached out to Neil Young. “He brought that haunting, gentle soul that he has. I remember meeting him when I was 17 or 18, and I did piano sessions for After The Gold Rush, even though I wasn’t a pro piano player. I learned so much from him about keeping things immediate, not fixing the rough edges.”

Lofgren applied that philosophy to Mountains, which lends a sense of spontaneity to these songs – especially his cover of the Springsteen deep cut “Back In Your Arms”. “When we would play that song live, we slowed it way down, like a Percy Sledge ballad, and he would do a long rap at the beginning: ‘Guys, you’ve done your girl wrong! You gotta get down on your knees!’” Lofgren speeds it up and adds the mighty Howard University Gospel Choir.

“I don’t really have a great R&B voice like Bruce does, so I wanted to get them to sing it with me. There’s so much youth and joy in their singing. It’s a good reminder that music is magic. Every day, billions of people turn to music, and it heals and unites them.”

Mountains is released by Wienerworld on July 28

Pavement, Bluedot festival, July 22, 2023

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“It’s turning!” shouts a bloke in the crowd, pointing at the giant Lovell Telescope overlooking the main stage, which has slowly started to revolve towards us as Pavement play the sadly majestic “Here”. It’s hard to imagine the band instigating such a piece of theatre – unlike some previous Bluedot headliners, Pavement are not ones for big cosmic gestures – but it nonetheless confers a sense of grandeur on the occasion. 31 years after their first UK show, these perennial mid-afternoon underdogs finally feel like bona fide festival headliners.

Last year at Primavera Porto, Pavement looked a tad uneasy with their new bill-topping status, not helped by a setlist that leaned too heavily on later, slower material. This time they get it absolutely spot-on, from Bob Nastanovich enthusiastically bashing his woodblock to the opening “Silence Kid” to the final crunching chords of “Cut Your Hair”. In between, they please everyone from the hardcore who’ve been here since “Box Elder” to those who’ve found their way to Pavement much more recently via Spotify ghost hit “Harness Your Hopes”. The set plots a perfect course between verbose singalongs, bursts of joyful anarchy and wracked, tender moments such as “Starlings Of The Slipstream”, for which swooping flocks of birds are projected across the face of the Lovell Telescope.

On-stage, it’s not just Nastanovich having fun either. Spiral Stairs plays and sings “Kennel District” like he’s just scored the winner at Old Trafford, which amuses even the otherwise inscrutable Stephen Malkmus. Over his shoulder, new sixth member Rebecca Cole bobs along, bringing good vibes as well as bolstering the sound. Mogwai’s Stuart Braithwaite adds bonus guitar heft to “Fin” before a few randoms gatecrash the stage to shake maracas to “Two States”. And “Grounded” sounds mightier than it’s ever done, its excoriation of bourgeois indifference only growing angrier over time.

At a Wowee Zowee listening party earlier in the day in the Notes tent, the band appeared to be enjoying each other’s company, eagerly adding to the Pavement trivia mountain by revealing that Trey Anastasio of Phish really loves the solo in “Rattled By The Rush”, and that Spiral Stairs’ mum taught Chris Isaak at school (“He was a brat!”). But when it came to accounting for their continued popularity, especially among those barely out of the womb first time around, they looked charmingly befuddled. “Good songs?” said Malkmus, hopefully. “And look at us!”

But we can help with that. Not many bands since Pavement have been able to carve out such a distinct place in the firmament, in love with rock music but allergic to all of its cliches, brandishing persistently catchy songs whose apparently daft and cryptic lyrics become more profound over time.

After this, there’s just Galway and Reykjavik, a couple more US festival dates and a final residency in Brooklyn before they all return to their solo projects, day jobs and racecourse quests. Malkmus has consistently ruled out the idea of penning new Pavement material, so it may be a long while before we see them together again. Their last reunion in 2010 fizzled out in acrimony but here, at least, they depart with the triumph they deserve.

Neil Young announces vinyl release of Odeon Budokan

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Neil Young’s 1976 live collection Odeon Budokan will get a standalone vinyl release via Reprise on September 1.

Side 1 was recorded live at Hammersmith Odeon on March 31 1976 and features Neil Young’s solo set on guitar and piano from the first half of the concert. Side 2 was recorded two weeks earlier at Nippon Budokan Hall in Tokyo on March 11, 1976, with Crazy Horse in full electric flight.

Produced by David Briggs and shelved for several decades, the album was previously available on CD in 2020 as part of the Archives Volume II collection. This will be the first official vinyl release.

Check out the Odeon Budokan tracklist below and pre-order here.

Side 1
1. ‘The Old Laughing Lady’
2. ‘After The Gold Rush’
3. ‘Too Far Gone’
4.‘Old Man’
5. ‘Stringman’

Side 2
1. ‘Don’t Cry No Tears’
2. ‘Cowgirl In The Sand’
3. ‘Lotta Love’
4. ‘Drive Back’
5. ‘Cortez The Killer’