Wednesday 18 July 2012
A Brief History of a Song
Jive Talkin’ by The Bee Gees
You know that people really don’t want to play your records when you have to deliver them anonymously in a plain white cover and with a plain white label in the middle. Jive Talkin’ was released as a single in just that format to radio stations in May 1975, and part of the dramatic impact of this tune is understood if you know why that had to be the case.
In 1971 the Bee Gees had written the classic ballad How Can You Mend a Broken Heart, it had reached number one in the US, and was later covered by, among others, the fabulous Reverend Al Green. It would be a long time before they achieved similar success. Between 1971 and 1975 they had issued two albums that had done nothing; Life in a Tin Can (1973) dived into oblivion, and Mr. Natural (1974), only reached No. 194 on the Billboard 200. And between these two the album A Kick in the Head is worth Eight in the Pants was considered to be so poor that Robert Stigwood, the head of the record label RSO, refused to release it. The early seventies were a period in which the career of the Bee Gees seemed to be coming to an inconspicuous end.
But Mr. Natural had taken them in a new direction. This was due primarily to its producer, Arif Mardin, who was a close associate of the legendary co-founder of Atlantic Records, Ahmet Ertegun. Mardin was, alongside Jerry Wexler and Tom Dowd, one of the creators of the ‘Atlantic Sound’, and Robert Stigwood, the Bee Gees manager, clearly wanted his expertise applied to their sickly career. Mardin heard the trademark Bee Gees falsetto in the backing vocals of one of the tracks on Mr. Natural, and in talking to them he realised that they shared his love of rhythm and blues music. So when it came to recording the next album Mardin wanted to combine this mutual love of what was considered by most to be exclusively ‘black’ music, and the unique sound that these three white boys from Manchester could produce, to attempt to become a part of the rapidly growing dance craze called Disco. But the Bee Gees had been nowhere for the last four years, and this music was radically different from what they had done before. Their regular fans – of which they no longer had that many – wouldn’t like this drastic change and Disco fans might reject a bunch of white boys playing black music as not authentic and perhaps even exploitative. Hence the plain packaging with which the record was delivered.
Jive Talkin’ was the first track to be recorded for a proposed new album. The song was recorded at Criterion Studies in Miami, Florida in early February 1975. In anticipation of the new album, and to test the waters to see how the market would react, Jive Talkin’ was released as a single at the end of May 1975. It reached No.1 in the US and Canada, and No.5 in the UK, introducing the Bee Gees to a massive and vibrant new audience and placing them at the forefront of the ever-growing Disco movement. But, as the tracks for the new album accumulated, Robert Stigwood again refused to release the album. However this time it was because he wanted to use them in a multi-million dollar movie instead. Although Jive Talkin’ doesn’t actually feature in the movie ‘Saturday Night Fever’ (the scene it was used in was dropped) it was included on the movie soundtrack album, and has become one of the iconic tunes of the seventies and of disco.
Barry Gibb plays the scratchy guitar intro, while a rhythmic, more melodic guitar played by Alan Kendall joins with it and flows through the tune. Maurice Gibb plays the funky bass line, which provides dancers with a fluid rhythmical groove to move to. The main voice is Barry Gibb, it is subtle, smooth and he seems to under-sing the words, in a very breathy vocal that is remarkably cool and restrained. The chorus harmonies by Maurice and Robin Gibb are everything you need from the Bee Gees, and they illustrate perfectly why so many great vocal groups come from the same family, as the combination of these different voices is organically linked, a real, and naturally harmonious, sound. The organ fills by Blue Weaver, are clearly influenced by songs like Higher Ground and Superstition from Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions album; the lesson being of course that if you are going to borrow from anywhere, then borrow from the best. The drums, played by Dennis Bryon, shuffle brilliantly at the beginning, and with simple and effective high hat, and little breaks that build momentum the rhythm section combines beautifully with Maurice on bass guitar.
Interesting Note – Blue (real name Derek) Weaver and Dennis Byron are both Cardiff boys, they were founder members of Amen Corner and played with a variety of bands before becoming part of the massively successful ‘disco’ version of the Bee Gees, playing on all of the great Saturday Night Fever tracks.
In terms of the lyrics, to say someone is ‘jive talking’ is to say that they are bullshitting or deceiving, it is a phrase probably derived from black street slang, and is not something that the Gibbs would have known or used, and they seem to have hit upon it by accident. Here, again, the influence of Arif Mardin can be seen, he knew what ‘jive talking’ was, having worked with and for black musicians throughout his career and he knew it was a perfect lyrical reference point for the song, placing it squarely in the primarily black culture dominating the American dance scene. The Bee Gees, being English, did not have the self-imposed cultural barriers that many white American artists may have faced. Hence, they did not see black rhythm and blues dance music – which is effectively what disco is - as a ‘no go area’, much as in the past British bands like the Rolling Stones and the Yardbirds had felt no restraints on their desire to play the blues.
So when that white label single started to be played and everyone began to realise that this was the Bee Gees – it was a huge shock and made a great impact. Some argued that its success was a sign that disco had gone mainstream, others that this incarnation of the Bee Gees was Robert Stigwood’s attempt to exploit black American music, to make it accessible to a broad national and international audience. However, the fact that Jive Talkin’ competed on an equal footing for playlist inclusion with other disco tunes by being presented in an anonymous fashion, indicates that it was accepted as authentic and ‘real’ disco by radio disc jockeys before they knew who it was by. While the fact that Robert Stigwood was seriously considering dropping the ‘failing’ Bee Gees before Jive Talkin’ was released, is an indication that it was not the product of some marketing masterplan, but of the love, dedication and talent of the people who made it.
They were yet another four lads from Lancashire (Alan the guitarist was from the Red Rose County too), a couple of fellas from Cardiff and a producer from Istanbul, via Brooklyn, who didn’t see boundaries and no-go areas, only music. Jive Talkin’ is one of the great dance tunes of the age, its influence is timeless, it has the same enthralling effect now as it always did and the pleasure it gives just will not stop. It is definitely in my top-ten of Disco tunes and one of my favourite dance tunes of all time.
Saturday 12 May 2012
TT - Truth Terrorist v. Odd Couple - The Bridge
I love The Bridge, the newest TV show in the 'Scandinavian noir' genre. It stars Sofia Helin and Kim Bodnia who play Swedish and Danish detectives, Saga Noren and Martin Rohde, respectively. They are drawn to work together by the discovery of a body placed on the bridge linking Malmo and Copenhagen. The body lies exactly on the border between the two countries, but they soon discover that it is actually two bodies, the top half of one, a Swedish politician, the bottom half of the other, a Danish prostitute.
The first episode was enigmatic in the extreme; no-one had a clue what was going on, especially not the participants. They were going about their business unaware that the world was changing and that a killer had been planning his 'Truth Terrorism' campaign for years. So initially characters popped up, did or said something and then disappeared as if they were of no importance whatsoever, only to reappear as crucial pieces in the jigsaw in a later episode.
The two lead characters work so well together, not necessarily as colleagues initially, but certainly in terms of providing an entertaining interaction.
Saga Noren is superficially a little like Lizbeth Salander in character, in that she is Swedish, 'difficult' and oddly beautiful, but that is a first impression and says nothing about the depth of this woman who, unlike Salander, is older, has a regular job and appears to have no social life whatsoever. Noren is contradictory, she seems emotionally removed from the rest of the world but plays a really important and effective role in it; her colleagues find her hard to get along with, but they clearly treasure her abilities. She seems focused entirely on work, wanting to find solutions and to react to events as quickly as possible whatever the time of day, but she is also very aware of her own physical needs. Working alongside her is Martin Rohde, who is seemingly very different, he has a complex family life, he shows his emotions easily, he laughs freely, he gets angry and frustrated, and he understands other people. This is not meant to be some kind of comment on the national traits of Sweden and Denmark, rather it is a clever counterpoint of characters; so different but seeking the same result; employing their own particular methods to get to the same goal.
The contrast between the two of them is amazing, and she is an especially fascinating character; so serious, so clever and so unintuitive. Whereas he is a seemingly simple character, but with a real sensitivity to the feelings of others. The American series 'Bones' features a similar pair of characters created by Kathy Reich - Temperance Brennan, the highly intelligent and serious pathologist unfazed by the horrors laid out before her, and her partner, the funky sock wearing FBI agent Sealey Booth. But, being a popular US TV series, it fails to commit to the character entirely and softens her too often and too much.
I think the appeal of characters like Saga Noren is found in their honesty, lack of tact and guile, and the humour that comes from their inability to understand other people. A lack that is highlighted by the emotional and intuitive reactions of Martin in which he so easily reads the feelings of others. Far from being entirely dark and serious The Bridge has moments that are funny and sweet; for example, the man Saga had that night picked up in a bar, wakes from his post-coital slumbers to find her examining images of mutilated bodies on her laptop, it is a classic "I'll get my coat and go" moment that reveals the extreme nature of her work and her possessive dedication to doing it, set against the bland simplicity of most peoples lives. It is also very funny.
The imagery is beautifully done, with odd angles and uncomfortable close-ups, while the two cities, Malmo and Copenhagen, look strange and interesting, especially in the wonderfully created night shots. The gradual reveal of the identity of the killer is clever and intriguing. Clues are dropped one by one, signs are placed in the ground, sometimes they point in the right direction, sometimes they point completely the wrong way. The plot is wonderfully complex and involving, and at this point, having watched six episodes, I think I have a clue who the killer might be.
I agree with Saga it could be a police officer. But which one? And is she right? Martin suspects the Social Worker, Stefan, we have already seen him in violent action, and he is creepy with that whole seventies look he has got going on. But, and here is the beauty of it which one of the odd couple is right, the analytical, by the book, Saga, or the intuitive, gut-feeling, Martin? I am so looking forward to discovering who the Truth Terrorist is, and how Saga and Martin catch the killer.
The first episode was enigmatic in the extreme; no-one had a clue what was going on, especially not the participants. They were going about their business unaware that the world was changing and that a killer had been planning his 'Truth Terrorism' campaign for years. So initially characters popped up, did or said something and then disappeared as if they were of no importance whatsoever, only to reappear as crucial pieces in the jigsaw in a later episode.
The two lead characters work so well together, not necessarily as colleagues initially, but certainly in terms of providing an entertaining interaction.
Saga Noren is superficially a little like Lizbeth Salander in character, in that she is Swedish, 'difficult' and oddly beautiful, but that is a first impression and says nothing about the depth of this woman who, unlike Salander, is older, has a regular job and appears to have no social life whatsoever. Noren is contradictory, she seems emotionally removed from the rest of the world but plays a really important and effective role in it; her colleagues find her hard to get along with, but they clearly treasure her abilities. She seems focused entirely on work, wanting to find solutions and to react to events as quickly as possible whatever the time of day, but she is also very aware of her own physical needs. Working alongside her is Martin Rohde, who is seemingly very different, he has a complex family life, he shows his emotions easily, he laughs freely, he gets angry and frustrated, and he understands other people. This is not meant to be some kind of comment on the national traits of Sweden and Denmark, rather it is a clever counterpoint of characters; so different but seeking the same result; employing their own particular methods to get to the same goal.
The contrast between the two of them is amazing, and she is an especially fascinating character; so serious, so clever and so unintuitive. Whereas he is a seemingly simple character, but with a real sensitivity to the feelings of others. The American series 'Bones' features a similar pair of characters created by Kathy Reich - Temperance Brennan, the highly intelligent and serious pathologist unfazed by the horrors laid out before her, and her partner, the funky sock wearing FBI agent Sealey Booth. But, being a popular US TV series, it fails to commit to the character entirely and softens her too often and too much.
I think the appeal of characters like Saga Noren is found in their honesty, lack of tact and guile, and the humour that comes from their inability to understand other people. A lack that is highlighted by the emotional and intuitive reactions of Martin in which he so easily reads the feelings of others. Far from being entirely dark and serious The Bridge has moments that are funny and sweet; for example, the man Saga had that night picked up in a bar, wakes from his post-coital slumbers to find her examining images of mutilated bodies on her laptop, it is a classic "I'll get my coat and go" moment that reveals the extreme nature of her work and her possessive dedication to doing it, set against the bland simplicity of most peoples lives. It is also very funny.
The imagery is beautifully done, with odd angles and uncomfortable close-ups, while the two cities, Malmo and Copenhagen, look strange and interesting, especially in the wonderfully created night shots. The gradual reveal of the identity of the killer is clever and intriguing. Clues are dropped one by one, signs are placed in the ground, sometimes they point in the right direction, sometimes they point completely the wrong way. The plot is wonderfully complex and involving, and at this point, having watched six episodes, I think I have a clue who the killer might be.
I agree with Saga it could be a police officer. But which one? And is she right? Martin suspects the Social Worker, Stefan, we have already seen him in violent action, and he is creepy with that whole seventies look he has got going on. But, and here is the beauty of it which one of the odd couple is right, the analytical, by the book, Saga, or the intuitive, gut-feeling, Martin? I am so looking forward to discovering who the Truth Terrorist is, and how Saga and Martin catch the killer.
Saturday 21 April 2012
An Inconvenient Truth About the First Crusade
Peter Frankopan, The First Crusade: the Call from the East (Bodley Head, London, 2012).
According to this superb new book an ‘inconvenient truth’ was ignored by an influential body of Twelfth-Century authors writing the history of the First Crusade in both Western Europe and in the newly-Latinized East. Those in the West shaped and controlled the narrative in order to make the words and influence of Pope Urban II appear to be the central motivating force that powered the expedition. While those writing in the East sought to explain how Jerusalem, Edessa, Tripoli and Antioch had come to be ruled by Western knights, and to justify that outcome in terms of the moral right and military strength of Christian knighthood, supported by the hand of God.
