In February 1989, I find myself in Portland, Oregon, at the Pine Street Theatre, a venue that sounds somewhat grander than it actually is, which is not much fancier than a room above a bar where tonight I see Cowboy Junkies play for the first time.
Far away from the mud and mayhem of Chelmsford, it seems time to discuss who really impressed us this weekend. Who were the best band? What was the greatest moment? Who annoyed the hell out of us yesterday evening on the Channel 4 Stage? Read on and find out…
Sad news of course this weekend, with the passing of Tony Wilson. I can't add much to Stephen Dalton's excellent obit. But I thought it'd be a useful tribute to put online the full Factory Catalogue that we compiled for Uncut's recent Book Of Revelations.
A bit of a round-up today, since I've spent the past week or so reporting on gigs and messing about with the minutiae of putting a mag out. There is, amazingly, a new Karen Dalton album I'm very excited about, though I've only heard two tracks as yet.
Diamond Dogs is often cited as the beginning of Bowie's cocaine psychosis period. In fact, it was recorded before he started giving Hitler salutes at railway stations and aggravating Eastern European customs officers with the books on Goebbels he carried in his rucksack, and now presents something of a field day for hindsight-lovers.
Wholesome, Dylan-loving folkies reassessed over four CDs Every bit as manufactured as any modern pop band, Peter, Paul & Mary were svengali manager Albert Grossman's attempt to capitalise on the success of The Kingston Trio, late-'50s progenitors of neatly-pressed folk music, whose 1958 chart-topper "Tom Dooley" kickstarted the folk revival.
Cannily realising the potential of an equivalent folk trio featuring a sexy blonde, Grossman assembled solo folkie Peter Yarrow, stand-up comic Paul Stookey and off-Broadway actress Mary Travers, and was rewarded with instant success.
