Old-school grubbiness: the return of Sinéad O’Connor
Show Hide image

Sinead O’Connor’s lively, messy and contradictory version of feminism

A concept album of sorts, this claims to chart the emotional experiences of an imaginary woman – from romantic activities to pain, deception and more.

Sinéad O’Connor
I’m Not Bossy, I’m the Boss (Nettwerk Records)

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Hypnotic Eye (Reprise)

This time of year, I’m often asked what makes a good “summer song”. As far as I can see, this evocative, lucrative subdivision of pop can be divided into two categories: the “microclimate” song, which imports a sense of sunshine and revelry whatever the weather (those by Will Smith, Kid Rock, Mungo Jerry), and the “sunny with a chance of rain” song, summery music that still acknowledges the misery and anxiety of human experience. In this second genre, you will find everything by the Eagles and Lily Allen’s “LDN”, the Wordsworth-inspired celebration of the capital in the sunshine (and its hellish flip side).

As the Windermere bard noted, our memories often colour one period with feelings that were really attached to another time. There are many for whom the sound of summer 2014 will forever be Pharrell Williams’s “Happy”, which came out last November. One thing is certain: summer is all about singles. August, for album releases, is a graveyard slot. So let’s see who’s got one out.

First up is Sinéad O’Connor with her tenth album, I’m Not Bossy, I’m the Boss, named in honour of Lean In’s “Ban Bossy” campaign earlier this year. The opening number, “How About I Be Me”, in which she outlines her need to “make love like a real full woman every day”, feels like a reflection on her very public relationship with drugs counsellor Barry Herridge. The pair met on the internet, married in Las Vegas and for various reasons – one being a midnight mission by Sinéad to find marijuana – divorced after just 16 days (they have apparently reunited). She later wrote on her blog that he was too good a person to “trap” in matrimony – that she was sorry she wasn’t “a more regular woman”.

I enjoyed this album. Say what you like about O’Connor, but she’s lively. There’s an old-school, Tracey Emin-ish grubbiness in her images of female sexuality. Though she recently wrote frowning letters to Miley Cyrus (“I am extremely concerned for you that those around you have led you to believe that it is in any way ‘cool’ to be naked and licking sledgehammers in your videos . . .”), there is nothing censorious about the feminist messages of I’m Not Bossy, which are messy and contradictory.

A concept album of sorts, it claims to chart the emotional experiences of an imaginary woman – from romantic activities with a) her pillow (“Dense Water Deeper Down”) and b) the jacket of a longed-for man (“Your Green Jacket”) to pain, deception and more. In “The Vishnu Room”, a woman freezes in the presence of a man she adores, afraid to expose herself in case she is not “hot enough” for him (Sinéad’s words, in the press release). I know! It’s like Mills & Boon! In “Where Have You Been?” Sinéad watches a man’s eyes turn black during coitus and is frightened. People may discuss what brand of feminism this is – I pity these earthy 1980s trailblazers touching down in our uptight age. Above all, it’s musically vibrant, barrelling along on reverb-heavy blues-rock and Afrobeat, in the case of “James Brown”. Only “8 Good Reasons” seems like a mismatch, so bouncy it could be a Bruno Mars song, with Sinéad doing a weird London accent. Her voice has also been multitracked on many songs, which seems strange when neither the music nor the lyrics ask for a heavenly choir.

Scanning the wasteland for other releases, I spy Hypnotic Eye by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Now 63 and on his 16th studio album, Iconic Tom is unlikely to care if his album hits the summer release slump here. As his publicist put it, when I asked if he was doing any interviews, “He’s not coming to town.” (That is, Europe.) In Petty’s world, it is forever summer, a desert land of night-riding, shadows, red roads and Mustangs, both the car and animal kinds.

The Heartbreakers have been going for 38 years. The high point of their 2010 album, Mojo, was the seven-minute “First Flash of Freedom”, which sounded like a glorious mash-up of “Take Five” and America’s “A Horse with No Name”. Hypnotic Eye chooses as its raw material 1960s rock’n’roll – a sound so primal you can’t go wrong – shot through with Petty’s fluid, Kermitty voice.

