Sketch For Summer: Ten Albums For A Stifling Season

 

After a massive rainy delay, summer is finally here.  When I was younger I used to hate the summertime (mainly because I was quite sensitive to hayfever as a kid), but now I am far more amenable to it.  I much prefer the time of the year – despite the sticky sleepless nights – it’s much more preferable to freezing your bits off while trying to sleep, or worrying about your heating bills.

 

In the spirit of the wonderful inferno surrounding us, I have decided to share 10 (or 11 if you're trying to catch me out) of my favourite go-to summer tapes.

Gene Clark – White Light (1971)

I heard this gem only a few years ago.  I loved his work with The Byrds (although he didn’t appear on their finest song – “Lady Friend” – his contributions were always the highlights) and read about his mythical solo albums via Barney Hoskyns’ chronicle of the LA singer-songwriter scene of the 60s and 70s (Hotel California).  It was probably Brian Walsby’s biographical comic strip (available in his book Manchild #1) that made me take the plunge.  He made me a fan of Bl’ast! so why not have a gander at Mr Clark’s oeuvre.

His work has been covered in far more detail by far more scholarly types, but I’ll just say his initial run of spiritual and mournful yet sagely and cosmic country balladry was an intoxicating delight.  Sorrow and cynicism run throughout from a voice although defeated in the spirit, was still there in the mind albeit marinated in drugs and booze. While his 1974 follow-up No Other gets all the love, White Light is the keeper for me.  With a simple production combining Gene’s ethereally-mixed voice with Jesse Ed Davis’ wonderfully effective guitar work, it sounds stark yet gorgeous.  It reminds me of the depressive side of the booze starting to take effect while out and about, leaving you lost in thought, ruminating and second-guessing outside in the warm August air. 

Side 1 is full of great stuff (opening selections “The Virgin” and “With Tomorrow” work as excellent showcases for Clark’s heartbreaking voice and fully fleshed out arrangements), but Side 2 is the side that almost brings out the tears and is so casually performed that it really delivers a devastating blow.  Starting off with “For A Spanish Guitar”, Jesse and Gene deliver a stunning performance that even Bob Dylan lavished praise on.  Bringing in a few more players, “Where My Love Lies Asleep” carries on in this vein until we hit the definitive cover of Dylan’s “Tears Of Rage.”  I adore this version.  It is magisterially subtle and deliberately underplayed and Gene’s sorrowful delivery could melt the hearts of the most stony faced cynic.  This version works and excels far beyond The Band’s whining, overwrought proto-bank advert version, much like a sniper rifle to Robbie Robertson’s antique Canadian musket.

Clinic – Internal Wrangler (1999)

I bought this as a teenager living in East Anglia, just starting to buy the music press monthlies.  This recommendation came with the highest recommendation from Uncut magazine, just before their descent into endless issues devoted to alternative country.  Luckily for me, I started checking it out while it was still full of stuff that I wanted to devour: interview with Jim Jarmusch, articles about the recently unbanned The Driller Killer and editor Allan Jones’ hilarious tales of getting shitfaced with Nick Lowe and Dr Feelgood.  If I remember rightly, Clinic’s debut album came out around the time summer broke and it was the perfect soundtrack for an anxious fatso furiously sweating his way around Ipswich town centre, avoiding eye contact with everyone while these short and sharp claustrophobic blocks of catchy noise-rock blasted through my eardrums.

The whole album is impeccably put together for a 30-minute full length.  Even the quick throwaway tracks work as transition pieces.  Everything has its place, with the angry melodica-driven swagger of “The Return Of Evil Bill” and the speed-and-whiskey driven punch of “2/4” blending seamlessly next to the low energy malevolence of “The Second Line” and enigmatically knackered “Earth Angel” and “Distortions”.  For me the highlights of the set are the Velvets-meet-Chinnichap ditty “2nd Foot Stomp” and “Goodnight Georgie”, one of the best sign-offs pressed to plastic.  Subsequent albums just repeated the formula and were a gradual exercise in disappointment. Walking With Thee went to the shop after a week and Winchester Cathedral went back on the day of purchase.  Still, Clinic gave us the furious majesty of their early EPs and Internal Wrangler and they never get old. 

