Electric Landlady

On Saturday it'll be 10 years since Kirsty MacColl died. I remember the day well, I was working for a well known crisp manufacturer at the time and the news came on the radio in the afternoon. I don't ever recall being so affected by a 'celeb' death before or since. I was too young to appreciate the enormity of Lennon's assassination, I vaguely remember Elvis's death, and although I was a big fan, it could hardly be said that the death of Kurt Cobain came as a massive shock.
I think it was the manner of her death which knocked me for six the most. It upset me that such a beautiful person could die in an horrific manner, the only comfort was that she was trying to save her kids. I've always found it upsetting that nobody has ever been properly brought to justice over her death and the campaign to get justice has had to be wound up.
You see, I'm a massive fan. Not only was she a songwriter of enormous talent herself but she was also one of the great interpreters of other people's songs. Try her takes on The Kinks' Days (her version of which got played at my dad's funeral), Billy Bragg's New England or the less well known cover of The Smith's You Just Haven't Earned it Yet Baby.

I was lucky enough to have seen her live twice. The first time was at a free festival organised by a brewery for which I was lucky to receive two passes allowing me and a mate to watch her from the side of the stage (my boss handed me the passes saying "'Ere you like music, this is tonight, the Heineken rep's left 'em. Someone called Kirsty McEwan's on." I didn't need asking twice). Of course, I swooned, she looked gorgeous in a purple velvet dress. The second time at Leicester De Montfort University when she was promoting her greatest hits set, Galore. I seem to remember getting as close to the stage as I could without looking like a stalker.

And as well as her prowess as a songwriter and performer there was that voice. Nobody has sounded like her before or since. Stunning. No wonder she was always in demand for backing vocals and duets.
I quite often find Morrissey a tiresome bugger these days but I love what he said about her: "She has great songs and a crackin' bust." I love that, and no doubt Kirsty did too. As I also think she'd have loved Lemmy's view of her that "She was a top bird, was Kirsty".
Sleep well, Kirsty.

Why Cliff will always remain a footnote AKA Noisy Monday

There's been a massive love-in for Cliff Richard ever since his 70th birthday last week with a load of hand-wringers quacking on about how John Lennon got all the celebrations for his 70th the week before but there was hardly any for, ugh, Sir Cliff. I'm nowhere near a Lennon apologist, but I don't recall Cliff Richard writing some of the most memorable tunes in popular music history, or, along with five other people, changing the face of popular culture forever. But then, perhaps I'm being picky, aren't I? I dunno, all I can see of Cliff Richard is that he's part of the establishment light-entertainer who nicked his act off of Elvis Presley. I want my pop and rock stars a bit rebellious, that's what pop and rock music's about, isn't it? I'm sure Cliff had his fingers crossed when he was giving it all that 'Hang loose, Daddio!' back in the late fifties and early sixties and was looking at the long game. Maybe I'm being very old-fashioned in being this cool.
Not only that, but his old backing band get nowhere near the recognition they deserve. I don't recall anyone ever saying that the sainted Cliff inspiring anyone to pick up a guitar. Along with Burt Weedon's Play in a Day manual and Lonnie Donegan you can trace an arc that goes like this:



To this:



To this:



To this:



To this:



To this:



To this:



To this, last year's Christmas No.1, saying 'we're not taking the middle-of-the-road shit any longer.' Only one person in that list of groups has accepted a Knighthood, some would say he deserved it, even if it did make him part of the Establishment. Thank you, Hank B Marvin, Bruce Welch, Jet Harris, Burt Weedon and Lonnie Donegan. Not thank you, Cliff Richard:

In his life

I watched that Lennon Naked this morning, you know, that BBC4 play that was on last week about John Lennon.

I'm not the world's biggest Beatles fan, they're great, obviously. I think they've gone above having fans, everyone's a fan. What I'm struggling to understand is the choice of lead actor for this role. Christopher Eccleston is 46 years-old. The person he was playing in the film aged from 27 to 31. It doesn't take a genius to work out the he was much to old to play Lennon. Do you think this was some sort of vanity role for him? You know, "This'll look great on my CV, Wikipedia and IMDB if people see I've played this great man?" As has been pointed out this morning, with that hooter he looks more like Ringo. Something exacerbated by the fact that he sounded like Ringo too. Every time I spoke all I could hear in my head was "'Come along!' shouted Thomas the Tank Engine" or "Peace and love...don't send me owt else to sign, you bastards!" or "They're gonna put me in the movies". And whoever that tit was who was Paul McCartney, well, his voice sounded like the sort of effort Bobby Davro would put into a Macca impression. Still, it was good to see Epstein played by someone who got Buckaroo! for Christmas twenty odd years ago (sorry).

I've never understand this mythologising of Lennon. I went to the house he lived in about three years ago. What struck me was that it was just like the house I was born and bought up in, albeit one with a poncey garden room and a bigger kitchen with a servants' bell display board (God knows why, they could have shouted, had they had servants). What did send a shiver down my spine though was that there was a photo on the wall of his entire grammar school on the wall. I only just glanced at it and my eyes immediately fell on Lennon's face out of hundreds of others. To be honest, you got more of a sense of 'magic happening' at Macca's parents old council house. Probably because you knew it was a happier house and there's photos on the wall, taken by his brother, of Paul playing the guitar and writing things down at the spot where they were taken.

Everyone knows Lennon wasn't a very nice man, you didn't really need this film to tell you. Do yout think it's because he's dead that he gets this treatment? Or the fact that he disappeared from view for about five years while his former bandmates were selling millions of records and appearing in dodgy films? That's the thing with him disappearing to New York: he blamed everything on his father abandoning him, then he did the very same thing to his own son. How do you think Julian feels about his dad giving it all up when his step brother came along? And what about that awful 'mong' face he'd pull at any given opportunity?

He did write some cracking tunes though: