Radio Days: Mark Lamarr & God's Jukebox

For four years between 2006 and 2010, “Moanin’ At Midnight” by Howlin’ Wolf heralded the plugging in of God’s Jukebox and the start of the three most engrossing, enriching and enjoyable hours of my week.

It had always been a dream of Mark Lamarr’s to have a radio show with “Moanin’ At Midnight” – and Wolf’s unmistakable low groan intro – as its theme. When God’s Jukebox was commissioned, his dream came true. That the show started at midnight (Saturday, 12 till 3am) made it all the more perfect.

Lamarr joined BBC Radio 2 in 1998 and hosted a number of specialist series on the network: he shared his enviable stash of 7-inch records and extensive knowledge of rockabilly – his first love – on the award-winning Shake, Rattle & Roll; The Reggae Show began with him dipping his toe into the world of reggae and ended with him as something of an authority on the subject, interviewing virtually every key figure in Jamaican music along the way; Alternative 60s was an exhilarating journey into the outer reaches of the 1960s.

With God’s Jukebox, he had the ideal vehicle for his Catholic tastes; a showcase deserving of his remarkable record collection. Each show featured a dizzyingly diverse selection of music – blues, soul, reggae, punk, funk, gospel, country, jazz – much of which I hadn't heard before. Little Willie John into The Sonics into Hank Williams into Irma Thomas into Dr. Feelgood into The Maytals into Sister Rosetta Tharpe into Nat King Cole. All the good stuff jumbled together - just as, I trust, the Good Lord likes it.

For all of its punk “anything goes” spirit, God’s Jukebox was structured and meticulously assembled. One regular segment (Featured Artist) saw Lamarr playing six tracks by or connected to a particular singer or group – a fantastic way of demonstrating that artist's range and influence, of opening your ears to someone you perhaps thought you knew or had preconceptions about. Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, Nina Simone, Dexys Midnight Runners, Candi Staton, Slade and Roxy Music are all former Featured Artists who I now consider favourites. Bob Dylan wasn't the only person doing themed radio shows in the 2000s – Mark could also be found riffing on a range of subjects from family and flying, to the moon and (yes) midnight.

Every week, to the disgruntlement of some, Lamarr would slip in a hip-hop track (it’s safe to presume he’s responsible for 100% of the plays Ludacris has received on Radio 2) and a raucous gospel performance – from the original vinyl, naturally. No show would go by without him playing something by one of his biggest heroes, Tom Waits - it seemed only right to me that I buy a Waits album a week to keep up.

New talent was given its time to shine, even if the majority of the new music to catch Lamarr’s ear was clearly indebted to the past (something I find increasingly with my own listening tastes as I get older). He would joke that the artists he tipped for the big time were destined for a career of obscurity, and he kind of had a point – Asteroids Galaxy Tour, Candie Payne, The Heavy, Chicken Legs Weaver and The Dials were just a few to not receive the support or success they perhaps deserved. Many of these acts performed live sessions on the show, as did legends including The Monks, The Zombies, The Congos, Allen Touissant and Paul Weller.

Every God’s Jukebox would end on something pre-war – something crackly and reflective to waltz you into the wee small hours, towards the land of nod.

It’s easy to forget that for the first couple of years of the show’s run, at least, there was no iPlayer. If for whatever reason you missed the show going out live - that was it, no catch-up, no second chances. I know it may sound melodramatic, but on the rare occasions that I did miss a show it really did feel like I’d missed out on some valuable education, on some new doors being opened to me. In those four years, I listened to, bought (albums, greatest hits, compilations, Proper box sets) and devoured more music than I ever had before or have since.

Not everything played on the show was great. Garage and punk bands, clearly beloved of the teenage Lamarr, would be invited in for sessions, sometimes way past their sell-by date. He, like many avid record collectors, had a penchant for the novelty song – some of which you probably didn't need to hear even once in your life. An annual special, three hours of obscure Christmas records, would have tested the patience of Saint Nick. But this all felt like part of the discovery.

The Mark Lamarr on God’s Jukebox was very different to the Mark Lamarr on television. The jaded, sneering quiz master of Never Mind The Buzzcocks felt less like a persona as the series stacked up (Someone really needs to put that rock dinosaur of a show out of its misery). On the radio, he was always relaxed, incredibly passionate and knowledgeable, funny but in a less showy way. He had the best job in the world, he’d say. Waspish comments were saved for a few choice targets: Elton John, Robbie Williams, Radio 2 bigwigs.

And so it went that Lamarr left BBC Radio 2 in 2010, following one last row with bosses regarding the show’s graveyard slot. “We have a greater commitment than ever before to specialist music genres and feature an extraordinarily broad range of music…we plan to replace his shows with equally distinctive content in 2011", a BBC spokesperson said at the time, which looks even more like bollocks now than it did then. The final God’s Jukebox went out on Christmas Eve/Day. Last I heard, Mark was doing some on-flight radio shows for British Airways and curating a stage at the Latitude festival.

6music have some superb stuff in their schedule – Gilles Petersen; Craig Charles’ Soul & Funk Show; Cery’s Matthews’ splendid Sunday morning show, which is probably the closest to God’s Jukebox in terms of its rootsy diversity – but surely they could find a slot for Lamarr. I can understand why musicians like Guy Garvey, Jarvis Cocker and Ricky Wilson are given their own shows – they’re recognisable and popular personalities with ready-made audiences.

But no one on radio has as big a personality as Mark Lamarr: I don’t think I’ll ever forget the glee with which he introduced “Duppy Conqueror” by Bob Marley (“duppy” is the Jamaican word for “ghost”, meaning that “Duppy Conqueror” is essentially Marley’s version of Ghostbusters!), or the warmth and humanity with which he, obviously choked up, dedicated one show to Charlie Gillett – his friend and fellow DJ and record obsessive who had passed away earlier that week – and played Barbara Lynn’s “You’ll Lose A Good Thing”. Even setting aside his musical expertise and taste, there just has to be room on the BBC for a broadcaster like that.

Thanks Mark. Happy trails to you, till we meet again.

One gallant warrior has compiled this Two Week (!) long Spotify playlist of music featured on God’s Jukebox.  If that seems a little intimidating, I have put together my own selection - some tracks I vividly remember hearing in the early hours of Saturday, ear pressed against the side of my radio. I hope it gives you a flavour of this incredible show.

Live Report: The National - Usher Hall, Edinburgh (10/07/14)

Gig Of 2013 had to be The National at Alexandra Palace, a band I’d wanted to see live since hearing the stately piano and fanfare of “Fake Empire” and its parent album, Boxer, in 2007. The intervening years had given this desire time to grow - The National, themselves growing bigger and better, slowly amassing one of the finest catalogues in modern rock. No Scottish shows were announced in the initial promotion of their latest LP, Trouble Will Find Me; my friends and I had to go to them.

The London audience that night were treated to a generous, triumphant two-hour set, complete with string section, swirling visuals and an unplugged version of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” to close. Lead singer Matt Berninger, swigging from a bottle of red wine throughout, did his trademark slalom through the crowd. Twice. 

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Eight months on, and I'm off on another National pilgrimage - this time to the Usher Hall in Edinburgh (Guys, I love you, and, yes, the travelling arguably adds something to the overall experience, but a Glasgow date at some point wouldn't go a-miss, eh?).

No new music has surfaced since the Ally Pally gig, but we have had Mistaken For Strangers - a rockumentary made by Tom Berninger, Matt's brother, following the band on their High Violet tour. Mistaken For Strangers is less a film about The National and their music and more a psychological profiling of Tom (lay-about, heavy-rock lover, aspiring movie-maker, hopeless roadie), focusing in on his relationship with - and jealousy towards - his successful rock-star sibling. Indeed, most of Tom's valuable one-on-one interview time with the other band members is taken up with him determined to know "what's the deal with Matt??". It's touching, truthful and uplifting-in-a-melancholy-kind-of-way, as you might hope from something National-related. But it also made me laugh louder and more consistently than any other film I've seen this year. Didn't expect that!

A listen through of Trouble Will Find Me after time away confirms it as one of The National's best: strong, direct songs (the unorthodox time signatures on "I Should Live In Salt" and "Demons" are as tricksy as the LP gets) which flow seamlessly into each other; more open both spatially (compared to the claustrophobic High Violet) and emotionally (Matt's lyrics less cryptic, his vocals less mumbled); the sound of a band who know who they are and what they do best. "Pink Rabbits" and "Hard To Find" combine to form one of the most devastating and satisfying endings to an album that I can remember. 

"To be honest, I'll be more than happy if it's exactly the same set as last time", I say on the train through to Edinburgh.

And that's pretty much what we get. A near-identical set-list heaving with high-points from the last four albums, the more overtly anthemic moments from Trouble Will Find Me and High Violet meshing successfully with the twitchier Boxer and Alligator tracks. “Don’t Swallow The Cap” and “I Should Live In Salt” next to “Mistaken For Strangers” and “Squalor Victoria”. "Bloodbuzz Ohio", probably their most famous tune, is dispatched with four songs in - plenty more where that came from.

The opening 20 minutes are very good, but I can’t help feeling that something is lacking in comparison to the London show – the guitars and vocals are a little too low in the mix perhaps, or Matt’s slightly subdued.

Then, suddenly, everything seems to shift up a gear – and I don’t mean in terms of volume (though “Abel” is loud and electrifying, Berninger letting rip on its “my mind’s not right” chorus). It’s more about momentum. The cumulative effect of these superb songs, swelling one after another, is to create something incredibly intense and moving. You’re swept away on a wave of emotion, a tide of euphoria, a Sea of Love.

There are minor changes to the set-list. “Anyone’s Ghost” and Catching Fire contribution “Lean” both make way. An unnamed new track – Future Island verses giving way to British Sea Powered blasts of noise – comes and goes, leaving little impression.

The delicate piano intro of "Hard To Find" begins, however, and I instantly feel myself welling up. Fuck! They’re playing that! I adore the radiant sadness of the slower National numbers (see “Start A War”, "City Middle", "Slipped"), but they don’t always lend themselves to being played in large halls, their subtleties often lost. “Hard To Find” sounds perfect tonight though, its lyrics crystal clear, the “they can all just kiss off into the air” refrain a proper throw-your-arm-round-your-mate moment.

“Conversation 16” also gets an outing – it must surely bring perverse joy to the band that they can instigate a mass sing-along of the lines “I was afraid I’d eat your brains…'cause I'm evil”. 

This dark humour and wit - present in much of The National’s work - is often missed by casual listeners. Like The Smiths, they have been dismissed as miserable and depressing - predominantly I think due to Berninger's deep grumble of a delivery. But the lyrics to "Karen" ("It's a common fetish for a doting man / To ballerina on the coffee table, cock in hand") and "All The Wine" ("I'm put together beautifully...a perfect piece of ass...a wingspan unbelievable, I'm a festival, I'm a parade"), to give just two examples, are genuinely funny; "When I walk into a room I do not light it up / Fuck!" from "Demons" is positively Morrissey-esque.

Now in his early-40s, Berninger is a little older than your average alternative rock front-man. He’s a father, a family man, and this – along with the experience which comes from a hard-won success after years of working, touring and struggling – brings a wise, worldliness to his words. His takes on life’s loves ("What I feel now about you then, I'm just glad I can explain / You're beautiful and close and young / In those ways we were the same") , pains ("Sorry I hurt you, but they say love is a virtue don't they?"), hopes ("You know I dreamed about you, for 29 years before I saw you") and disappointments ("We expected something, something better than before, we expected something more") are more-often-than-not considered, poetic and right. At his best, he's Guy Garvey without the "oh my giddy aunt" chumminess; the equal of Nick Cave or Moz.

Another aspect of The National that may surprise some is just how guitar-orientated they are live, how much they rock. On record, the voice and drums tend to drive the tracks, but tonight the guitar-playing brothers, Aaron and Bryce Dessner, are free to elongate solos and add licks to the likes of "Afraid Of Everyone" and "Graceless". They end “Terrible Love” on separate sides of the stage, in identical poses, their guitars held aloft.

The gig closes, as it did at Alexandra Palace, with Berninger turning the microphone on the crowd for “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” (as captured in the video below). Near a cappella, with the band and the fans giving everything they've got left, it's a spine-tingling, fitting finale - despite the fact that many of us need to brush up on our second verse.

A couple of songs previous, Matt Berninger had been propelled into the crowd by “Mr. November”. He made his way to the rear of the venue and then cut back diagonally across the floor. Tracing his mic lead which stretched out above, we knew he was close. And, suddenly, there he was. Racing like a pro, not missing a beat. We patted him on the shoulder as he flashed past, then turned to each other and let out schoolboy whoops of excitement.

For that briefest of moments, he had come to us.

This Week I've Been Mostly Listening To...

Zig Zags – Brainded Warrior (2014)

“Hey punk! You’re coming with me…don’t believe everything you see.”

“Brainded Warrior” is my current first-track-of-the-day of choice, ideal for brushing away those early morning cobwebs. Produced – though perhaps “captured” better describes the no-frills treatment – by San Francisco punk protagonist, one-man (no)Hit Factory and AOIBTW hero Ty Segall, it’s a crunching, Sabbath-shaped heavy nugget. Zig Zags’ self-titled album was released at the start of the month on the often ear-bleeding, always excellent In The Red Records. Seek it out with the urgency that its music demands.

White Fence – Like That (2014)

Ty Segall and White Fence released the Hair LP in 2012. It was a collaboration, though it also wasn't difficult to work out who had brought which song to the table: the simple, frantic punk thrills of “Crybaby” and “Scissor People” – that’ll be yer man, Ty; the shambling psych rambles of “I Am Not a Game” and “(I Can’t) Get Around You” – almost certainly Mr. Fence. “Like That”, the first taster of a new Segall-produced LP, finds White Fence – real name Tim Presley – again playing to his strengths.

At risk of turning this into a Guardian think piece, we must be close to reaching “peak psych” – countless bands, Temples perhaps being the most commercially successful, are keen to adopt the aesthetic (the tripping Revolver drums and phased guitars; the bright, best-viewed-on-vinyl artwork; the frizzy hair and washed-out denim) but are seemingly against (incapable of?) embracing the spirit of discovery and adventure of those original 60s recordings; every month, new Psych Fests are popping up, the genre’s definition stretched increasingly to breaking point by the acts being booked for the bills; just last week, Yves Saint Laurent unveiled a new Psych Rock Collection.

What fences Presley off from the crowd, for me, is his infectious sense of fun and appealingly dashed-off execution.

Bon Iver – Heavenly Father (2014)

Although his solo work is much maligned by rock critics, Phil Collins has long been revered by the hip-hop and R&B community. The man’s a genius, they’ll say. Listen to that alien, lost soul voice – he means it, man. The production is so super smooth and atmospheric production – who wouldn't want to sample those pounding drums? And just look at all those Grammys! In 2001, a full tribute album entitled Urban Renewal was recorded with contemporary urban acts tackling their favourite Collins songs.

I can only assume that Kanye, Jay-Z & co see similar qualities in Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, their go-to man when it comes to creating lighters-aloft stadium moments about how insignificant money is and all that really matters is being a good dad. Getting Vernon in to emote over a bombastic soft-rock backing track is the modern day equivalent of lifting the yearning vocals of “Another Day In Paradise” or dry drums of “In The Air Tonight” (Mr. Hudson is the Sting to Vernon’s Collins).

There are many people who wish that Bon Iver would return to the spooked cabin folk of his For Emma, Forever Ago LP, who felt that the second album was a little too produced, a little too, well, *Phil Collins*. But I personally loved the way he expanded his sound, the way the tracks built - instruments slowly emerging and focusing, like silhouettes from a snowstorm.

This layering of sound continues on “Heavenly Father”, taken for the soundtrack to the forthcoming Zach Braff movie, Wish I Was Here. Influences from hip-hop and his Volcano Choir project are evident too – a manipulated and looped sample of Vernon’s voice (which at first briefly and scarily sounds like bagpipes) acts as the track’s bedrock, while little electronic details are squiggled throughout. It’s beautiful, and bodes very well for whatever the bearded one chooses to do next. 

High Ends – The Weight (2014)

I must confess to knowing nothing about Canadian indie rockers Yukon Blonde, other than that they're an indie rock band and they're from Canada. And that their chief songwriter Jeffrey Innes has now started a new project, High Ends. "The Weight" had me at it's first chorus - a perfectly judged slice of gorgeous, glistening synth-pop. I don't get to listen to the radio as often as I'd like, so I can only assume that this is getting some serious airplay. This is the sound of a Hit, right?

Endless Boogie – Taking Out The Trash (2013)

Few bands are more aptly named than Endless Boogie: they boogie – though, crucially, never woogie – and once they hit upon a riff or lock into a groove, they get it on the highway and stretch it on out….for eight, ten, sometimes even 14 minutes.

With their leather jackets, questionable facial hair and bourbon-soaked vocals, The Boogers (?) display many of the biker rock clichés. However, by the time that one big circling riff of “Taking Out The Trash”, cranked up to the max, reaches its sixth hypnotic minute, it shares more in common with Neu! or Hawkwind than your typical dive-bar blues band. The album from which this is taken, last year’s Long Island, is still on suitably heavy rotation round these parts.

Dolly Parton - Don't Let It Trouble Your Mind (1969)

In the run-up to this year's Glastonbury, much of the talk was about whether or not bear-hunting, Napster-suing metal-heads Metallica would be embraced by the hippies, and about how Kasabian's closing headline set on Sunday was gonna be beazer, the greatest spectacle witnessed by a man ever (talk, admittedly, predominately from Kasabian themselves).

[For anyone catching up with Metallica's pommelling set on iPlayer, that person standing bolt upright sound asleep just a few rows from the front is my sister, Ruth. Very proud.]

As it turned out, the real star of Glasto 2014 performed on the Pyramid Stage just a few hours before Kasabian were due to ‘ave it. In front of the largest crowd of the weekend, Dolly Parton went on a finely-honed hour-long charm offensive, where her juggling of instruments and self-deprecating anecdotes were as important as the songs themselves, and the songs just happened to be classics like “Jolene”, “Coat Of Many Colors” and “I Will Always Love You”.

Some killjoys took to Twitter to (almost certainly correctly) accuse her of miming along to certain tracks, but did it really matter? For the hundreds of thousands watching in the field and on their TVs at home, this was sold-gold Sunday afternoon entertainment and a reminder of what an under-appreciated songwriter Parton is.

"Don't Let It Trouble Your Mind" is one of my Dolly fixtures. The studio version can be found on the essential Soul Jazz compilation, Country Soul Sisters. 

Bobby Womack – Deep River (2012)

I was deeply saddened to hear of the death of Bobby Womack on 27th June 2014 at the age of 70, but have since taken great joy in listening to some of his extraordinary life's work. "It's All Over Now" which Bobby co-wrote for The Valentinos, and The Stones had a hit with. The majestic, one-two knock-out of his Communication and Understanding LPs. His super-fly soundtrack work and, more recently, his collaborations with Damon Albarn.

The Bravest Man In The Universe, his big comeback record and - as it turned out - his last, if anything sounds better now than it did two years ago. "Deep River" is the one I keep coming back to - not just for that line "I ain't got long to stay here", now with added poignancy, but for the vocal ticks of great hero and mentor Sam Cooke which trace a line right back to the start of Womack's long, miraculous career. And also for the deep, defiant soulfulness of it.

Apparently, in the lead up to his death, Womack was working on a new album, typically titled The Best Is Yet To Come, featuring contributions from Stevie Wonder, Rod Stewart and Snoop Dogg. These recordings may well see the light of day, but this performance of "Deep River" is how I'll remember him.

"Remember kids, don't neglect your studies"