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Stream the ‘scary’ & ‘demented’ new album by Doomsday Student, with ex members of Arab on Radar
11.28.2016
07:36 am

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Music

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A few weeks ago, Jason Pettigrew wrote a really fun listicle for Alternative Press called “Ten Bands That Are Actually Terrifying.” Sitting comfortably among other worthies like Deathspell Omega and Einstürzende Neubauten were Arab on Radar, a ridiculously noisy Providence, RI group of the 1990s who helped open the door to the 21st Century’s No-Wave revival. Here’s Jason’s blurb:

Nothing particularly scary about this late-’90s noise-rock unit fronted by Eric Paul. That is, until they got onstage, plugged in and created a caterwauling scree that emanated the ugliest of vibes. While onstage, Paul threw himself into everything (bandmates, audience) while approximating the high-pitched squealing heard in animal-testing facilities. When this writer first saw them, the bad vibes spilled out into the street post-show, with plenty of fights, vandalism and muggings going down. Or was it just the neighborhood? (RIP, Speak In Tongues, Cleveland.)

As it happens, I was at the same show, and it wasn’t just the neighborhood, though the neighborhood certainly was a bit more wild-west back then (the venue is now a waxing studio—RIP Speak In Tongues, indeed). I’d known Arab on Radar only by name, and was utterly unprepared. I stood transfixed in front of the stage, genuinely frightened that I might come to physical harm either from the band or the rest of the audience, but unwilling to miss a single note—they DID play actual notes, I’m fairly sure. The band members’ faces were distorted with white-hot maniac rage, they wore grey uniforms that put me in mind of concentration camp janitors, and their music was beyond assaultive, it was downright punitive. The most lasting image in my mind of that show was of drummer Craig Kureck, his face twisted into a mask of murderous anger, just fucking ruthlessly smashing a cymbal which he held in a chokehold, as if he was shattering someone’s skull with a hammer.

I’d made a jaded bastard of myself by spending over a decade going to every show I could possibly see, and was always stunned when I found bands still capable of surprising and exciting me to that level. I fell in love and bought many records.

More after the jump…

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Leave a comment
Motörhead’s Orgasmatron War Pig: The ultimate stocking ... stuffer
11.23.2016
03:04 pm

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Amusing
Games
Music
Sex

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The field of sex toys with an explicit rock music tie-in is a relatively new one, but if you think about it, it would be odd if a band who released an album called Orgasmatron and a song called “Vibratordidn’t have a line of sex toys. Clearly, this was the kind of thing Lemmy and the gang gave serious thought.

My colleague Ron Kretsch introduced readers to Lovehoney’s line of Motörhead-themed vibrators last year, so this isn’t exactly a new topic for us. The four products that were made available last year were tributes to Ace of Spades and Overkill—all of them vibrators—with prices ranging from $26.95 to $54.95.

But when they come out with new Motörhead models, well twist our arm, it’s our pleasure, nay our responsibility to let you know. Not for nothing, but the Orgasmatron thing was just lying out there waiting for something to give. Sure enough, Lovehoney has three new products, a glass dildo in both clear/black and black/gold which is a tribute to Bomber, and an “Orgasmatron War Pig Wand Vibrator.”

Here they are, beauties all:

 
Much more after the jump…....
 

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
Strassenjungs: The ‘fake’ German punk rockers who toured with The Clash
11.23.2016
09:59 am

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Amusing
Music
Punk

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German ‘punk’ band Strassenjungs circa 1980.
 
In 1977 two German producers decided to try to follow Malcolm McLaren’s success with the Sex Pistols by creating a “fake” punk rock band. The result would be a quad hailing from Frankfurt called Strassenjungs (which translates as “Street Boys”).

Axel Klopprogge and Eckehard Ziedrich pulled Strassenjungs together during a time when the punk scene was still in a formative state in Germany. Their timing, as far as Strassenjungs was concerned, was pretty perfect. It should have worked. But it didn’t.

Despite getting lucky enough tour rather extensively through Europe with The Clash in late 1977 (and according to the band’s official site Siouxise & The Banshees in 1980), Strassenjungs’ albums pretty much bombed as soon as they were released. Which is strange because they were seemingly laser-focused on being as “aggressive” as possible penning songs about teenage rebellion, sex, drugs and booze. While the combination of these things generally produce hit-making results, this was not the case for Strassenjungs until much later in their career. They were never truly accepted into the punk scene in Germany and in 1977 German musician Peter Hein accused the band of not being “punk” at all but “langhaarig, blödfressig, deutsch” or “long-haired, loud-mouthed Germans.”

