Gig Review: Herbie Hancock, MFC, Wellington, 5 June 2019

Maybe I expected too much. Maybe the slow build anticipation of seeing a living legend perform up close had set me up for disappointment. Maybe if I’d been able to stand and sway rather than be forced to endure the rock-hard all-too-compact seating at the Michael Fowler Centre, Herbie Hancock’s set at the opening night of Wellington’s Jazz Festival would have been far more bearable for me. Enjoyable even. 

Perhaps it was a combination of all of the above, but whatever it was, my own enthusiasm for “jazz” had been well and truly diluted by the time I left the venue last Wednesday night. My gig-going companion was far more upbeat about it all, and I’m quite certain the vast majority of the sold out crowd enjoyed the gig a lot more than I did.

The band - Herbie Hancock (piano, keys), James Genus (bass, orgasmic facial expressions), Lionel Loueke (guitar/various vocal FX), and Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) - was fantastic, polished, and thoroughly professional throughout the near two-hour set. That wasn’t the issue. No question, these guys are all world class musicians, and it was a privilege to be in their company. 

But I’ve got to be honest; there just wasn’t enough “funk” for me, and the entire set was an excursion into the trippy excesses of what might otherwise be called prog-fusion. I knew enough about Hancock - a spritely 79 years of age - to know that work from 1983’s Future Shock album was always unlikely to feature, but most of his best material has always featured horns/brass and there wasn’t much of that on the night. 

We got variations on ‘Actual Proof’, ‘Chameleon’, and ‘Cantaloupe Island’ (during the encore), and some great Afro-fusion-vocal stuff from Loueke at various points, plus a raft of other work this jazz-pleb struggled to identify, but it was clearly more about an appreciation of the “vibe” for most in attendance, and I was having some difficulty with that. A little bit of variety, and a little more wiggle room might have helped. 

In his review for the Dominion Post, learned scribe Colin Morris, a man who knows a thing or two about this stuff, called it “a contender for concert of the year” ... so what do I know?

Maybe it was just me.

Book Review: Backstage Passes, by Joanna Mathers (2018)

I’m usually quite easily pleased when it comes to books of this nature. Local music stories with a grassroots and historical bent are right up my proverbial alley. I’m always game for some of that. It’s fair to say then, I had high hopes for Joanna Mathers’ Backstage Passes, “the untold story of New Zealand’s live music venues 1960 to 1990” …

Mathers’ background includes journalism work at the NZ Herald, writing business stories and lifestyle columns, so she’s no mere novice, and it therefore came as something of a surprise that Backstage Passes proved to be a bit of a mixed bag. There’s some good, some average, and a little bit of ugly. 

The Good … for the most part, that untold story gets told, and Mathers’ informal pub-chat writing style ensures that the narrative is never boring. We move through the decades effortlessly, chronologically, and all key locations - the four main centres: Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch, and Dunedin - are covered off in detail. We’re only occasionally transported out to the regions, which is fair enough. All of the most relevant stuff tended to happen in the cities where the population is, or was, large enough to sustain a vibrant live music scene. The book is crammed full of first-hand accounts from those who were there at the time; venue owners, promoters, musicians, and punters alike. And there’s plenty of photos on offer to supplement those words. Mathers clearly dug deep to source anecdotes, quotes, and photos (all black and white). 

Of specific interest to me was coverage of the late 1970s and 1980s, because that’s the era my own earliest gig-going experiences align with. This was the good oil for me, and it was heartening and nostalgic to see boxes ticked for important venues like Mainstreet, the Gluepot, the Windsor, and Zwines in Auckland, the Hillsborough, the Gladstone, and the Dux de Lux in Christchurch, plus the Captain Cook and the Empire Tavern in Dunedin. Near the end, in a section titled “Now”, which takes us beyond the timeframe outlined in the book’s title, Napier’s Cabana is quite rightly acknowledged (if a little belatedly), and the recent closure of popular Auckland venues like Golden Dawn and the King’s Arms is justifiably lamented. 

