This
is one of those classic albums that is so well-known, but for all the right
reasons. There is no pop hit on this album that might bring the casual listener
to it, like Big Yellow Taxi on the
earlier Ladies Of The Canyon. It’s
hard then to decide what is the hit and what is the hidden gem on this album.
I’d say All I Want has to be the hit.
As the first song, this really says ‘Blue’
to me, more than any other song on the album, even the titular song. For a
hidden gem on the album, I could pretty much choose every track. I’ve opted for
California as I really like the
super-slow fade-out at the end of the song, with Mitchell singing against
Sneaky Pete Kleinow’s pedal steel guitar (Stephen Stills and James Taylor also
play on the album).
Blue was introduced to me through the
first series of the Classic Albums TV
programme, and it’s remained a favourite ever since. I prefer it to Ladies Of The Canyon as it works much
better as one whole piece of work. Whereas Ladies
Of The Canyon exists as a collection of songs, Blue is more cohesive with a number of themes that run throughout
the album. The style of guitar playing she employs in All I Want and Carey are
also highlights for me.
For some reason, listening to this reminds me of driving over Snake Pass,
between Manchester and Sheffield. It’s funny that music does that. I’m
presuming I was listening to the album during that journey once, and then on a
repeat trip my subconscious reminded me of the association and I played it
again, further cementing the connection between the two.
Hit: All I Want
Hidden Gem: California
Welcome to Vinyl Stylus, a blog about good music, and what makes music good.
Here, you'll find Rocks In The Attic - a disc by disc journey through my entire vinyl collection.
In a world full of TV talent shows, greatest hits CDs and manufactured pop, take a stroll through something that's good for your ears and good for your soul.
Here, you'll find Rocks In The Attic - a disc by disc journey through my entire vinyl collection.
In a world full of TV talent shows, greatest hits CDs and manufactured pop, take a stroll through something that's good for your ears and good for your soul.
Showing posts with label Classic Albums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Classic Albums. Show all posts
Monday, August 27, 2012
Rocks In The Attic #139: Paul Simon - ‘Graceland’ (1986)
I
recently watched Under African Skies,
the documentary about the recording of Graceland
which has been touring the film festival circuit over the past 18 months or so.
The film marks the 25th anniversary of the album’s release, and has
the usual talking heads interspersed with archive footage from the recording
sessions.
One of the big talking points was Simon’s stealthily assembled recording sessions in South Africa, bypassing the cultural boycott of the country imposed by the ANC. It’s funny that the music industry often criticises Queen for playing concerts in South Africa at this time (a topic that really annoys Brian May when brought up in interviews), yet Paul Simon is almost universally applauded for collaborating with South African musicians and recording part of this album there. Did he collaborate or did he exploit them? He seems to have given co-writing credit wherever it’s due, but surely he seems to have become much, much richer - both financially and artistically - than them as a result.
I’m not sure which side of the fence I sit, and I don’t really like to tarnish art with politics, but the whole thing reeks of a certain duplicity. What isn’t in doubt is whether this is a good album or not. I think it’s fantastic, and it’s a refreshing change from the sludge of mid-‘80s solo albums released by rock stars from the ‘70s. I’ve loved the album ever since I saw it covered during the first series of Classic Albums. It quickly became a favourite, throughout college and university, and I’d always try to push onto other people.
If I had any criticisms at all, it would be the title of the song that lends its name to the album. Although it’s a fantastic song, and one of the album’s highlights, it just doesn’t fit right hearing about America, New York City and Elvis’ home when the rest of the album is so rooted in South Africa - both lyrically and musically. In the documentary Under African Skies, Simon recounts that it also didn’t make sense to him at the time, and that he always meant to the change the title of the song at least, but that no matter what he tried he just couldn’t change those words that fit so well. Perhaps it’s the counterpoint, between the subject matter of America and South Africa that actually makes it so interesting.
A couple of years ago I went to see Simon & Garfunkel in concert. I don’t know what I was expecting but they totally exceeded my expectations, and to this day it remains one of the best gigs I’ve been to. Halfway through their set, Paul Simon walked offstage for a short break while Art Garfunkel remained on stage with the band. I started to lose interest after he followed a fantastic version of Bridge Over Troubled Water with a new song he had recently written. Right then, as my guard was down, and I thought I’d witnessed the peak of their performance with songs like Old Friends and The Sound Of Silence, Paul Simon walked back onstage to do his solo piece and give Garfunkel a short break. He walked out to the middle of stage and pointed across to the piano-accordionist that had suddenly appeared, who in turn started the opening notes to The Boy In The Bubble. I’d never have believed I would have seen Paul Simon perform this song, so it was a very happy and welcome surprise.
Hit: You Can Call Me Al
Hidden Gem: The Boy In The Bubble
One of the big talking points was Simon’s stealthily assembled recording sessions in South Africa, bypassing the cultural boycott of the country imposed by the ANC. It’s funny that the music industry often criticises Queen for playing concerts in South Africa at this time (a topic that really annoys Brian May when brought up in interviews), yet Paul Simon is almost universally applauded for collaborating with South African musicians and recording part of this album there. Did he collaborate or did he exploit them? He seems to have given co-writing credit wherever it’s due, but surely he seems to have become much, much richer - both financially and artistically - than them as a result.
I’m not sure which side of the fence I sit, and I don’t really like to tarnish art with politics, but the whole thing reeks of a certain duplicity. What isn’t in doubt is whether this is a good album or not. I think it’s fantastic, and it’s a refreshing change from the sludge of mid-‘80s solo albums released by rock stars from the ‘70s. I’ve loved the album ever since I saw it covered during the first series of Classic Albums. It quickly became a favourite, throughout college and university, and I’d always try to push onto other people.
If I had any criticisms at all, it would be the title of the song that lends its name to the album. Although it’s a fantastic song, and one of the album’s highlights, it just doesn’t fit right hearing about America, New York City and Elvis’ home when the rest of the album is so rooted in South Africa - both lyrically and musically. In the documentary Under African Skies, Simon recounts that it also didn’t make sense to him at the time, and that he always meant to the change the title of the song at least, but that no matter what he tried he just couldn’t change those words that fit so well. Perhaps it’s the counterpoint, between the subject matter of America and South Africa that actually makes it so interesting.
A couple of years ago I went to see Simon & Garfunkel in concert. I don’t know what I was expecting but they totally exceeded my expectations, and to this day it remains one of the best gigs I’ve been to. Halfway through their set, Paul Simon walked offstage for a short break while Art Garfunkel remained on stage with the band. I started to lose interest after he followed a fantastic version of Bridge Over Troubled Water with a new song he had recently written. Right then, as my guard was down, and I thought I’d witnessed the peak of their performance with songs like Old Friends and The Sound Of Silence, Paul Simon walked back onstage to do his solo piece and give Garfunkel a short break. He walked out to the middle of stage and pointed across to the piano-accordionist that had suddenly appeared, who in turn started the opening notes to The Boy In The Bubble. I’d never have believed I would have seen Paul Simon perform this song, so it was a very happy and welcome surprise.
Hit: You Can Call Me Al
Hidden Gem: The Boy In The Bubble
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