Sounds of the 70's

 Sunday afternoons with Sounds of the 70's is genuinely restored with Shaun Keavney. One might say that his laid-back style is not so far from that of Bob Harris but there is a big difference between Shaun's deferential way and Bob's, in which Bob was too often a part of the story. Both have to attempt to be thrilled by the music they are playing whether they privately liked it or not but Bob circumvented that with his policy of West Coast programming and obvious devotion to the Eagles and all that came with them. Johnny Walker had had a certain affinity with Springsteen but still kicked in with Smokey Robinson & the Miracles enough times for it to be clear he admired a certain sort of Tamla Motown even if he didn't worship Diana Ross & the Supremes to the extent that Tony Blackburn and I do. But Shaun, being younger, is later 70's and shifts the emphasis towards 1977/78 and what happened then.

For better or worse but at least with a more open stance. It's interesting to see how well various things have lasted. On a walk in the summer, it was remarked how some books one had thought brilliant when young no longer seemed so when returned to. Hermann Hesse was a case in point where I'd not expect Siddhartha to have lasted the distance but would want to reserve judgement on Narziss und Goldmund until another look gave it a chance to defend itself.

On today's Sounds of the 70's, my suspicions were confirmed that the Police and Blondie, who seemed so welcome and ground-breaking in 1978 haven't aged all that well. Still good pop music but hardly things for all time, Debbie's best work possibly being on the comeback, Maria, Sting having taken himself increasingly seriously and started to look almost as silly as Bono.

It was Elvis Costello's (The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes that demonstrated it is possible to sound as tight and relevant now as it was then. And then Shaun included some T. Rex, as he has proved willing to do, and Born to Boogie put the issue to bed. Of course big name pop stars are going to get carried away with their own success but pop music is best done with some 'edge', irony or preferably both. Marc was as guilty as Sting or Bono of thinking it was all about him but whereas the Police and U2 turned out to be one dimensional and derivative, T. Rex and Elvis Costello still bring with them some intensity.

Then, the nomination for the classic album came from Newcastle and one's hopes rose until the caller chose Gerry Rafferty, said he'd met Ray Jackson and Ray Laidlaw in the bar but what he wanted played was something just as 'meaningfully' dreary as Baker Street. 

What a shame. He so very nearly have got that right. 

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Things continue to move on. The Jesus & Mary Chain, from the 1980's but still glorious, were on the agenda for Brighton in January. I'd possibly have been there for some age-worn cool kids but before I'd got it sorted, a better offer came along. 

Barbara Hannigan, Erik Satie, Socrate, Wigmore Hall. Absolutely essential. Not by any means mainstream but, for all the best reasons, exactly the right thing. With this year's Best Concert award by no means decided yet but 'leaning towards' one in Wigmore Hall in January, the 2027 choice already has an odds-on favourite. One can't lose in such a situation. Either these great things live up to expectations or maybe exceed them. But it remains just about thinkable that something else might turn up to exceed even those.