The Average … the book feels a little front-loaded and we’re nearly halfway through its 190-odd pages before the 1970s come into view. I found the coverage of Wellington in the 1980s (in particular) to be very lightweight and it almost felt like the author was paying mere lip service to the capital. We learn a little bit about key venues like the Last Resort and Bar Bodega, for example, but the iconic Terminus pub only gets a very short paragraph, the Cricketers Arms gets even less than that, and there’s no mention of places like the Electric Ballroom, the Clarendon, or the Clyde Quay, all of which were important venues during the era. 

And how hard would it have been to include an index for reference purposes? 

The Ugly … there are several glaring errors in the book. It really does - rather surprisingly - fall short on a few basics in the area of proofing and editing. Simple things like getting spelling and some names correct. Miramar becomes “Mirimar”, Lambton Quay becomes “Lampton Quay”, Bodega owner Fraser McInnes becomes “Fraser McGuinness”, Dave McArtney is twice referred to as “Dave McCartney”, and there’s a mix up between onetime Wellington mayor Fran Wilde and pioneering punk turned film producer Fran Walsh. Mathers gets Walsh’s name right in a later chapter but only after referring to her band as the “Wallflowers”, when its actual name was the Wallsockets. Meanwhile, a fan account or extract on page 50 is titled ‘Pretty Things in Palmerston North’ yet the content within that account deals only with a Pretty Things gig in New Plymouth, without any further reference to Palmerston North whatsoever. 

These may only be minor flaws, but they were enough to (OCD alert!) undermine my enjoyment of the book. Near the end, I found myself questioning nearly everything. After all, if I could identify a few basic errors regarding the (mostly Wellington-related) stuff I already knew about, then could I really trust the detail around the other stuff I knew very little about? 

A few years back, after my own poorly written but nonetheless popular “scene” piece on Wellington nightclubs in the 1980s was published on AudioCulture, I was contacted privately by a fellow site contributor who offered the sage observation that when you write an overview of something small-town or regional that nobody else has previously written about, your account needs to be as accurate as possible because it more or less becomes the definitive account by default. 

To be fair to Mathers and Backstage Passes, much of this has been written about before, and she makes no claim to have written a definitive account. In fact, in her Final Word, she states … “this book is a tiny snapshot of those days. The stories contained in here do not claim to represent historical fact” …  which may, or may not, be taken as something of a disclaimer. And for me, the point about accuracy still stands, and if this is supposedly the telling of an “untold story”, then why not ensure all of the minor details are absolutely spot on? 

Having said all of that, it would be churlish not to acknowledge that the good here does indeed outweigh the average and the ugly. Thanks mainly to the rich reserves of subject matter and the small fact that we all love a bit of nostalgia. 

So yeah, it’s probably just as well that I’m usually quite easily pleased when it comes to books of this nature, and Backstage Passes gets a pass mark … but only just. 

Published by New Holland Publishing 

ISBN: 9781869664879 

You can buy a copy of Backstage Passes here

Classic Album Review: Mi-Sex - '79 - '85 (1985)

Mi-Sex were a late Seventies/early Eighties band from New Zealand who spent so much time across the ditch, misguided Australians would eventually try to claim them as one of their own.

Fronted by the late Steve Gilpin, an excellent vocalist, Mi-Sex were hardworking pub rockers who jumped aboard the “new wave” bandwagon to morph into a relatively successful - within a local context - chart singles act. All of the band’s best singles feature on this '79 - '85 compilation. 

An almost perfect blend of power-pop guitar meets synthpop, undermined only by patchy lyrical content, a couple of dodgy latter period tracks, and the fact that cheesy futuristic new wave hasn’t aged especially well. 

A time and place thing, then, and even though you’re more than likely to find this one hiding in a bargain bin, if you can find it at all, it’s definitely the only Mi-Sex album you’ll ever need. 

Highlights: ‘But You Don't Care’, ‘Falling In And Out’, ‘People’, ‘Computer Games’, ‘It Only Hurts When I'm Laughing’, and ‘Space Race’.

Album Review: On-U Sound - Pay It All Back Volume 7 (2019)

I’ve got to be honest: I’m generally such a committed fanboy of just about everything the On-U Sound label releases, I fear I can’t really review this album objectively. I’m concerned that my love for the work of (producer) Adrian Sherwood - across something close to four decades now - will blind me to anything other than its most obvious flaws or shortcomings. But I’ll do my best ... and if I can’t be totally objective, then at the very least I can offer some information about what you can expect from Pay It All Back Volume 7.

The main thing you need to know that it’s the latest release in a long-running series of sampler compilations for the On-U Sound label. It was released in late March, some 23 years after the release of Pay It All Back Volume 6. 

Yet, even after such a lengthy period, many of the same artists who graced the first six volumes - which covered work from the early 80s to the mid 90s - feature again on Volume 7. See, for example, offerings here from label stalwarts like African Head Charge, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, Mark Stewart, Little Axe, Doug Wimbish, and Sherwood himself. 

But it’s far from retro-centric; it’s not a nostalgia document. It’s a sampler to showcase new, recent, or forthcoming On-U Sound releases, Sherwood mixes of material not exclusive to the label, and/or previously unreleased stuff that never found a home elsewhere. 

As such we get a genuine hybrid of musical styles (except generic rock and pop) with the one common denominator being that everything here has, to one degree or another, been touched by the hand of Sherwood. That’s the glue that binds. 

Highlights include: the Play-Rub-A-Dub mix of Horace Andy’s classic ‘Mr Bassie’, Neyssatou and Likkle Mai’s version of Bob Marley’s ‘War’ (see clip below), Denise Sherwood’s ‘Ghost High’, Congo Natty’s ‘UK All Stars in Dub’, Sherwood & Pinch’s ‘Fake Days’ (featuring LSK), Little Axe’s ‘Deep River’, Ghetto Priest’s ‘Slave State’, plus the Coldcut/Roots Manuva collab, ‘Beat Your Chest’, which closes the album … and of course, there’s the understated magnificence of ‘African Starship’, which is a typically eccentric taster from the now 83-year-old Lee Perry’s 2019 album, Rainford ... climb aboard with “Pilot Perry” if you dare! 

The aforementioned flaws and shortcomings are few. Only a couple of tracks (of 18) leave me feeling a little cold, but I guess that’s the nature of sampler compilations. And, in my experience, so far as On-U Sound compilations are concerned, those tracks are just as likely the ones I’ll be listening to most this time next year. 

My own purchase was a rare foray back into the world of the compact disc - my OCD preventing me from deviating from the format I collected the first six volumes in. The supplementary booklet not only offers a plethora of information about the tracks included on the album, it also provides a comprehensive year-by-year guide to the label’s entire back catalogue.

Film Review: The Chills - The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps

Craig Stephen watched The Chills: The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps, in Wellington …

The first time we see Martin Phillipps, the one continuum of The Chills since its inception in 1980, is at a hospital in Dunedin, where he is being prodded, scanned and injected for a series of health tests. Phillipps has Hepatitis C, which he contracted by accident from a dirty needle (listen up kids: don’t do drugs) during his substance-hoovering days (of which there were many). 

The prognosis isn’t good. Phillipps’ liver is 80 percent defunct and he has a 31 percent chance of surviving beyond the next 6-9 months if he doesn’t go teetotal. The check-up takes place at the end of 2016 and we travel with him throughout his brave bid to free himself of the disease, and cleanse himself from the demon drink (listen up kids: don’t do booze, well not whisky on the rocks for breakfast anyway). 

While this conjures up images of a hellraiser, which aren’t exactly dispelled by the singer, we soon see a side of him that we may not have expected - the hoarder, with a huge collection of DVDs, records, CDs, books, artefacts, and toys. Yes, toys. Phillipps lives alone and his collecting obsession, he admits, is partially to compensate him for the isolated living situation. 

As part of the cathartic experience of trying to save his life, Phillipps embarks on a mission to rid himself of some of this collection. Among this extraordinarily vast collection - some of which is included in an exhibition in Dunedin - are mummified cats which he paints then sticks on boards before hanging on the wall. He has also kept a tray of decapitated eggshells which he has painted. 

Interspersed with this personal illumination on a somewhat eccentric character is the story of The Chills, undoubtedly one of New Zealand’s most influential bands. In four decades, The Chills have gone through 21 different line-ups and more than 30 members. In that sense alone they have an historical link to The Fall, led by another hard-drinking eccentric.

Phillipps hasn’t always treated his colleagues terribly well, and near the end of the documentary confesses to having failed some and apologises (if not effusively it has to be said) for not supporting them when he could. One such sad tale is that of the multi-talented Andrew Todd. The keyboardist bailed when it was clear he was getting neither the respect from his colleague nor job satisfaction from what he was doing with the band. Todd isn’t interviewed but many others are, including Terry Moore, who had three spells with the act, and one extremely unlikely member, Phil Kusabs who had a background in death metal acts before joining the “twee indie band”. 

We learn of the death of an early band member, Martyn Bull, who before he succumbed to leukaemia, gave Phillipps his prized leather jacket, leading to The Chills’ legendary ‘I Love My Leather Jacket’ single. There was a serious car collision with a truck on a small bridge, in which everyone remarkably survived, personality clashes, and debt. Phillipps comes across as personable and driven, but also possibly narcissistic. 

Director Julia Parnell also talks to former managers of the band, as well one of the few musical superstars from Aotearoa, Neil Finn, who offers rather little insight other than a few platitudes. 

Around 1990, The Chills were making inroads into America and the album Submarine Bells was a massive hit. But it soon fell apart, and Phillipps was back in Dunedin left to ponder once again another incarnation of the band. 

The fact that there have been numerous versions of the same band since, and The Chills recorded their finest effort for many years, Snow Bound, in 2018, speaks volumes for the toughness and commitment of Phillipps and the musicians who have stood by him. 

Near the end of the film Phillipps returns to see the same medic in the same hospital and is informed that there are now no signs of Hepatitis C. Onwards to the next Chills studio album. 

New Zealand Music Month, AudioCulture, and All That Jazz ...

New Zealand Music Month has its critics. For many it represents little more than an inward-looking self-indulgent “pat-on-the-back” fest, and I understand that argument without necessarily buying into it. My own point of view is that NZ Music Month comes from a good place, has good intent, and if we – as New Zealanders – don’t celebrate this stuff, then nobody else will. It’s easy to forget that it wasn’t all that long ago we had to introduce quotas just to ensure New Zealand music was played on local radio. 

For this May’s annual celebration of New Zealand Music Month, I’m posting a series of classic (and some not so classic) local music clips on the blog’s Facebook page. You can check out the page and perhaps even give it a 'like' or a 'follow' (steady on!) here …

But it also seems timely to once again celebrate the ongoing contribution to the rich tapestry of New Zealand music history currently being made by the AudioCulture site (click here), which documents artists, bands, scenes, venues, and just about every other conceivable angle on pop culture in this part of the world – archiving stuff from days gone by right up to the present day. There really is nothing else like it. The “noisy library of New Zealand music” is an incredible resource that will only continue to get bigger and better as more boxes are ticked, as more artists/bands are profiled, and as more scenes and venue histories are explored.

I feel lucky to have been a part of it, and to have been paid for being a part of it, with site content dudes Simon Grigg and Chris Bourke having indulged a few of my own ramblings about various things near and dear to my own nostalgic heart. With – gratuitous plug alert – my “scene” contributions about nightclubbing in Wellington in the 1980s (here), the fabulous Soul Mine record store (here), the long-running retro Atomic and 24-Hour Party People club nights (here), and my band profile of early 90s Wellington funk-rockers Emulsifier (here). 

