Classical music is boring? How about The Rite Of Spring, music by Stravinsky? At it’s premiere in 1913, there were riots worthy of a Sex Pistols or Jesus And Mary Chain gig. Arguments, fistfights in the audience, the Paris police failed to restore order, chaos reigned. Anything but boring.

Classical music is highbrow? Let’s take the tritone, for example, a musical interval that spans three whole tones, the augmented fourth or diminished fifth. It’s an unsettling and unstable noise. Not interested? Well, it’s also called diabolus in musica, the devil in music. Remember the intro of Jimi Hendrix’s Purple Haze? It’s a tritone. You’ll hear it in the music of Black Sabbath. And you’re going to find it in classical works by Saint-Saëns, Benjamin Britten and many more, from the Middle Ages onward. And in jazz. And in film music.

So you could pick up a book or two to help you along.. start with Alex Ross’s The Rest Is Noise, which will tell you about 20th century music and how modern composers pushed the classical music envelope, creating an array of sounds as yet unheard. The book looks back for references to the late romantic period of Gustav Mahler and Richard Strauss, and tips its hat to The Velvet Underground, The Beatles, Charlie Parker and John Coltrane.

I was lucky. My much-missed old friend Gillan Meek prompted and gently pushed music in my direction. “Try this”.. “Did you like it? Great. Here’s something a little different.” That’s how I discovered beautiful sounds like the Tallis Fantasia by Vaughan-Williams (1910), Arvo Pärt‘s Cantus In Memoriam Benjamin Britten (1977, modern music indeed) and Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta by Bartók (1936). Those are YouTube links, so try them for size.

It’s easier than ever to try classical music.. Alex Ross’ web site has iTunes playlists and the majority of MP3 download sites will let you grab just one movement of a symphony, say, to sample it.

And if I had to recommend just one place to get you started on a classical music odyssey, let’s pick something from a time before Alex Ross’s book begins. Take fifteen minutes out of your day to listen to Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic play the fourth movement from Gustav Mahler‘s 5th Symphony. There’s no finer interpretation of the Adagietto.

Here’s Part 2. Did you like it? Good. There’s a whole lot more to discover.

The new album? Layered, rock-y.. too much, for me. Too dense. Too complex.

But a legend is a legend, so we popped along to the Juice Bar at the Windsor in Parnell to get a blast of the new Cribs experience, to see if it all made more sense.

A false start: we were driven from the venue by the execrable yowling of Bandicoot. Yup, I know Pearl is Don McGlashan‘s kid. I know they’re young. It’s OK to be arch and fey and chaotic. But learn how to play first, then un-learn it. I got the impression they’d just met each other and their instruments. Not good.

A quick sparkling burst of Collapsing Cities, and then on to the main event, hampered by stuffy sound (please god I should go to a gig in Auckland with a decent PA.. one day it may happen but in the meantime, Kiwi soundmen, sharpen up your act or I’ll be pushing you off the mixing desk and doing it myself). The Cribs were fiery and committed, and they put everything into it, and Ryan’s mic stand gets ever shorter.. but the old songs came over by far the best, even ‘Hey, Scenesters’. And that was a shame, because I like the Jarmans and I want more great music from them.

But linking up with an ex-Smith is a detour down a one way street. Turn around, guys. More songs like this, please:

In recent years the Pirates sailed on, impressing old and new listeners alike with their high-powered brand of rhythm and blues. Appearances become more scarce as the gentlemen grew older, but a fair amount of the old fire and skill was always in evidence. Unfeasibly loud and forceful, for a bunch of old fellas!

In the last ten years or so, Mick had stints as a sideman with Van Morrison, Paul McCartney and Bryan Ferry.. plus his share of health problems, which have, sadly, now taken their toll.

And it IS sad, because the Pirates meant a lot to me and always will. I first saw them in that 70s renaissance (at Hudderfield Polytechnic, supported by a Cambridge new wave band called The Push, and a Pakistani escapologist!) and many times since then. An understated kind of guitar genius: Paul Burlison and Wilko Johnson rolled into one, more dextrous than either and do you know what? I never ever worked out how Mick Green did what he did.

I’m just happy I saw him do it. RIP, Mick.

After the jump, a Pirates gig review I wrote for Blues in Britain..

The Pirates – Dingwalls, Camden Lock, 17th February 2000

The burly figure of Mick Green hefts his Telecaster Custom and leans into the opening bars of ‘Peter Gunn’ and suddenly I’m 18 again. For those of us present at the second coming of THE original British rockers in the late 70′s, a chance to see them in fine form once more was too good to be missed. Frank Farley and Johnny Spence complete the classic line up: September’s last Pirates blast at the Grey Horse in Kingston was supposed to be the end, but here are our heroes back again, one more time, rocking as hard as they ever have.

