The OC, Part 1: It ain't half hot, Mum!

Whoever told me that jet lag ain't so bad going backwards wasn't entirely on the ball. Or maybe they didn't take into account almost a lifetime of not flying and then undertaking a mammoth 10-hour flight to the other side of the planet practically via the Arctic Circle! Add to this a natural dose of genetic anxiety, worry, and post-9/11 fear and it's quite surprising that my co-traveller Mat didn't wallop me one. Still, as a pilot himself, he probably had perspective and understood my attitude.

As it was, the flight was spot-on, helped by Virgin Atlantic's cool on-board entertainment. I finally managed to see In The Loop, so happy there. Take-off and Landing weren't the experiences I feared they would be, and you can forget the "humourless immigration official" cos they were quite pleasant and friendly and have no objection to Jaffa and Battenburg cakes being brought in. Hour and a half, tops. Then came the reunion with my close mate and host Andrea and a drive to her gaff in Irvine, Orange County.

A chilled Chai at the local Starbucks in the OC nighttime humidity preceded a pre-sleep chill out at our digs, combined with a chat to the family. Lovely people. Although booze and snacks were avoided due to the general feeling of my internal organs being in the wrong places. Nighttime didn't bring much sleep, only basic rest, but helped until I got a decent night the night after.

A "lumberjack slam" at Denny's was the official breakfast - basically an American fry-up with pancakes and toast. It successfully defeated me so I know my limits for now as I work on expanding the stomach further. The rest of the day was spent heading to the coast. Stopping off first at a cove in Corona Del Mar, near Newport Beach, to get my feet's first taste of the Pacific Ocean and a climb over rocks that would not be permitted in Margate as we can't actally look after ourselves. I didn't recognise anything from "The OC" initially, but no doubt we'll be back.



This was then followed by a 6-mile coast drive to Laguna Beach to marvel at the hideousness of the seaside Hollywood so emphasised by the god-awful MTV show. Except it wasn't. Yes the rich swines' houses are easily spotted on the surrounding hills, but the beach and centre were just awash with happy families and all sorts. A cool mix of affordable boutiques and art galleries, Laguna Beach was quite pleasant.



The drive home was via those aforementioned hills, so it felt like a California version of leaving north from Brighton through the South Downs. After a steak meal at Chilis compete with the most gorgeous garlic bread ever, we headed to the Irish-themed pub, The Auld Dubliner, for a Guinness.

Today, we're off to San Diego for the Comic Con. I will no doubt elaborate further on this whole experience and the culture shock a bit further down the line.

And if you're wondering about the giraffe, his name's Stephen and he's another co-traveller. I'll explain later.

By George

Use the word "Patriotism" to a lot of people in the world who can speak English and chances are that they'll picture the kind of extreme American images and speeches that would give a Fox News executive a hard-on. In fact, it wouldn't be surprising to find that the US Republican party have trademarked the word and its offshoots, seeming as they like to ram home the fact that that being a Patriot is the only way to be a decent human being with a US passport.

But the fact remains there's nothing wrong with being a Patriot in the most straightforward of ways. Our history, culture, political status, social attitudes and everything else will always contribute to our upbringing and so it should be guaranteed that we have a grateful affection to where we come from, especially if we're lucky enough to live in a democracy. We should love our country, but I should concede we should not automatically be proud of it - that's a different thing entirely.I'm the former, but definitely not the latter.

If you're scratching your heads over my slightly highbrow topic, it's because today is St George's Day and, as England's patron Saint, a reason to celebrate being English. Except about half of English folk don't have a clue about it, while a significant proportion of them have never heard of St George. His origins and history is questionable, but the fact remains he is the English patron Saint. It still appears to be socially unacceptable to mark the day, yet us English get St Patrick's day rammed home every March. I love Guinness, but I have no Irish heritage so do I have a right to celebrate March 17th?

The Scots, Welsh and Irish are encouraged by the man to be faithful to their flag, but not the English. Why? The Empire? It was British, so scratch that. The only reason a lot of folk can give is due to the fascistic impulses of the lardy English football hooligan community - a picture all too indelibly marked on the conciousness of our media and the face of a Turk. Does it come down to the fact that the English, a nation that gets on with it with a bit of a moan but no overwhelming melodrama, doesn't need a national day - we're English all year round, what's the point of a special day?

Anyway, the point of this is Happy St George's Day - if you care that is. I'm marking this day on a childish principle right now - most other countries have a national day of sorts, so this is ours. No fuss, just a respecful nod, which to me really is the English way, I guess.

I can't leave without throwing up some tracks that , to me, are wholely English. Enjoy and, as usual, dig deeper.




SAXON - Wheels of Steel (live)(1980)

Classic English Metal. 'Nuff said.


CARTER THE UNSTOPPABLE SEX MACHINE - The Only Living Boy in New Cross (1992, The Love Album, 1992)

Shamefully overlooked Sarf Lahndon Grebo drum loopers with daft haircuts.