I appreciate that I’m not a particularly great writer or wordsmith, but these articles are born from a passion I can scarcely contain, one driven by a love of all things “us” and local, and I’ve always felt that unless those of us who were there at the time (pre-internet, pre-Social Media) make an effort to document the regional grassroots stuff, much of it will fall between the cracks and be lost forever. 

It’s also something I try to achieve on this blog. I take some heart from the fact that as I approach the blogpost number 600, all lack of direct feedback aside, everythingsgonegreen is fast closing in on some 250,000 unique page hits. Small beer in the wider context of things, I know, but it may surprise you that local or specifically New Zealand-based content accounts for three of the four “most read” posts. The most read being a very niche piece about 1980s um, nightlife, in the sprawling metropolis that is Palmerston North. Who knew nearly 13,000 readers even cared? 

So I guess people love nostalgia, especially smalltown/local nostalgia. Go figure. 

Finally, just quickly, I also want to give a shout out for NZ Musician magazine (see here). Writing various bits and bobs (features and reviews) for that publication (unpaid) over a five-year period – although I’ve contributed very little of late – has been a pleasure, and I guess it gave me the confidence to write that other stuff for AudioCulture. 

Things don’t get much more grassroots than NZ Musician. It really does dig deep, and although it too has come in for some unwarranted criticism over the years, specifically for being unable to pay its contributors, so many artists and bands have received an important leg up from the exposure provided by that particular mag for the 30-odd years its been doing its very funky thing. Long may it continue … online or otherwise. 

When all is said and done though, the absolute best way to celebrate New Zealand Music Month is to find some time this month to go to a local gig. Pay on the door. Support young up and coming bands. Buy something local from Bandcamp (or elsewhere if you can find an actual store). Buy something direct from the artist or band itself … and keep doing it, not just across May, but all year long. And tell your friends to do the same.

Classic Album Review: Half Man Half Biscuit - Back In The DHSS (1985)

Craig Stephen is back with another guest review. Bravely going places your blogger doesn't dare ...

***

Last year I wrote, on this very blog, a review of the then new album by Half Man Half Biscuit. You can read that review here.

It’s a fine piece of work, in keeping with the tongue in both cheeks at the same time attitude of the Wirral lads and their irreverent look at life, and in particular, paying attention to the minutiae of the world we live in. That being minor celebrities, low-league football referees, small item retail, daytime television and pedants, of whom there appear to be many.

Since their debut in the mid-80s the four-piece have changed little, and so it seems an opportune time to revisit that first album, that revelled in unemployment: the DHSS of the title being the acronym for Britain’s then Department of Health and Social Security, and “back in the DHSS” was a way of saying someone was signing on the dole again. Such was life in Thatcher’s Britain.

Anyone unlucky enough not to have come across the Biscuits before would have soon enough grasped through the titles alone that this was a band that wasn’t looking at life in the same gormless way as the lovelorn divas and popstars that were pumping out endless radio-friendly hits at the time.

Hence, ‘The Len Ganley Stance’ celebrated snooker referees and the rigid posture required by the tuxedo wearers who acted as the man in the middle at The Crucible: 

“Keep your arms as rigid as a juggernaut/ Clench your fists, point your knuckles straight ahead/ Do your best to look like a teddy bear/ Then try and pretend to look vertically dead.”

And it’s fair to say that the plump Irishman was a true exponent of the stoic umpire pose while mastering the art of controlling those who dared rustle a crisp wrapper or sneak off to the toilet break during a century break: “Brush the baize and keep the crowd in check.”

Ganley became an unlikely cult to the doyens of British daytime TV, and with three million on the dole during Thatcher’s reign there were certainly the numbers to feed the fledgling sport.

At the opposite end of the celebrity love-in a scouse actress had her own, ahem, tribute from the band: ‘I Hate Nerys Hughes (From The Heart)’, although it doesn’t actually have anything to do with the one-time star of The Liver Birds. It merely seems to be a chant of anger in the same way that ‘ohm’ might elicit the alternative feeling.

In a similar vein, ‘God Gave Us Life’, laments some of the “stars” that God has given the world, such as Una Stubbs, Matthew Kelly, Little and Large and Keith Harris. If you are unfamiliar with any of the above, do not, I repeat, do not feel the urge to check them out on YouTube.

‘Time Flies By (When You’re the Driver of a Train)’ is one of two tracks that reflect the band’s obsession with children’s television programmes (in this case Chigley) with the other appearing on The Trumpton Riots EP (more of which later). In the Biscuits world, however, here’s an opportunity to turn the childish innocence of the song The Little Steam Engine into altogether less wholesome pastimes: 

“Speeding out of Trumpton with a cargo of cocaine/ I get high when I'm a pilot of a plane/ Touching down in Camberwick/ I'm stoned out of my brain.”

And why not take the opportunity to mimick Syd-era Pink Floyd: “Under bridges, over bridges, to our destination/ Careful with that spliff, Eugene, it causes condensation.”

While Radiohead were chided for their use of the Trumptonshire brand by a relative of the creator in 2016, it seems that the Biscuits’ obscurity relieved them of such controversies for far greater crimes.

‘Fuckin’ Ell It’s Fred Titmus’ describes the shock of encountering the famous cricketer in everyday situations, such as at a supermarket or a railway station. Nigel Blackwell drops in references to the fabric conditioner Lenor, links Stevie Nicks to kleptomania, and notes that Dracula came from Transylvania (you’ll have to listen to it to understand the context).

The album also has references to other C and D list of celebs: ‘99% of Gargoyles Look Like Bob Todd’ and ‘I Love You Because (You Look Like Jim Reeves)’ – which as you may deduce is a parody of a song by Reeves, ‘I Love You Because’.

The 2003 CD reissue includes the 1986 EP, The Trumpton Riots, with the title track absurdly portraying Trumptonshire as a place of striking firemen, militant socialism, and military coups, where popular characters are instigators or part of the problem: 

“All this aristocracy has really got to stop/ We can overthrow the surgery and kidnap Dr Mopp/ And Chippy Minton’s Socialists could storm the Market Square/ And make plans to assassinate our autocratic Mayor/ Windy Militant leads his Basque-like corn grinders to war/ With windmill sails and bombs with nails they smash the town hall door/ But Snorty and his boys arrive with one big erstwhile crew/ Whereupon they bring about a military coup.”

If only.

Equally magnificent is that homage to Scalectrix and Subbuteo: ‘All I Want for Christmas Is a Dukla Prague Away Kit’, which as everyone knows is a Czech football team that reached the semi-finals of the European Cup in 1967.

Continuing the football theme, a track on the EP, ‘1966 And All That’, name checks Ferenc Puskas and Lev Yashin while also, somehow, getting in a reference to milk of magnesia. You could write an article on its own about former footballers featuring in Half Man Half Biscuit songs.

To win a free pen pilfered from a high street bank, tell the blog what Ali Bongo did …

Celebrating The Blog That Celebrates Itself ...

For a number of years, too many to count, I’ve been following, and have been a huge fan of, a music blog called The Blog That Celebrates Itself … there’s the blog itself, various social media handles, plus the blog’s Bandcamp page, which presents a veritable treasure trove of downloadable music.

As I understand it, the blog is the project of one Renato Malizia of Sao Paulo, Brazil, and I learned this week that its apparently all about to come to an end in early May. Which is real a shame. Obviously, Renato will have his reasons for that. But before it does cease to exist as an ongoing concern, I just wanted to to express my own appreciation by sharing some links … a little too belatedly perhaps. 

You’ll find the main blog page here. 

And you’ll access a feast of music released by the blog here. 

Of special note are the various themed compilation releases dedicated to specific artists, genres, etc. Many of these albums are name-your-price, and serve to introduce unknown and/or underground artists and bands far too readily overlooked by the mainstream. My own favourite themed releases over the years have been those paying tribute to some of the bands I love, in the form of offering a selection of cover versions. 

