Hack at work.
Killing Bono
"The best book I have ever read about trying to make it in the music business" - Elton John
"A fantastic book, which manages the difficult trick of being simultaneously very funny and very sad." - Bob Geldof
"I was Neil McCormick's fan in school. He was much cooler than me, a much better writer and I thought he'd make a much better rock star. I was wrong on one count. He's written a great book" - Bono
World Cup 2010: Spare me the football anthems
Published: 11 Jun 2010
Perhaps the vuvuzelas will drown out World Cup pop songs Photo: AP
To be honest, I dread the World Cup. It’s not that I’ve got anything against the beautiful game: it’s a little side-event that disturbs my equilibrium, namely the question of which mercenary team of pop stars, minor celebrities and comedians is going to see off the competition and hold aloft that most cherished of prizes, a chart-topping spot as chosen anthem of England’s World Cup campaign.
For, come tournament time, we music critics are called upon to turn our attention from Bob Dylan and Arctic Monkeys to evaluating the aesthetic merits of, say, the cast of Hollyoaks mugging their way through Sing For England or Terry Venables belting out If I Can Dream with a 60-piece orchestra and guest appearances by Harry Redknapp and Ian Wright.
I don’t deny that football and music go together. Indeed, a football stadium is probably the last place in Britain where you can hear outbreaks of spontaneous communal singing. And then there are the musical efforts of footballers themselves. Show them a microphone and they will soon be wailing away with an enthusiasm usually reserved for goal celebrations, even though most players deserve to be mown down by the groundsmen for their less than perfect pitch.
There was a time when real rockers would have nothing to do with football, unless (like Elton John) they were rich enough to buy a team.
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Noel Gallagher at the Royal Albert Hall: if it ain’t broke …
Published: 26 Mar 2010
This was Noel Gallagher’s first solo show since leaving Oasis. He opened with ’It’s Good To Be Free’. Do you think he was trying to tell us something?
Unfortunately, there were few other clues as to Gallagher’s future musical plans, unless its just more of the same. Giving short shrift to someone calling for a new song, he snorted, “We don’t do new songs for charity!” Performing for the Teenage Cancer Trust, Gallagher was in genial form. His decision to stick with his back catalogue went down well with the majority of the audience, who appeared to have entered the venue via a time portal from 1995. The Royal Albert Hall was full of men dressed in Britpop casual style, lots of check shirts, jeans, cropped jackets and frontcombed short mop tops. The only thing that had changed was the age profile. The majority of the audience was in their thirties and apparently knew every word to every Oasis B-side and album track from their youth. Which is a good thing, because Gallagher only performed one song written since New Labour came to power.
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Oasis split: its a family affair
I saw Noel Gallagher a couple of weeks back, and he told me a very funny, unprintable story about some shenanigans which an old Manchester mate tried to involve him in, which ended with Noel delivering the exasperated punchline in incredulous deadpan: “Three things: I’m 42, I’ve got two kids … and I’m ****ing rich!”
And that, probably, is the epitaph for Oasis. Noel is one of the nicest people in rock music but he has been sticking his finger in the bursting dyke of Oasis for two decades now, managing an incredibly volatile relationship with his younger brother Liam, and it probably reached the point where he thought those same three things. He’s 42. He’s got kids. He’s rich. What it all adds up to is that whatever Oasis mean to anyone else, it isn’t worth the aggravation to its leader anymore.
One or other of the Gallagher brothers has walked out on Oasis before but there is a sense of finality about this latest bust up. It really looks like this is the end for Oasis. And it comes not with a bang but an apology. They were due to go on stage at the rock in Seine festival in Paris until a message appeared on the screens: “As a result of an altercation within the band, the Oasis gig has been cancelled.”
As excuses for non-appearance go, this takes some beating. I gather that, after 13 months of touring during which the brothers have barely spoken to each other, only communicating through insulting interviews, blogs and tweets, words were finally exchanged, it quickly got physical, and Noel simply decided he had had enough.
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The end of the guitar? The Edge & Jimmy Page talk shop
After U2’s shows at Wembley last Saturday, I found myself in a huddle with The Edge, Jimmy Page and Noel Gallagher. Inevitably the talk was of guitars. Well, they were talking guitars, I wisely refrained from offering my thoughts on how I mastered the lead solo from ‘Johnny B. Goode’.
The white haired Page was effusively enthusiastic about Edge’s performance, almost wide-eyed with childish pleasure at the sheer array of dazzling sounds he produced. Page is amongst the most lyrically virtuoso players of his rock generation, although it is easy to overlook how much of his breakthrough style was based around a specially constructed board of effects pedals now considered the rock standard (including Fuzz Box, Wah, Chorus and Delay). The Edge has taken this approach to extremes. He is an effects maestro, who never plays two songs on the same settings and has a futuristic hub beneath U2’s stage to house his vast array of sound altering technology.
Both appear in what must be the first feature length film aimed entirely at guitar geeks, the soon to be released ‘It Might Get Loud’, along with Jack White (of The White Stripes). The three guitarists compare and contrast styles, with White playing the role of plucky primitivist, ready to squeeze sound out of any piece of wood with strings. In one fascinating / incredibly dull sequence (delete according to your level of guitar obsession), Edge demonstrates how he creates the pulsing, phased riff of U2’s ‘Elevation’. With his effects units turned off, the riff is revealed as just two notes, which he cheerfully acknowledges would be unlikely to impress your friends if played on acoustic guitar.
Somehow I doubt this is going to be one of the great date movies.
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U2: secrets of stadium rock
The Claw: stage set or intergalactic people transporter?
U2 were in London this weekend, playing two dates at Wembley Stadium. Now, I am well aware that not all rock critics share my enthusiasm for the band (my colleague Michael Deacon awarded the show a mere three stars) but I was blown away once again. I have watched them from the school gymnasium all the way to this latest attempt to simultaneously transport 88,000 people to another galaxy on what appears to be a home made rocket ship. I thought the show was as powerful, exciting and transformative as a big rock show can be. The teething problems of the opening night in Barcelona’s Nou Camp have been ironed out, and the band have gained both a sense of the dynamics of that stage space and complete mastery of the set of songs. The second show, on Saturday night (when they had overcome some of the sound problems mentioned by Michael on Friday, apparently caused by Wembley’s roof being partially closed), was phenomenal.
From the epic statement of intent that is the opening ‘Breathe’ (“I’m gonna walk out, into the street / Got my arms out, got a love you can’t defeat”) to the raw, emotionally exhausted closing ‘Moment Of Surrender’, U2 just throw everything at their audience: lights, music, Acthung (Baby). Something seemed to happen about six songs in, when they delivered a particularly rich and emotional version of ‘Until The End Of The World’ which left them wreathed in smiles. The joy of the band themselves mirrored the joy in the audience, who pitched into ‘I Still Haven’t Found What I Was Looking For’ like they were auditioning for the role of the biggest gospel choir in the world. The sound was broad and open, the performances clipped and focussed, the rhythm section thunderously driven, Edge flying on his one man orchestra of sound, and Bono singing high and hard, utterly lost in the music.
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