Duggie Chop likes this site...
Duggie's fallen asleep. So I'll address you directly, again. But with no 'stage directions' this time.
Gives me the chance to talk about folk rock. Duggie's not into it, hippy wot nots he calls it. Blimey, wait until we get onto The Incredible String Band, then.
The Albion Band. Rise Up Like The Sun. Got my copy from a car boot sale. £1. Lovely.
I can float away on this kind of thing. Opens with a nice trad sounding couple of folk-rock sing alongs, 'Ragged Heroes' and 'Poor Old Horse' then you're thrown into a raga-style instrumenal piece mixing jazz with folk and partly played on a synthesiser. Typical of The Albion Band, mixing it up.
In fact, Ashley Hutchings, Albion Band stalwart, always pushes the boundaries. On 'Rise Up Like The Sun' he's brought a few Fairport friends with him to push those boundaries further than the Convention would go and brought a Gryphon member - an experimental folk/prog rock outfit - with him.
I'm not going to overdo it. The whole thing sounds pretty standard folk rock by today's standards. But that's only because musicians like these pushed it.
I think I'm pushing it going on like this. But, hey, we live in an age of eclecticism. Wasn't the case in 1978. Punk was on its last legs. Prog had disintegrated. Synthesisers cost as much as a car. People like 'Streetband' (featuring Paul Young) were in the charts singing about 'Toast'.
The Albion Band. A breath of fresh air. The sun rising and breaking up the fog. Of course I'm going to push it. Of course. Wow...just then...I was taken by the wonderful fiddle line in 'House In The County' on side two and drifted for a moment. 'The Primrose' follows, with a jarring - yet addictive - oompah-oompah sound, blended with a kyboard. reminds me of the theme tune to one of the 'On The Buses' films...
...and from the ridiculous to the sublime. The LP rounds out with the lengthy, opinion splitting masterpiece 'Gresford Disaster', an epic song about the death, in 1934, of 265 miners in North Wales. Stretched and jammed out into a synthesised slab of wonderfulness - despite the harrowing subject matter.
[So, he wanders back to the river, the sun's losing it's warmth, time for sustenance. He nudges Duggie, unscrewing the lid of the thermos and offers his friend a sweet tea. Duggie nods and nudges back - his float's bobbing up and down, surely he's got a bite...]
Record Duggie Chop's into, right this moment:
Duggie Chop recommends:
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Monday, 9 November 2009
Adult Net - The Honey Tangle (1989)
Aside by me: You know, considering me and Duggie are red blooded males, we don't talk about women all that much. We don't go crazy in the stereotypical male way (if you believe the papers, anyway).
Take my stag night. Well, a stag afternoon really. We (me, Duggie, Westie and Para) met up at about 11am, had a fry-up, walked round a few record shops and started drinking - real ale - at around 1pm.
Because we could only visit CAMRA recommended pubs, there was at least a 20minute walk between drinks. I'd sobered up by the time we returned to the train station.
But I suppose, inside our heads, in that secret place, we're all fantasizing about women.
Right, I'll shut up now, but at least I've put what me and Duggie-boy are just about to say in context.
(a cloud's come over and made us both feel momentarily maudlin)
"You ever heard of Adult Net, Dug?" I say, as Duggie is rethreading a fishing hook. I'm trying to restore my good spirits.
"Mmm? Adult what?" he says, with a mouth-full of twine.
"Net. Brix Smith from The Fall, her band, " I say. And I can see her peroxide image in my mind as I speak.
"Never heard of it, but I remember her. Course I remember her. Woah! What a fantasy girl."
(Brix Smith was married to Mark E Smith, the iconoclastic front-man of art rock band The Fall. She's American, with the glitzy, jangly poppy lightness of an American. He's a dry-witted, some might say depressive and shambolic Mancunian with an interest in Krautrock. She ran off with mockney fiddle-player, Nigel Kennedy.)
"I first got into them from an EP that came free with 'Sounds," I say.
Aside by me: Some explanation required - 'EP' - a 7" single with extra tracks, 'Sounds' a music weekly newspaper that covered more 'rocky' music than NME and Melody Maker - I'll leave it there cos I'm sure me and Duggie will elaborate on this some day, soon.
"Yeah, I remember them EPs"
"I kept them all. Adult Net was like a fluffy piece of 'jangliness' compared to the serious indie stuff. But there was a little picture of Brix Smith there, in glorious black and white (or was it blue and grey and white?). Wow. That was enough, man." I say. Thinking back, she made us want her - paraphrasing Billy Bragg - a girl not good enough to sing or play guitar that well.
"She was a cracker. What was she doing knocking around with Mark E Smith?" says Duggie.
"Dunno, but she was in my dreams, for ages. Around that difficult 18 or 19 year old period." I say.
"What about the record?" says Duggie, casting off once more.
"What?" I say, caught in a dream.
"The Adult Net?"
"Oh, yeah. Album called 'The Honey Tangle'. Came out in 1989, a few years after that EP came out. I only got it because of Brix. The tunes are ok. But we're talking about 1989. There was loads of good stuff came out that year." I say.
Duggie's switched off. Concentrating on ripples in the water.
"The most interesting thing about the LP, apart from a picture of Brix on the back cover, wearing a see-through outfit and the most luscious lipstick, is the fact that it came out on the newly resurrected 'Fontana' label that last saw the light of day in the '60s."
"You're sad." says Duggie.
Take my stag night. Well, a stag afternoon really. We (me, Duggie, Westie and Para) met up at about 11am, had a fry-up, walked round a few record shops and started drinking - real ale - at around 1pm.
Because we could only visit CAMRA recommended pubs, there was at least a 20minute walk between drinks. I'd sobered up by the time we returned to the train station.
But I suppose, inside our heads, in that secret place, we're all fantasizing about women.
Right, I'll shut up now, but at least I've put what me and Duggie-boy are just about to say in context.
(a cloud's come over and made us both feel momentarily maudlin)
"You ever heard of Adult Net, Dug?" I say, as Duggie is rethreading a fishing hook. I'm trying to restore my good spirits.
"Mmm? Adult what?" he says, with a mouth-full of twine.
"Net. Brix Smith from The Fall, her band, " I say. And I can see her peroxide image in my mind as I speak.
"Never heard of it, but I remember her. Course I remember her. Woah! What a fantasy girl."
(Brix Smith was married to Mark E Smith, the iconoclastic front-man of art rock band The Fall. She's American, with the glitzy, jangly poppy lightness of an American. He's a dry-witted, some might say depressive and shambolic Mancunian with an interest in Krautrock. She ran off with mockney fiddle-player, Nigel Kennedy.)
"I first got into them from an EP that came free with 'Sounds," I say.
Aside by me: Some explanation required - 'EP' - a 7" single with extra tracks, 'Sounds' a music weekly newspaper that covered more 'rocky' music than NME and Melody Maker - I'll leave it there cos I'm sure me and Duggie will elaborate on this some day, soon.
"Yeah, I remember them EPs"
"I kept them all. Adult Net was like a fluffy piece of 'jangliness' compared to the serious indie stuff. But there was a little picture of Brix Smith there, in glorious black and white (or was it blue and grey and white?). Wow. That was enough, man." I say. Thinking back, she made us want her - paraphrasing Billy Bragg - a girl not good enough to sing or play guitar that well.
"She was a cracker. What was she doing knocking around with Mark E Smith?" says Duggie.
"Dunno, but she was in my dreams, for ages. Around that difficult 18 or 19 year old period." I say.
"What about the record?" says Duggie, casting off once more.
"What?" I say, caught in a dream.
"The Adult Net?"
"Oh, yeah. Album called 'The Honey Tangle'. Came out in 1989, a few years after that EP came out. I only got it because of Brix. The tunes are ok. But we're talking about 1989. There was loads of good stuff came out that year." I say.
Duggie's switched off. Concentrating on ripples in the water.
"The most interesting thing about the LP, apart from a picture of Brix on the back cover, wearing a see-through outfit and the most luscious lipstick, is the fact that it came out on the newly resurrected 'Fontana' label that last saw the light of day in the '60s."
"You're sad." says Duggie.
Friday, 6 November 2009
Interlude # 2
"Hey, Duggie. Did you see that bird?" I say.
"No," Duggie turns his head round fast and looks down the path behind us, "where is she?"
"No! A bird in the sky, you prune!" I say.
"No," says Duggie.
"Well it just dive-bombed your sarnies while you were whistling."
"Oh, err. It's dead!" says Duggie, searching through his knapsack.
"Maybe it didn't like the tune," I say.
"No," Duggie turns his head round fast and looks down the path behind us, "where is she?"
"No! A bird in the sky, you prune!" I say.
"No," says Duggie.
"Well it just dive-bombed your sarnies while you were whistling."
"Oh, err. It's dead!" says Duggie, searching through his knapsack.
"Maybe it didn't like the tune," I say.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Adam Ant - Strip (1983)
"I always thought that he was a bit disloyal to The Ants, myself," says Duggie, "He went solo, got Phil Collins to do the drums and production and put a crap poster of himself stripping off inside."
"Kept Marco on though," I say.
"Ant/Marco. They were the Lennon/McCartney of the early '80s," says Duggie, "But what about Merrick, Terry-Lee and Gary Tibbs?"
"Dunno, I think Merrick does record producing now, or something. I never appreciated how cool Marco Pirroni's guitar playing was until recently, a real Gretsch/wild west-jangly coolness," I say.
"You know Marco ditched his expensive hifi and replaced it with a 1960s Dansette record player, cos he preferred the tinny distorted sound," says Duggie.
"He could have had my Binatone clock radio off me," I say (by the way, that comment refers to an earlier post...)
Now it's me thinking back:
I remember that I bought 'Strip' in 1983, one day after school. And I was getting a lift back with my Mum so I took it into her work, where she was a recptionist and all the women in the office commented on it.
Like Duggie said, there was a weird poster of Adam stripping off in front of a pink background inside. The front cover had a 'provocative' - if you like that kind of thing - soft-focused portrait of Adam luxuriating in a bed of straw, chewing a piece as if it were a Cadbury's Flake. On the back cover he's cuddling a Nell Gwyn look-a-like as if they'd just had it off in a barn.
So, no wonder the women in my Mum's office brought a blush to the face of the 15 year-old me.
Back to reality:
"He really fancied himself by then, didn't he?" says Duggie, "Wasn't even that good looking."
"'spose he made the most of what he had," I say.
(Then I remember, we've not even mentioned the music once.)
Me speaking to you lot directly:
The record hasn't really dated that much. Probably because it wasn't in date when it came out. It was occupying an Adam Ant musical landscape, of one artist. Like Marc Almond, or Sparks or someone like that does now (and did then...).
Strip is 40-odd minutes of pop with a risque tinge. For example, from a track called 'Playboy': "What do you wear in be?
Some headphones on my head
What do you like to hold?
My breath, she said.
(He's a playboy)
(Ant/Marco 1983)
And don't forget the hits: "Puss 'n' Boots" (which you probably remember) and "Strip" (which you probably don't).
And on the river bank once more:
"I'd gone off him by Strip," says Duggie, "too soft for me. I'd discovered 'The Scorpians' LP, 'Lonesome Crow."
"But I was loyal to Adam Ant. I'd won his previous album, 'Friend or Foe' in a competition in the local newspaper. By then you'd virtually worn your copy out, Dug."
"Yeah, cos we spent the whole of summer holiday 1982 listening to it round my house, while we played snooker," says Duggie.
Me again:
And I still love him to this day, I've even got 'Ant Box' the limited edition box set that he released in 2000. I've also read his auto-biography and dream of one day taking a tribute stage show of his life out on tour...
oops!:
"Oi," says Duggie, "Stop dreaming. Start fishing. We've gotta catch our tea!
"Kept Marco on though," I say.
"Ant/Marco. They were the Lennon/McCartney of the early '80s," says Duggie, "But what about Merrick, Terry-Lee and Gary Tibbs?"
