Lau “Torsa”

From the album Race The Loser

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Chas Hodges, an appreciation: one of the most significant English folk musicians


The Chas and Dave singer, who has died at the age of 74, gave voice to working-class London

Chas Hodges – in company with Dave Peacock – was one of the most original British musicians to have come out of the rock’n’roll era. Chas and Dave did something that had never occurred to anyone else: combining rock, blues, country and music hall with the sound of a London that was already disappearing by the time they released their first album, One Fing ’n’ Anuvver, in 1975.

You might, justifiably, compare the best of their writing to Ronnie Lane, or to Ray Davies, the difference being that Chas and Dave sounded less like a Kinks song than the music one of Davies’ characters might have made.

The best of their songs were the memories of the yellowed wallpaper of the public bar – never the saloon bar – given voice: overheard arguments, declarations of love and shady deals, conducted over two pints of mild and a pack of fags.

Hodges, of course, had a long pedigree before Chas and Dave: he had recorded with Joe Meek, been in the Outlaws with Ritchie Blackmore (which later led to him playing bass for Deep Purple at one show). He played with Jerry Lee Lewis and Gene Vincent. Most famously, the hook he and Peacock recorded for Labi Siffre’s I Got The … became the chassis of Eminem’s first hit, My Name Is [ . . . ]

Continue reading at: Chas Hodges, an appreciation: one of the most significant English folk musicians | Music | The Guardian

The Mercury music prize has lost its way – here’s how to fix it

Eliza Carthy
Eliza Carthy

The ‘token’ jazz, folk and avant garde nominees for the UK’s most prestigious music prize are the ones who stand to gain the most from it – but they are being ignored

Jude Rogers

The question posed most often, and most crabbily, in the history of the Mercury prize is: what’s the point of the “token” acts on the shortlist? Jazz, folk and classical nominees are only ever there to make the judges of the UK’s most prestigious music award look clever; they certainly never win.Talk to the acts themselves, however, and a different story emerges. “I don’t care if we’re called a token jazz act if we sell 3,000 more records,” says Shabaka Hutchings, whose jazz group, Sons of Kemet, are among the favourites to win. “And it might be a coincidence, but I’ve noticed things happening since we were nominated this year.” Their gigs are selling out more consistently and the band are getting better stages at events. They’re getting support they don’t get from the Mobos, Hutchings argues, as he has before, and don’t start him on the Brits. “That side of the industry doesn’t care. But this is like a little stamp: you are given a level of validation that reverberates. And if it sells more albums or tickets, it helps subsidise our music and push our scene as far as it can go.”

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Gwenifer Raymond: You Were Never Much of a Dancer review – an immersive debut

Gwenifer Raymond has a PhD in astrophysics, lives in Brighton and designs video games for a living. No ordinary human, she also has mercury in her fingertips. You can just about see it glisten as she plays guitar on There Will Be Blood for an introductory 2016 acoustic session. By early 2018, the song had evolved into Sometimes There’s Blood, and a video treatment with creepy Victoriana and taxidermy. Such is the Welsh-born Raymond’s very British take on a niche form known as the American primitive style, where guitars embark on flowing instrumental extemporisations, often ending up somewhere very eastern, sometimes sounding like Indian ragas.

Having discovered the guitar aged eight, when her mother gave her a cassette of Nirvana’s Nevermind, Raymond traced the idols of her idols back to the Delta blues, and then sideways into this folk form. Her immersive debut album pays tribute to the Delta and Appalachia at the same time, on the banjo workouts Bleeding Finger Blues and Idumea, and raises a battered hat to the godfather of the primitive scene on Requiem for John Fahey. Throughout, Raymond takes this roiling, rhythmic traditional sound and stamps her own imprimatur on it.

Source: Gwenifer Raymond: You Were Never Much of a Dancer review – an immersive debut | Music | The Guardian