If certain folklore about Strassenjungs is to be believed after a couple of failed records in 1982 the band’s debut record was added to the German Index (a censorship program) under the charge of “inciting crime and alcohol abuse” both of which seem pretty fucking punk rock to me. Sadly the dubious classification now prevented the album from being sold to minors. With all that working against them you’d think Strassenjungs might have called it quits, but they didn’t. Though they’ve been through various lineup changes over the decades the band still performs today with original bassist Nils Selzer. I’ve included some singles from Strassenjungs for you to consider below as well as a couple of photos of the band pretending to be punks back the day. If you dig what you hear in this post here’s a link pick up a “best of” compilation from the band Strassenfeger: Die Hit-Box! (best of) by Strassenjungs.
 

The goofy cover of Strassenjungs’ 1977 debut.
 
More after the jump…

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
That time Einstürzende Neubauten tried to burn the Palladium down
11.22.2016
04:41 pm

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Music

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One day, this was about a decade ago, I got a call from Mick Farren, the hard-living British rocker/journalist and counterculture legend who was at that time writing a TV review column for the LA City Beat.

“Mick! How are you? I was just reading about you in the new MOJO.”

“That fucking Pink Floyd thing?”

I grunted in the affirmative. Mick was the doorman at the UFO Club in the 60s, the acid-drenched psychedelic London nightspot where the Floyd, Soft Machine and his own group The Deviants, had gotten their starts.

“That article was really depressing. Written by someone in their twenties who wasn’t even born then, who got it ALL WRONG and then it gets published in the glossy pages of the high-falutin’ MOJO magazine and now it’s the official fucking history. It’s all wrong, of course, but now that’s the way it bloody was!

“We’re talking about an event that took place 40 years ago, and most of the participants are still alive and they can’t even get it right. Imagine if we happened to be a pre-literate desert-dwelling tribal society relying on oral histories being passed down for hundreds of years? How accurate can the Bible possibly be if MOJO is this bad?”

I’ve never forgotten that conversation. This morning, I was reading Einstürzende Neubauten’s Wikipedia page when I came to this bit, about their third North American tour, taking place in 1986:

On the tour, the group’s experimental and improvised live performance style occasionally caused difficulties with venue management and law enforcement. A performance at The Palladium in Manhattan ended 30 minutes into the set after an improvised pyrotechnics display. The band ignited lighter fluid in a couple of metal pans, and management stopped the performance and cleared the venue.

This is inaccurate, and hardly descriptive of one of the more notable—not to mention completely insane—concert going experiences of my life. It doesn’t even mention the date, which was May 29, 1986. In the spirit of historical accuracy—at least to a certain extent—here’s what I remember about that night…

Neubauten’s gig was part of the Palladium’s “Midnight Concerts” series (Tuxedomoon had played the cavernous nightclub the week prior). I’d already seen them play before and knew that you wanted to be right up front to properly appreciate what they did. Neubauten’s shows were intense. Demonic. Scary. Violent and very, very unpredictable. The only group who could rival them in the evil onstage astonishment sweepstakes was the Butthole Surfers and only them. If you were too close to the stage at a Neubauten gig, there was an ever present danger that you could get hurt, like being in the audience at a Survival Research Laboratories event. And not just from a flying hammer or power drill. The members of the band themselves seemed more than potentially homicidal and glowered with a murderous hatred towards the audience, especially F.M. Einheit (“Mufti”) the muscle-bound Hulk-like percussionist who looked like he could break a heavy chain with his bare bands. Or your wimpy eggshell skull. Their stage act at the time might’ve appeared to the uninitiated like a leather clad speedfreak who’d cut his own hair with a knife screaming his head off like a dying hyena as some of his miscreant Kraut buddies banged on metal, plunked elevator cables like giant bass strings and hurled around chainsaws—and they would be correct to a certain extent—but in actual fact, Neubauten make a kind of harsh modern classical music for the late 20th Century, the druggy progeny of Karlheinz Stockhausen and Faust.

What a thrillingly savage thing it was to witness.
 