 
The Durutti Column – Sex And Death (1994)

Manchester’s secret weapon, The Durutti Column have been releasing tons of albums bringing in influences as varied as folk, classical, electronics and world music, but never sound cliched.  Although the opening track from their debut The Return Of The Durutti Column (1979) gave this article its name, the remainder of the album as well as subsequent ones always had a cold and distant quality to them.  That’s not a slight at all – the uninitiated should investigate LPs such as The Return…, LC (1981) and Vini Reilly (1988) – but Sex And Death is probably the only DC tape that has a warm enveloping sound to it.

Considered by quite a number of people to be one of the weakest Durutti albums, this album holds a special place in my heart for a number of reasons.  It holds up a lot better than the reviews would suggest.  Tracks like “The Rest Of My Life”, “For Colette” and “Fado” burst with colour, which singles this album out as an anomaly.  Although some of their material remains stuck in the time it was created (Another Setting and Obey The Time), DC founder Reilly has a unique way with regards to mixing.  Even on albums such as this and the follow-up Fidelity (1996), he had a knack at getting some unusual effects out of the all-digital recording mediums he utilised from this point forward.  He was able to take digital reverb plug-ins and exaggerate them to glorious effect, highlighting its drawbacks and making something positive out of them.  The track “Fermina” is a fine example of this.

One word of warning: this album contains an appearance by Peter Hook (and his bass tone is ugly as fuck, as one would expect).

 The Girls' Scene

When I met my then girlfriend/future wife, she was (and still is) into the whole Sixties trip, with a record collection packed full of obscure stuff housed in well worn sleeves.  When I delved further, I was particularly drawn to a series of CDs that Decca released in the mid 90s covering their impressive collection of one-shot 45s from a ridiculous variety of acts that were quickly discarded if the single didn’t get suitable airplay or sales.  Hence tons of discs full of mod, beat combos and psychedelia, as well as stuff that formed the backbones of the Northern Soul and Freakbeat scenes.  I discovered some real jewels, The Flirtations (“Nothing But A Heartache”), soul boy-era Bolan (“The Third Degree”), Fire (“Father’s Name Is Dad”) and Timebox (“Gone Is The Sad Man”).  But the one I gravitated to was The Girls’ Scene – full of great tunes like the other discs, but as you can guess from the title, focused on the ladies of the roster from 1962-1968.

There are some syrupy clunkers but there are far more big hitters on here with some absolute stompers: Louise Cordet (“Two Lovers”), Dana Gillespie (“You Just Gotta Know My Mind”), Shapes & Sizes (“Rain On My Face”) and The Orchids (“Oo Chang-A-Lang”) for example.  You also get some effective slow numbers from Vashti Bunyan (“Some Things Just Stick In Your Mind”), Truly Smith (“The Boy From Chelsea”) and Barry St John (“Hey Boy”).  Marianne Faithfull, Dusty Springfield and an unknown Olivia Newton-John also make appearances.

The rapid production line carried on but it doesn’t exactly blur into one amorphous shape as the CDs devoted to early rock ‘n’ roll and skiffle demonstrate.  You can hear voices of the confident and the hesitant backed by the likes of Jimmy Page, Big Jim Sullivan, Clem Cattini and merrily tipsy string and brass ensembles, all under one roof and given 3 hours to cut two sides ready to be shipped out.  Some of it may be a bit sappy or one-dimensional for some, but I cherish this disc.

When me and the missus was courting an’ all, this compilation got played a lot and the youthful giddiness emanating from this disc is made for hot weather and long drives.  In fact, the highlight of this disc was Lulu’s “Try To Understand” (we considered it ‘our song’ even though it’s all about finding out that your true love is a cheating bastard).  Although the diminutive Scot can be a one-yelp-wonder at times, her righteous and empowered howl really gives this song a whallop.  I also love the oddly reverb’d piano on this one.