THE STREETS - The Irony of it All (Original Pirate Material, 2002)

Three English staples - the self-righteous pub thug, the stoned student hippie and Garage.



SHAM 69 - Hurry Up Harry (That's Life, 1978)

"We're going down the puuuuuuub" - It doesn't sound as good if it's not sung in an English accent

NEW ORDER - World in Motion (1990)

Well, I couldn't resist

I don't know what I'm doing...

In anticipation of the release of The Damned United later this week - joint book and movie review to follow - and foreign football fans' asking "Derby Who?", here's a brief funny lifted from the BBC's "Alas Smith and Jones" show from 1986.



I's like to insert some witty remark about how things change. Alas, most of them are still as close to the non-league as they were then, save for Burnley.

Depeche Mode Week - Day 7: Sound of Final Orders

Made it. Shan't be trying this again methinks.

Anyways, the end of this week has bought us to the here and now, just in time for new album Sounds of the Universe, out April 19/20th. Based on the rumours and what bits I've heard, it stands to be their best since 1993's Songs of Faith and Devotion. First single Wrong is one unsettling mindfuck of a record. At first listen, it's a bit "hmmmm", with an apparent lack of dynamics. Just give it a couple of listens. Trust me.

As for the video? It just shows that Americans should join Europe and have their reverse gear next to them on the floor...

Depeche Mode week - Day 6: Walking in Clarke's shoes

In what has evidently been a very long week and thus a completely failed experiment, day 6 of this brief guide to Basildon's finest brings us closer to the bloke that scarpered - Vince Clarke.

Having knocked up the first LP Speak and Spell succesfully, Clarke decided Depeche wasn't for him. No animosity but it almost single-handedly had the music press wiping this new lot of the board straight off. We know that turned out to be a false move, but what happened to 'ol Vince? Well, if the name isn't familiar for whatever reason, then you do actually know.

First off, he tapped up a mate from Basildon by the name of Alison Moyet, a fairly streetwise lass that scared the crap out of the Depeche lads, all told. Taking the name Yazoo, (or Yaz to you American lot) Clarke kept the synths and went along with Moyet's belting voice for a few pop nuggets including Nobody's Diary, Only You and this catchy little gem:



Alas, this didn't last long. They parted ways, although it did allow Moyet to gain some respectable success as a solo artist. Have a dig, but I recommend this first off. Don't ask me about the video, I have no idea...



Back to Clarke, who had tinkered with the idea of a project whereby he teamed up with someone for one single then moved on for another. This brainstorm yielded Never Never under the banner of The Assembly with Feargal Sharkey, he of The Undertones teenage-kicking fame.



And that was it. Lord knows what his relationships were like in those days.

Then something happened. He met a lad called Andy Bell, a kind of cross between Alison Moyet and Jimmy Somerville. It worked, big style, and Erasure was born. Mind you, it wasn't instant. 1985's debut album Wonderland was pretty much a commmercial disaster and went quite unnoticed in a pop landscape that was overkill in new acts. It wasn't until the year after, when this baby's chorus hit the radios:

Erasure - Sometimes

What followed was a string of uber-camp synthpop hits that lasted well into the 90s. Blue Savannah is widely regarded as one of the best pop songs ever:

Erasure - Blue Savannah

<

Although, for my money, Drama! remains their high point:

Depeche Mode Day 5 - Cover well?

Yep, I know, I missed a day. Well, 4 days actually. I failed - but that's what you get for having a social life filled with "Watchmen", The FA Cup and ogling at Strippers at my mate's 30th.

So, where was I? Ah, yes - cover versions, helped along by The Saturdays recent foray. Quite a lot of them, in fact. A bit of research bequeathed an entire website that would probably yield a few thousand for me to look at. Sod that, obviously.

What's evident is the covers out there generally nod towards the influence Depeche have had towards rock and dance. The former is mostly represented by a goth crowd while the latter is pretty varied, but seems to consist of a lot of efficient Germans who approach their love of Depeche like they approcah their competitiveness in beating the Brits to the sunbeds in Kos. However, as I'm a bit of a headbanger, I'm probably only in a position to judge the effectiveness of the long-haired brigade's attempts. So with that, here's a critique inspired by Clint Eastwood:

THE GOOD:

Solid, no question. The song is recognisable, and so are the band, which is the best combination. I'm all up for a band doing something interesting with anyone else's song, as long as they don't compromise themselves or try to ape the original too much. Good job. And Christina Scabbia's well fit, innit.

THE BAD

Maybe not a total butchering, but it all sounds so pointless, expecially when you consider his impressive cover of Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams. It's Marilyn on auto-pilot and not trying, and his sickly egocentric voice doesn't fit the song. Or maybe the whole thing sounds bad when you consider Johnny Cash's far superior version.

THE UGLY

Ouch. Proof positive why Rammstein were right to sing in their native German.

Here's a better example of the song covered far better by Shiny Toy Guns

Having a dig on Youtube or Spotify yields a few interesting results here and there, especially from the teens in their bedrooms - another reason to rue this otherwise useful method of communication. However if you want to spend the money, you'll be easily able to track down "For The Masses", a pretty respectable collection of covers from some credible names. It's worth it just for Locust's loungecore version of Master and Servant.

Depeche Mode Week - Day 4: The Albums

ESSENTIAL

Violator, 1990

There was no excuse really. After a decade of slogging it out and making nothing but either steady or massive progress, there was no reason why they should have got this wrong. The material could have been ok, so-so, alright, and then they would have returned again. But with the maturity gained through regular touring and recording, coupled with a confident grasp of everything they had successfully used so far, the omens were great. It was also handy that a hugely popular electronic-based scene (rave) had given them more ideas for appropriate sounds. Violator was a magnificent achievement - crisp, clean and uplifting as well as dark, unsettling and pained. No more was this in evidence on the two big singles Personal Jesus and Enjoy the Silence. The balance between synths, stripped guitar licks, Gahan's vocals and Flood's production was as perfect as they had ever got, and ever did again. It's a cliche, but after Violator, everything did change and was never the same again.

RECOMMENDED

Black Celebration, 1986

By the time Black Celebration was released, Depeche were established chart artists in the UK if not big-time pop stars. A Best-of album released in 1985 single-handedly stirred the "split" rumour pot, but the truth was Depeche were now used to doing things their way and writing what they wanted to, and were lucky to have an indie label in Mute who backed them up. Gore's experimenting with harsher industrial sounds and darker moods culminated in Black Celebration, an album that wavered from epic, gothic synthesized pop (A Question of Lust, Stripped) to chart-unfriendly stripped-down cabaret (It Doesn't Matter Two, Dressed in Black) Seeing them as original outcasts, the rest of the world got it, even if the UK did not. It's been cited as a major influence by Linkin Park, but don't let that put you off.

Songs of Faith and Devotion, 1993

They got there just in time. Before the band fell apart amidst the drugs, booze and mental breakdowns, they successfully convened to record a group of tracks that were almost prescient. Far more impassioned than ever before, songs such as I Feel You and In Your Room became grandiose examples of elctronic-based rock that tipped its hat to the Grunge school of emotion. Relying on heroin ever more, Gahan bears not just his soul but his very being into this album, suggesting that deep down, he knew he could fall apart at any time, something that is most evident in the pained gospel of Condemnation. It remains their most ambitious album to date.

FOLLOW-UP

Speak and Spell, 1981

They were one of many, but Depeche nailed down this synth-pop thing straight away with their debut, having barely entered their twenties. Catchy fare such as Just Can't Get Enough and New Life fit into the system well, but Photographic and Tora!Tora!Tora! hinted strongly at was what to come. Chief songwriter Vince Clarke got cold feet around the time of release and left to pursue a different approach, but that didn't stop the rest of them

Music For The Masses, 1987

Their worldwide profile was growing as was their confidence. It was no surprise that this opus was their most majestic yet, adding a controlled rock approach to their canon as well as a some applied orchestration. Yes, they had the solid and familiar likes of Behind the Wheel, but there were now tracks such as Strangelove and Nothing. It was prophetic too, as the accompanying tour was their biggest to date.

WILD CARD

Construction Time Again, 1983

The use of synthesizers had added something interesting to Pop since the mid-70s, offering up some bizarre efforts along the way. While CTA was not the strangest of the period, It still raises an eyebrow today. Gore's pilfering of German industrial methods gave us original pop nuggets like Everything Counts and The Landscape is Changing. It also served up the quirky bassline of More Than A Party and the pacifist chanting of Pipeline. Ideas a-plenty, if not easy listening.

NO RUSH

Exciter, 2001

Clean as a whistle and happy-as-larry by the time of Exciter's release, it's not surprising to suggest that a more apt title would have been Relaxer. It's clean digital approach was minmilistic and added weight to the argument that Depeche were just happy to be alive and to have survived the 90s. It's not a bad album, but when the strong tracks I Feel Loved and The Sweetest Condition sound out of place, you realise that they probably could have got away with more time writing the songs.

THE REST

A Broken Frame, 1982
Regarded by the band as their worst album, their sophomore effort is now a good retrospective of a band starting again and having a go anyway. As much hit as miss, it gave us the dreamy instrumental Nothing to Fear at the very least.

Some Great Reward, 1984
More controlled than the previous effort, Gore was by now a confident songwriter with a better sense of how to apply his ideas. People are People and Master and Servant proved his knack for blending mechanics and a good pop hook. The sublime Blasphemous Rumours hinted at something more

Ultra, 1997
Stark and harrowed, this was proof that there was life in the now-grizzled dog, but only just. With the trendy moody trip-hop being used to good effect, the likes of Barrel of a Gun and Useless summed up the previous four years perfectly.

Playing the Angel, 2005
Unremarkable, but reassuring at the same time. This is just an example of Depeche doing what they're good at. Suffer Well, Precious, and Lilian are almost off the conveyor belt, but by this stage, that's as good as giving anything new and fresh.