"Dunno, I think Merrick does record producing now, or something. I never appreciated how cool Marco Pirroni's guitar playing was until recently, a real Gretsch/wild west-jangly coolness," I say.
"You know Marco ditched his expensive hifi and replaced it with a 1960s Dansette record player, cos he preferred the tinny distorted sound," says Duggie.
"He could have had my Binatone clock radio off me," I say (by the way, that comment refers to an earlier post...)
Now it's me thinking back:
I remember that I bought 'Strip' in 1983, one day after school. And I was getting a lift back with my Mum so I took it into her work, where she was a recptionist and all the women in the office commented on it.
Like Duggie said, there was a weird poster of Adam stripping off in front of a pink background inside. The front cover had a 'provocative' - if you like that kind of thing - soft-focused portrait of Adam luxuriating in a bed of straw, chewing a piece as if it were a Cadbury's Flake. On the back cover he's cuddling a Nell Gwyn look-a-like as if they'd just had it off in a barn.
So, no wonder the women in my Mum's office brought a blush to the face of the 15 year-old me.
Back to reality:
"He really fancied himself by then, didn't he?" says Duggie, "Wasn't even that good looking."
"'spose he made the most of what he had," I say.
(Then I remember, we've not even mentioned the music once.)
Me speaking to you lot directly:
The record hasn't really dated that much. Probably because it wasn't in date when it came out. It was occupying an Adam Ant musical landscape, of one artist. Like Marc Almond, or Sparks or someone like that does now (and did then...).
Strip is 40-odd minutes of pop with a risque tinge. For example, from a track called 'Playboy': "What do you wear in be?
Some headphones on my head
What do you like to hold?
My breath, she said.
(He's a playboy)
(Ant/Marco 1983)
And don't forget the hits: "Puss 'n' Boots" (which you probably remember) and "Strip" (which you probably don't).
And on the river bank once more:
"I'd gone off him by Strip," says Duggie, "too soft for me. I'd discovered 'The Scorpians' LP, 'Lonesome Crow."
"But I was loyal to Adam Ant. I'd won his previous album, 'Friend or Foe' in a competition in the local newspaper. By then you'd virtually worn your copy out, Dug."
"Yeah, cos we spent the whole of summer holiday 1982 listening to it round my house, while we played snooker," says Duggie.
Me again:
And I still love him to this day, I've even got 'Ant Box' the limited edition box set that he released in 2000. I've also read his auto-biography and dream of one day taking a tribute stage show of his life out on tour...
oops!:
"Oi," says Duggie, "Stop dreaming. Start fishing. We've gotta catch our tea!
Interlude # 1
And there's a shower of rain.
And me and Duggie scramble under the huge green umbrella that we've got next to us, with the fishing stuff and sarnies underneath.
Thing is, the sun stays out, half hidden behind a whopping great grey cloud.
And there's a rainbow.
And I just can't resist gazing at rainbows. They hold me like a multi-coloured, ephemeral, hypnotist.
And Duggie's clicking his fingers in front of my eyes, "Oi, wake up, you're in a trance," says Duggie, "I was just gonna talk about Adam Ant. You remember how we were both into him. Before we got into metal back in the early '80s."
"Yeah," I say, "I remember you and me doing our paper rounds. Christmas Eve, 1981. You always said Christmas Eve was the best day to be doing a paper round. Christmas Day to look forward to and the tips coming in."
Duggie says: "I used to get about £80 tips. Less when I did the posh estate, though."
"You were really into Adam Ant's 'Prince Charming' album, with Ant Rap and Stand and Deliver on it," I say.
Duggie says: "Stand and Deliver went straight in at No.1. Great days."
"My mum bought me Prince Charming just before Christmas, a special treat. I remember her coming home from work and handing it to me. It was a gatefold album, but with only one LP. So I slipped a Smash Hits poster, that my mate's sister gave me at school, in end without a record." I say.
Then the rainbow starts to fade. The shower's over. Duggie and me emerge from the umbrella and lay some plastic sheeting over the wet grass on the river bank.
Duggie's chewing a marmite sandwich.
And me and Duggie scramble under the huge green umbrella that we've got next to us, with the fishing stuff and sarnies underneath.
Thing is, the sun stays out, half hidden behind a whopping great grey cloud.
And there's a rainbow.
And I just can't resist gazing at rainbows. They hold me like a multi-coloured, ephemeral, hypnotist.
And Duggie's clicking his fingers in front of my eyes, "Oi, wake up, you're in a trance," says Duggie, "I was just gonna talk about Adam Ant. You remember how we were both into him. Before we got into metal back in the early '80s."
"Yeah," I say, "I remember you and me doing our paper rounds. Christmas Eve, 1981. You always said Christmas Eve was the best day to be doing a paper round. Christmas Day to look forward to and the tips coming in."
Duggie says: "I used to get about £80 tips. Less when I did the posh estate, though."
"You were really into Adam Ant's 'Prince Charming' album, with Ant Rap and Stand and Deliver on it," I say.
Duggie says: "Stand and Deliver went straight in at No.1. Great days."
"My mum bought me Prince Charming just before Christmas, a special treat. I remember her coming home from work and handing it to me. It was a gatefold album, but with only one LP. So I slipped a Smash Hits poster, that my mate's sister gave me at school, in end without a record." I say.
Then the rainbow starts to fade. The shower's over. Duggie and me emerge from the umbrella and lay some plastic sheeting over the wet grass on the river bank.
Duggie's chewing a marmite sandwich.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
ACDC - If You Want Blood You've Got It
(Duggie takes over the review section and it's me in brackets)
Yeah! ACDC. Bon Scott. Live. 1978. Angus stabbing himself with a guitar on the front cover. Blood. Awright! Whole Lotta - flippin' - Rosie....what's her vital stats...too much, man. Too much.
("Hey Dug," I say.
"What? Why you stopping my flow, Man?" Says Duggie.
"Cos you sound like some adolescent drop out. You're 40-odd. You work in a bank," I say. "You're just becoming 'the man', Man. Man!" says Duggie.
He's much less whimsical, Duggie, than me.)
The crowd are screaming away, first track, side one. almost for too long. Then you can hear the hum of the speakers, like a Quo gig. And a riff leads into Riff Raff, the crowd claps in time. Cymbals crash and there's that excited cheer as the song proper starts. Too much, man. More riffage and a key change, then back to the main riff, some kick drumming and Bon's warbling screech, like an hung over vulture or something.
Used to listen to this one growing up, usually on a Sunday afternoon as me mum whisked the hoover around.
There's a special offer sheet inside this one (just like the Abba album in my posting yesterday. 2/11/09. "Hey," says Duggie, "butt out!"), totally awesome T-shirt, only £2.50. Button badge 35p. Full-colour flamin' poster 55p! All prices inclusive of p&p. Man. Take me back to '78. Now!
All tracks recorded during the 1978 world tour. Drinking. Rock n' Rolling, gigging, recording. Wow, got the album on at the moment...'Bad Boy Boogie'. Yeah, this is the way to live your life.
I like the way the pic on the front cover's totally blurry, too, with Bon chewing the mic as he sings, his arm round Angus as he plunges that Gibson through his stomach. Never before noticed how much the blood on his shirt looks like tomato sauce...
("You finished now?" I say, "Yeah, says Duggie, pass us the flask, I fancy a tea."
"I've finished all the milk," I say.
"Nuts!" says Duggie.
"Hey Duggie," I say, "If you want milk, I'll get it.")
Yeah! ACDC. Bon Scott. Live. 1978. Angus stabbing himself with a guitar on the front cover. Blood. Awright! Whole Lotta - flippin' - Rosie....what's her vital stats...too much, man. Too much.
("Hey Dug," I say.
"What? Why you stopping my flow, Man?" Says Duggie.
"Cos you sound like some adolescent drop out. You're 40-odd. You work in a bank," I say. "You're just becoming 'the man', Man. Man!" says Duggie.
He's much less whimsical, Duggie, than me.)
The crowd are screaming away, first track, side one. almost for too long. Then you can hear the hum of the speakers, like a Quo gig. And a riff leads into Riff Raff, the crowd claps in time. Cymbals crash and there's that excited cheer as the song proper starts. Too much, man. More riffage and a key change, then back to the main riff, some kick drumming and Bon's warbling screech, like an hung over vulture or something.
Used to listen to this one growing up, usually on a Sunday afternoon as me mum whisked the hoover around.
There's a special offer sheet inside this one (just like the Abba album in my posting yesterday. 2/11/09. "Hey," says Duggie, "butt out!"), totally awesome T-shirt, only £2.50. Button badge 35p. Full-colour flamin' poster 55p! All prices inclusive of p&p. Man. Take me back to '78. Now!
All tracks recorded during the 1978 world tour. Drinking. Rock n' Rolling, gigging, recording. Wow, got the album on at the moment...'Bad Boy Boogie'. Yeah, this is the way to live your life.
I like the way the pic on the front cover's totally blurry, too, with Bon chewing the mic as he sings, his arm round Angus as he plunges that Gibson through his stomach. Never before noticed how much the blood on his shirt looks like tomato sauce...
("You finished now?" I say, "Yeah, says Duggie, pass us the flask, I fancy a tea."
"I've finished all the milk," I say.
"Nuts!" says Duggie.
"Hey Duggie," I say, "If you want milk, I'll get it.")
Monday, 2 November 2009
ABBA - The Visitors
Abba's last album. 1982. The year I was into playing most of my music on a brand new (Xmas 1981) Binatone clock radio. It was stereo, but one of the speakers was really quiet and the other totally distorted. I played The Police 'Ghost In The Machine' on it until it got chewed up. I also used to tape songs from the charts, thing's I'd never agin listen to, like Culture Club's 'Church of the Poisoned Mind'.
("You were lucky", said Duggie, "I had to play my stuff on my Aunty's ancient Radiogram, it was like a sideboard with a record player inside."
"'spose so Dug," I said, "at least I could lay in bed and chill out to the fuzzy noise until the alarm went off for me paper round.")
Back to 'The Visitors'. The band members are divorced and sitting in separate parts of a gloomy room on the cover. Each looks into their own solo distance. Benny and Bjorn are grouped closely together around a pillar. Both now bearded, probably well into writing the musical 'Chess'.
And, you know, the track that I was obssessed by was 'The Visitors." Me and my cousin used to attempt to play it on the guitar. It's got loads of parts to it like a mini-opera.
Now I think about it, the whole LP is full of darkness and loss...it feels like the end. Especially when compared to something like 'Super Trouper', but, then again, that album's got 'Happy New Year' and 'The Winner Takes It All' on it (not the quiz game compered by Jimmy Tarbuck - nobody under 35 will get that reference, by the way).
Even 'Super Trouper' itself is all about loneliness (albeit the loneliness of a millionaire singer in a hotel room). Come to think of it, most Abba stuff is shading it between happiness and despair...
("Hold on man," says Duggie, "this is Abba we're talking about - what are you gonna be like when we get to someone heavy...like Donovan!")
Then you've got the Bjorn specials like 'Two For The Price Of One' a sub-Eurovision Song Contest ditty with lyrics like "If you dream of/the girl for you/then call us and get two for the price of one." You see, the guy they're singing about has a "trivial occupation" because he "cleaned the platforms of the local railway staion." Nowadays such lyrics may well cause industrial action by a large trades union, or at the very least lead to an apology by the BBC, who seem to apologise for most things these days.
My cousin was into 'When All Is Said And Done'. He read the lyrics like a poem. In '82, I was more into Iron Maiden. I disliked that kind of sentimental slush. When I hear the track now it really makes me tearful (ok, yeah, I cry - alright?)
This is the thing about record collections: like good books, they grow with you. You get different things out of the music as you stumble through your life...
("Get off this one, crikey, or I'm gonna jump in the canal!" says Duggie. "Hey man," I say "It's not a canal. It's not man made, it's a river")
For Duggie's sake, I'll skip the rest of the record. Just want to mention two things. One is the fantastic 'ABBA '82' offers on the sheet inside. Great things like an Abba bag (a cheap looking sports holdall with a bad copy of the ABBA logo written on the sides) only £7.50 - including P&P. There's an excellent T Shirt and Sweatshirt, £4.50 and £8.50 respectively. All quite pricey - I'm sure you could get a sweat-inducing 100% nylon Cagoule back then by sending off a few tokens from cornflake packets and £3.99 (also inc. P&P). No Abba logos, though.
The final thing is this - and Duggie, please excuse me once again for being overcome by emotion. ("Heaven help us..." he says). First thing that comes into my head when I think of Abba, is walking to school in 1977, playing the song Fernando in my mind, and for some reason pondering the fact that I would be 32 in the year 2000. Don't know why, but I always remember it...as the autumn leaves swirled around and it feels so poignant now it's 2009...("Yawn. That's the end!" Dug.)
("You were lucky", said Duggie, "I had to play my stuff on my Aunty's ancient Radiogram, it was like a sideboard with a record player inside."
"'spose so Dug," I said, "at least I could lay in bed and chill out to the fuzzy noise until the alarm went off for me paper round.")
Back to 'The Visitors'. The band members are divorced and sitting in separate parts of a gloomy room on the cover. Each looks into their own solo distance. Benny and Bjorn are grouped closely together around a pillar. Both now bearded, probably well into writing the musical 'Chess'.
And, you know, the track that I was obssessed by was 'The Visitors." Me and my cousin used to attempt to play it on the guitar. It's got loads of parts to it like a mini-opera.
Now I think about it, the whole LP is full of darkness and loss...it feels like the end. Especially when compared to something like 'Super Trouper', but, then again, that album's got 'Happy New Year' and 'The Winner Takes It All' on it (not the quiz game compered by Jimmy Tarbuck - nobody under 35 will get that reference, by the way).
Even 'Super Trouper' itself is all about loneliness (albeit the loneliness of a millionaire singer in a hotel room). Come to think of it, most Abba stuff is shading it between happiness and despair...
("Hold on man," says Duggie, "this is Abba we're talking about - what are you gonna be like when we get to someone heavy...like Donovan!")
Then you've got the Bjorn specials like 'Two For The Price Of One' a sub-Eurovision Song Contest ditty with lyrics like "If you dream of/the girl for you/then call us and get two for the price of one." You see, the guy they're singing about has a "trivial occupation" because he "cleaned the platforms of the local railway staion." Nowadays such lyrics may well cause industrial action by a large trades union, or at the very least lead to an apology by the BBC, who seem to apologise for most things these days.
My cousin was into 'When All Is Said And Done'. He read the lyrics like a poem. In '82, I was more into Iron Maiden. I disliked that kind of sentimental slush. When I hear the track now it really makes me tearful (ok, yeah, I cry - alright?)
This is the thing about record collections: like good books, they grow with you. You get different things out of the music as you stumble through your life...
("Get off this one, crikey, or I'm gonna jump in the canal!" says Duggie. "Hey man," I say "It's not a canal. It's not man made, it's a river")
For Duggie's sake, I'll skip the rest of the record. Just want to mention two things. One is the fantastic 'ABBA '82' offers on the sheet inside. Great things like an Abba bag (a cheap looking sports holdall with a bad copy of the ABBA logo written on the sides) only £7.50 - including P&P. There's an excellent T Shirt and Sweatshirt, £4.50 and £8.50 respectively. All quite pricey - I'm sure you could get a sweat-inducing 100% nylon Cagoule back then by sending off a few tokens from cornflake packets and £3.99 (also inc. P&P). No Abba logos, though.
The final thing is this - and Duggie, please excuse me once again for being overcome by emotion. ("Heaven help us..." he says). First thing that comes into my head when I think of Abba, is walking to school in 1977, playing the song Fernando in my mind, and for some reason pondering the fact that I would be 32 in the year 2000. Don't know why, but I always remember it...as the autumn leaves swirled around and it feels so poignant now it's 2009...("Yawn. That's the end!" Dug.)
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