Old Buildings

The last ever live BBC session from Maida Vale was broadcast on Monday during a two hour special presented by Steve Lamacq. I listened, partly because I allowed myself to get swept up in the moment’s nostalgia and partly because I think Fontaines DC are a pretty good band who merited listening to. It was a good show (have a listen here if you like), there was a lot of talk of the history of the building, the amazing musicians who’ve been through the doors. Lamacq sounded like he might burst into tears at any moment, I thought he’d genuinely start blubbing and moaning in his bizarre accent which I know would’ve been unbearable but also utterly compelling so I hung in there just in case. He held it together though, as he walked us through an audio descriptive tour of the corridors. When all’s said and done though he’s a civilian, I think only musicians can understand buildings like that and how much they matter.

They had a show made up of sessions from throughout the years, most of it being from what I’d call the modern era of the last 30 years, although they did play some Stones and some Dylan. It was nice to hear Blur, Doves, the White Stripes and Oasis when they were brand new but I feel there were rich pickings from the era of music I predominantly listen to. That era is probably from about 1966 to 1976, obviously with some leeway on either side, so I thought I’d just drop a couple of them here. They mentioned over and again that the Beatles played there and as mentioned they played some Stones, but I’m always a little bit dismayed by the fact that the Kinks aren’t elevated to the same height in discussions of the 1960s. The Kinks are absolutely seated at the top table for me and their Maida Vale sessions are yet another unnecessary proof of that. Check out this flawless version of Sunny Afternoon, with particularly elegant work from Nicky Hopkins who you can hear more clearly here than on the original.

The beauty of sessions from this era is that all the bands performing were genuine live bands. They toured and played together relentlessly and their studio recordings were often performed in a regular band set up. It means that when you listen back to their Maida Vale sessions it often sounds like you’re just getting alternative album outtakes of roughly the same quality. Check out these three, Deep Purple, Van Der Graaf Generator and a very early incarnation of Yes- all phenomenal.

There are some more modern ones I love too, this Peel session of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynki from 1993 is absolutely delightful. Euros Childs would’ve been 18 at this point, fair play to him and the lot of them, they got cracking early.

This Grizzly Bear session from around the time they were promoting Veckatimest is as good as anything that went on in there, it sounds like their album but with slightly cheaper reverbs.

Obviously it’d be remiss of me to not mention the phenomenal album of Broadcast’s Maida Vale sessions here, which was released a couple of years ago. It sounds a little more direct and “bandlike” than their normal studio output but it’s as great to listen to as anything they ever made.

I can remember being in there three times with the Earlies, once for the first album, once for the second, once for KC Rules OK, maybe there were more though? We recorded twice with two guys called George and Mitty who sat in there doing it every day and were phenomenal engineers. I couldn’t believe how quickly they worked and how excellent it sounded. I wrote before about recording a cover version on our first session there in a failed attempt at virality. You should click that link and listen to our cover again of Rachel Stevens’ LA Ex. It’s all I have of the session but the whole thing was honestly great, we sounded reasonably accomplished doing our own stuff too.

On the day we thought we were great, we felt like we played brilliant. It’d probably make my skin crawl if I could go back and watch us all swanning around in there as a time travelling fly on the wall. I do remember everybody feeling pretty cocksure by the end of the day- like we were a great band of real musicians and the guys working there must be pretty damn impressed. I think we imagined we must’ve made some serious impression, that George and Mitty would go for pints after an awful day recording Florence the Foghorn and her Woeful Machine or something similarly despairing, and they’d say to each other “Do you remember that band the Earlies, those guys could really play. Wasn’t that the best damn day ever at Maida Vale…”

We thought it was all about us, every band who walked through those doors thought it was all about them but it wasn’t. It was about the guys in there, turning in amazing shifts day in day out and making everybody sound great in no time whatsoever. If they’re looking for somewhere to put those guys now they should sack whoever does the sound on Jools Holland and stick them in there (Quiet Madden, be careful). Thousands of bands came through there over the years and most of them, like the Earlies, are now all but forgotten about. Every one of them will have gotten to their Maida Vale session though and thought that this was it, this was the beginning of something special, that they were going to be someone. They knew they were in a hallowed space and this was their moment to prove themselves. Those guys sat there in those studios and made that whole scenario plausible, they made everyone feel special and they made everyone sound great. How amazing is that?

Hans Zimmer has apparently bought the place for 10 million quid. I don’t why the BBC need the 10 million quid, maybe it’s to pay for that advert with Romesh in it, telling us how important it is that we keep giving them money. When you consider all the houses around there cost 10 million quid it seems like quite a steal. At least it hasn’t been turned into flats. He’ll probably fart around in there for ten years and then turn it into flats. It’s the way it goes. I’ll never understand why the BBC feel that they need rid of it, but greater minds than mine heave thought it through. Maybe the move away from genuine live music and audiences who care about it is a factor. People were probably just turning up with their laptop, plugging it into the Maida Vale desk and pressing the space bar. I exaggerate but it obviously wasn’t all that important anymore, ultimately all these places will go, maybe in our lifetimes or if not soon after. Every studio, every venue, every sacred spot. We can’t imagine it ourselves but one day even Abbey Road will be a block of flats full of insufferable berks from Google and Palantir, or whatever the dominant tech companies in 100 years are, and there’ll be nothing but a blue plaque on the outside saying that Cilla Black once recorded in the building.

Sixty Years Young

Obviously the blue plaque won’t mention Cilla, that was a joke. Obviously it’ll be a while before there are flats there, there’s life in Abbey Road for a while. Nothing is sacred except the Beatles and whilst they live in all of our hearts it’s hard to imagine that their musical palace can be sold off. Revolver turned 60 this week, on Wednesday to be exact, so I made a point of listening to it with my sons. It beggars belief really, it sounds so remarkably fresh, exciting and original and it’s that old. When I was around their age listening to a sixty year old record would’ve meant finding something from 1930 or so, what would that even be? Glen Miller hadn’t even arrived on the scene yet. To me the Beatles still don’t sound old, especially not Revolver. If it does sound old it doesn’t sound old like Rudy Vallee, or Bing Crosby, or the Ink Spots did when I was at school.

I once appeared on Robin Allender’s fantastic podcast, Your Own Personal Beatles and was asked if I had any controversial Beatles opinions and I said that I thought that people who say Revolver is the best Beatles album are bellends, but I also conceded that they’re probably right. I’m sticking by this rather luke warm hot take though, it’s a classic Mojo reader’s opinion to think that there’s a best Beatles album and that it’s Revolver. As though everybody who picked up their copy of Sgt. Pepper the following year said, “Well, it’s not quite as good as the last one is it?” I half think the notion that it’s their best album came about from bands in the 90s looking at that photo of them on the back and thinking the Beatles looked cool, those guys who wouldn’t want to be a moptop and definitely wouldn’t want to be a long haired Beatle but could totally get on board with that image and what they thought it represented.

It still might just be the best Beatles album though who knows? Even if casually interested fools who like to have an instant buzz phrase to fire off at you about everything think that it is.

Andy Bell did a podcast too though and he was wise when talking about Revolver. He said that it’s a moment of perfect balance as an album, that it does everything they do on later albums in a tidy 34 minute package. There’s the Eastern stuff, the psychedelia, classical influenced stuff, Motown rhythms, musique concrète. There’s even a good children’s song. He’s so right, it was the moment when they were excited, when their powers were growing, sometimes in different directions but always for the common good. They were all still on the same page and they were still thrilled to be the Beatles, a band who could do anything.

If you haven’t listened all the way through yet this week do it now, you weren’t doing anything better.

More from the Ginger Prince

I don’t want to become a podcast recommendation service but you should take the time out to listen to this chat with our own Nathan Sudders on the many twists and turns of his career. He’s eloquent and humble whilst revealing the pieces of an amazing, epic journey of ups and downs, world beating thrills and occasional crashing disappointments. It’s the way good careers go and he’s honest, grounded and reflective about what’s worked and why certain things didn’t. If anything it’s a bit short at 47 minutes, I’d have gladly taken seven or eight hours of it.

Bring on the audiobook Nathan!

By Popular Demand

Thousands of Earlies fans have been in touch to say “ Guys, this tape cassette thing is just great but I’d like my Earlies rarities to be available on my digital communication device!” Earlies fans are modern and they move around, they need their rarities if they’re rock climbing, or competing in an iron man event. They don’t want to jeopardise their precious cassette whilst living their best self. As always we listened so our Yesterday Was Today compilation is now available digitally and will be yours to listen to whenever you need. Head over to Bandcamp and fill your virtual boots. “But Madden, what if I already paid for the cassette?” I hear you plead.

Buy it again you tight bastard.