The inconvenient truth is that the expedition to Jerusalem, during which around 100,000 Western Christians came thousands of miles east to help their Eastern Christian brethren, was the result of a direct appeal for that help from the emperor of Constantinople, Alexios I Komnenos. The eloquence of Urban was one of the ways in which that appeal was mediated in the west in the mid-1090’s, but was in effect merely the culmination of a long campaign of communication and diplomacy by Alexios that had been going on for at least ten years. While the personal bravery of those who went on the First Crusade is almost never questioned, the material aid, strategic advice and diplomatic assistance given to the expedition by the Byzantines is almost always disregarded. Instead the Byzantine emperor is depicted as being very much against the crusade, plotting to do down the crusaders and take credit for the work they do.
In this book Peter Frankopan does not just redress this unbalanced reporting, he places the Byzantine emperor at the centre of a diplomatic and political project designed to bring westerners eastwards in large numbers, to provide for them on their arrival and to use them as a means of protecting the Byzantine empire from enemies who threatened it from every side. Using Greek, Armenian, Syriac, Hebrew and Arabic primary sources that have been ignored or misinterpreted in modern historiography, he reveals much that is new about the pre-history of the First Crusade and the role of the Emperor. He also uses western sources in new and subtle ways to prove his thesis.
The speech by Urban II at Clermont for example is almost always perceived as ‘zero hour’ for the First Crusade, it is ‘the starting gun’ or ‘the launch pad’, and Urban is ‘the man who unleashed the First Crusade’. But the speech begins with an acknowledgement that events in the East were already widely known, the version by Baldric of Bourgueil states:
We have heard, most beloved brethren, and you have heard what we cannot recount without deep sorrow – how, with great hurt and dire sufferings our Christian brothers, the limbs of Christ are scourged, oppressed, and injured in Jerusalem, in Antioch, and the other cities of the East.
The use of the past tense is a clear indicator that the story of what was happening in the East was already known in the West; Urban was simply be recounting what everyone already knew. One of Frankopan’s brilliant questions is – How did they already know?
He argues convincingly that the Emperor Alexios was the source of these stories, that he sent letters, and envoys west to tell of the devastation caused by the Turks and the atrocities they committed against the Byzantines. A letter sent by Alexios to Robert Count of Flanders around 1091 is a telling piece of evidence for the dissemination of this information by Alexios. The letter outlines the desecration of the holy places, as well as accounts of the ferocity of Turkish attacks on Eastern Christians. It has been dismissed as a forgery in the past, designed to rally support against Byzantium in the early twelfth-century. But Frankopan, by outlining the situation of the Byzantine empire at the time that the letter was written makes it very clear that it tallies both with historical reality in the east in the early 1090’s described in Eastern sources and tellingly with the descriptions given of that situation in the west by men such as Pope Urban II. Furthermore, he points out that it would make perfect sense for the Emperor to appeal to the Count of Flanders, because he already had a relationship with Robert, who had sent 500 knights east to aid Alexios shortly before the letter was written.
A final argument against the letter’s authenticity, is the ‘western’ style in which it is written. For Frankopan this does not undermine its legitimacy, instead it strengthens it. Given the sophistication of the Byzantine court and the many westerners living in Constantinople it would be unreasonable for the Emperor not to address his western ally in Latin, and to use language, including diplomatic and political phrasing, that would be clearly understood in a western context. Alexios was asking for help, and would understand the need to speak in a language that would be clearly understood by the recipients of his appeal.
In this book Peter Frankopan outlines the difficulties facing Alexios, bringing a clarity and understanding to the complexity of events, and the timing of his appeals that is informative and admirable. Alexios was a soldier and a negotiator, he fought battles, but he also did deals. He made arrangements with Muslim leaders like Sulayman, to rule eastern cities on his behalf, and he negotiated peace treaties with powerful men like the Seljuk Sultan Malik-Shah. By these means the emperor stabilised situations and maintained the empire in the first ten years of his reign. He faced internal threats, firstly from the senior families of the empire who united to rebel against him, and then from within his own imperial family. He faced external threats from both aggressive nomads attacking in the Balkans, and uncontrolled Seljuk Turks in Asia Minor. But he balanced things brilliantly, stitching together a network of deals and arrangements. But the deaths of both Sulayman in 1085 and Malik-shah in 1092, and the advent of an ‘anti-Byzantine’ ruler in Baghdad, the sultan Barkyaruk, led to an unravelling. Probably reaching a nadir in early 1095 when Kilij-Arslan, a son of Sulayman, arrived at Nicaea, the city his family had held on behalf of the emperor for many years, a city close to the imperial capital and hugely significant in the history of the Christian church, and declared that he now held it on behalf of the sultan of Baghdad.
In response to this ongoing spiral of disintegration Alexios sent more letters and more envoys west. This is acknowledged in western sources such as Ekkehard of Aura who recorded that in the 1090’s embassies and letters, ‘seen by ourselves’ were sent out by Alexios; while the chronicler Gilbert of Mons reports that ‘he (Alexios) sent envoys to France with letters to stir up the princes so that they would come to the aid of imperrilled Greece.’ So, when Pope Urban II stood up to give his sermon at Clermont he barely needed to introduce the subject, for the field had already been prepared and the crop sown for him through the labours of Alexios and his envoys. Far from being the ‘starting pistol’ the speech at Clermont simply confirmed what informed people across Western Europe already knew, and confirmed it in language and phrases that they had already heard.
I have tried in this review to convey some of the more significant and substantial arguments put forward by Peter Frankopan. This means that I have had to leave out so much that is great scholarly work, that is innovative and profound, that is subtle and intelligent. I think this book will change the way the history of the First Crusade is taught, and that it deserves to be on the reading list of anyone who is serious about understanding the origins and outcomes of the most miraculous and original event of the middle ages.
© Steven Biddlecombe
According to this superb new book an ‘inconvenient truth’ was ignored by an influential body of Twelfth-Century authors writing the history of the First Crusade in both Western Europe and in the newly-Latinized East. Those in the West shaped and controlled the narrative in order to make the words and influence of Pope Urban II appear to be the central motivating force that powered the expedition. While those writing in the East sought to explain how Jerusalem, Edessa, Tripoli and Antioch had come to be ruled by Western knights, and to justify that outcome in terms of the moral right and military strength of Christian knighthood, supported by the hand of God.
The inconvenient truth is that the expedition to Jerusalem, during which around 100,000 Western Christians came thousands of miles east to help their Eastern Christian brethren, was the result of a direct appeal for that help from the emperor of Constantinople, Alexios I Komnenos. The eloquence of Urban was one of the ways in which that appeal was mediated in the west in the mid-1090’s, but was in effect merely the culmination of a long campaign of communication and diplomacy by Alexios that had been going on for at least ten years. While the personal bravery of those who went on the First Crusade is almost never questioned, the material aid, strategic advice and diplomatic assistance given to the expedition by the Byzantines is almost always disregarded. Instead the Byzantine emperor is depicted as being very much against the crusade, plotting to do down the crusaders and take credit for the work they do.
In this book Peter Frankopan does not just redress this unbalanced reporting, he places the Byzantine emperor at the centre of a diplomatic and political project designed to bring westerners eastwards in large numbers, to provide for them on their arrival and to use them as a means of protecting the Byzantine empire from enemies who threatened it from every side. Using Greek, Armenian, Syriac, Hebrew and Arabic primary sources that have been ignored or misinterpreted in modern historiography, he reveals much that is new about the pre-history of the First Crusade and the role of the Emperor. He also uses western sources in new and subtle ways to prove his thesis.
The speech by Urban II at Clermont for example is almost always perceived as ‘zero hour’ for the First Crusade, it is ‘the starting gun’ or ‘the launch pad’, and Urban is ‘the man who unleashed the First Crusade’. But the speech begins with an acknowledgement that events in the East were already widely known, the version by Baldric of Bourgueil states:
We have heard, most beloved brethren, and you have heard what we cannot recount without deep sorrow – how, with great hurt and dire sufferings our Christian brothers, the limbs of Christ are scourged, oppressed, and injured in Jerusalem, in Antioch, and the other cities of the East.
The use of the past tense is a clear indicator that the story of what was happening in the East was already known in the West; Urban was simply be recounting what everyone already knew. One of Frankopan’s brilliant questions is – How did they already know?
He argues convincingly that the Emperor Alexios was the source of these stories, that he sent letters, and envoys west to tell of the devastation caused by the Turks and the atrocities they committed against the Byzantines. A letter sent by Alexios to Robert Count of Flanders around 1091 is a telling piece of evidence for the dissemination of this information by Alexios. The letter outlines the desecration of the holy places, as well as accounts of the ferocity of Turkish attacks on Eastern Christians. It has been dismissed as a forgery in the past, designed to rally support against Byzantium in the early twelfth-century. But Frankopan, by outlining the situation of the Byzantine empire at the time that the letter was written makes it very clear that it tallies both with historical reality in the east in the early 1090’s described in Eastern sources and tellingly with the descriptions given of that situation in the west by men such as Pope Urban II. Furthermore, he points out that it would make perfect sense for the Emperor to appeal to the Count of Flanders, because he already had a relationship with Robert, who had sent 500 knights east to aid Alexios shortly before the letter was written.
A final argument against the letter’s authenticity, is the ‘western’ style in which it is written. For Frankopan this does not undermine its legitimacy, instead it strengthens it. Given the sophistication of the Byzantine court and the many westerners living in Constantinople it would be unreasonable for the Emperor not to address his western ally in Latin, and to use language, including diplomatic and political phrasing, that would be clearly understood in a western context. Alexios was asking for help, and would understand the need to speak in a language that would be clearly understood by the recipients of his appeal.
In this book Peter Frankopan outlines the difficulties facing Alexios, bringing a clarity and understanding to the complexity of events, and the timing of his appeals that is informative and admirable. Alexios was a soldier and a negotiator, he fought battles, but he also did deals. He made arrangements with Muslim leaders like Sulayman, to rule eastern cities on his behalf, and he negotiated peace treaties with powerful men like the Seljuk Sultan Malik-Shah. By these means the emperor stabilised situations and maintained the empire in the first ten years of his reign. He faced internal threats, firstly from the senior families of the empire who united to rebel against him, and then from within his own imperial family. He faced external threats from both aggressive nomads attacking in the Balkans, and uncontrolled Seljuk Turks in Asia Minor. But he balanced things brilliantly, stitching together a network of deals and arrangements. But the deaths of both Sulayman in 1085 and Malik-shah in 1092, and the advent of an ‘anti-Byzantine’ ruler in Baghdad, the sultan Barkyaruk, led to an unravelling. Probably reaching a nadir in early 1095 when Kilij-Arslan, a son of Sulayman, arrived at Nicaea, the city his family had held on behalf of the emperor for many years, a city close to the imperial capital and hugely significant in the history of the Christian church, and declared that he now held it on behalf of the sultan of Baghdad.
In response to this ongoing spiral of disintegration Alexios sent more letters and more envoys west. This is acknowledged in western sources such as Ekkehard of Aura who recorded that in the 1090’s embassies and letters, ‘seen by ourselves’ were sent out by Alexios; while the chronicler Gilbert of Mons reports that ‘he (Alexios) sent envoys to France with letters to stir up the princes so that they would come to the aid of imperrilled Greece.’ So, when Pope Urban II stood up to give his sermon at Clermont he barely needed to introduce the subject, for the field had already been prepared and the crop sown for him through the labours of Alexios and his envoys. Far from being the ‘starting pistol’ the speech at Clermont simply confirmed what informed people across Western Europe already knew, and confirmed it in language and phrases that they had already heard.
I have tried in this review to convey some of the more significant and substantial arguments put forward by Peter Frankopan. This means that I have had to leave out so much that is great scholarly work, that is innovative and profound, that is subtle and intelligent. I think this book will change the way the history of the First Crusade is taught, and that it deserves to be on the reading list of anyone who is serious about understanding the origins and outcomes of the most miraculous and original event of the middle ages.
© Steven Biddlecombe
The Knights Templar - Not a Good Choice of Role Model for Anders Breivik?
Anders Breivik is a mass murderer, and as such his state of mind is alien to almost all of us. But it has worked to develop an explanation for his actions, based on his hatred for racially or religiously defined groups of his fellow citizens and those who associate with them.
He believes that he shares this hatred, and the ability to turn it into terrorist action against innocent people, with a secretive group of similarly motivated, similarly dedicated and delusional racists across Europe. He calls this, probably imagined, group The Knights Templar and links it directly to the men who made up a military order that began in Jerusalem around 1120 and took a religious oath to defend both the newly conquered Holy Land and the Christian pilgrims who came to the sacred sites there. Breivik clearly believes that in the Templars he has found his own inspirational example of white, European, Christian soldiers standing against non-white, non-Christian middle-eastern infidels. He envisages the Templars as a group who used their martial skills and their pious bravery and laid down their lives to defend their community, their people, their religion and their race from Muslim attack.
There is an element of truth in this, the Crusader states were ruled by Christians and surrounded by Muslim-ruled states, so any attack on them is likely to come from a Muslim source. Pilgrims were often prey to bandits and thieves, who, given that most of the population of the region were Muslim, we're also likely to be Muslim. So in fulfilling their oaths the Templars would usually be fighting against Muslims. Also, in the years following the capture of Jerusalem by the expedition that became known as the First Crusade, and the establishment of what are known as the Crusader States around Aleppo, Antioch, Tripoli and Jerusalem, young Christian men were recruited by the Templars in Europe and travelled to the Holy Land eager for the blood of the pagan infidel. With the anti-Muslim, and often anti-Jewish and anti-Greek, preaching of western crusade sermonizers still ringing in their ears they were ready to kill for their faith.
But the reality these new arrivals found was that the survival of the Crusader States largely relied on trade with Muslims, they relied on good relations with their neighbours and through alliances and mutual agreements with them they had by the middle of the twelfth-century established a degree of peace in the region. Christian rulers had Muslim servants and the equivalent of civil servants running their administrations. There were many among the Franks (Christians) of the Holy Land who wanted to settle peaceably with their Muslim neighbours, and even the Templars developed a respect for Muslims and Muslim traditions.
This is illustrated by the observations of a chronicler called Usamah ibn Munqidh who reports that when he visited Jerusalem around 1140, he went to stay in what had been the al-Aqsa mosque. The Muslims had ruled Jerusalem for almost 500 years and during that time what had been the site of The Temple of Solomon had become a Muslim holy site. But Usamah, although he was clearly aware of the religious significance of the mosque/temple, says that the actual reason he went to the Temple was because it was where his 'Templar friends' were staying. He goes on to say that these Knights Templar friends arranged for him to stay with them in what they called the Temple, and what Usamah called the mosque. They found a small oratory and set it aside so that he could go there and say his daily prayers.
One day Usamah went to pray in the mosque, going to his small oratory and laying down his prayer mat, he knelt and faced Mecca, which from Jerusalem is south-east, and he began to pray. But no sooner had he started than was forced to stop when he was grabbed by a newly arrived Templar who forced him to turn to the East, saying ‘Thus do we pray’. Hearing the noise the other Templars came running and took the man away, apologizing to Usamah saying: ‘He is a foreigner. He has just arrived from the land of the Franks and he has never seen anyone pray without turning to face east.’
Usamah explains why this happened, saying: ‘Among the Franks we find some people who have come to settle among us and who have cultivated the society of the Muslims. They are far superior to those who have freshly joined them in the territories they now occupy.’
Several things arise from this story that seem to contradict Anders Breivik's conception of the Knights Templar. Firstly, the fact that a Muslim writing in the middle of the Twelfth-century can call the Templars ‘my friends’, seems to turn the world on its head. The Templars are supposed to be the (literally) sworn enemies of the Muslims and yet the way Usamah ibn Munqidh remembers it is that they welcomed him into their community, made a place for him to pray to his 'infidel' God and defended him from attack from an ignorant newcomer. Secondly, the fact that the Templars can refer to one of their own as ‘a foreigner’ is also amazing – these are members of the same military order, they have taken the same vows, share the same clothing and are from the same religious and racial background, they are ‘brothers’ yet they consider the new arrival ‘a foreigner’ and the Muslim ‘a friend’.
This report suggests that at this point a particular group of Knight Templar had made a concerted effort to build good relations with at least one of their Muslim neighbours. This attempt to heal the wounds caused by the massacre of Muslim populations and the ravaging of Muslim lands during the First Crusade if applied more generally might have meant that the crusader states could have developed alliances, become an accepted and respected part of the political landscape and enjoyed peaceful and profitable relations with their neighbours. But the baggage of fervent religious hatred of Muslims, Saracens and 'infidels', not to mention Greeks and Jews, brought by these constantly arriving ‘foreigners’, meant that any progress made towards reconciliation would often be destroyed by the actions of new arrivals.
The story of his trip to the Temple and his friends the Templars, told by Usama bin Munqidh, makes Breivik's chosen role models, the Knights Templar appear to be exactly the sort of decent and tolerant people that he hates so much. Multi-cultural twelfth-century Jerusalem with its mix of European, North African, Greek, Arabic and Jewish cultures was where the Templars did their work, and fulfilled their promise to defend pilgrims. They seem to have adapted to and engaged with multi-culturalism and if Usamah's story is representative of Templar behaviour generally in the Latin East then on a personal level at least many would have made friends with Muslims, respected their faith and tried to behave in a civilised manner towards them.
I am not saying that the Templars where models of religious and cultural tolerance, far from it and their reported actions often reflect the vicious cut and thrust of the holy war/jihad being waged between Christian and Muslim in the time of the crusades. But Usamah's story shows us a different side of the Templars, away from the politics and the battlefields, away from the pulpits and the anti-Muslim sermons. It shows us a hint of day to day reality and the relationships that could be built between people of different ethnic and religious backgrounds. Relationships that men like Brevik and the newly-arrived foreigner, would want to tear apart and destroy. Those Knights Templar who befriended Usamah, showed him respect and made a place for him to worship his god would be disgusted by Breivik, they would see him as a barbaric and ignorant outsider with no sense of how to behave in a civilised society and they would be right.
He believes that he shares this hatred, and the ability to turn it into terrorist action against innocent people, with a secretive group of similarly motivated, similarly dedicated and delusional racists across Europe. He calls this, probably imagined, group The Knights Templar and links it directly to the men who made up a military order that began in Jerusalem around 1120 and took a religious oath to defend both the newly conquered Holy Land and the Christian pilgrims who came to the sacred sites there. Breivik clearly believes that in the Templars he has found his own inspirational example of white, European, Christian soldiers standing against non-white, non-Christian middle-eastern infidels. He envisages the Templars as a group who used their martial skills and their pious bravery and laid down their lives to defend their community, their people, their religion and their race from Muslim attack.
There is an element of truth in this, the Crusader states were ruled by Christians and surrounded by Muslim-ruled states, so any attack on them is likely to come from a Muslim source. Pilgrims were often prey to bandits and thieves, who, given that most of the population of the region were Muslim, we're also likely to be Muslim. So in fulfilling their oaths the Templars would usually be fighting against Muslims. Also, in the years following the capture of Jerusalem by the expedition that became known as the First Crusade, and the establishment of what are known as the Crusader States around Aleppo, Antioch, Tripoli and Jerusalem, young Christian men were recruited by the Templars in Europe and travelled to the Holy Land eager for the blood of the pagan infidel. With the anti-Muslim, and often anti-Jewish and anti-Greek, preaching of western crusade sermonizers still ringing in their ears they were ready to kill for their faith.
But the reality these new arrivals found was that the survival of the Crusader States largely relied on trade with Muslims, they relied on good relations with their neighbours and through alliances and mutual agreements with them they had by the middle of the twelfth-century established a degree of peace in the region. Christian rulers had Muslim servants and the equivalent of civil servants running their administrations. There were many among the Franks (Christians) of the Holy Land who wanted to settle peaceably with their Muslim neighbours, and even the Templars developed a respect for Muslims and Muslim traditions.
This is illustrated by the observations of a chronicler called Usamah ibn Munqidh who reports that when he visited Jerusalem around 1140, he went to stay in what had been the al-Aqsa mosque. The Muslims had ruled Jerusalem for almost 500 years and during that time what had been the site of The Temple of Solomon had become a Muslim holy site. But Usamah, although he was clearly aware of the religious significance of the mosque/temple, says that the actual reason he went to the Temple was because it was where his 'Templar friends' were staying. He goes on to say that these Knights Templar friends arranged for him to stay with them in what they called the Temple, and what Usamah called the mosque. They found a small oratory and set it aside so that he could go there and say his daily prayers.
One day Usamah went to pray in the mosque, going to his small oratory and laying down his prayer mat, he knelt and faced Mecca, which from Jerusalem is south-east, and he began to pray. But no sooner had he started than was forced to stop when he was grabbed by a newly arrived Templar who forced him to turn to the East, saying ‘Thus do we pray’. Hearing the noise the other Templars came running and took the man away, apologizing to Usamah saying: ‘He is a foreigner. He has just arrived from the land of the Franks and he has never seen anyone pray without turning to face east.’
Usamah explains why this happened, saying: ‘Among the Franks we find some people who have come to settle among us and who have cultivated the society of the Muslims. They are far superior to those who have freshly joined them in the territories they now occupy.’
Several things arise from this story that seem to contradict Anders Breivik's conception of the Knights Templar. Firstly, the fact that a Muslim writing in the middle of the Twelfth-century can call the Templars ‘my friends’, seems to turn the world on its head. The Templars are supposed to be the (literally) sworn enemies of the Muslims and yet the way Usamah ibn Munqidh remembers it is that they welcomed him into their community, made a place for him to pray to his 'infidel' God and defended him from attack from an ignorant newcomer. Secondly, the fact that the Templars can refer to one of their own as ‘a foreigner’ is also amazing – these are members of the same military order, they have taken the same vows, share the same clothing and are from the same religious and racial background, they are ‘brothers’ yet they consider the new arrival ‘a foreigner’ and the Muslim ‘a friend’.
This report suggests that at this point a particular group of Knight Templar had made a concerted effort to build good relations with at least one of their Muslim neighbours. This attempt to heal the wounds caused by the massacre of Muslim populations and the ravaging of Muslim lands during the First Crusade if applied more generally might have meant that the crusader states could have developed alliances, become an accepted and respected part of the political landscape and enjoyed peaceful and profitable relations with their neighbours. But the baggage of fervent religious hatred of Muslims, Saracens and 'infidels', not to mention Greeks and Jews, brought by these constantly arriving ‘foreigners’, meant that any progress made towards reconciliation would often be destroyed by the actions of new arrivals.
The story of his trip to the Temple and his friends the Templars, told by Usama bin Munqidh, makes Breivik's chosen role models, the Knights Templar appear to be exactly the sort of decent and tolerant people that he hates so much. Multi-cultural twelfth-century Jerusalem with its mix of European, North African, Greek, Arabic and Jewish cultures was where the Templars did their work, and fulfilled their promise to defend pilgrims. They seem to have adapted to and engaged with multi-culturalism and if Usamah's story is representative of Templar behaviour generally in the Latin East then on a personal level at least many would have made friends with Muslims, respected their faith and tried to behave in a civilised manner towards them.
I am not saying that the Templars where models of religious and cultural tolerance, far from it and their reported actions often reflect the vicious cut and thrust of the holy war/jihad being waged between Christian and Muslim in the time of the crusades. But Usamah's story shows us a different side of the Templars, away from the politics and the battlefields, away from the pulpits and the anti-Muslim sermons. It shows us a hint of day to day reality and the relationships that could be built between people of different ethnic and religious backgrounds. Relationships that men like Brevik and the newly-arrived foreigner, would want to tear apart and destroy. Those Knights Templar who befriended Usamah, showed him respect and made a place for him to worship his god would be disgusted by Breivik, they would see him as a barbaric and ignorant outsider with no sense of how to behave in a civilised society and they would be right.
Friday 10 February 2012
Hieronymous Bosch and George Grosz - Kindred Spirits?
The Prado houses about 8,000 paintings, of which just under 2,000 are on display at any time. I spent four hours walking around the Prado looking at work by Valasquez, Goya, El Greco, Rubens, Titian, Tintoretto, Bruegel, and Raphael among many others. Most of the paintings were wonderful…
BUT.
The absolute show stealer, the single painting that stopped me in my tracks and had me on the verge of tears of joy, was Hieronymus Bosch's 'The Garden of Earthly Delight'. Just the most outrageous and involving picture I have ever seen, joyous detail, and everywhere you look a surprising image.
View it at:
The allegorical complexity would take several years and a couple of PhD’s to decipher and several hundred pages to explain.
What was particularly striking about it was how modern the picture looked. The shapes, the glass tubes and balls, the bending of reality, the buildings that appear to be made from pastel coloured plastic, all seemed more suited to the middle of the C20th than 400 years earlier.
I was standing next to a couple of people who clearly liked it, but just thought it was "mad", "random", the product of a crazed imagination - an amazing imagination - but one that they thought was on mushrooms, acid or some medieval equivalent.
But the message of this triptych is actually a very simple one - we started in paradise (the left side) we are living in a mess inspired and created by own own failings (the stunning and outrageous middle section) and we are all going to end up in hell, pictured in scary detail on the right-hand side, making it very clear that hell is not going to be fun.
Remember this is a medieval painting produced around 1500. And it was loved at the time by those who patronised art and artists. It was displayed by Henry III of Nassau (Brussels), until it was stolen (pretty much) by the Spanish Duke of Alba. In 1593 it came into the possession of King Phillip II of Spain who put it on display in his palace El Escorial.
So this was no weird little, unknown man doodling away in his crazy painting shed, producing obscure mad images that no-one wanted to see. Because, this painting was at the centre of elite European culture from the moment of the last brush stroke.
It captured the theological confusion, moral danger and spiritual despair of it's age, it was confirmation of the chaos and sin in which the Catholic hierarchy believed everyone but themselves was living. It is, therefore, one of the ultimate 'us and them' moments. The production, ownership and display of the picture makes it clear that the aristocrats, churchmen and intellectuals who formed the ruling class, knew what was civilized, moral and righteous. This knowledge raised them above and set them apart from everyone else who remained, and always would remain, mired in their own filth and destined for hell. And this was confirmed by Hieronymous Bosch’s image of the barbaric, irreligious mass of ‘others’, out there behaving with no moral or spiritual restraint.
One thing that not many people notice about this triptych is what happens when you fold the two outer wings in to 'close' the picture. You can see this by bending over the rope to look at the back of the two side panels. The image of the closed triptych is of a dark blue night-time world enclosed within a twinkling glass ball. Just imagine the effect of coming into a room and seeing that dark, magically foreboding scene, and then opening up the picture to reveal the stunning multi-coloured mess of civilisation falling apart, presented inside it.