August is quite a good time for “Americana” releases; who knows why? There’s also a vast box set out by the Georgia-based Lynyrd Skynyrd-a-likes Blackberry Smoke, whom I interviewed once on a country music cruise. I asked them that old question: what was the moment they realised they’d “made it”? They said it was when the clientele in their usual bar stopped fighting and turned around to listen. 

Kate Mossman is the New Statesman's arts editor and pop critic.

This article first appeared in the 06 August 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Inside Gaza

GETTY
Show Hide image

Celluloid Dreams: are film scores the next area of serious musical scholarship?

John Wilson has little time for people who don't see the genius at work in so-called "light music".

When John Wilson walks out on to the stage at the Royal Albert Hall in London, there is a roar from the audience that would be more fitting in a football stadium. Before he even steps on to the conductor’s podium, people whistle and cheer, thumping and clapping. The members of his orchestra grin as he turns to acknowledge the applause. Many soloists reaching the end of a triumphant concerto performance receive less ecstatic praise. Even if you had never heard of Wilson before, the rock-star reception would tip you off that you were about to hear something special.

There is a moment of silence as Wilson holds the whole hall, audience and orchestra alike, in stasis, his baton raised expectantly. Then it slices down and the orchestra bursts into a tightly controlled mass of sound, complete with swirling strings and blowsy brass. You are instantly transported: this is the music to which Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced, the music of George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, which reverberated around the cauldron of creativity that was Hollywood of the early 20th century, when composers were as sought after as film directors.

Wilson’s shows are tremendously popular. Since he presented the MGM musicals programme at the Proms in 2009, which was watched by 3.5 million people on TV and is still selling on DVD, his concerts have been among the first to sell out in every Proms season. There are international tours and popular CDs, too. But a great deal of behind-the-scenes work goes into bringing this music – much of which had been lost to history – back to life. There are familiar tunes among the complex arrangements that he and his orchestra play, to be sure, but the music sounds fresher and sharper than it ever does on old records or in movies. Whether you’re a film fan or not, you will find something about the irrepressible energy of these tunes that lifts the spirits.

Sitting in an armchair in the conductor’s room beneath the Henry Wood Hall in south London, Wilson looks anything but energetic. “Excuse my yawning, but I’ve been up since three o’clock this morning,” he says. This is a short break in a hectic rehearsal schedule, as he puts his orchestra through its paces in the lead-up to its appearance at the 2016 Proms. Watching him at work before we sat down to talk, I saw a conductor who was far from sluggish. Bobbing on the balls of his feet, he pushed his players to consider every detail of their sound, often stopping the musicians to adjust the tone of a single note or phrase. At times, his whole body was tense with the effort of communicating the tone he required.

The programme that Wilson and his orchestra are obsessing over at the moment is a celebration of George and Ira Gershwin, the American songwriting partnership that produced such immortal songs as “I Got Rhythm”, “’S Wonderful” and “Funny Face”, as well as the 1934 opera Porgy and Bess. Though it might all sound effortless when everyone finally appears in white tie, huge amounts of preparation go into a John Wilson concert and they start long before the orchestra begins to rehearse.

“Coming up with the idea is the first step,” he says. “Then you put a programme together, which takes a great deal of time and thought and revision. You can go through 40 drafts until you get it right. I was still fiddling with the running order two weeks ago. It’s like a three-dimensional game of chess – one thing changes and the whole lot comes down.”

Wilson, 44, who also conducts the more conventional classical repertoire, says that his interest in so-called light music came early on. “When you’re a kid, you don’t know that you shouldn’t like the Beatles, or you shouldn’t like Fred Astaire, or whatever,” he says. “You just like anything that’s good. So I grew up loving Beethoven and Brahms and Ravel and Frank Sinatra and the Beatles.” At home in Gateshead – he still has the Geordie accent – the only music in the house was “what was on the radio and telly”, and the young boy acquired his taste from what he encountered playing with local brass bands and amateur orchestras.

He had the opposite of the hothoused, pressured childhood that we often associate with professional musicians. “Mine were just nice, lovely, normal parents! As long as I wore clean underwear and finished my tea, then they were happy,” he recalls. “I was never forced into doing music. My parents used to have to sometimes say, ‘Look, you’ve played the piano enough today; go out and get some fresh air’ – things like that.” Indeed, he received barely any formal musical education until he went to the Royal College of Music at the age of 18, after doing his A-levels at Newcastle College.

The title of the concert he conducted at this year’s Proms was “George and Ira Gershwin Rediscovered”, which hints at the full scale of Wilson’s work. Not only does he select his music from the surviving repertoire of 20th-century Hollywood: in many cases, he unearths scores that weren’t considered worth keeping at the time and resurrects the music into a playable state. At times, there is no written trace at all and he must reconstruct a score by ear from a ­recording or the soundtrack of a film.

For most other musicians, even experts, it would be an impossible task. Wilson smiles ruefully when I ask how he goes about it. “There are 18 pieces in this concert. Only six of them exist in full scores. So you track down whatever materials survive, whether they be piano or conductors’ scores or recordings, and then my colleagues and I – there are four of us – sit down with the scores.” There is no hard and fast rule for how to do this kind of reconstruction, he says, as it depends entirely on what there is left to work with. “It’s like putting together a jigsaw, or a kind of archaeology. You find whatever bits you can get your hands on. But the recording is always the final word: that’s the ur-text. That is what you aim to replicate, because that represents the composer’s and lyricist’s final thoughts.” There is a purpose to all this effort that goes beyond putting on a great show, though that is a big part of why Wilson does it. “I just want everyone to leave with the thrill of having experienced the sound of a live orchestra,” he says earnestly. “I tell the orchestra, ‘Never lose sight of the fact that people have bought tickets, left the house, got on the bus/Tube, come to the concert. Give them their money’s worth. Play every last quaver with your lifeblood.’”

Besides holding to a commitment to entertain, Wilson believes there is an academic justification for the music. “These composers were working with expert ­arrangers, players and singers . . . It’s a wonderful period of music. I think it’s the next major area of serious musical scholarship.”

These compositions sit in a strange, in-between place. Classical purists deride them as “light” and thus not worthy of attention, while jazz diehards find the catchy syncopations tame and conventional. But he has little time for anyone who doesn’t recognise the genius at work here. “They’re art songs, is what they are. The songs of Gershwin and Porter and [Jerome] Kern are as important to their period as the songs of Schubert . . . People who are sniffy about this material don’t really know it, as far as I’m concerned, because I’ve never met a musician of any worth who’s sniffy about this.

Selecting the right performers is another way in which Wilson ensures that his rediscovered scores will get the best possible presentation. He formed the John Wilson Orchestra in 1994, while he was still studying at the Royal College of Music, with the intention of imitating the old Hollywood studio orchestras that originally performed this repertoire. Many of the players he works with are stars of other European orchestras – in a sense, it is a supergroup. The ensemble looks a bit like a symphony orchestra with a big band nestled in the middle – saxophones next to French horns and a drum kit in the centre. The right string sound, in particular, is essential.

At the rehearsal for the Gershwin programme, I heard Wilson describing to the first violins exactly what he wanted: “Give me the hottest sound you’ve made since your first concerto at college.” Rather than the blended tone that much of the classical repertoire calls for, this music demands throbbing, emotive, swooping strings. Or, as Wilson put it: “Use so much vibrato that people’s family photos will shuffle across the top of their TVs and fall off.”

His conducting work spans much more than his Hollywood musical reconstruction projects. Wilson is a principal conductor with the Royal Northern Sinfonia and has performed or recorded with most of the major ensembles in Britain. And his great passion is for English music: the romanticism of Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Delius needs advocates, too, he says. He insists that these two strands of his career are of equivalent importance. “I make no separation between my activities conducting classical music and [film scores]. They’re just all different rooms in the same house.” 

The John Wilson Orchestra’s “Gershwin in Hollywood” (Warner Classics) is out now

Caroline Crampton is assistant editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser