Musical Youths2
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Last night Mr Trick posed the question “can music still inspire the kids to make music themselves?” He wasn’t convinced what with the disposable nature of music consumption these days but I assured him it was still working it’s magic. Never one to miss an opportunity what with the often underlying autobiographical nature of our show, I as ever tapped up the Trickmeister and asked him to share some words about the record which personally inspired him to follow suit, and of course here’s my convoluted chronicle to kick things off…
I never planned on making music, not for a living, not even for a hobby. I wanted to make films, bad films at that; I’d stay up til the small hours lost in the low budget worlds of Roger Corman, Ed Wood and Herschell Gordon Lewis, wondering how I could mobilize a motley crew of mates and knock up a zombie movie on my mum’s old cine camera with a budget of loose change. Music was always there of course, sound tracking the otherwise dreary walk to school which conveniently took 45 minutes, as if it was sponsored by TDK (the length of one side of your average cassette for those who don’t remember). Being in a band was probably the last thing on my mind though, I couldn’t play an instrument and after a couple of piano lessons from my Granddad I showed little to no promise of ever mastering one. There’s a tradition of teenagers and guitars but I wasn’t fussed about rock, aside Prince’s heroic axe-work and the odd rock n roll classic it was other people’s music and as the cliché goes, why would a pasty kid from the ‘burbs even consider making hip hop?
So at 14 I started my Media Studies GCSE, still hell bent on a move to Hollywood and developing a love for macs and trench-coats (this all ties in I promise), and slightly dismayed that I couldn’t just make films on the course, I sat considering a project in another medium. I was listening to a track called “She’s Gotta Moustache” by Original Concept which as crass and misogynistic as it may sound, had me finally considering the world of music construction. This just sounded like a bunch of mates having a laugh, so I flicked back through the album, then dug out some BDP, then some Doug E Fresh, a revelation – this all sounded home made, or at least could have been, and my dad was right, they were “just talking” – anyone could have a pop at this.
My plan to make a rap record for a school project (thankfully) never came into fruition but the process of rounding up the same motley crew of reprobates was as much fun as my fleeting forays into film production, and my disregard for anyone’s musical ability reflected that Ed Wood casting ethic. I did consider simply remaking the Kooley High record cover, I had the two on the left sorted and just needed someone with some Dre-like girth, I was of course gonna be the one in the trench-coat.
In hindsight it seems bizarre as I’ve barely listened to the album in years but by sheer coincidence I dug it out the other day and while playing the opening “Legend” which outlines the story of how Dre put his group together I realised that’s exactly what I’d done and in many ways continue to do to this day, sans some of the macho man stuff. Anyway enough of this Wonder Years meets Yo MTV Raps soliloquy – here’s the aforementioned “Legend” and check out Trick’s tale up next.
Trick writes:
As a child I pretty much grew up around music; my parents had a ’64 Rock-Ola jukebox that we had on most weekends, and between that and their huge collection of 45s I was pretty much doomed from the get-go. Hence, when I asked for a guitar aged 12, it wasn’t so much as a result of being inspired by any one band or song so much as music and rock n’ roll in general.
By age 13 – in 1988 – I was already in a band with some schoolfriends. Equipped with a Vox Whiteshadow guitar and a ropey Yamaha 50w amp, I was fully ensconced in 80s rock – and boy do I mean the ropey end of it. That ultra-shallow LA stuff was my bag, with anything from Motley Crue to LA Guns being the order of the day. Weirdly, I kinda stand by that these days; I was 13, living in the suburbs and culturally it was pretty safe, middle-class and respectable. Hence, weirdly-dressed bands from LA singing about sex, drugs & rock n’ roll was, to me at least as a just-about-teenager, totally intoxicating. It was a window on some other weird existence I could barely imagine much less live in.
So, you can picture my musical position pretty well at this point: LA hair-metal of little substance, with its themes rooted entirely in the “blaargh let’s get fucked up and PARTAY!” theme that now, in 2009, is plain laughable. Stating this is important because it outlines just what a nuclear bomb the sound of Jane’s Addiction’s “Nothing’s Shocking” was to my mind.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing; it means that these days we can look back on a group like Jane’s Addiction and see where they went, from the deserved success of the Ritual De Lo Habitual LP through to numerous rather lame comebacks, dubious solo LPs and side projects and, of course, the Lollapalooza festival that Perry Farrell founded. However, in 1988, very, VERY few people had heard of these guys, and right then, in the midst of shallow hair rock from California, these guys sounded totally, utterly out-there as a rock band. From Perry Farrell’s weird, high-pitched voice through to the pure insanity of tracks like “Thank You Boys”, from song titles like “Had A Dad” to lyrics covering the zen-like qualities of swine, they were a different proposition altogether. Anything seemed to go (to my 13 year old mind at least) and their sound was utterly their own. On top of that, as a novice guitar player, Dave Navarro’s playing blew me away, and nowhere more so that on the track I’ve selected, “Ocean Size”. Now, don’t get me wrong: this isn’t a claim that the solo is “the best ever” or anything like that. To me though, back then, it was just about the most incredible playing I’d ever heard; just astonishing. The crescendos on the solo, the screams he wrangled out of his guitar… it just blew me away. It still does too.
I remember where I was when I first heard this LP; I was standing in the playground of my school. The sun was out, the air was fresh and while everyone else kicked tennis balls about I was sharing a walkman with my best friend Paul, passing it back and forth doing the old “mate – check this!” routine with various cassettes. I heard the opening track of the album and thought “hmm – not bad”. Then I heard Ocean Size, and from then on knew one thing: fuck the other stuff – THIS was what all music had to be measured by. I wanted to make music like this…
Did I manage it? Hell no; whilst I’ve made a few tracks here and there and played in bands (of varying names but ostensibly featuring the same guys) for my teenage years, I’ve certainly not carved any career as a producer. But you know what? I’m comfortable with that, for one simple reason: whilst at the time this music inspired me to make music, I’ve realised since then that it did something much greater, namely fire my passion in music so much that it would never die – and won’t until I’m six feet under. That, I’d say, is some serious inspiration…
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