 
I was no more than three to six people back from the front of the stage, which, it being a discotheque, was not very high off the ground and so I could see everything—the action and all their weird equipment and infernal gear—from where I was standing. (Club MTV was shot there at this time, so if you have a memory of that show, then you know what the Palladium looked like inside. It was the same stage on the main dancefloor.) The Wikipedia entry says that Neubauten played but half an hour before being yanked off by the club’s management, but this is not how it happened at all.

First, they played an entire set. They did closer to 90 minutes and the “riot” happened at the very end. They pulled the pin out when they wanted to. That part, at least, was planned ahead, for right before they walked offstage and I don’t think they had any intention of doing an encore.
 

 
There was something else they didn’t plan for: During their set a young woman of what used to be called the “yuppie” persuasion did something pretty outrageous. The rise of Manhattan’s “young urban professional” class was by then starting to push bohemian downtowners out of the cheap neighborhoods, but they were still a novelty to a certain extent, in a nightclub until the massive Palladium was forced to offer a more egalitarian door policy and let in anyone with money.

This chick was in her late twenties, with blonde flipped-back, 80s looking, curling iron-styled hair. A string of pearls, a cardigan—conservative clothes—she was not someone hip. Apparently a WASP “good girl” to look at her. Her four male companions were all basically Wall Street types and around the same age. You can only imagine what the audience of an Einstürzende Neubauten concert looked like in 1985. They were starkly out of place, and stood out like particularly uncool sore thumbs in their khakis, button-down collar shirts and blue blazers drinking, as all good yuppies did then, Rolling Rock beer.

They must have been quite drunk, or at least she was, because at about the midpoint of the show, overcome by the darkly pagan ritual she was witnessing she climbed onto the stage, with Mufti’s help, and started dancing around taking her clothes off as the band played. She took her sweater off, then her blouse and then her bra before one of her friends, after much nervous deliberation (remember what I said about how homicidal the band seemed) got up the nerve to jump onto the stage, covering her with his jacket and whisking her back into the audience.

Keep reading after the jump…

Posted by Richard Metzger | Leave a comment
Hair-metal hot dogs: A Cinderella story
11.22.2016
08:38 am

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Advertising
Food
Music

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Never mind prog, hair metal is the most reviled rock genre, period. And it probably should be, because most of it fucking blows like nothing else on Earth. (Show up at my door with a copy of Open Up and Say… Ahh! and a gun, and that gun had better be loaded.) But it shouldn’t have sucked—at its most basic, the genre combined the grit of ‘70s hard rock (awesome), the decadent swagger of glam (awesome), and the gleeful sneer of punk (awesome), but by some unholy and counterintuitive rock math, “awesome plus awesome plus awesome” equalled stomach-churningly shitty.

Before grunge tanked the genre in the early ‘90s, hair metal was already in decline anyway, due to the samey cartoonishness of its sartorial norms, the tediousness of its de rigueur power-ballads, and the body-blow of Penelope Spheeris’ documentary The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years, which aimed an array of klieg lights on the jaw-droppingly pathetic delusions of also-ran hair metal musicians. (If you have a Roku or similar device, The Shout Factory streaming channel has that doc, FYI. It’s a must-see.) But before the curtain fell, a band from Philly called Cinderella scored a huge hit with a power ballad (of course) called “Nobody’s Fool” and a triple-platinum album called Night Songs. The band was less party-oriented than much hair metal, ultimately moving away from the style towards a more straightforward bluesy hard rock approach, and they were gifted with a singer, Tom Keifer, who at his best approached the expressiveness of Ronnie James Dio. In his lesser moments, well, see how much of this you can make it through.

While “Nobody’s Fool” is arguably the song most closely associated with the band, I feel like the video below captures a way more appealing vibe. It’s a 30-second commercial the pre-fame band shot for a hot dog stand called Pat’s. (Located on ROUTE 420! COME ON!) To be clear, I am in no way knocking them for writing a hot dog commercial. There have existed a couple of hot dog places I would gladly honor in song, myself, should the occasion arise. I genuinely like this ad—for one thing, the footage of the rough-around-the-edges early band contrasts edifyingly against the blow dried, pampered-poodle corporate glam of their official videos, and watching them stuff their faces with dirty water hot dogs is about the least pretentious thing ever in a genre where affectation was job one.

In a great video made a few years ago for Loudwire, Keifer related the tale of how Cinderella came to make the ad.

