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Dear Apple,

On checking for recent releases this Tuesday, I found the link on iTunes’ Hip Hop page, from the rather large picture of the late Adam Yauch, goes to a page of Beastie Boys releases. The man isn’t even in his grave yet, and while I’m not really surprised by your complete lack of tact, I can’t help feeling somehow sullied by witnessing this callous act of greed.

Remembering Adam Yauch indeed, all the way to the bank.

Regards

Nigel Ball

It has been a bit of John Peel fortnight. Firstly, I got a call from a Shelia Ravenscroft regarding some tickets I had inquired about weeks ago. As the gig I wanted to go to had sold out in a matter of days, I had forgotten that I had left my number with the box office. On snapping up the tickets that had suddenly been found, and putting the phone down, Claire informed me that Shelia was in fact The Pig, as John Peel affectionately referred to his wife when broadcasting.

The tickets were to see Billy Bragg play Woody Guthrie songs at the newly formed John Peel Centre for Creative Arts in Stowmarket. It was a great evening, and as much a lecture about the life and times of Woody Guthrie as it was a concert. Bragg was in fine voice, and having seen him perform three time in the last 3 years, twice within a year, I can definitely state he is a better performer under a Tory government than he was under Gordon Brown’s administration. John Peel would have loved it.

The Centre itself holds a lot of promise. Still in development, the old Corn Exchange has only recently had accessible toilets plumbed in. As the Centre’s committee raise more money, they plan to put in a mezzanine floor for a cafe and rehearsal space for local bands, which will also help to improve the acoustics, as the roof is somewhat cavernous, albeit beautifully so.

My second brush with the man came when the archiving of John Peel’s record collection was announced. Initially focussing on vinyl LPs, this excited me no end, (despite meaning that the 7″ single I feature on that he played on his evening show in 1992 won’t be included). The mammoth task of alphabetically uploading 100 albums a week is a daunting one and I’m amazed they did all the ‘A’s in one go, expecting there to be more in his collection. However, it looks like the ‘B’s may take a little longer.

Disappointingly, the only tracks you can listen to are linked to Spotify, meaning that if you were hoping to hear again some obscure German techno artist you first heard on a Tuesday evening in 2001, you will probably be sorely disappointed. More exciting though, from the perspective of graphic design, is that all album artwork has been scanned, including inner sleeves. Unfortunately there isn’t a zoom function, which is frustrating, and the site works better on a desktop computer than on an iPad, but I feel churlish to complain too much considering that this historic document wouldn’t otherwise be accessible in any format.

My one big grumble though, is that the release dates of each disc aren’t featured.

For anyone who listened to John Peel’s late night shows, (or for a period in the 90s, his Saturday afternoon show), this will prove to be an enticing trip down memory lane. And as if to prove the point, David Stubbs’ trawl through the first 100 records in the collection, along with YouTube clips, is well worth a read over on Quietus.

And lastly, my final brush with Peel this week was on visiting some friends last night who were listening to Tom Ravencroft’s 6music show, on iPlayer, meaning it was one week old. It is kind of odd hearing old news repeated as if it were just breaking, especially the announcement of Adam Yauch’s death at regular intervals. I didn’t find out about Yauch’s death when it was announced last Friday evening, because that was when I was at the John Peel Centre listening to Billy Bragg. So last night I witnessed John Peel’s son, who’s voice and intonation spookily sound like that of his father’s, announcing the death of someone from a week ago, when I had actually been at his Dad’s legacy with his mother in the audience!

Strange, talk about augmented reality.

There has been much said over the last couple of days about the sad death of Adam Yauch. What I have to offer is inconsequential, so I will keep it short, although I could say much.

I have followed the Beastie Boys since I first bought Licensed to Ill in 1986 as a Christmas or Birthday present for my brother—at his request, I’d never heard of them—and gave it a spin before I wrapped it up. From that moment, they continued to broaden and redefine my music tastes. There was almost no (popular) musical genre they wouldn’t attempt, either outright, or to try and fold it into their own aesthetic. I was lucky enough to get to see them live at Brixton Academy on the Ill Communications tour, and since that day they have remained the most exciting live band I have ever seen. I owe them a massive debt of gratitude.

 

Adam Yauch obituary in the Guardian

In honour of Record Store Day, I’m posting what is probably one of the best slabs of 7″ vinyl I own—The Slits, I Heard it Through the Grapevine. When I first bought it, it didn’t leave my turntable all day, I had to keep replaying it over and over again as I was so mesmerised with it. It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered the (almost) equally brilliant Typical Girls on the other side.

 

Independant record stores were important places for me when I was in my teens. I’d go to the major stores and wonder at the LPs I couldn’t afford, then go to an independant store that sold second hand and underground records that I could ‘nearly’ afford. It was always intimidating, the older guy behind the counter—always a guy—whom it was assumed had all the knowledge there possibly was to be had about any musical genre. Teenage insecurities bought worries that they would judge you on your purchase. There I discovered much music, both being played on the in-store record player, and through taking a risk on the album art alone. I made some massive mistakes, but also some wonderful discoveries. Much of my collection at this time was built from money made on my paper round and Saturday Tesco’s job, prior to being on the dole. It therefore consisted of a lot of anarcho-punk, mostly because many of the bands had a ‘pay no more than’ policy printed on their sleeves, and partly because I was aggrieved as a grumpy teenager at just missing out on being old enough to be a first generation punk, so this was the nearest I could get.

Anyway, I won’t be going to my local record store today as I don’t have a turntable anymore and most of my music habits can be satisfied without leaving my home. However, I hope record stores do well out of the event, and survive into the coming year. They helped form a part of me.

If you are in Brighton, I can highly recommend Rounder Records, I always ensure a visit if I’m down that way. Closer to (my) home, and I’m not sure if they are involved in Record Store Day or not, but Out Of Time Records in Ipswich comes highly recommended, especially for all things reggae.

Sadly, designer and director Hillman Curtis passed away on 18 April. While I wasn’t overly familiar with his name, I knew his work. In fact, he directed one of my favourite films of 2010, David Byrne’s Ride, Rise, Roar. If you haven’t seen it, I urge you to as Curtis successfully captured the meeting of many creative minds in this highly engaging music/dance documentary.

 

In the video below, Curtis talks about his work process and creative beliefs, citing limitations and constant reinvention as being central to his creativity.

 

Go here for more about the man and his work.