 

Insides – Euphoria (1993)

The 90s had a brief yet wonderful alternate timeline of homemade electronica bubbling beneath, ranging from the manipulated found-sound-scapes of Main to the quirky pop ditties of The Freed Unit, and up there with the best of them are Insides.  Hailing from Brighton, Insides created a wonderful yet underrated antidote to the impending tide of moronic Britpop sludge.  Combining a mixture of homemade electronica and near-the-knuckle lyrics, their debut album Euphoria is a flirty, woozy and lyrically intimidating study of sex and intimacy, full of idiosyncratic rhythm programming, the odd guitar wafting through the mix and playful yet intimidating vocals.

The album conjures up the mental image of playfully toyed with by Saint Etienne’s flirty cousin, glass of wine in one hand and a Silk Cut in the other.  It’s almost as if these songs are being sung by Jill from Nighty Night in a particularly cruel frame of mind.  Euphoria brings to mind waking up over the weekend in someone else’s bed, the sun beaming through the red patterned curtains warming up the room to the point where it’s stuffy and the windows need to be opened, but that means the sound of traffic breaking into your world.  Your mouth still tastes of Golden Virginia roll-ups, you’re feeling a bit hungover or high from the night before and you could kill for a pint of water.  But would you dare to ask anything from whomever you’re with, lest you be thrown out of the house and sent stumbling unsteadily back home past normal people?

Considering the subject matter and the sparse arrangements, you would expect a cold and stylised sound, but it is actually quite warm sounding and suspiciously comforting, from the opening cut “Walking In Straight Lines”, through to the almost upbeat sounding closer “Skykicking”.  One of Insides’ secret weapons is their trick of creating a lovely and upbeat musical backdrop and underpinning it with some quite disturbing and surprisingly upfront lyrics on tracks such as “Darling Effect” and “Skin Divers”, both of which have a Hex-era Bark Psychosis half-asleep/half-awake atmosphere to them.  Euphoria is a little gem which should hopefully get some love now that it has been reissued.

 
Lifetones – For A Reason (1983)

After the demise of This Heat, guitarist Charles Bullen occupied himself with studio work at his former group’s place of business, Cold Storage in Brixton.  Throughout 1983, Bullen enlisted drummer Julius Samuel for his only album under the Lifetones banner.  Unlike the austere and claustrophobic soundscapes that This Heat proffered, For A Reason presents a world of colour, musical ideas influenced by Eastern and Asian culture and an overall theme of travelling.  Spices, busy streets, sun bleached walls and bicycles.  One of the criticisms of this album is Bullen’s rather nasal delivery but I don’t find it off-putting in the slightest – I’ve heard worse.  Both he and Samuel are locked in throughout and the album is densely yet concisely wrapped very well, with the title track being a fine example of playful and constantly evolving musical patterns.

This album brings to mind the time I was living in the surprisingly large flat that was on top of Lloyds Bank on Gloucester Road alongside my missus as described earlier, climbing through the window of one of the spare bedrooms and onto a small fenced veranda on the roof, rolling a joint and blasting this in my headphones.  Ideally this would be on a day where I was off work, there was no threat of rain and the place was deserted.  This space offered the perfect view of this busy street’s daily hustle and bustle, on a safe precipice.  I know it’s not setting a good example of a role model, but it was a lovely day to spend most of my day.  The ideal time of day was prior to the 5pm rush to get home, as it tended to be quite vibrant, the sun was starting to go down and the low-level smog was ebbing and flowing.  For A Reason was one of the perfect accompaniments to this slowed-down Koyaanisqatsi fly-on-the-wall eavesdropping.

 

My Bloody Valentine – Ecstasy & Wine (1987) / Loveless (1991)

Loveless needs no explanation.  It remains as vivid, layered and colourful as ever and has not diminished with age.  I associate this album with being in my parents’ back garden, next door to a park with tons of overshadowing trees.  Essentially,  “To Here Knows When” is the sound of summer to me.

‘Ecstasy & Wine’ (combining the Strawberry Wine EP and Ecstasy mini-LP) is an unsung gem that Kevin Shields needs to make available once again.  In fact, if he could shoehorn in the ‘Sunny Sundae Smile’ EP, the resulting compilation would result in 40 minutes of poppy shrieking joy.


The great stuff didn’t just start with “You Made Me Realise”, it all kicked off a year earlier with these sunny jangly ditties.  I associate songs such as “Strawberry Wine”, “Never Say Goodbye” and “(Please) Lose Yourself In Me” with sweat-drenched bike rides home from work and trying to cool down in the back garden amongst the plentiful shade with an ice cold can of Red Stripe, or the journey home from last year’s holiday in Cornwall and searching for that lovely little roadside café near the motorway so we can stuff our faces.  A sense of indulgent jubilation, possibly.

No Age: A Compilation Of SST Instrumental Music

An odd choice from the much-maligned SST label, once a champion of material ignored by others before dissolving amid allegations of unpaid royalties, lawsuits and endless unlistenable solo efforts by the label’s boss Greg Ginn.  From 1981 to 1991, they were an unstoppable force that provided countless moments of joy and confusion.  Halfway through this time period, SST went full steam ahead and released an absolute plethora of albums, sometimes up to 70 a year.  Naturally there was going to be a fair amount of chaff, but there’s some moments of brilliance to be uncovered.  While No Age is probably not the perfect primer, it has withstood countless listens on interminable bike rides from work to home (back when the distance between was far longer) and post-bath/pre-sleep chilling on a gradually cooling summer’s evening.

It’s not perfect – there are two tracks by poetry-improv outfit Paper Bag, the worst SST act alongside the angry and unfunny Zappa-copying proto-incel Zoogz Rift – but there’s some really surprising nuggets here and there.  Lawndale’s schizo-surfer “March Of The Melted Army Men”, Black Flag’s “Southern Rise” off the mighty Mahavishnu-on-steroids Process Of Weeding Out EP, the Synclavier-driven mess of Henry Kaiser’s “Sugagaki For Conlon” plus the poppy strut of “Cinecitta” by Pell Mell, these are a million miles away from the likes of “Nervous Breakdown”.  Greg Ginn’s post Flag outfit Gone naturally get a choice cut with “Insidious Distraction” from their first LP (those two Gone albums from 1986 are great), and even Fred Frith makes an appearance.

For me, two solid gold efforts on the whole comp are “Dark And Light” by Blind Idiot God and “Let’s Go Places And Eat Things” by Scott Colby.  New York jazz-reggae-noise trio Blind Idiot God’s self-titled debut is a non-stop rollercoaster ride through fast thrash licks meshing with hardcore punk drumming and Jah Wobble at 78rpm bass work.  It sounds horrid but trust me, it’s wonderful.  The dub-centric side 2 is nothing to snorted at either.  It all works.  Former Zoogz accomplice Scott Colby’s Slide Of Hand is probably the most unexpected and surprising SST release in the label’s history: Colby’s impressive slide work collides with irregular and snappy time signatures, ranging from breakneck speed-fuelled blues, solo pieces accompanied by thumb pianos and lovable quirkiness.  Combine this with guest appearances from Beefheart alumni such as Bruce Fowler and John French, and you have a wonderful combination of blues, Cajun influences, art rock and post-punkiness.  These two albums sit in my Top 10 SST releases alongside You’re Living All Over Me, Surviving You Always, Negativland’s infamous U2 EP and the four Saint Vitus LPs; radically different from the likes of the label’s heavy hitters and countless unfocused efforts that the label shat out during that year, and all the more wonderful because of it.
 

Sly & The Family Stone – There’s A Riot Goin’ On (1971)

If most of the albums in this piece resemble a jubilant sunny day that brings the mind to life with things to do and places to go,  Riot is either the soundtrack to a blistering afternoon in an overcrowded area and being perpetually terrified of an oncoming panic attack, or a very humid sticky day where the act of blinking can result in a serious case of dehydration.  The kind of day that starts with a dull headache and ends with you losing your shit in Aldi.  The nearest album that shares this feeling of dread and disintegration is Fun House (1970), the Stooges’ finest hour, and its kindred cinematic spirit Do The Right Thing – these feelings are slowly simmering and will eventually start bubbling and hissing.

The start of Sly's iconic drum machine-led malevolence has roots in the brief run of singles he created for his Stone Flower subsidary label.  Light In The Attic put them all together for the indispensable compilation I'm Just Like You: Sly's Stone Flower and one listen to Joe Hicks' intense "Life & Death In G&A" above will prove that this run of singles was no dry run.  It's already there.







As opposed to the jubilance and optimism of previous Family Stone albums, the numbed despair running through tracks such as “Just Like A Baby” and “Time” go well with the ever-threatening spell of rain that tends to swallow up that valuable British Summer Time, not even a jubilant shower that hits the pavement and lets off that nice stony smell into the atmosphere.  Nope, just pouring bloody rain.  Elsewhere, you have the relentless never-ending deep grooves of “Poet” and the pair of jams that close out each side, whilst tracks such as “You Caught Me Smilin’” and “Running Away” initially have that catchy snap of the Family Stones from days past, but listen closer and you can witness the beginning of Sly’s eventual psychological untangling.  It’s yet another album that’s probably been over-analysed to death, but this album and the eventual follow-up (Fresh, 1973) remain my favourite Sly Stone albums.

Yo La Tengo – And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out (2000) 

Indie perennials done good, Yo La Tengo created another momentous album for this impressionable youngster back in the day.  At thought, I was going to take it back for a refund, because I heard that this lot could get noisy and it was all about the noise back then, but I stuck with it and eventually found myself falling for it big time.  This album creates and cultivates an atmosphere that never loses its momentum throughout its 78 minute running time.  It’s a very humid album, but unlike the Sly Stone LP which feels claustrophobic and all-enveloping, this is a pleasant type of humidity that doesn’t sap your energy and promises a nice breeze soon.

It always makes me think of balmy summer evenings as the punishing heat and sun and gradually wind down.  You’re tired and exhausted but unable to sleep due to heat-induced insomnia.  As the traffic dies down bar the occasional boy racer or lorry and the street lights start to come on.  For me, the body heat can become too much so I’ll try to grab some shuteye on the settee near to the side window, propping the curtain slightly in the hope of a slight breeze whistling through.  Either that or black and white tiled kitchen flooring, harsh lights flicking at you, etc.  But it’s all rather reassuring and welcoming.  Tracks such as “Saturday” (with a beautiful organ accompaniment beeping in and out of the mix), “Tears Are In Your Eyes” and “From Black To Blue” really help to conjure this atmosphere really well, and the long drawn out closer “Night Falls On Hoboken” is almost somnambulant in pace but never gets boring.  It carries on for as long as it wants to and has a nice mellow groove to it that makes it a satisfactory way to finish off the record.

And with that, time to finish off and loop straight back to Uncut magazine’s golden era before they starting jazzing themselves over the latest Hamell On Trial CD.  Their free CDs were full of the dire and the wonderful, and this song always struck me as a summer jam that ranks alongside the best of ‘em. Soak all these recommendations up, if anything they will take your mind away from the infernal heat.

Other recommended listens during the warm and sticky summer months include Czech shoegaze outfit The Ecstasy Of Saint Theresa’s Sussurate (1992), any of the first three Public Enemy tapes, Alice Coltrane’s kaleidoscopic and utterly gorgeous Universal Consciousness (1971) and Rock Bottom (1974) by Robert Wyatt.