In recent years, the commercial “Pat’s Chili Dogs” I did with my band Cinderella years ago has been surfacing on the internet quite a bit lately. And the way that came about was, that was right when early ‘80s MTV was just starting to take off, and we were a young baby band kicking around in the clubs in the Philadelphia/Jersey area, and we wanted to be on MTV, and we sent our video, which was horrible, to like Basement Tapes or something like that. They wouldn’t play it, they wouldn’t touch us. So a local proprietor who owned a chili dog stand asked us to sing. He saw us in a club and he liked us. He said “would you do a rock ’n’ roll commercial for my place?” And he said “We’re gonna buy local TV advertising on MTV,” and the light went off, we were like “Well, we’ll be on MTV, then!” [laughs] Only locally, but that’s what it felt like to us, so we said “Sure, we’ll do it.” Plus we got free chili dogs any time we wanted.

 
More after the jump…

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Leave a comment
Faster, Harder, Longer: Switzerland’s pioneering punk exports the electrifying ‘Nasal Boys’
11.21.2016
09:44 am

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Music
Punk

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Swiss punk rockers, Nasal Boys.
 
Like most punk rock jams, Swiss punks the Nasal Boys didn’t stick around too long after getting their start back in Zürich in 1976. By 1978 the the band ditched their original name and became the far less interesting sounding “EXPO” (”EXPO”?) before disbanding all together in 1979.

One of the first punk records to ever come out of Switzerland was a 7” put out by the Nasal Boys in 1977. Released by Swiss label Periphery Perfume it’s a blistering piece of vinyl containing two singles “Hot Love” and “Die Wüste Lebt.” Both support the band’s motto “Schneller, Harter, Langer” (or Faster, Harder, Longer). According to early interviews with the band they claimed their primary source of inspiration came from U.S. punk acts, and not UK acts like the Sex Pistols and The Clash. However, it would be Joe Strummer and his bandmates who gave Nasal Boys their big break when they asked the Swiss quad to open a show for them in their hometown of Zürich on October 1st, 1977 thanks to the success of their fist-pumping single “Hot Love.”

Later in 1978 Nasal Boys would put on what has been credited as the very first live gig featuring a punk band in Gersang, Emmen, an inner part of Switzerland. In addition to The Clash, Nasal Boys would share bills with other hugely influential punk bands like The Stranglers, Suicide and The Damned.

If you’re unfamiliar with Nasal Boys and now love them, I have good news. Back in 2006, 1000 copies of a Nasal Boys compilation called Lost and Found (featuring both studio and live recordings) was pressed much to the delight of punks with classy ears. Though it’s tough to track down a copy, if you’re intrepid enough you will find it. I’ve include some wicked footage of Nasal Boys performing their song “Manifesto” on Swiss television, the addictive single “Hot Love,” and the very Clash-y sounding track, “Die Wüste Lebt.” I’ve also included a strange bit of footage featuring Nasal Boys vocalist Leo Remmel from Swiss television that contains some excellent raw live performance clips from the band. I strongly recommend that you listen to to everything in this post at the highest possible volume. Posers get LOST!
 

A flier advertising a Nasal Boys show with Bastards and formative female Swiss post-punk band Kleenex from 1978.
 

Fantastic footage of Nasal Boys performing their single “Manifesto” on Swiss television.
 
More Nasal Boys after the jump…

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
Magic, Murder and the Weather: The icy cold New Wave art rock of Howard Devoto and Magazine
11.18.2016
04:53 pm

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Music

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For his darkly literate songs of icy alienation, violence and psychological nonconformity, Howard Devoto has been called rock’s answer to Vladimir Nabokov. Devoto was all of 18 when he split off from Buzzcocks, the laddish punk band he’d formed in 1976 with his fellow Bolton Institute of Technology student, singer/guitarist Pete Shelley. After just one EP and a handful of live shows (including the 2-day Punk Rock Festival at London’s 100 Club which also included Sex Pistols, Subway Sect, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Clash, The Vibrators, The Damned and the French group Stinky Toys) Devoto felt constricted by what he perceived as the cliches of punk’s predictable three-chord thrash. “What was once unhealthily fresh is now a clean old hat” he said at the time.

Devoto immediately went about forming Magazine, a musically complex group who were critical darlings, but whose records seldom charted very high on the pop charts. Magazine‘s unique art rock sound—heavily-influenced by David Bowie’s Low album—was a fortuitous combination of some truly incredible one-of-a-kind young talents: Devoto’s twitchy, half-sung, half-sneered vocals were matched perfectly by the multi-layered keyboards of Dave Formula; the singular guitar sound of the late, great John McGeoch and a phenomenal rhythm section consisting of Barry Adamson on bass and John Doyle on drums. McGeoch, who later played with Siouxsie and the Banshees and Public Image Ltd., has long been considered one of the greatest guitarists of the post-punk era, using flangers, a chorus effect and a percussive arpeggio technique to achieve his influential new sounds. Nothing, and I do mean nothing else sounded like Magazine did when their remarkable first album, Real Life, was released in 1978.
 

 
For such a young man, the prematurely-balding Devoto’s deeply cynical lyrics betrayed an intense and often-self loathing inner life. As a poet he was particularly adept at portraying insanity, social alienation and toxic anxiety (“Look what fear’s done to my body!” being one of his more memorable lines.) The music was simultaneously icy cold (Formula’s department), jagged and angular (McGeoch’s) and rocked like hell (credit due there to Adamson and Doyle). Truly Magazine were one of the most instrumentally formidable bands of their day and heroes to the sort of import record-buying rock snob smartypants who loved the Psychedelic Furs, Gang of Four and early Ultravox. Their profile in America was greatly enhanced by their appearance (singing “Model Worker”) in Urgh! a Music War and the release of their instantly classic sophomore effort Secondhand Daylight.

McGeoch quit the group in 1980 after the recording of Magazine’s third album The Correct Use of Soap frustrated with the low income and what he perceived as Devoto not giving his best efforts during an American tour. They recorded one final album without him, 1981’s unremarkable (especially when considering the three stone classics that had come before it) Magic, Murder and the Weather before Devoto would disband the group, finding no suitable guitarist to replace a genius like McGeoch.
 

 
After a solo album, 1983’s A Jerky Version of the Dream (if you are of a certain vintage you will no doubt recall the “Rainy Season” video, which at one point was on heavy rotation on MTV) and two albums as Luxuria, the enigmatic Devoto left the music industry entirely and became a photo archivist. A 2002 collaboration with Pete Shelley as ShelleyDevoto saw him get the music bug again, but it wasn’t till 2009 that Magazine reformed, first for a short series of live dates and then the critically-acclaimed No Thyself album in 2009. It’s unclear what the status of Magazine is today, although they did release a live EP (recorded in 2009) for Record Store Day on April 16, 2016.
 

“The Light Pours Out of Me”
 
Much more Magazine after the jump…

Posted by Richard Metzger | Leave a comment
Kurt Cobain’s horror movies
11.18.2016
01:02 pm

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Movies
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In 1984 Kurt Cobain was 17 years old and bursting with creative adolescent energy. He was already friends with Krist Novoselic and Dale Crover, who a year earlier had formed the Melvins with Buzz Osborne and Matt Lukin, best known today as the bassist for Mudhoney.

One of the things they liked to do together was record footage in a horror movie style—it’s doubtful that they had any concrete designs to put a movie together; more likely they were play-acting as much as anything else. It’s not a “horror movie” as much as a bunch of unconnected shots cobbled together into a kind of “horror home movie.”

The two most memorable moments on the video are a few shots of Cobain wearing a Mr. T mask and worshiping in front of a pentagram, and another handful of shots in which Cobain pretends to slash his own throat and wrists, fake blood and all. That last section has earned the tape an alternate title of “Kurt’s Bloody Suicide,” which as you’ll see below is rumored to be Kurt’s own title, but Dale Crover dismisses the notion. If not, it’s of questionable taste given Cobain’s actual demise in 1994 by his own hand.

Mike Ziegler, once described as possessing “an arsenal of Nirvana recordings that goes unparalleled by any trader in the universe,” once asked Crover about the “horror movies.” Here is the substance of that conversation:
 

Ziegler: Do you happen to remember what the title of the movie was called? I’ve heard rumors from people that Kurt said the movie was titled “Kurt’s Bloody Suicide.”
Crover: I’m sure that there was no title. We were just fucking around with a camera.
Ziegler:  So… what the hell is up with the Mr. T scene in the beginning. Whose crazy mind thought that one up?
Crover: The Mr. T Idea just developed as we shot it. Krist filmed while I held the lights. Kurt made the satanic altar and played Mr. T. I think I manned the vacuum cleaner for the coke snorting scene. We were going to do more but never finished.
Ziegler: What did you use to record it?
Crover: Novoselic’s super 8.

