Sounds of the Seventies

In December 1979, Johnny Jewell was 22 years old. He had three main passions in life: Football, Music and Reading. This is what he and his friends were listening to.

My new book, The Wrong Men, published by The Book Guild on March 28th, is a murder mystery set over Christmas 1979, and features Johnny Jewell, a 22 year old English graduate who is working as a porter in York District Hospital. To give readers a flavour of that time, I’ve included a link to a Spotify Playlist of the key tracks that Johnny and his friends were all listening to then. It’s an eclectic mix: some of the songs are mentioned in the novel, some relate directly to the themes of the book, and some are there just to give texture and atmosphere. They are what he was listening to in that period of his life.

You can pre-order the book from Amazon here: https://shorturl.at/JoiAh

Scan the QR code for the Spotify Playlist

Some younger people might look at the list and jump to an obvious criticism, bolstered by some rudimentary research. “Big mistake – that song wasn’t released in 1979, it was from 1971. Shoddy work!” It’s true, there are many tracks from earlier times, but there are none from after January 1980. I was sorely tempted to include Happy House by Siouxie and The Banshees, notable for their live performance on Top of the Pops, (where Siouxie conclusively demonstrates the superiority of two pockets full of glitter over a panoply of computerised special effects). Eventually, integrity persuaded me to leave it out, comforted by the fact that it will appear in the sequel to the story.

So there is some rigour to the choices, and they reflect the reality for a young music aficionado with little disposable cash to hand. The truth is, back in those pre -internet, pre- Spotify, steam -powered days, finding out about new music and buying new music was a very different thing to its equivalent today. We listened to the radio (mainly John Peel after the pub, but also Alan Freeman on a Saturday afternoon) We read the music press. The Thursday purchase of The New Musical Express was a thrill that its hard to fully explain to today’s kids. It was The Bible for Leftie music fans– funny, authoritative, alternative, well-written and informative. Sounds and Melody Maker would be tolerated, but they were a pale, thin replacement for the real thing.

Once you had triangulated a list of potential new purchases from the radio and the NME and gossip, you could begin to edge towards doing the deed. But back then, an album cost about £4.99. Just to give you a marker, at the same time a pint of beer was about 40 pence – more than ten times the cost. Just do the basic maths, using the average price for a pint today, and you begin to get some idea of the scale of the investment.

This alone explains why the average student’s record collection would only contain a handful of new releases, and their listening experience would inevitably involve recycling their back catalogue. A stack of LPs would be regularly out of their sleeves for a play. The second factor to bear in mind was the iconoclastic effect of having experienced the punk revolution, which turned everything on its head. What were you supposed to do with your lovingly curated collection of Prog rock albums? Could you still retain any street cred and play Yes, for example? Many of us did that kind of listening in a solitary and secretive fashion, saving the latest music for communal experiences. Some old stuff, deemed “classic” managed to straddle the divide and in some ways were an even greater indicator of your superior music taste – hence the inclusion in the list of Van Morrison, John Martyn etc.

The tracks that made it on to Johnny Jewell’s playlist all have a back story. Here are just a few of them.

  1. The List kicks off with “London Calling” by The Clash. It had only just been released when the book starts on December 21st, 1979, but this is an example of another kind of purchase. The Clash were firm favourites for Johnny and his chums and no research was needed. London Calling was confidently bought on the first day of its release.

2. There’s a middle dance section in the playlist, to mirror the Party episode in the middle of the novel. Much time was spent by Johnny and his chums compiling mix tapes for parties. In such tapes, Funk was held in high esteem: James Brown, Funkadelic, Parliament and Stevie Wonder were key players, and The Jacksons, criminally underrated, never failed to make the cut.

3. Solid Air, Hard Nose the Highway and Take Me to The River are moody, late night, after the party listens. Chilling, chatting and winding down. Stuff happened between people when these were playing.

4. A word of clarification about the Dr Feelgood track, Because You’re Mine. The Feelgoods were a big thing in the mid – late Seventies, and acted as a bridge between Pub Rock and Punk. Live, they were thrilling, particularly the manic attack of Wilco Johnson’s extraordinary guitar sound and style. They crackled with tension, live and on record. Sonically , they were supreme. Lyrically, well, that’s a different story. They fully reflected the sexist world of the Seventies. Their gigs were a very male affair – it was rare to spot women there, and Because You’re Mine is a classic representation of the attitudes that prevailed at the time.

It’s included because of that – this was the world that Johnny inhabited and was trying to navigate. We thought for a long time that most of those battles had been fought and won, but nothing can be taken for granted in these dark days of populism, when Neanderthals like Andrew Tate, inexplicably hold sway with young men. The just released statistic that 33% of Gen Z men believe that wives should obey their husbands is a chilling reflection of this sliding back to the Dark Ages. Listen to the Feelgoods, read the book and fight back!

For the rest, many of them have lyrics or ideas that directly relate to the story of The Wrong Men. How many can you find? What would be on your own playlist from when you were twenty two years old?

Springsteen: Deliver me from Nowhere

Slim pickings at this year’s London Film Festival. We struggled with the appalling BFI website, spending many hours lost in its labyrinthine highways and byways, before finally managing to acquire tickets for just two films: Hamnet, directed by Chloe Zhao, and Springsteen: Deliver me from nowhere, directed by Scott Cooper. Hamnet was a juicy treat – a wonderful book that deserved and got, a wonderful film, but it’s not released until January, so you’ll have to wait until then for the review.

The Springsteen film, however, is a horse of a very different colour. It’s out now, so let this review serve as a warning. Go and see it, by all means, but don’t come crying to me afterwards.

It’s based on the 2023 autobiography, Deliver me from Nowhere, by Warren Zanes which like the film focuses on a narrow slice of Springsteen’s life, the period after releasing The River when he infuriated his record company by not going for a commercial follow up, concentrating instead on a stripped back minimalist folk album, harmonica and all, Nebraska. These struggles led to a nervous breakdown of sorts and the book looks at the periods of depression that have plagued Springsteen throughout his adult life.

So what’s wrong with it? Firstly, it takes a fairly basic approach to linking his depression with his childhood. The flashback scenes show us Springsteen senior, played by Steven Graham as a brooding, simmering, silent, fearful presence. There’s little analysis or explanation and it comes across as something of a GCSE Psychology project – thin and cliched. Ironically, the film is saved from a two star rating by the scenes at the end of the film when Springsteen visits his father in LA, and there are some genuinely touching moments between son and father, as regrets are tentatively expressed.

The simplistic linking, though is echoed in the film’s attempts to suggest the inspiration for some of the songs from the album. A scene of driving past an old mansion on a hill, apparently is the inspiration for the song called, err, Mansion on the Hill. Why? Who knows? This technique is repeated throughout the film in an attempt to make the uncinematic, private, long, difficult process of writing into something dramatic or visually striking. It fails and comes across as someone’s first attempts to make a music video in 1983.

Jeremy Strong puts in a solid performance as Jon Landau, Springsteen’s manager, who defends his guy against all criticism from the record company, though this too comes with some difficulties. Landau is essentially a tremendously dull character, a fact underlined by the fact that in many scenes, the most interesting thing going on is the spectacular range of round neck Marks and Spencer type lambswool jumpers that he wears. The bottle green one was particularly fetching. There are also recurring scenes with his wife that essentially just allow him to explain the issues to her (and therefore the audience) re the record company locking horns with Bruce. A really tremendous part (not) for Grace Gummer.

I can’t help comparing it with A Complete Unknown, the Dylan biopic from last year. That was a joyous, glorious ride of a film, one that delivered you into the foyer after two hours or so with a dazed, permanent smile on your face. And the key difference is the music. The Dylan film was a conveyor belt of great song after great song. And great in the sense of not just the lyrics or melody or sound, but in the sense of being groundbreaking. You don’t get groundbreaking from Springsteen. He trundles along a much narrower set of tracks, and in the end is just a wee bit samey. Sorry Springsteen disciples, but that’s just the way it is.

His strength is in live performance. Watching Bruce and the E Street Band in concert is a transformative, life enhancing experience. And, of course, we get none of that here. Just a couple of perfunctory scenes of Springsteen guesting with some friends at a small venue in New Jersey. What a waste!

In the end, I was left feeling rather sorry for Jeremy Allen White, who has said working on the film  left him feeling rather unwell. I’m not surprised. After this and The Bear, he needs to get away from brooding, intense men of few words with intimacy issues. Maybe it’s time for a RomCom, Jezza.

As for Bruce, I prefer to think of him like this. Romantically glossing over the reality of a difficult life perhaps, and maybe the film deserves credit for trying to be a slightly different Music Biopic, but sometimes you just want your heroes mythologised.

Overall verdict: A Dull Trudge.

Romance is not Dead

The new album by Fontaines DC is alive and kicking

More than five years worth of water has disappeared under the bridge since Dublin’s finest, Fontaines DC, released their debut album, Dogrel. There have been two more since then – A Hero’s Death and Skinty Fia, but neither of them generated the same excitement as their first, with its originality and verve.

They arrived heralded as nouveau punk and although those comparisons are always inevitably flawed and misleading, there was something in that characterisation. That album was many things but, like the original punks, one thing it was not, was polite. There was an authenticity and a couldn’t-care-less attack to it. This is us, it seemed to declare, and we don’t care what you say about it. This was my review of it at the time:

But now comes their fourth studio album, Romance, and it’s a game changer. Old heads with old hands now and they have produced something of rare beauty that triumphantly confirms what that first album promised: They’re gonna be Big. The start of the album generates fear of disappointment, with the title track, Romance. Moody, doomy synth washes with dark, dark lyrics: 

Into the darkness again,

In with the pigs in the pen

Don’t worry! It’s a deliberately misleading start. It’s not doom and gloom that await you in this album, it’s joy and beauty. This is not a band trying to curry favour with its potential new audience, playing it safe. It would have been so easy to start the album with Favourite for some uplifting poppy melody, but that is a trap they sidestep, preferring instead to make demands on their fan base. And they are demands that are worth responding to. After three listens, the subtle pleasures of vocals, lyrics and atmospheric layers lodge themselves in your brain, and you’ll wonder why you doubted them in the first place.

The album goes from strength to strength. The single, Starburst, is the perfect antidote to the slow gloom of Romance. First, strange mellotron is studded by liquid arpeggio piano notes that ooze a grave, poignant portent. Then the uptempo beat and word heavy, almost rapping rhythmic vocals – this will be the standout track on first listen. But that won’t last, as the subtle pleasures of all the other tracks begin to elbow you for attention.

The melodies are gorgeous, the lyrics subtle and clever, the vocals sweet, particularly the unexpected harmonies that punctuate many of the songs. It’s a repeat of the Black Keys scenario, back in 2011. After releasing three well respected hard electric blues rock albums, that clocked up mega critical approval but few sales, the Black Keys suddenly discovered how to write classic pop songs with killer hooks and choruses and came up with El Camino. Still quintessentially Black Keys, with their DNA pulsing through it, it was a compulsively fabulous commercial record. So it is with Fontaines and this album. It retains its Dublin accent, but uses it to tell better stories that will pull in a bigger audience. They look a little different as well. But then, don’t we all….

Fontaines now…

Fontaines then…

The two standout tracks for me at the moment have that unmistakable classic quality of great songs: they sound like they’ve been discovered, excavated in an archaeological dig rather than having been newly created. It’s as if they’ve always been here. Have a listen, first to the sublime “Bug”.

Then the closing song of the album, “Favourite”. In a pre-streaming age, this would have been the opener to pull the audience in, on vinyl or CD. Lovely shiny guitar riff and cleverly worked chorus, this is classic pop.

Do yourself a favour and follow these instructions.

  1. Play the two tracks linked here.
  2. Buy the record, or download it.
  3. Try and get a ticket to see them live.

You know it makes sense