RW/FF With Ben P Scott #33

But luckily the story didn’t there. In 2001, The Pogues reformed with their classic line-up and went back out on the road, playing their magnificent back catalogue to crowds all over the world. Enjoying being on the stage and making music, Chevron also revived The Radiators From Space (as The Radiators Plan 9) after a successful reunion show in 2003, the band releasing their long-overdue third album ‘Trouble Pilgrim’ in 2006. Also becoming something of an unofficial spokesperson for The Pogues, in 2004 he personally oversaw the remastering and re-release of the band’s entire back catalogue on CD.

In June 2007 it was announced that Chevron had been diagnosed with esophageal cancer, which he had recovered from by 2009 after a course of chemotherapy. However in May 2013 Chevron announced that the cancer had returned and it was “lethal”. His final appearance took place less than a couple of months ago in August at the Olympia Theatre in Dublin for a testimonial concert, featuring Shane MacGowan, Roddy Doyle and many others.

His death comes as very sad news. Despite the band being on their last legs at the time, I discovered The Pogues in the mid 1990’s, and they quickly became a huge part of my musical life. None of it would have been the same without Philip Chevron. Goodbye Phil, and cheers for the music you left behind.

 

A slightly patchy LP, but undoubtedly one that has its moments and proves that Moby can still conjure up something great every now and again. Someone just needs to tell him that sometimes, it would be wise to keep the guest vocalists to a minimum. Read my full album review HERE.

Following the release of ‘(What’s The Story) Morning Glory’, there wasn’t much else I listened to at home. The Blur album that was only a couple of months old didn’t get played for a while after Oasis had put it in the shade. During the rare occasions that I wouldn’t be playing Oasis, I’d be investigating more music by the band that they resembled (some say plagiarized) the most. As I’ve mentioned in previous columns, my Mum grew up in the 60’s with the music of The Beatles and owned a number of their albums on vinyl. To this day she still has the same vinyl copies of ‘Help’, ‘Let It Be’ and the red and blue albums that she bought back in the day. Back then fans would personalise the sleeves their favourite records with doodles and other additions to make it feel like their own. A lot of people considered their favourite album as an extended part of themselves, and would carry their most prized piece of vinyl everywhere with them. Coming to think of it, this was still happening in the 90’s and I know this because of the fact that I’d proudly bring my tapes and CDs into school to show them off, almost like a way to express the sort of person I was and how I looked at the world. 

When people who I didn’t like at school (for good reason) brought in their own excruciating musical choices, it made me hate the bad music in question even more. And it made me dislike the people in question even more as well. It also saw the beginning of a link and a theory that in most cases has proved to be true: the worst people I’ve encountered throughout my life have all listened to terrible music. I’m not going to claim that all people who listen to bad music are also bad people, because these include some of the best human beings you could ever meet, but it’s almost as if other people who understand the music that I can relate to are people who can understand and relate to my way of thinking. 

A few weeks after the album had hit the shops, ‘Wonderwall’ was released as a single, an obvious choice. As I had predicted, it soon became an anthem that elevated Oasis to yet another level. They were now truly household names, and unlike most household names, the music press were on their side. Not everyone was on their side though… The DT class (design and technology) would allow us to either listen to the radio or on rare occasions even bring our own music in. I had bought the ‘Wonderwall’ CD single from Woolworths in Chippenham and was blown away by the quality of the B sides, particularly ‘The Masterplan’. It sounded so incredible to my ears that I honestly thought that their music was powerful enough to convert anyone cursed with poor taste and little knowledge, so I took it into my DT lesson ready to blow everyone away with this brilliant 4 track CD, one of the finest examples of its kind. So when some arrogant wankers labelled it “shit” and followed it with their own idea of musical excellence, I had to laugh at their diabolical choice: ‘Gangster’s Paradise’ by Coolio. What an unforgivably awful song. Worse still, it was a tape containing multiple versions of the atrocity. To me it just sounded like the chorus of someone else’s song interspersed with some terribly poor attempts at rapping, and this was at least 16 years before I was even aware of the (needless to say) far superior Stevie Wonder track that the talentless Medusa-haired twat had based his lazy, appalling pile of shit on. It was number one for a while too, something that suggested that while Britpop was the focus of the nation, many of the kids my age who would soon become teenagers were listening to disposable nonsense. 

When they grew a few years older they’d be buying the singles that dragged the singles charts downhill, but this was yet to come and I didn’t see it happening, especially while a new golden age of guitar bands seemed to have discovered a magic touch, like they’d learned some sort of winning formula that was going to cement their places in history as the biggest of all time. In hindsight, the kids who would have been gripped by the Britpop movement were a couple of years older than us, but I was lucky enough to know about their music as well as being young enough to see the things I loved as exciting enough to be able to dominate everything. At 11 years old I had that optimism, and even when being bullied and taunted at school I’d still think positively and assure myself that it would soon pass. Nowadays I think that this was also due to me enjoying life outside of school so much, and also down to the inner strength I gained from my favourite music. 

I was lucky enough to experience the days when Britpop in full swing, and also just about old enough to remember the closest thing any of the post 1960’s generations got to enjoying a Beatles reunion. A Fab Four revival was also taking place partly due to a certain Manchester band demonstrating their fondness for their music, which helped introduced many new listeners to John, Paul, George and Ringo. Not that they’d ever been out of fashion. I’d already been aware of much of their music for a while, and this new revival plus the (then) upcoming reunion saw my interest in the band reach new levels. More on that next time…