Included in that category are TBTCI covers or tribute albums for Cocteau Twins, David Bowie, Ride, The Smiths, New Order, Echo & The Bunnymen, The Cure, Husker Du, Siouxsie & The Banshees, Nirvana, My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, The Sound, Stereolab, Velvet Underground, Psychedelic Furs, Lush, Smashing Pumpkins, Nick Cave, and R.E.M. Plus many others. Beyond that, various other themes are covered. 

As ever, the quality on offer is variable; sometimes great, occasionally terrible, but mostly quite decent. A lot of that will depend on your own taste, of course. But part of the fun for me has been listening through these compilations, sorting the wheat from the chaff, recycle-binning what doesn’t appeal, and keeping what does. I’ve been introduced to so many bands that I continue to follow and simply wouldn’t have heard if it hadn’t been for the exposure offered by TBTCI. 

According to a recent Facebook post, the blog’s final release will be a tribute/covers offering for The Cure’s landmark Disintegration album. Possibly as early as next week. 

Anyway, thank you Renato Malizia and The Blog That Celebrates Itself for all your hard work over the past decade or so … go well, wherever it is you're going. 

Classic Album Review: Gary Clail & On-U Sound System - End of The Century Party (1989)

One of many exceptional politically charged dub albums from Adrian Sherwood’s most excellent On-U Sound stable of artists, End of The Century Party brings together a wide and diverse array of talent. From the ex-Sugarhill house band trio of bassist Doug Wimbish, guitarist Skip “Little Axe” McDonald, and the beats programmer/multi-instrumentalist extraordinaire Keith Le Blanc (collectively aka Tackhead), to ex-PiLsters Jah Wobble and Keith Levene, to roots merchants such as the late Bim Sherman and Style Scott’s Dub Syndicate, plus a host of other label luminaries. Throw in an ex-roofer (allegedly) from Bristol with a loud hailer voice, one Gary Clail, have Sherwood himself take care of the mixing and production, and well … you’ve got an irresistibly potent brew. 

Who cares that they decided to celebrate the end of the century a decade or so early? 

Clail and Tackhead had worked together before, most notably on an album called Tackhead Tape Time (1987), but also when Clail was employed as a ranting/chanting/toasting MC with a live/touring version of the band. On End of The Century Party however, it’s Clail who takes centre stage, and this album to some extent acted as the launching pad for an otherwise sporadic “solo” career which included four more full-length releases – Emotional Hooligan (1991), Dreamstealers (1993), Keep The Faith (1995), and Nail It To The Mast (2014). Rumour has it another one is due in 2019, but I can’t be sure about that. 

End of The Century Party combines helpings of techno, dub, funk, sampling, and spoken word (though not necessarily rap), with large chunks of social commentary and a set of highly politicised lyrics. Themes include vegetarianism (on ‘Beef’), corporate corruption (on ‘Two Thieves And A Liar’ – with specific targets being Stockbrokers, Accountants, and Lawyers – you decide who’s what), dreaded privatisation (on ‘Privatise The Air’ – parts 1 and 2), and of course, football (a particular passion of Sherwood’s as expressed on ‘Leroy Leroy’). 

‘Beef’, later released as a single and given a bpm boost, and also included on Clail’s Emotional Hooligan album, is probably the best known track for non-On-U Sound devotees, but the rootsy dub of ‘Two Thieves’ and the quite phenomenal ‘A Man’s Place On Earth’ are the stand-out moments for me. 

If you’re a fan of Adrian Sherwood and/or Gary Clail and/or Tackhead, or the On-U Sound label itself, you’ll likely already have this album. If you’re not yet a convert, but keen to learn what all the fuss was about, then this is a great place to start.

Introducing ... Neutrikk

Neutrikk are a newly-formed Waiheke Island/Auckland-based duo, consisting of Nikki Ngatai (Oyawa) and Lee Catlin (These Automatic Changers), and their recently released (eponymous) debut EP is well worth picking up as a name-your-price download on Bandcamp. Five immaculately produced pop-electronica tracks, which sit at the more eclectic end of the spectrum, and grow in stature with each and every listen … stream or download below: