C90: 5 Years (1969-1973)

Inspiration for the next C90 theme came from watching David Bowie's performance of 'Five Years' on The Old Grey Whistle Test - what is the five year period that has produced the greatest music?

Before I launched into compiling my own answer, I asked online what other people thought. Given that the majority of musical connections I have come via my writing about The Fall, it was no surprise that the responses were heavily weighted towards the punk / post-punk era. Over half of the selctions fell somewhere between 1977 and 1983, with 1979, 1980 and 1981 being the years that - by some distance - featured the most often.

One interesting feature of the responses was that 85% of them included the turn of a decade, when statistically an even spread would have only seen only 40% do so. I'm not sure that this tells us anything profoundly significant, but there might be something culturally/historically notable going on there...

Now, I certainly don't dispute that the period that coincided with Margaret Thatcher's first term as prime minister produced some of the most remarkable, innovative and exciting music of modern times. (If you haven't read Simon Reynolds' Rip it up and Start Again: Postpunk 1978–1984 you should buy it right now.) Both a C90: 1979 and a C90: 1980 are almost certain to feature on this blog at some point. However, as soon as I came up with the 'five years' idea, I knew exactly what period I would be drawn to...

My selection, 1969-1973, coincides with the first five years of my existence (I was born three weeks before the first moon landing), so these aren't records that I have any contemporary connection with; I wouldn't start buying music until 1979. But I've always been drawn to this period. 

In his book, 1971: Never a Dull Moment, David Hepworth constructs a fairly persuasive argument that 1971 saw a paradigm shift in how music was performed, recorded and promoted (albeit one that's somewhat dented by his somewhat dismissive attitude to black artists, 'alternative' acts like VU and The Stooges and his tendency to consider female artists in light of who they slept with). Whether you buy into this analysis or not, there's a sense of invention, diversity and barrier-breaking that pervades the period.

I'll explain my choices (and omissions) below, but this my C90 tape of the finest music from this remarkable period:

YouTube playlist

Spotify playlist

Around half of the artists represented here are included because of a run of consistently fine albums that they released in this period: The Stooges, for example (The Stooges / Fun House / Raw Power), and Can (Monster Movie / Tago Mago / Ege Bamyasi / Future Days). Faust produced four albums (Faust / Faust So Far / The Faust Tapes / Faust IV) of remarkable experimentation; fellow Krautrock pioneers (yes, I know it's a troublesome term) Neu! released only a couple (the imaginatively titled Neu! and Neu! 2) but their motorik beat is highly influential. (I would have gone for 'Hallogallo' or 'Negativland' if I'd had the running time.)

Kevin Ayers' first four solo albums (Joy of a Toy, Shooting at the Moon, Whatevershebringswesing and Bananmour) are a joyous blend of psychedelia, pop and Canterbury prog. I went for 'Shouting in a Bucket Blues' because of its delightfully lazy groove and Steve Hillage's gloriously woozy guitar solos.

Speaking of Steve Hillage... I don't pretend to fully understand Gong's somewhat compilcated back catalogue, but I do know that Camembert Electrique, Flying Teapot (which is where Hillage joined) and Angel's Egg are all first-rate pieces of space rock. I bought Camembert on a whim when I was a teenager, intrigued by titles such as 'I've Bin Stone Before / Mister Long Shanks / O Mother' and 'Fohat Digs Holes in Space' (remember that - when you sometimes took a punt on an album you'd never heard, simply because of the cover art, the song titles or seeing a name you recognised?) 'Tried So Hard' is actually a bit of an outlier, being a relatively straight and rather melancholy tune, with no references to pixies, witches or magic crockery.

Hawkwind also produced a trio of fine space rock albums in this period, although they were a little more hard-edged and less whimsical than Gong. I first got to know 'Master of the Universe' via the mighty Space Ritual, for me one of the greatest live LPs ever released. (And if I ever find out which thieving bugger stole my gatefold double album from a student house party in 1989...)

Another back catalogue that I still need to get to grips with properly is that of Fela Kuti. I could have included anything from the nine (!) albums he released in this period, but I went for one from 1973's Gentleman, the title track of which considers attitudes to colonialism: 'Africa hot, I like am so / You see I know what to wear / But my friends don't know / He put him socks, him put him shoe... I no be gentleman at all, no! / I be Africa man original.'

Several of the artists mentioned so far are standard fare for the Fall fan community; The Stooges and Can, for example, are well-known as Mark E Smith favourites. The Isley Brothers, however, are much less likely to crop up on, say, The Mighty Fall Facebook group. If you only know them for 60s hits such as 'This Old Heart of Mine', I recommend that you listen to some of their early 70s material, such as 1971's Givin' It Back, which opens with their astonishingly powerful interpretation of Neil Young's 'Ohio', twinned with Hendrix's 'Machine Gun' (there's an outstanding live version here) as well as a langorously soulful ten-minute reading of Dylan's 'Lay Lady Lay'. 

Even so, I simply had to select a track from 1973's 3+3. Perhaps less serious-minded than some of their other early 70s work, it is nonetheless a perfect album to soundtrack a summer afternoon. Was there ever a more delicious fuzz-guitar sound than is to be found on 'That Lady'? Is there any better backdrop to sipping a cold beer or chilled white wine at an August barbeque than 'Summer Breeze'? I also have a sentimental attachment to the album, it being a particular favourite of a good friend from university who left us at a ridiculously young age: RIP James.

A few of the artists included produced fine, if not to my mind entirely consistent work over this period. Two of them, Zappa and Captain Beefheart, were further examples of MES favourites. With Zappa, I struggle to find an album that I really like all the way through, although I do enjoy a lot of Weasels..., Waka/Jawaka and The Grand Wazoo. For me, he's one of those artists best listened to via a self-curated playlist. I must confess that I only recently realised that 'Directly from My Heart to You' (which features the best example of blues violin playing I've ever heard - and vocals - from Don "Sugarcane" Harris) was a cover of a Little Richard single.

As for the captain... Whilst I find his output from this period far more consistent than Zappa's, it is a little patchy in places. The Spotlight Kid, although it includes some potentially decent tracks, sounds a little flat and uninspired overall (partly due to the production; partly due to the fact that it sounds as though the Magic Band's hearts aren't really in it). I love an extended, meandering jam as much (if not more) than the next man, but Mirror Man - although perhaps a little unfairly maligned - demonstrates that this was isn't a style that best suits Beefheart. That said, Trout Mask Replica and Lick My Decals Off, Baby are hugely impressive (I'm in that heretical crowd that think the latter is the superior album). Clear Spot (from which 'Big Eyed Beans from Venus' comes) is the album that comes closest to successfully marrying the anti-music angularity of Trout and Decals to a more commercial approach. Below is an excellent version of 'Big Eyed Beans' recorded for French TV in 1980:

James Brown has a back catalogue that's perhaps even more confusing than The Fall's. Not only are there a lot of albums (there are 15 studio LPs from this period alone) but many of them feature new recordings of old songs. I've yet to find one that maintains quality throughout (although Ain't It Funky, Hot Pants and Get on the Good Foot contain a high proportion of good stuff) and, like Zappa, I find him most enjoyable to listen to by playlist. He's at his best when hitting a groove hard and relentlessly: 'Escape-ism' is a prime example - perhaps best enjoyed via this 19 minute version:

The Groundhogs (yet another MES favourite) released five albums in my chosen period. Blues Obituary (1969) saw them progress from the standard blues-rock of their 1968 debut Scratching the Surface, but you'll find their most exciting and thoughtful work on Thank Christ for the Bomb (1970) and Split (1971). The Fall covered 'Strange Town' (from Thank Christ) on Imperial Wax Solvent, also including passages from 'Garden' from the same album.

I am a recent convert to the work of Townes Van Zandt (thanks to Alastair Wright aka Pott). He seems to have been a deeply troubled soul (Townes, that is, not Alastair) who was far more interested in songwriting than the process of recording and production. As a result, his studio albums are very variable; his eponymous 1969 LP seems to be the pick of the bunch. 'Waiting Around to Die' was originally recorded for his debut, 1968's For the Sake of the Song, but - like most of his songs - it's far better suited by a stripped-back approach. It has a fragile yet dignified melancholy that flirts with stereotypical mawkish sentimentality but rises above it thanks to an achingly pretty melody and a beautifully crafted lyric.

I'm sure many of you know this phenomenon: an artist whose body of work you generally regard as okay, but there's one particular album that just hits the spot perfectly. Every single second of Dusty in Memphis oozes cool and class; it's an LP that sweeps you off your feet. 'Son of a Preacher Man' is well deserving of its classic status and 'I Can't Make It Alone' is heartbreakingly gorgeous; but it's the soaring, swinging soul of 'Breakfast in Bed' that melts my heart.

Memphis was actually a bit of a commercial bomb on release, but has gone on to gain classic status (in 2020, it ranked at 83 in Rolling Stone's '500 greatest albums of all time' list). In contrast, the following track on my compilation is from an album that languished in obscurity for decades. Vietnam veteran F.J. McMahon recorded and released Spirit of the Golden Juice in 1969, and virtually nobody took any notice; McMahon himself claims he didn't listen to the album again until 2009. 

"There’s something special about the dusty charm of McMahon’s collection of sparse folk songs. Playing like a long, protracted sigh, Spirit of the Golden Juice is the comedown from the psychedelic ’60s, bearing the heavy burden of Vietnam and personal isolation." (John Paul, 2017)

There's an interesting interview with McMahon here.

To round up the rest: Rare Bird's 'Beautiful Scarlet' is here to represent the vast array of prog/psych/blues-rock released in this period that I love. Silver Apples' eponymous debut LP (particularly 'Program') is their best work, a fabulously trippy blend of psychedelia and electronica, but it falls just outside my chosen period - 1969's Contact isn't quite as good, but the delightfully wonky pulse of 'I Have Known Love'  is well worth a place on this tape. 

Finally, we have yet another MES favourite, R. Dean Taylor (The Fall covered  'Ghost in my House' and 'Gotta See Jane'). The Canadian singer-songwriter's back catalogue is a little uneven - he had a penchant for bland cover versions of songs like 'Fire and Rain' and 'Sunday Morning Coming Down' - but 'Indiana Wants Me' is a veritable pop classic.

As is always the case when I try to make a compilation of a set length, my initial trawl for potential songs resulted in a playlist list that was way too long. Here are some (although by no means all) of the songs/artists that just missed out:

• Both Tom Waits and Bruce Springsteen released fine albums in 1973 (the latter actually released two, although 'The Wild, the Innocent & the E Street Shuffle' is by far the stronger). However, they find both artists right at the beginning of their careers and I don't really see either as part of this period. Had I had the room, I might have squeezed in 'I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You' and/or the epic 'New York City Serenade'.
• Velvet Underground / Lou Reed: Although technically half of VU's 'proper' albums were released in this period, they feel like an end of the 60s rather than an early 70s band, if that makes sense. As for Lou, 'I Love You', 'Andy's Chest' and 'Sad Song' were all contenders that didn't quite make the cut.
• Miles Davis: 'In A Silent Way' was one of the first tracks that I thought of, but it would have taken up half a side; probably best left for when I do something specifically jazz related.
• Prog: There's a wealth of excellent prog albums from this period, but given the length of most of the songs, I would probably have had to limit myself to just a couple in order not to imbalance the tape. Like the jazz, I'll keep it for a genre-specific compilation so that the prog-haters amongst you can completely ignore it.
• 'Maggot Brain': If only I'd had ten minutes more...
• Bob Dylan: With boring conventionality, I consider 1965-66 to be the pinnacle of Dylan's career; the mid-70s are very strong, and then there are later period highlights such as Time Out Of Mind and Rough and Rowdy Ways. Although Nashville Skyline has its charms, overall, 1969-73 offers fairly slim pickings as far as Bob's concerned.
• Black Sabbath: There'll undoubtedly be a C90 or two dedicated to the heavy stuff, but even so, 'Snowblind' was one of the last to be cropped to get this down to 90 minutes.
• 'Needles in the Camel's Eye': The opening track from 1973's Here Come the Warm Jets was the last track to fall when getting this compilation down to the right length.
• David Bowie: Just too many to choose from. I'm sure David will make plenty of appearances on future C90s.

I'd love to hear your C90 suggestions (for this period or any other) so feel free to contact me. If you're on Facebook, there's a C90 group here. I'm also on Twitter.

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