 
Keep keeping after the jump…

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
Cool stuff they used to paint on bass drum heads in the ‘20s and ‘30s
11.18.2016
09:01 am

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Art
Music

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“Spider woman” design drum head
 
These vintage drum kits from the ‘20s and ‘30s feature sometimes scenic, sometimes bizarre painted front bass drum heads. I’m not sure why a drummer would have needed a windmill or a cabin in the woods of the front of their kit, but, hey, the illustrations do add a touch of class.

These nifty kits and more can be found on the Polarity Records vintage drum kits page.

This is a style we’d love to see make a comeback.
 

 

 
More after the jump…

Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
A young Kate Bush performs in a musical fantasia from Holland, 1978
11.18.2016
07:08 am

Topics:
Heroes
Music
Television

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1kpinb1.jpg
 
The opening music to Kate Bush’s career is in the key of C. One day, sometime in 1970, Kate’s father—a doctor by profession—showed his daughter how to play the C major scale on the piano. This fortuitous happenstance came about because Kate’s brother Paddy desperately wanted someone to accompany him while he practiced his violin. So Kate learned to play the piano. She liked learning to play the piano because it seemed so logical—music was a language that could be easily understood. Kate was twelve. She was writing poetry. Soon she was putting her words together with the music she composed on the keyboard.

Though there have been such elements of good fortune in her life—everything in Kate Bush’s career has been the result of tireless hard work, dedication and discipline.

By 1972, Kate had recorded dozens of songs on a tape recorder. Through a friend of a friend of a friend, one of homemade these tapes was handed to David Gilmour. The Pink Floyd guitarist liked what he heard. His interest piqued, he visited Kate and her family to hear more about this talented precocious teenager. Kate played Gilmour a small selection from some of the fifty-plus songs she had written. It was immediately apparent to Gilmour that Kate Bush was a unique and precious talent.

A demo tape was sent around different record labels. It attracted little interest. Kate then started having second thoughts about a career in music. She considered giving it all up to become a therapist or perhaps a social worker. Instead Gilmour suggested Kate record a new three-track demo. One of the songs on this new demo was “The Man with the Child in his Eyes.”

During the recording of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here, Gilmour played Kate’s latest demo to one of EMI’s record execs. The effect was immediate. A provisional deal was agreed on the spot—the details of which were worked out with Kate and her family over the following months.
 
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1976, Kate Bush signed a record deal with EMI with a £3,000 advance and £500 for publication rights. She moved to London. She inherited some cash, bought an old piano. Her days were spent at dance classes under the tutelage of the legendary performer/actor/dancer Lindsay Kemp—the man who taught David Bowie mime.

It was the hottest summer on record. Road surfaces were sticky and tar melting in the heat. There was a hose pipe ban. People were told to bathe in only three inches of water. A drought affected large swathes of south-east England. At night Kate stayed up playing the piano, singing and writing new songs. With all the street windows open, her voice carried out into the night. Only one neighbor ever complained.

In March 1977, during a full moon, Kate wrote “Wuthering Heights.” This was eventually chosen (against EMI’s wishes—they wanted “James and the Cold Gun”) to be released as Kate’s first single.

In spring of 1978, “Wuthering Heights” hits number one in the UK singles chart. No one had heard anything like it—it was (quite literally) the shock of the new. When I first heard it—too early on a cold February morning—I hated it, but loved it too. It was the first time I’d heard anything so uniquely original—so indescribable—that all I could say to my classmates was “You’ve got hear this record.” There were no words adequate to accurately express the feelings it engendered. There was no obvious hook, no expected pattern of verse, chorus, middle eight, verse, chorus. Yet it was full of those insane longings and intense emotions teenage virgins understood. It became utterly addictive. It seemed as if everyone agreed as Kate Bush was quite suddenly everywhere.

In May 1978, Dutch television broadcaster TROS aired a Kate Bush special featuring six of her songs—quite a feat for a singer who had just released their debut single. Yet, there was this genuine sense about that Kate Bush was this giant in our midst—this singular prodigious talent, this genius—who could only blossom.
 
Watch Kate Bush at Efteling, after the jump….
 

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Leave a comment
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