Mick grins at Frank, cues in the old set-opener ‘Please Don’t Touch’, and immediately everyone in the room is bouncing up and down. All that’s missing is the illuminated galleon at the back of the stage and the pirate clothes! Johnny’s shifty second-hand car dealer attitude and solid bass playing light up the room; he’s singing loud and clear. Frank keeps the pace going; you just know he’s thinking ‘How many more times can we do this?’ but the Dingwalls crowd neither mind nor care, this is original British rock and roll heaven.

And all the old favourites just keep coming. An impossible breakneck pace on ‘Gibson Martin Fender’, a thumping ‘Drinkin’ Wine Spo-Dee-O-Dee’, a faithful version of ‘Going Back Home’. “Written with Wilko, is he here?” says Mick. ‘Do The Dog’ was done as a mid-set breather. “Johnny wants to do this one” says Mick, before the less-than-politically-correct lads-on-the-pull “Four To The Bar”. “This could be a bit iffy…” precedes a sturdy version of ‘Don’t Munchen It’. “Didn’t need a break 20 years ago” remarks Johnny as the Pirates go off for a half-time livener…..

Certain elements of the crowd have been baying for ‘Lonesome Train’ all night, and the Pirates kick off the second half with that delightful tune, and a reminiscence about their youthful days, listening to Johnny Burnette records that ex-merchant seaman Frank brought back from his travels. “Who’s actually seen Johnny Kidd on stage?” shouts Mick, answered in the affirmative by a guy who “looks about eighteen!”. Mick pockets his guitar pick and does his Paul Burlison impression on “Honey Hush”, followed with another favourite “Tear It Up”. The Pirates are chatty and so obviously at home, it’s lovely to see. It’s all becoming a bit of a blur, there’s a tear in my eye…..I know I heard fine versions of “I Can Tell” and “Sweet Love On My Mind” and “You Don’t Own Me” too.

All too soon our three heroes are drawing the set to a close, with a belting ‘Milk Cow Blues’ and the anthemic “All In It Together”, and of course a blazing “Johnny B. Goode” as the encore. There’s a genuine emotional connection between band and audience, the likes of which you just don’t see these days. Sure, Johnny forgets a few words, but the rhythm is so sound and solid and, well, just plain sweaty, and Mick is still the finest rhythm guitar player on the planet.

Was this the last ever Pirates gig? If they ever turn out again, beg, borrow or steal a ticket, you won’t regret it. The Pirates, a national treasure. To steal a quip from Pete Townshend, “Guys, don’t grow old gracefully, it wouldn’t suit you”.

Pirates photo: Yukiko Akagawa

Jarvis gave it everything, stack-heeled stomps, melodramatic flourishes, furious vogue-ing, and paced it perfectly. If you’ve never seen him in the flesh, you should. The band served up the scuzzy new tunes aided by a plethora of vintage guitars.. more Burnses, Danelectros and Voxes than you could shake a stick at plus, of course, a white Gibson SG three pickup (if you’re going to do glam rock, do it with one of those). Long-time Cocker associate Steve Mackey from Pulp fuzzed it up nicely on bass.

Just about a perfect gig. Shame on those wimps who couldn’t face the jaw-dropping feedback wig-out at the end of ‘You’re In My Eyes’.. you missed ‘Running The World’: more fool you.

What a performer.

This year’s Big Day Out in Auckland had salutary messages for us all.

My message, which I’d like to broadcast to the youth of New Zealand, is when BDO 2010 comes along, save your money. This year all you did was run around the stadium, pose for the press photographers you could find, compare outfits, text your friends and chat all the way through the gig. All of you spent 130-odd dollars each to be there, and didn’t hear a band. In fact, you do it at sports too, I’ve seen you. Football, rugby and cricket is about the Mexican Wave, dicking around and drinking isn’t it? Who was playing? Dunno. What was the score? Not sure. Who won? Er..

Next time around, stay out of my way and stay at home or you’ll get a clip round the ear.

The organisers of the BDO had a taken a few knocks beforehand.. it was supposed to be the old folks event. Never mind that the line up for the pumping Boiler Room included The Prodigy, Hot Chip, Simian Mobile Disco, local fave Tiki Taane, Lupe Fiasco and more (of course a lot of kids weren’t listening, they were too busy texting, but hey, the thought was there).. it was feared Mt. Smart Stadium would become a grey area, with hordes of wandering mums and dads giving each other back rubs and trying to find space for their fold-out director’s chairs and picnic rugs. It didn’t quite work out that way.

Pitching up around midday, we decided to forego Black Kids for a clutch of Kiwi acts.. the tail-end of synth poppers The Naked And Famous (to the masses scrambling to see the Ting Tings, where were you? In the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s where), the earnest indie rock of The Tutts and the guys I’d seen in the studio couple of weeks ago, Luger Boa. Once again, Jimmy and the boys were completely up for it, and provided the day’s most.. devil may care set, I think it’s fair to say. Speaker-climbing, drummer-hugging, amps on eleven. Chiffon scarves. You know the kind of thing.

Aside: the sound. I know festival sound isn’t always good. But the small stages were too loud, the big stages too quiet. I didn’t hear a vocal properly all day (except for Mr. Young). Moving on..

Descending into the main stadium.. a first for me – Pendulum. The verdict? Crass Club Ibiza synthesiser lines (s’easy, just bastardise every child’s nursery rhyme and playground game), lumpen plodding metal-by-numbers four-on-the-floor, Australian ‘vocalist’ trying out his English rave DJ moves. Popular as all get-out. Horrifyingly fascinating.

Never want to hear ‘em again.

Alas, TV On The Radio. They were genuinely fascinating, but just didn’t project.. with better sound and a little more intimacy they’d have been a massive highlight. Come back soon, TVOTR, to one of our clubs. I’ll buy a ticket.

They should’ve swapped stages with My Morning Jacket. Jim James’ boys were the Band I Wanted To See, and they didn’t let me down. I love ‘Okonokos‘.. I’m not so sure about ‘Evil Urges’ .. but their song selection for the hour or so they were on stage was perfect. The vocals went missing again but it wasn’t Jim’s fault.. MMJ soared and pounded and were a palpable hit. They over-ran, deeply annoying The Mint Chicks, but I cared not a jot. Excellent.

Protesting limbs led us back to the big stage to close out the evening. A strangely subdued Arctic Monkeys.. four new songs which are a little more introspective than the thumping hits of old, bad sound (again), and, from a distance, what looked and sounded like a slightly indifferent Alex Turner. I know he’s flip and arch, but the band weren’t at their best. Helders even went a little AWOL during Fluorescent Adolescent. How will they progress following Alex’s Last Shadow Puppets adventure?

And then, a 63 year old man came on stage accompanied by old friends and relations and blew us away.

Neil Young played a couple of new ones (‘Spirit Road’ from ‘Chrome Dreams 2′ and ‘Just Singing A Song Won’t Change The World’) but mostly he gave us the hits. He fired up Old Black, his old cohorts swung in behind and he raged and howled. ‘Cortez The Killer’ at a funereal pace. ‘Cowgirl’, ‘Everybody Knows..’  ‘Powderfinger’, always a standout for me (recent video below). ‘Hey Hey..’ and ‘Rockin’ In The Free World’ got the punks up and jumping. All present and correct.

And to close the show, a surprise.. ‘A Day In The Life’ – a complete blow out, guitar strings ripped off, the feedback died down, the band lined up, good night. We headed for the bus.

Thanks, Neil.  You made our day.

(Click play, then click the menu arrow on the YouTube widget and click HQ, it looks better. Header photo featuring Ben Keith, Rick Rosas and Neil by Jenny Bramley)

The ears have stopped ringing. It’s time to tell you about my latest gig experiences.

First up: after a seven year break, Neil Finn got out his address book, contacted a few old mates and invited them over for a three night charity bash for Oxfam. It turns out Neil’s address book is pretty big, stuffed with the names and numbers of quality musicians. I’ve not seen a line up on stage like it. I doubt I ever will in future.

Neil may be the most talented member of his own family, but he brought along sons Liam and Ellroy so we could form our own opinion. Given the choice, who would you have on guitar? Johnny Marr and Ed O’Brien from Radiohead got the gig. Ed’s drumming buddy Phil Selway popped along and locked into a rhythmic groove with top bassman Sebastian Steinberg. Just in case anyone felt a little tired, 4/5ths of Wilco, including Jeff Tweedy, came along to provide vocal and instrumental support. Lisa Germano did her kooky vocal thing, KT Tunstall pitched in, and local favourites Bic Runga and Don McGlashan rounded off the ensemble.

Phew.

It was a chocolate cake gig.. you know, just one more slice, go on, I know you’re full, but there’s space in your tummy for another. We were stuffed with music.. two 90 minute sets, everyone having a bash at everyone else’s songs, and airing the new ones they’d all written over the turkey and stuffing at Christmas. New ones, the titles of which I can’t remember!

But how about the old ones I can? ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ sung very successfully by Mr. Tweedy, ‘Bodysnatchers’ sung slightly less successfully by Finn Snr. (Thom Yorke is a tough act to follow). Johnny Marr stepping up to the plate with ‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want’ and backing Neil perfectly on ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’. He’s looking very well, is Mr. Marr, almost as lithe as when I saw him last onstage (25/2/84, The Smiths at Brighton Polytechnic).

Lots of Finn-tastic fun as you might expect.. Four Seasons, Don’t Dream, Distant Sun, Weather and a beautifully judged ‘She Will Have Her Way’. Lots of Wilco too: particular standouts were ‘Jesus Etc’, and ‘I’m a Wheel’, but they are a truly great American rock band. The fur on the back of the neck was well and truly up on several occasions, not least when they tore into Split Enz’ ‘I Got You’.

KT and Bic had written a fine murder ballad together (title escaped me, we’ll have to wait for the DVD) and Bic herself did a plaintive country waltz through a song unfamiliar to me called ‘Change Of Heart’, which was a welcome change of style. Phil Selway came out from behind the traps for his vocal debut and gave us a gentle acoustic number of his own called ‘Family Madness’.

Liam Finn freaked out with a couple of numbers from his fine “I’ll Be Lightning” record, but if I had to be slightly critical (I feel such a grump).. Liam, it IS OK to leave the stage occasionally on this kind of gig, even though you’re having tremendous fun. Restraint is all. Follow your dad’s lead.

Tired and emotional, everyone piled on stage for a final jaw-dropping rendition of Thunderclap Newman‘s ‘Something In The Air’.. an inspired if unlikely choice of ending.

We were late home. We didn’t mind one bit. Neil Young? Well, he didn’t make it. I’ll tell you about Neil soon. For now, here’s a sample of 7WC (O’Brien, Finn Jnr., Sansone, Tweedy, Selway, Marr, Germano):

It kicked off before 9a.m. – the phone goes and the familiar tones of 95bFM‘s breakfast show host Mikey Havoc are buzzing in my ear. Sorry, Mikey, I just wasn’t ‘with it’.. first he reminds me I’d entered a competition, then he reminds me how, then he tells me I won..  then I indulge in a bout of extended coughing on national radio! Sound.

So tell ‘em what you won, John.. admission to the Thursday on-air afternoon session of Kiwi rockers Luger Boa (fronted by Jimmy Christmas, erstwhile leader of new rock revolution stars The D4). Now, I was (and still am) going to check out these fellas at the Big Day Out, but great, here was a chance to see ‘em in rather more intimate surroundings.. which I did.

Half an hour, six songs, wham bam thank you mam. The first thing I have to say is it’s hard, on a sunny day, in the mid-week afternoon, to show just how vital and necessary your new band is, transmitting the required energy from a concrete box, through the airwaves and into kitchens, front rooms and workplaces, to a public who are otherwise engaged and just might not have the time to latch on.

But I get the impression these boys don’t ever lack the motivation to show you how good they are. An audience of.. what.. less than a dozen people, behind a glass control room window? No problem, we’re going to play up to them like they were teeming arena thousands. All the elements were in place, sharp glam-tinged rock songs, committed vocals, nice bit of falsetto on the harmonies. Two guitars? Check. Rhythm section locked in? Check. Bit of lip and flash? Sure. A run-in with the police the previous night to enhance their rock credentials? No problem.

Three of the most-played tracks on their new album ‘Mutate Or Die, merged with some newer highlights. View the session right here and tell me later how the hook the ‘What Is Real?’ buzzes round in your head as you go about your day.

Nice, eh? Like Marc Bolan meets New Order? I dunno, whatever you think, I’m not gonna say that. Less familiar to me, but no less wonderful, was ‘Only A Moment Away’.. surf beat, squiggly guitar solos, real ‘pour it on’ – ness, if you catch my drift. Check out ’1000 Hooks’ .. it doesn’t have quite 1000, but who’s counting when you’re too busy leaping around?

Now I’m not saying these guys are the future of rock and roll (they’d probably tell you, with tongue only very slightly in cheek, that they are), but in a year when so many rock bands (to these ears) just didn’t seem to cut it, Luger Boa deserve a better chance at success than most. So go and buy their album. Don’t nick it or copy it, buy it. And see them on stage.

Because they’ve got something extra.. there’s sparkle, mojo, ‘the spook’, floating around these fellas. OK, you jaded cynics out there – when Jimmy’s on stage and going off on one, it’s not so much boasting, but confidence in their own abilities, which will stand them in good stead when the first flush of the new album has worn off. They’ll carry on believing in themselves, and still delivering fine songs and great live shows. And let’s face it, that’s all we can ask of our musical heroes isn’t it?

Play loud. With a big sloppy grin on your face.

Here’s Elvis live, 1978 and 1985: