Memories are made out of this. A conversation with Rick Corrigan of the pickPocket Ensemble

The pickPocket Ensemble, Rick Corrigan’s little world music combo that could, has just released a small and intense record, Memory. And like a memory alright, the pPE hangs on and keeps evolving, musically and personally, since 1998.

The pickPocket Ensemble albums are dream-like escapades to ancient, calm, romantic cities in the Middle East and Eastern Europe. This might sound crazy, but there was a time in where those areas were the ultimate relaxing vacation experience (just ask Vincent Van Gogh).

We managed to get a hold of Mr. Rick Corrigan, accordionist, composer, and producer of the band. He and his band are preparing for a series of shows this fall in the San Francisco Bay Area, promoting their new album Memory. We had a short conversation with Mr. Corrigan before the ensemble's performance at the Subterranean Artthouse in Berkeley, California.

Rick, your combo’s new album runs about 27 minutes. Why so short?

There's a long list of classic short records: The Beatles' Revolver is about 32 minutes long, Nick Drake's Pink Moon is a little over 28 minutes. But the real answer is that that group of songs at that length is exactly what was needed to tell the story we wanted to tell. I'd much rather hear you say it's too short than to tell me it's too long!

Subterranean Arthouse, Berkeley, California. November 12, 2010,
featuring Sam Bass (left) on cello. Photo: Javier Moreno. 

Through the years, the pickPocket Ensemble structure is pretty much you and a revolving door of musicians. You are your own Ian Anderson or Robert Fripp to your Jethro Tull or King Crimson.

Yes, the band is built around the music that I write, and I just seem to plow on through thick and thin. Though I must say that certain of my compatriots, for example Marguerite [Ostro], have a long-time commitment and deep understanding and love for this music. And it becomes as much theirs as mine. And I can't say enough good things about my band mates on every level.

You must have had lots of influences…

…Or should I say inspirations, in no particular order: Beatles, Maurice Ravel Anouar Brahem, Bernard Herrmann (Alfred Hitchcock’s composer), Nino Rota, Otis Redding, Bob Dylan, Sex Pistols, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Dan Cantrell and the Toids, Hamza El Din, accordionist Michael Ganion, Thelonius Monk, Claude Debussy, Glenn Gould, Chet Baker, Miles Davis, Any and all Paris Musette, Amalia Rodrigues, Eric Satie, Julio Jaramillo, Nick Drake, Incredible String Band, Kurt Weill… [pauses] The song "Moscow Nights" from my childhood, Anton Karas' zither music from the Third Man score, the Muscle Shoals musicians… Yair Dalal!

You are moving eastbound as you speak.

Yes. Any music that comes from a desert is an inspiration. Any and all sounds that come to me "broken" from afar; that is, sounds that I don't quite hear correctly, so I re-create it in my consciousness in a way that is pleasing and also maintains the strangeness that captivated and transported me.

You don’t seem to "transpose” or "copy” the entire structure of a song in an exhaustive way…

Absolutely not exhaustive, since I listen to everything that comes my way and absorb it, or not, quickly. I give a lot of respect to musicians and artists, their work and their lives.

This question might sound odd, but why an accordion?

Before I picked up the accordion, I was an electronic musician, through and through - I was steeped in the "noise" sound culture of the 80's and early 90's. I grew completely weary of that and wanted to find music and expression that was more real, or down to earth… or meaningful. I bought an accordion since it was so simple and portable.

Once you got the accordion in your hands, what music you based your style first?

The first music I fell in love with was Parisian Musette and what they call manouche jazz, French gypsy music… though gypsy is a term to use very sparingly. Rom and Roma are more appropriate. Of course Django Reinhart, but also the great French accordionists or composers from the 30's and 40's: Tony Murena, Jo Privat, Gus Viseur. In addition to this I moved into listening to a lot of other French stylists from the 50's and early 60's - George Brassens, Yves Montand, Barbara. Though this doesn't quite compute rationally, I also moved from listening to Georges Brassens to Isabel Parra - still one of my greatest inspirations: so real, earthy, simple yet deep, deep.

Klezmer is what comes to mind at first. The musical tradition of the Ashkenazic Jews of Eastern Europe.

My own playing seemed to be more naturally drifting towards a kind of klezmer - less swing and more straight up folky, with that strange scale, and pieces I wrote from that period -"Third Night,” “The Dredel” and “Honesty” reflected that.

East was your musical niche.

Yes. Then I discovered Balkan music, with those incredible odd meters. This was liberating - I could be free to write melodies as they wanted to come out, not "boxed in" by a 4/4 time. Also, the melodies were both hauntingly beautiful, and also not "boxed in" by the klezmer scale. Listening to music like The Rustavi Choir and Ensemble Georgika, Yale Strom, Nicolae Gutsa, Greek and Macedonian music - very lively, with that "thin quicksilver mercury sound" that Dylan used to talk about. Most important, it was about the ornamentation: how to linger on a note. This still is a place of learning.

That's incredible. Are you still learning after all these music styles?

Yes. Along with all of that, I also studied flamenco music - and went so far as to study flamenco dance for 2 years, to try to get those rhythms. And I studied with a Lebanese accordionist, Elias Lammam, to learn how middle-eastern music moved. He had, incredibly, an accordion tuned to 1/4 tones - not a western scale at all, which opened my ears up further. I love the dance of middle-eastern and North African music, and most of what I write today moves more in that direction - pointillist melodies over simple harmonic structures.

"Packed Her Things", 2002.

I assume you feel comfortable playing with foreign musicians.

I haven't had foreign musicians play with me, but most of the musicians I've played with have been steeped in one or more of these music styles and have taught me a lot: Marguerite Ostro is a wonderful klezmer player and has studied many Eastern European styles, especially Greek and Rembetika from the 30's, Yates Brown is the only "Arabic banjo" player I've ever heard (though he's also American), and also plays in a local Arabic orchestra. Lila Sklar, who still plays with us from time to time is steeped in Arabic music as well as Balkan music. I can't emphasize enough how much these brilliant musicians around me take this music to levels I haven't imagined. I present a piece and they run with it.

Again, run towards the East. Tell us about Memory, the Ensemble's latest.

Most of the album, as the name implies, is a bit of a look back -towards what I've been through as a musician and the memories those times bring me: I mentioned that most of what I'm writing now leans more toward the austere melodies of middle-eastern music: "Nowhere Else” from the new CD would reflect this more. Much of it reflects more of the "French" feel - like the Brassens-like melody of "Sometimes Never," and the Manouche style of "Seriously." "Memory" is one of the first pieces I ever wrote for the accordion, and I remember a certain Hungarian girl who used to come out from the kitchen at my restaurant gig whenever I played it and close her eyes and lean up against the wall. "If" is a...quite humble look towards South America. Without being too biographical about it all, it's that sort of thing.

Your music does not sound played by U.S. Americans. At all.

I'm aware that for many American audiences this music sounds exotic and "European" but I also know that around the World this music is clearly American; and it is that, but with a fresh outlook, an open ear and relieved of the burden of 50 years of rock music. It's music that wants to communicate with people and music around the world and from many different times.

More on the pPE: 

Their first four albums:

http://www.cacaorock.com/2008/04/gypsy-music.html

A note about a 2006 performance at Pachamama, San Francisco:

http://www.cacaorock.com/2006/03/pickpocket-ensemble-en-pachamama.html

Official site:

www.pickpocketensemble.com

La edad dorada de la AM

 

Live At The BBC (Apple, 1994, 2013)

On Air - Live At the BBC, Vol. 2 (Apple, 2013) 

BEATLES

Los detractores de los Beatles, una minoría, generalmente debaten con los admiradores de éstos sobre la calidad del grupo como banda de rock en vivo y llegan a la conclusión, errónea, de que los Beatles eran malos porque sonaban mal en sus conciertos y todo lo que hicieron fueron "maravillas de estudio" bajo la dirección de George Martin. Incluso llegan a creer que gente como Bernard Purdie grabó las pistas de batería de Ringo y eso les dio el sonido clave.

Les podemos dar el beneficio de la duda si consideramos dos factores: uno, el hecho que en sus conciertos ellos no se podían oir el uno al otro debido a los gritos de las chicas y el otro el hecho que después del concierto en el Candlestick Park en San Francisco en agosto de 1966, no volvieron a tocar en vivo en un escenario (con excepción del concierto en la azotea de las oficinas de Apple). ¿Dónde se había visto hasta ese entonces que una banda no salga de gira con la excusa de que lo que hacían en estudio era irreproducible en el escenario? Los detractores tienen dos buenos motivos para no gustar de los Beatles. Bien por ellos, así no compran sus discos y hay más para nosotros.

"If I Fell", 14 de Julio de 1964:  

Pero entre 1961 y 1962, antes de la Beatlemanía, ellos tocaban en Hamburgo y en la Caverna de Liverpool, y sonaban muy bien, para ser una banda de rock joven. Los Beatles se hicieron leyenda por su sonido en Hamburgo; no en América como lo afirmó Lennon, que quizás estaría hablando por hablar. Los Beatles salieron desde Liverpool como los Silver Beatles hacia el norte de Alemania sonando terrible, y fue allá en los strip-clubs y bares de mala muerte de la Reeperbahn, tocando sin parar noche tras noche y sobreviviendo a base de pastillas estimulantes y alcohol, donde crearon la música más interesante del siglo XX. Por tanto, los Beatles fueron una excelente banda en vivo; sólo que para 1966 ya estaban hartos de las giras aeropuerto-limosina-hotel-conferencia-concierto-aeropuerto, con momentos de clímax definidos como shows de 30 minutos con el sistema de sonido del propio local (es decir, megáfonos de pobrísima calidad). Todo esto en medio de chillidos e histeria colectiva; con la honorable excepción del Japón ,en donde la gente se callaba para oirlos. El "ser" Beatles les había pasado la cuenta. Ya no querían serlo. Querían ser cualquier cosa, inclusive la banda de un tal Sargento Pepper.

Los Beatles no llegaron a lanzar maravillas como Pepper y Abbey Road de la nada, sin haber pagado un derecho de piso artístico y físico. Prueba de ello es la colección autorizada de grabaciones que realizaron entre 1962 y 1965 para la BBC de Londres: Live At the BBC y On Air. Para los audiófilos que esperaban una calidad magistral de sonido, la colección puede ser una decepción: la BBC no utilizaba en esa época técnicas de grabación de primer nivel y la mayoría de canciones no están a la par del sonido logrado en sus singles o LPs de estudio. Pero eso no importa; más bien, se olvida al escuchar la áspera voz de Lennon cantando "Memphis, Tennessee" de Chuck Berry o a McCartney gritando "Oh, My Soul!" de Little Richard. Rockeros pagando tributo a sus ídolos desde el otro lado del Atlántico, en una emisora pública inglesa. Ahora sí podemos decir: ¡Qué tiempos aquellos!

Pero BBC nos pone a pensar mucho, muchísimo, sobre el potencial que esta banda tuvo para seguir continuando tocando en vivo. A la más grande banda de rock se le daban espacios radiales para tocar sus temas, ofrecer entrevistas, mandar saludos a sus fanáticos... estaban pasando por un buen momento emocional. Tenían un excelente manager, Brian Epstein, el cual se preocupaba de que ellos reciban lo mejor en sus giras para poder dar lo mejor, y hacia finales de 1964 habían conquistado EE.UU. con LPs y singles todos bien ubicados en los Top 10. ¿Se pudo haber detenido el desgaste de la banda? ¿Se pudo haber evitado el supuesto "sabotaje" de John Lennon a las canciones del grupo, tal como lo confesó en 1980? Pregunto esto porque en estos 4 CDs no hay un ápice de descontento, una señal de desasosiego. John, Paul, George y Ringo están tocando con fuerza, con su sonido monaural característico, con la pasión que los hizo el grupo esencial del rock and roll. El "si hubiera" ronda por las pistas de este disco: "si hubieran sacado 'Clarabella'... si hubieran lanzado 'I'll Be On My Way' o 'I Just Don't Understand' como single...". Pero sabemos que dicha preposición con infinitivo es inútil. Lo que se obtuvo es lo que es: los Beatles descubriendo su sonido en vivo ante el mundo, a través de las ondas de radio, y eso en verdad era un descubrimiento tan grande y excitante como el de Colón, la penicilina o el clítoris.



Los 2 CD's lanzados en 1994 como Live At the BBC incluyen los mejores y más nítidos momentos de la gran cantidad de programas que los Beatles grabaron para la BBC. Lamentablemente no hay "Twist And Shout", pero sí hay "Things We Said Today", de Paul, "Roll Over Beethoven" de George,  "Matchbox" de Ringo y "Dizzy Miss Lizzy" de John.



El 2013 Apple nos da un segundo volumen llamado On Air además de una versión con mejor sonido de la colección del 94. Esta vez los sabuesos de Apple hicieron su trabajo buscando las mejores fuentes disponibles de aquellas grabaciones legendarias. Hay más sorpresas como una versión amena de "Words of Love", una potente "Chains" y, claro, la obligatoria "Twist and Shout". Para apalancar mayor ventas, remasterizan la colección del 94 y hacen ligeras modificaciones para los completistas. Suena mejor, definitivamente y no hay quejas por nuestra parte, pero nos hace decir que la teta beatle aún está grande y ordeñable.



Otras verdaderas maravillas, como el cover de Roy Orbison "Dream Baby", se consiguen en las grabaciones piratas de la BBC que abundan en el mercado negro (sigan la pista a "Great Dane" o a "Purple Chick"). La calidad de sonido es discutible, sobre todo con el debut de los Beatles en la cadena radial, en marzo del 62, antes de Ringo y de su contrato con la Parlophone... pero no importa, a buscar se ha dicho.

Las cintas no fueron conservadas muy bien en los archivos de la BBC y se nota que los ingenieros de la EMI tuvieron que hacer maravillas con éstas. Pero ésto no es el fin del mundo; es más, algo de encanto tendrá.

Tal como lo mencionamos hace algún tiempo al hablar de Anthology, Live At The BBC fue en 1994 la prueba de mercado, el "focus group" a los fans para ver si estaban dispuestos a comprar material inédito de los Beatles a 30 años, en aquel entonces, de la conquista de América. No sólo fue un gran lanzamiento, sino hasta ahora, el mejor producto post-desbande. Escucharlos en sus discos originales era una maravilla, en vivo era imposible, y a través de la amplitud modulada, una maravilla de nuevo.



Piero Dall'Orso escribió sobre todas las sesiones en este post de su blog. 

Oh yeah, alright... ooeee, ooeee, ooeeeh! (Album of the Week 7/28 - 8/3)

Wandering Spirit 

(Atlantic, 1993)

MICK JAGGER

On July 26, 1943, Mick was born. Eight decades later, he is still singing and writing songs for the greatest and oldest rock
and roll band in the world. If you don't know which band I'm talking about, please close this window and leave your house for the first time in your life.

With or without the Stones, there's a fact: whenever I see Jagger's face on a magazine or TV, I think of Wandering Spirit; his most personal record to date, beautifully recorded by Rick Rubin celebrating Jagger's first half century. If you remove the name Mick Jagger out of the equation, It was also a cathartic and
sensitive album about the blues of a lonely man. Nevertheless, what kind of
blues a man like Mick Jagger could possibly have; a blues strong enough to
record an album like this?

Mick Jagger is an icon by himself and with
the Rolling Stones. He has the kind of life 99% of the occidental
heterosexual male population want to have: wake up, exercise, travel, eat the
finest food at the finest restaurants, sing your own songs and have the audience
singing them with you, get paid for this job, meet presidents,
kings, queens, artists and beautiful women -so many women you forget their names and don't care a bit about child support when a hot supermodel comes
to you pregnant and says "it's your child I'm carrying".



OK, it's not 99% of
heterosexual males; it's 99.99%.

Wandering Spirit tells us that, even when he's a super-cool guy,
sometimes a man gets the feeling that he's alone and bored. But
here's the thing, and the problem other Rolling Stones songs have: we don't care about Jagger's blues, we just want to live his
life! Again, let's remove the money and fame Jagger has and we will find a great rock and roll record
and, comparing it with the Stones records released since 1989,
way superior to them.

For instance, there's "Put Me in The
Trash," a rock and roll number about a former millionaire who's calling
her ex-girlfriend for a loan. He bought her shoes, a Ferrari and tickets to the
Opera. Now he's asking for some dough. What could have happened? He wasted his
money on parties, alcohol, drugs and women. He realized he should have saved
some money in the bank for leaner times.

The greatest moment comes when Lenny Kravitz
and Red Hot Chili Pepper's Flea join Mick to pay tribute to Bill Withers with his "Use Me".
Jagger also sings Lowman Pauling's "Think" as a tribute to James
Brown, I suppose.

So the dues are paid here. The album closes
with an Irish violin and Mick singing "Handsome Molly," leaving the
listener with the feeling that the singer was alone from the very beginning and
it will be the same at the end.

Jagger did something he never did before even
with the Stones, releasing his album the same day as a Beatle released his
(Paul McCartney's Off The Ground hit the streets on February 9th, 1993),
breaking the old rule that kept Beatles and Stones separated with their
respective parts of the music market. McCartney did not care, for sure. In 1993
CD sales were at the top of their game (remember, this was the year of
Nirvana's In Utero and Pearl Jam's Vs.) and there were CD
buyers with money in their pockets for all of them. Anyways, Paul and Mick are
millionaires so even if their records did not sell more than 10 copies,
they would not starve.

You can get this forgotten treasure used for
less than 4 bucks on Amazon.com Z-shops; so for a small price you can prove
that I am being honest. This was an outstanding record, comparable with Stones
productions like Some Girls, Tattoo You and Emotional Rescue.

Sweet thing: http://youtu.be/nXZUr3v6gNo

More Mick:

Goddess at The Doorway (Virgin, 2001): Rolling Stone Magazine rated this album as classical (5 stars). It's OK, but Wandering is better, way better.

Primitive Cool (Atlantic, 1987): Do people actually remember "Let's Work"? It was a great radio tune!

She's The Boss (Atlantic, 1985): A hard woman to please, Mick's debut was pretty decent.

And the Entire Rolling Stones catalog.

The Talented Mr. Harrison

Cloud Nine (Dark Horse, 1987)

GEORGE HARRISON

If George only knew. Now that he passed away, like all things must do, everybody starts considering him as probably the most influential guitar player in popular music of the last 40 years. Before his death, he was the Quiet Beatle. However, almost every Beatles fan learned to play guitar after listening to him. From the simplest strumming ever of the acoustic guitar in “Love Me Do” to the great G suspended 4th opening chord in “A Hard Day’s Night”; from the melancholic “I Need You” to the dry and powerful chords of “Taxman”; and, last but definetly not least, from the Indian sitar and tabla sounds of “Within You Without you” (his masterpiece) to his eternal question for finding a real God in “My Sweet Lord”. Harrison grew artistically under the bigger, overwhelming shadow of the Beatles, a band bigger than the sum of its parts. He asked his Beatle friends to go with him to India for the trascendental meditation that could have saved the band from the inevitable split and, in the meantime, to find God, Vishnu or whatever its name was. He also asked Paul and John to help him with his solo projects. They declined.

It’s no coincidence that after the India trip, Harrison wrote his best songs with the Beatles, turning “Something” and “Here Comes The Sun” from Abbey Road into instant beloved hits and perennial classics of rock and roll. More than God, he found out how to live in peace with himself and how to understand human nature. Later, he forgave his best friend Eric Clapton for writing a desperate love song to his wife Pattie "Layla" Boyd (ultimately stealing her from him), and of course, a man so complete like George found another woman in his life, the great Olivia Arias.





He also took a lot of patience for writing and recording Cloud Nine, the only album he recorded as a solo artist since 1982. Clapton plays the solo on “Devil’s Radio”, and they settle down their differences and play just like they did 19 years ago with “While my Guitar Gently Weeps”. Jeff Lynne, that selfish guy from the Electric Light Orchestra, produces the album and co-writes “Someplace Else”, which reminds us a little bit of the song “Free As A Bird” that he co-produced with Paul, Ringo and George for the Anthology 1 collection.

The title track was number one in Argentina, back in 1988, and the album was an international success with "Got My Mind Set On You," a catchy James Ray cover. George also remembered the good ol' Beatles Days on "When We Was Fab" and that would be the last time he would sing a song about his beloved friends.

On the album cover, George’s smiling and he’s wearing sunglasses. Of course he wasn’t thinking about death on that moment, but he was ready to face it and let go. His mind was in peace. Altought this album led Harrison to record two albums with the Travelling Wilburys (the supergroup with Lynne, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison and Bob Dylan), He didn’t release anything after as a solo artist until Brainwashed. May God bless him.

Jueces y Partes (álbum de la semana del 17 al 23 de marzo)

La Mandrágora

(CBS, 1981)

JOAQUIN SABINA, ALBERTO PEREZ Y JAVIER KRAHE

Después de oir este pequeño e insignificante (para la casa disquera CBS) álbum en vivo, llegamos a la conclusión de que Joaquín Sabina se ha pasado toda su carrera tratando de repetir este recital, con algunos aciertos y otros desbarajustes.



El disco deja boquiabierto a cualquer hispanohablante y nos fuerza a oírlo una y otra vez hasta memorizarnos las canciones de tres verdaderos trovadores y cantautores. Sabina, El Poeta convertido en superestrella del rock and roll tiene su momento cumbre en un disco en el cual los dos instrumentos predominantes son las guitarras acústicas y los kazoos (las cornetitas esas de fiesta). Pareciera increíble, pero están ahí para acompañar a tres voces de compositores que nunca se comprometieron con nada para cantar lo que tienen dentro, una visión extremadamente irónica de la sociedad madrileña postfranquista y pre-movida de inicios de los ochenta.

Los tres artistas son de vanguardia, pero cada uno apunta con su misma voz ácida a diferentes blancos de la psique humana. Sabina es melancólico y con una filosofía extremadamente irónica de la vida, y siente que está cansado de vivir a sus aproximadamente 32 años (en 1981). Lanza canciones al viento como "Pongamos Que Hablo De Madrid," en donde está tan deprimido por tanto tiempo de vivir en una ciudad tan sórdida que termina enamorándose de ella, al sentirse incapaz de sentir lo que le dijeron que era la felicidad. Al parecer no le pasa a cualquiera, pero igual terminamos amando la canción. Vendría una puya al Caudillo y su reciente fallecimiento, "Adivina Adivinanza" en donde Sabina, furioso y cáustico, nos hace saber quiénes lloraron la muerte de Francisco Franco y cómo se celebró -y lamentó- la partida del dictador. Sobrecogedor tema considerando que hasta ahora hay gente que canta "Cara Al Sol".

Sabina nos explicará sobre su ironía frente a la muerte en "Pasándola Bien," aunque en verdad estará ocultando su pavor frente a ella y su asombro de haber sobrevivido a varios encuentros con la pelona. Él representa a Tánatos en el trío; mientras que Krahe es Eros, el pervertido mujeriego y libador. Se obsesiona por el tamaño de su miembro, por las hembras que lo ignoraron y amaron en un "yo-yo" emocional interminable y también se da el lujo de cantar un poco desafinado. Cantará temas sobre erecciones, descendencia y usará la palabra "gilipollas" en el tema "Marieta" (de Georges Brassens) lo suficiente como para provocar censura en algunas radios. Krahe cuenta también la leyenda de un pueblo llamado "Villatripas" en donde hostia la gente anda bien cachonda, tío.



El que realmente se roba el espectáculo es Alberto Pérez, un verdadero genio cuya diferencia con Sabina y Krahe es que presenta una introspección más profunda en la represión conservadora de la Iglesia Católica. Pareciera que es un poeta rebelde pero al mismo tiempo se pregunta con mucha culpabilidad, "¿No habrán sido los largos años de Franco una cosa normal para España...?" Ahí está la canción "Un Santo Varón" en donde se entrega totalmente a la virtud divina para evitar las tentaciones del cuerpo de la mujer. Pero en verdad el punto más alto del disco es la versión suya de "La Tormenta" de Brassens, traducida por el mañosón Krahe. De contarles de qué trata, les arruinaría la sorpresa.

Woah, Gilbert!

The Best Of Gilbert O'Sullivan

(Rhino, 1991)

GILBERT O'SULLIVAN

Gilbert O'Sullivan is, no questions asked, one of the greatest singer/songwriter of the seventies. I have to say seventies because I haven't heard anything lately from him and that's a shame, because I really love his work. It's not a matter of good or bad music or what is right or wrong with the lyrics or chords. Mr. Sullivan has produced a brilliant body of work for our souls, and every song seems to be better than the previous one. In order to tell us intimate, sad stories by looking like a clown, he's also the ultimate Rock And Roll Jester.



Now, this is serious 70's shit: The first time I listened to a Gilbert O'Sullivan song was in 1990, on a car AM radio. It was "Alone Again (Naturally)," and I thought "hey, this must be the new Paul McCartney single or something". The truth is, both Macca and Gilbert have pretty similar voices and their compositions are, say, beatlesque.



Gilbert O'Sullivan deserved more hits on U.S. and a career like Elton John's. He had a lot of hits in UK, but sometimes America "makes" the artists to be successful in England; i.e. Beatles and Stones. Gilbert is still an unknown troubadour for many Classic Rock fans, and if they know him, they do because of his "Alone Again (Naturally)", a depressing song about an orphaned and dumped-at-the-wedding guy who wants to kill himself, and "Claire", a tune about a girl who plays house with her uncle. Uh-huh, the puritans from the West weren't ready for this kind of humor, therefore, Gilbert was a bigger success on the other side of the Atlantic.



O'Sullivan is just amazing in single form: "Nothing Rhymed", "Out Of The Question", "Get Down", "Ooh Baby", "Happiness is Me and You" were charted singles in U.S.A., along with "Clair" and the #1 hit "Alone Again (Naturally)". In the U.K. he was bigger, and he is deeply loved in Japan. Try finding his records and you'll get just expensive Japanese imports.



1991's Best Of Gilbert O'Sullivan is one of the best CDs ever assembled in the short history of compact disc manufacturing. Every song is, as I said, better than the one before and the album maintains a consistency based on the songs, little three-minute operas with an intimate look at the human being but with an ironic twist. On "Matrimony," Gilbert tells his fianceé he's her new daddy, and he knows how to rock, even tho they hid the relationship from their parents. I am totally identified with Gilbert in songs like "No Matter How I Try" and "Out Of The Question," where the beautiful piano chords just send us right into complicated relationships that make us think about how we measure love in real life: is it by the number of tears we shed? Or is it by those joyful but forgettable moments? Somehow Gilbert holds the key to help us with depression.



I would love to sit down and talk to Mr. O'Sullivan and ask about his songs, about his work and how was he inspired to create such human songs. When he dresses with a Chaplin jacket and trousers and sings "Nothing Rhymed" he might look funny, but his songs are deep serious analysis of the human pathos, with lots of sugar in it and a McCartney touch. That's why every time after I listened to his "Best Of" CD I feel I grew up a little more as a person.

Beatle Juice: Inside Paul's Brain

Superb article written by Joel Achenbach (@joelachenbach) and published on The Miami Herald back in April 1990 (20 years after the Beatles' official breakup and a few days before Macca's concert in Miami). Read it and discover more about Paul McCartney and his amazing creativity.



http://www.miamiherald.com/1990/04/08/3905263/beatle-juice.html

Plus, essential McCartney listening:

Wingspan, Hits & History (MPL, 2001)

Wild Life (Apple, 1971)

Band On The Run (Apple, 1974)
Tug Of War (Columbia, 1982)
Flowers In The Dirt (MPL/ EMI, 1989)
Anything by the Beatles! (1962 - 1970)


The Beatles Store on Amazon.com