Now that's a 'Ta-Da' moment right there.
No wonder the Duke of Alba nicked it.
Compare it then to a painting I saw the next day at Thyssen-Bornemisa Museum, Metropolis by George Grosz, painted in 1917.
View it at:
Again extremely detailed, very busy. The American flag in the top left seems to indicate it is an American city scape; but it could be any city where the people blur into one another as they hurry to get where they so very urgently have to be. It is wildly colourful and vibrant, with so much red, so much fast action, it is like a blood-soaked rush-hour nightmare reproduced with unerring accuracy on waking.
But as with ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’ the message and the method is simple. The message is that the world is full of sin, and here are several examples of the sins which I the disillusioned artist would present as evidence. For Grosz these are the deadly sins as defined by a Marxist - the greedy striving for material success at the expense of others, the blurring anonymity and unconnected nature of relationships between people and the brassy exploitation of earthly desires and needs by those in control of the means of production. In 1917 Germany the suffering of war casualties and the deprivations being endured by most of the people of Germany were in sharp contrast to the bright lights of clubs and restaurants where the rich could stuff their faces and be ‘entertained’ by whatever and whoever took their fancy. Grosz would not need to go far to find evidence to confirm his disillusionment.
Two separate faiths, one Christian and one Marxist, inspire two separate paintings.
Time, just over 400 years appears to divide them further, yet both present pretty much the same narrative.
Do we need another George Grosz, or better still (in my opinion) a Hieronymous Bosch for the C21st?
Is there someone already out there?
If so, names please.
Thursday 19 January 2012
Nidi D’Arac – Taranta Container
Alessandro Coppola and Elena Floris Womad 2011 Charlton Park (photo by Dr Biddlecombe)
Album released 2011 – 10 Songs, 40 mins.
The name of this band, Nidi D'Arac, means 'nest of spiders' and they come from Salento, the peninsular that forms the 'heel' of Italy. There is a story about the tarantula spiders in their province. If you were bitten by one, your death was almost certain. Your only chance to live, would be to dance for hours on end and expunge the poison. In the cities, towns and villages of Salento they dance the pizzica. It is elegant, energetic and as with all dancing, life-affirming, if not necessarily life-saving.
The bands that create the music for the pizzica are composed of singers, backed by guitars, violins, accordions and hand-held drums. Nidi D’Arac come from this musical tradition, and they stay pretty true to it. All the elements of the traditional Salentine folk band are intact, but they approach the music like true modernists adding guitars, synths, bass and drums. In doing so they have kept the beautiful and unique qualities of the pizzica, and added the power and excitement of a modern rock band.
Songs such as 'Gocce' begin traditionally with acoustic guitar, and the striking and edgy voice of the band's leader Alessandro Coppola and almost immediately the experimentation begins; electronic pulses, echoing voices and soaring choruses make this one of the most interesting and dynamic songs on the album. This creativity and originality is expressed even more clearly in songs like 'Ipocharia' and 'Cerchio si apre cerchio si stringe'. Even the songs that appear to be in a more traditional folk style, such as 'Ahi tamburieddhu!' and 'Tarantulae', reflect the desire to do something new, to find a different way to play and to take their music to the world.
Often experimentation can result in musicians creating work that is disengaged and alienating to its intended audience. But not Nidi D'Arac, who grow their outstanding and exciting music in the fertile soil of their own land, not in some alien environment, and thereby retain its unique flavour and integrity. The addition of synthesised sounds, echoing voices, even a rap style of delivery of the vocals on songs such as 'Ronde noe' never hide the fact these are songs firmly rooted in the home land and culture of their creators.
A song such as 'Sta Musica' perfectly reflects this wonderful combination, the vocals are earthy, stark and beautiful, the violin is emotive and exciting, and the acoustic guitar is used in the traditional rhythmical role. These alone make a perfectly wonderful sound, but the addition of synthesised rhythms, echoing background voices and an instrumental break involving drum, bass and accordion that sounds a little like Massive Attack create something really interesting and exciting.
Bands such as Nidi D'Arac, and Speed Caravan, Bellowhead, La Brass Banda and Tinariwen to name but a few, are taking the forms and styles, the traditional instrumentation and the cultural ethos of their own music and doing something exciting and new with it. Whether that musical culture is Algerian oud playing, English folk, Bavarian oompah or Southern Italian pizzica, the transformation of these traditional forms into something that can have a worldwide appeal while retaining the quality, beauty and intensity of the local folk music is a wonderful thing to witness.
Having seen this band at Womad Charlton Park 2011 and in a little village festival in Spain I can affirm that their live performances fulfil the promise of this thrilling album.
Thursday 12 January 2012
Lykke Li - Wounded Rhymes
2011 – 10 Songs, 40 mins
This is Swedish singer Lykke Li’s second album, produced by Björn Yttling and recorded in Sweden, although written in Los Angeles. On it she creates highly original percussive and electronic tones for each track and blends that inventiveness with an obviously heart-felt love of sixties American pop, especially the great teen operas created by Phil Spector and Jack Nitzsche. A love that can also be found in her previous covers of songs like 'Unchained Melody’ and ‘Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow’. But Lykke Li is a very original artist and although she borrows from the past, as all artists do, she creates an environment of sound that is new, somewhat scary and deeply personal.
On this album her voice, although very different from either The Ronette’s Ronnie Bennett or The Crystal’s Darlene Love, expresses the same deep yearning and heartfelt passion. While the classic pop essence is distilled into an echoing organ, a stark big beat and the shimmering shake of a tambourine. Her distinctive voice expresses love, loss and pain; dreams, despair and desire in equal measure. The voice fitting perfectly with lyrical themes of depths and heights, of fires burning and rivers running deep and wild, of places we can be together, and times when we are torn apart.
The ten songs on the album are:
Youth Knows No Pain – one of the best songs on the album, slightly reminiscent of The Doors, and Ray Manzarek would have been proud of the swirly organ sounds. It has a tribal chanting feel to it and a really great chorus. It’s a powerful and involving tune, intriguing and appealing.
I'll Follow Rivers – The use of African percussive instruments gives this track an interesting dynamic and sets it slightly apart from the rest of the album. She has a lovely tone to her voice on it and appears to be channelling the lyricists of Sixties American teen pop, with rivers running deep and running wild, down which she follows her baby - ‘the rebel’ - into the depths of love.
Love Out of Lust - a little Spector haunts this track also. But in this case the wall of sound is on stage in a rundown half-empty night club. The big drums, bells, handclaps and lovely repeated harmonies all eerily echo the golden era of pop hinting at the Ronettes, the Crystals and the Shirelles. But this is not sparkling sequinned pastels, and high-heeled glamour, it is more intimate and gritty, more personal and complex, and more in tune with modern life and relationships.
Unrequited Love - a slightly more country feel to this song with a twangy guitar sound and plaintiff vocals, reminiscent of the Fleet Foxes in some of the harmonies, a tone perfectly suited to the theme of the denial of love. Although the ‘shoo-wop, shoo-wah’ refrain seems to take us back once more to Saturday night in the diner.
Get Some - a more rocky song, the big drum sound and the slight shuffle reminds me of the Bangles. This is a swaggering song about sex from a twenty-first century woman’s perspective.
Rich Kids Blues – My first impression was of a sophisticated pop song, superbly constructed, very engaging with interesting lyrics and a dynamic energy that makes you want to hear it again immediately. Second listen indicates that it is not one of the best songs on the album, it doesn’t really go anywhere. But second impressions are often wrong.
Sadness is a Blessing - this is a song directly inspired by Spector's Ronettes, it is almost a tribute song, in less careful and caring hands it could slip into kitsch parody. Here Lykke Li's voice retains the pleading, heart-aching seriousness of those original girl groups, carrying torches for wild and crazy boys who treat them bad and leave them sad. The use of slightly odd percussion makes it sound as though it is an old 45rpm single with a big scratch across it, which strangely enough works really well. The lyrics are brilliant; poignant, possibly cheesy, yet at the same time defiant and gutsy. I think this is my favourite song on the album.
I Know Places - this is a little bit nondescript, gentle, with a simple repetitive theme and some nice vocal experimentation. About two-thirds in, it goes off into a somewhat pointless instrumental section that would function nicely as the background music to an early evening drive around Ystad in the Swedish province of Skåne, where Lykke Li was born, and where Henning Mankel set the Wallander stories.
Jerome - the 'big beat' is back again in another tribute song. Pick a boys name, with two syllables and plenty of things it can rhyme with, and write a song about how much you love him and how you will always be together - oh oh Je-rome! But this is a slightly twisted version, the handclaps and beats are a little haunted. It seems like the fascination with this boy may have led Lykke to keep him chained up in her basement, that way he can never leave and she will never lose him.
Silent my Song - a sort of industrial big beat underlies this somewhat disconcerting song -
"You seek pain like it is pleasure", and lots of talk of needles cutting through veins, fists and murder, is a little worrying. The vocal harmonies recall Fleet Foxes again, but the big dramatic harmonic sweeps at the start of each chorus definitely channel the
This album featured in most of the lists of best albums of 2011, deservedly so, and for what it is worth I would definitely recommend it.
This is Swedish singer Lykke Li’s second album, produced by Björn Yttling and recorded in Sweden, although written in Los Angeles. On it she creates highly original percussive and electronic tones for each track and blends that inventiveness with an obviously heart-felt love of sixties American pop, especially the great teen operas created by Phil Spector and Jack Nitzsche. A love that can also be found in her previous covers of songs like 'Unchained Melody’ and ‘Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow’. But Lykke Li is a very original artist and although she borrows from the past, as all artists do, she creates an environment of sound that is new, somewhat scary and deeply personal.
On this album her voice, although very different from either The Ronette’s Ronnie Bennett or The Crystal’s Darlene Love, expresses the same deep yearning and heartfelt passion. While the classic pop essence is distilled into an echoing organ, a stark big beat and the shimmering shake of a tambourine. Her distinctive voice expresses love, loss and pain; dreams, despair and desire in equal measure. The voice fitting perfectly with lyrical themes of depths and heights, of fires burning and rivers running deep and wild, of places we can be together, and times when we are torn apart.
The ten songs on the album are:
Youth Knows No Pain – one of the best songs on the album, slightly reminiscent of The Doors, and Ray Manzarek would have been proud of the swirly organ sounds. It has a tribal chanting feel to it and a really great chorus. It’s a powerful and involving tune, intriguing and appealing.
I'll Follow Rivers – The use of African percussive instruments gives this track an interesting dynamic and sets it slightly apart from the rest of the album. She has a lovely tone to her voice on it and appears to be channelling the lyricists of Sixties American teen pop, with rivers running deep and running wild, down which she follows her baby - ‘the rebel’ - into the depths of love.
Love Out of Lust - a little Spector haunts this track also. But in this case the wall of sound is on stage in a rundown half-empty night club. The big drums, bells, handclaps and lovely repeated harmonies all eerily echo the golden era of pop hinting at the Ronettes, the Crystals and the Shirelles. But this is not sparkling sequinned pastels, and high-heeled glamour, it is more intimate and gritty, more personal and complex, and more in tune with modern life and relationships.
Unrequited Love - a slightly more country feel to this song with a twangy guitar sound and plaintiff vocals, reminiscent of the Fleet Foxes in some of the harmonies, a tone perfectly suited to the theme of the denial of love. Although the ‘shoo-wop, shoo-wah’ refrain seems to take us back once more to Saturday night in the diner.
Get Some - a more rocky song, the big drum sound and the slight shuffle reminds me of the Bangles. This is a swaggering song about sex from a twenty-first century woman’s perspective.
Rich Kids Blues – My first impression was of a sophisticated pop song, superbly constructed, very engaging with interesting lyrics and a dynamic energy that makes you want to hear it again immediately. Second listen indicates that it is not one of the best songs on the album, it doesn’t really go anywhere. But second impressions are often wrong.
Sadness is a Blessing - this is a song directly inspired by Spector's Ronettes, it is almost a tribute song, in less careful and caring hands it could slip into kitsch parody. Here Lykke Li's voice retains the pleading, heart-aching seriousness of those original girl groups, carrying torches for wild and crazy boys who treat them bad and leave them sad. The use of slightly odd percussion makes it sound as though it is an old 45rpm single with a big scratch across it, which strangely enough works really well. The lyrics are brilliant; poignant, possibly cheesy, yet at the same time defiant and gutsy. I think this is my favourite song on the album.
I Know Places - this is a little bit nondescript, gentle, with a simple repetitive theme and some nice vocal experimentation. About two-thirds in, it goes off into a somewhat pointless instrumental section that would function nicely as the background music to an early evening drive around Ystad in the Swedish province of Skåne, where Lykke Li was born, and where Henning Mankel set the Wallander stories.
Jerome - the 'big beat' is back again in another tribute song. Pick a boys name, with two syllables and plenty of things it can rhyme with, and write a song about how much you love him and how you will always be together - oh oh Je-rome! But this is a slightly twisted version, the handclaps and beats are a little haunted. It seems like the fascination with this boy may have led Lykke to keep him chained up in her basement, that way he can never leave and she will never lose him.
Silent my Song - a sort of industrial big beat underlies this somewhat disconcerting song -
"You seek pain like it is pleasure", and lots of talk of needles cutting through veins, fists and murder, is a little worrying. The vocal harmonies recall Fleet Foxes again, but the big dramatic harmonic sweeps at the start of each chorus definitely channel the
This album featured in most of the lists of best albums of 2011, deservedly so, and for what it is worth I would definitely recommend it.
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