Fighting against The Vinyl Countdown

There is nothing more annoying than middle-aged people (OK, men) grumpily saying that things were better in the past and citing boring examples to back up the point. And, so, if you truly believe that, then I’m afraid you may need to start reading another column quickly.

For, although I still don’t believe I’m middle-aged (47? I’m only just getting started!) I fell back into that Grumpy Old Men nostalgic trap again at the weekend when, while clearing out an attic, I laid my hands again on the glories of my vinyl record collection.

Yes, despite the fact that I haven’t had a record player for at least 15 years, I have kept the absolute cream of my vinyl record collection which is covered in dust but also, crucially, smothered in happy memories.

Encouragingly, while once you were considered a dinosaur for even talking about vinyl, the format has had something of a comeback. Thanks to DJs on the dance scene particularly, young people no longer look totally bewildered when you talk about ‘records’ in that way they do when you wax lyrical about Tiswas or Aztec bars.

Indeed, you may be heartened to hear that vinyl is regarded as being on the rise. Last year in America an improved tally of nearly three million shiny bits of plastic were sold. This may sound impressive until you realise that this is in comparison to 325 million album sales via a CD or digital format.

Still a way to go then!

As someone with a large CD collection and a healthy enthusiasm for digital music, I’m not going to pretend I don’t see the huge advantage of both formats but I truly believe that vinyl was just so much more, well, fun.

Vinyl looked, smelt and felt different. There was nothing better than carrying home a 12 inch record, placing it on the turntable and then reading the sleeve notes and lyrics that were in more than the three point font size on today’s functional but unlovable CDs.

Last week I revelled again in those delicious big gatefold double albums like The Clash's London Calling and marvelled again about the wide variety of coloured vinyl, picture discs and even odd shaped records that I never got round to throwing out. My precious unthrowawayable Stranglers vinyl collection alone is littered with such items (a burger shaped disc for instance!) and all theoe multi-coloured joys seem ironic considering this is a band famous for just one  colour - black, the true home of vinyl.

But it wasn't just the look of records that made them superior to today's formats. What vinyl also gave you was a greater understanding of the rhythm of an album and the mechanics of putting it together.  One of the sad things about CDs is that they take away any concept of a ‘side A’ or ‘side B’. Among the joys of vinyl was hearing how an artist mixed and matched the songs so each ‘side’ felt complete and had the right opening and closing tracks.

You may be surprised to learn that the best-selling vinyl album in America last year was Abbey Road by The Beatles. In a way that does make perfect sense because that is a classic example of how well put together a record can be. Side two had a seamless quality that made it so different to side one. On CD you just don’t ‘get’ that as much.

But, perhaps most importantly to me, I really think vinyl (far more than CD and far, far more than digital) acts as a wonderful calendar of your life.

As I picked up a particular album last week I could almost instantly remember where I was when I bought it, how old I was and what was going on in my life. In future if all we ever do is download from the computer the ‘where’ in that equation is instantly forgotten.

A grumpy old man? Maybe. But vinyl was better wasn’t it?

My (truly) magical mystery tour

Roll up, roll up!!!

What is it that makes Britain great?

Our history, our people, our influence on the rest of the world and, of course, our culture all score highly when you ask foreigners what they like about these islands.

Perhaps the best thing of all about that cultural offering is that it covers a huge, diverse, range of talent – from Shakespeare to JK Rowling. Plus, of course, we can also claim to be the rightful heirs to the throne of pop music. And it is one band above all that gave us that (now prized) cultural crown.

Yes, The Beatles. Go anywhere on this planet and people immediately know who you’re referring to when you say ‘John, Paul, George and Ringo’. Start whistling the tune of A Hard Day’s Night and you could find yourself in a duet in the most unlikely of countries because The Beatles are that rare artistic phenomenon – they are bigger than the genre they represent.

As a serious and very enthusiastic music lover, I always wanted to know more about the ‘four boys that shook the world’ and so it is with a little bit of shame that I have to admit that it was only a few weeks ago that I finally became a day tripper and went on a magical mystery tour to the city of Liverpool to have my Beatles day.

And it truly was a day I shall cherish.

Yes, I had to drive my car four hours each way on something of a long and winding road but it was still a day in the life of this music fan that will never be forgotten.

Not only had I never really ‘done’ The Beatles before (see shame above), but this was also my first real encounter with Liverpool. I had been to Aintree to see the Grand National but that didn’t really count. Indeed it gave me a slightly jaundiced view of the city in that every woman I encountered up there seemed to be, err, well, orange.

Liverpool as a city, however, isn’t orange – but it isn’t black and white either. Parts of it does look deprived and lacking in community ‘TLC’ but other areas are genuinely surprising, unusual and intriguing. It’s probably like every other major city in Britain – you shouldn’t take it at face value and it is worth learning more.

And that is why I will certainly be back to do so because I came away fascinated by what I’d seen.

But this wasn’t really a trip to discover Liverpool – this was a trip to ‘do The Beatles in a day’ and to see if I could cover all the best bits in a few hours. Well, I think I did and I would happily urge anybody who wants to follow the greatest story in rock and roll history to follow my lead.

Essentially I concentrated on the two major Beatles-orientated attractions for visitors – The Beatles Story museum and the Magical Mystery Tour bus ride.

The museum is situated in the spectacular Albert Dock area which is full of museums, exhibitions, shops and places to eat and drink. I will definitely visit it again because I’m hugely impressed with what the team have done to the docks to make it a brilliant day trip destination in itself.

As for The Beatles Story it is clearly an integral part of the dock complex and is a truly inspiring place to visit.

Let’s be honest, because this band is so loved by people all around the world, you could open any kind of museum in Liverpool, slap The Beatles’ name on it and it would be a success.

You almost don’t have to try.

For that reason, the fact that the museum not only tries but excels and constantly delights is to the credit of everyone involved.

Millions of pounds have been spent to get this just right and the attention to detail and the general feel and look of the museum is first class.

The idea is that you walk through the band’s history listening to an audio guide narrated by John Lennon’s sister Julia which includes other contributions from the band members themselves.

You see never-before-published photos, original memorabilia and lots of other fascinating displays about people the band knew and places they visited. It really fleshes out what life must have been like as four young working class boys suddenly became the most famous people on the planet.

I particularly liked their recreation of the original Cavern and also a thoughtful area dedicated to each of the four members of the band and their own particular interests but I suspect every single part of the museum will have its own fans. Even children have their own sections and special facilities – including a skilful and playful recreation of the inside of a yellow submarine.

The general impression is that the museum believes – as millions of other people do – that this is the best band in pop history and hence they deserve the best possible tribute. And I think they have achieved that goal.

Two or three hours in the museum and we were then ready for the second major part of the day – the Magical Mystery Tour bus ride. This is on an old, well lived-in coach which would probably have fitted very nicely into the sixties movie it’s named after and it takes you to all the key points and places in the band’s history.

The global nature of the Fab Four’s appeal was perfectly illustrated when our charming host asked people to identify where they came from. There were people from just about every pocket of the world and we soon realised we were sitting by people from Iowa to one side and even more remarkably in my opinion, to a family from Siberia on the other. I’d never met anybody from Siberia before but to hear a man talking about our Beatle songs as if they were his own showed just what an impact this band made. For yes, their tunes even permeated through the Iron Curtain and were deemed so dangerous by the authorities they tried to block them. Unsuccessfully.

The tour took us to the childhood homes of all the band members and there was time to pop off and be photographed at iconic places – in front of Paul McCartney’s old home for example, next to Penny Lane and at Strawberry Fields – and it was a truly fascinating journey which brought the museum story we’d seen a couple of hours earlier even more to life.

The bus ride ends in the place which every Beatles fan wants to visit – Mathew Street, the home of The Cavern. Although it was re-developed some time ago, The Cavern itself is still an amazing place to visit and to walk down into the bowels of the building to discover it and think of the history that was created there is an absolute joy.

So, there you have it. With a little help from my friends in the Liverpool tourist industry I was able to enjoy my ticket to ride on a truly inspiring journey into the city where the Beatles are here, there and everywhere.

It is a long journey but this was one long day trip I didn’t mind because there’s a place which every Beatles fan should visit at least once in their life – and that is this remarkable city which really honours and respects the band that helps keep it on the world map.

All you need is love. And a tankful of petrol.

Sad day for us proud old punk rockers....

So farewell then Mr McClaren.

As many of the people reading this will know, I am very much a child of the punk revolution. I was a babe-in-arms (well 13ish) when punk really took off in 1977 and it is fair to say it truly changed my life. The music excited and inspired me (it still does incidentally) and it put me on a musical journey that has never ended to this day. I may not look as 'punky' as I used to but in my heart that is what I still am.

Therefore I was sad to hear yesterday of the death of Malcolm McClaren, the svengali manager of the pioneering punks The Sex Pistols.

He may have been a bit of a wide boy and a player (although to be fair he never pretended to be anything else) but this guy had a massive influence on all the lives of those of us who believe punk truly changed our lives forever.

My own favourite band, The Stranglers, may have pre-dated them (and American heroes The Ramones certainly did) but it was The Sex Pistols that propelled punk to the surface and as a result many of the bands we all know and love got deals, made records and the rest as they say is history. Glorious, unpredictable history.

This sad death has also prompted some great punk nostalgia. Nicky Campbell on Radio Five this morning was talking about his punk days (he called himself Nic-O-Tine in 1977) and he talked about his first 'pogo'. I can still remember mine – I was on holiday with a friend, Nigel, in Prestatyn in 1978 and I bounced up and down on the spot to Five Minutes by The Stranglers and Ca Plane Pour Moi by Belgian pop-punkster Plastic Betrand. Bouncing up and down on the spot..yep, we called that dancing. Happy days.

To be honest I would never list The Sex Pistols in my 'best ever' bands list (when I saw them again a couple of years ago on their comeback tour I realised they had made four killer singles and a couple of cracking album tracks but there was a lot of 'filler' too) but, like every pop fan who acknowledges The Beatles I know the debt I owe to those boys. And they simply wouldn't have broken through without Malcolm's guiding (manipulating?) hand.

So farwell Mr C. A genuine original. A genuine character. A genuine loss.

The end of the decade...what, already????

It came as something of a shock the other day to realise that we are a matter of just 12 weeks or so away from the end of this decade. Yes, not just the end of the year, but the end of a whole ten-year period.

Why I found this somewhat surprising is because in many ways it doesn’t feel as though we’ve ever properly defined this period at all and it seems odd to wave goodbye to a decade we have barely said hello to.

One of the reasons for the lack of identity for this time is that even now, as we enter the last weeks of 2009, nobody has really found a decent, universally understood name for it. We all have images flash into our mind the moment anybody says the 1970s (Abba, punk, Silver Jubilee etc), the 1980s (Thatcher, new romantics, the wedding of Charles & Di etc), or the 1990s (Oasis, the rise of New Labour and Britpop) but this decade’s name just doesn’t have the same immediacy. The phrase ‘the noughties’ just doesn’t do it in the instant-warmth, instant-memory sphere does it?

The truth is, when I think we do look back on the noughties (for that looks to be the name which will go down in history), I suspect any of its great music or cultural events will be dwarfed by the really bad stuff. Forget the Beatles being the enduring image of the 1960s, for instance; I’m afraid this past period will best be remembered for 9/11, Iraq, Afghanistan, climate change, economic meltdown and that appalling fellow George W Bush.


But, if the noughties were a bad dream best forgotten, what are we going into next?

Are we going into a nice easy-to- identify, well-named decade like the 20s, 40s or 80s again? No, of course not. Sadly, we’ve got another decade with an ‘identity crisis’.

The preferred name (apparently) for the next ten year stretch (2010-2019) is the ‘twenty-tens’. Others prefer the ‘two thousand and tens’, some go for ‘the tens’ and the odd person (well, me to be specific) prefers ‘the teens’. OK, I accept that ‘the teens’ is fine for the year 2014 but not so great for 2011 but, heck, I still like it.

Of course, the one thing that can cheer us all about the decade to come is that we can already see some bright lights on the horizon.

There is nothing in the America constitution that could allow George Walker Bush to stand again (although I understand there are more Bush’s lurking in the, err, bushes) and let’s not forget this country will be given an enormous boost in 2012 when we will have the Olympics and hopefully six years later if we get the football World Cup. Even if you’re not a sports fan, you have to admit that at least it’s something positive to look forward to after the pretty uninspiring and rather bloody decade we’re vacating.


The end of a period like this will, inevitably, mean a plethora of newspaper and magazine reviews where we look at the highlights and lowlights of the years gone by. There will be Best of the Noughties CDs galore and you can bet your life that the TV schedules are already bulging with retrospective programmes about a decade I suspect many of us will actually quickly want to forget.

So what has (apart from the truly gruesome things mentioned earlier) really defined the noughties in the UK? I personally suspect it will be the rise of reality TV in all its guises from Big Brother and X Factor to the reality-TV-for-people-who-claim-they-
don’t-like-reality-TV such as The Apprentice and Dragons’ Den. Such programmes have revolutionised TV and made everyone believe, sadly, that ‘celebrity’ is the ultimate profession to aim for.

So, reader, George W Bush and Simon Cowell could well be THE defining faces of the noughties.

Blimey.

Bring on the ‘teens’....

Beatles + Dan Brown = the power of the hype

OK, let me be the first to admit that I’m a bit of an advertising man’s dream because I’m a real sucker for a good hype.

A couple of weeks ago, for example, I joined the procession of people who headed for the record stores to buy copies of the newly re-mastered albums by The Beatles on the day of their release.

As is the wont of every serious music fan, I am a real admirer of all things Beatle and so I was mightily tempted by the re-release of all their classic albums in a new improved format. I therefore bought my copy of Revolver (just how good is Here, There and Everywhere?) and was most gratified when the charming assistant in HMV in Bath assured me I was one of many who had done the same on this much-hyped day.

So many others did the same, in fact, that a few days later the official album chart saw no fewer than four of these 60s written beauties in the top ten and a further seven in the top 50 charts. Amazing.

True, these are remarkable albums by a remarkable band and they do look and sound pretty nifty but the actual change to the CD quality isn’t that different to my uneducated ears and yet we have all fallen for this wonderful marketing hype.

But I didn’t learn my lesson for, yes, I was ‘hyping it up’ again the week after.

Along with many thousands of others, I had pre-ordered my copy of the latest Dan Brown book, The Lost Symbol. This is the much-anticipated follow up to The Da Vinci Code, that ridiculous piece of entertaining religious hokum which sold more than 80 million copies worldwide.



It is easy (OK, it’s actually very easy) to take the proverbial Michael out of Dan Brown’s somewhat simplistic way of writing but there is no denying this guy is a fantastic story teller and I had been snared by all that advanced hype yet again forcing me to purchase on day of release.

I am sure that part of the desire to get things like this on the day they are launched even if it does mean I have the words ‘hype victim’ tattooed on my brow probably stems from my journalistic desire to always find out something before everybody else.

I love to hear other opinions and read reviews but there’s nothing like discovering something for yourself and sharing your views with others before they do the same to you.

Indeed, returning to music, I think perhaps some of the magic has gone out of buying new material in that tracks are now played on radios and TV stations and YouTube weeks before release to tempt purchasers.

I much preferred the old way when normally the first time you would actually get to hear a record was when you bought it yourself and you became part of the advertising campaign all on your own.

Right, can I start the hype about the next (not even yet written) Stranglers album? Thought not.