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Lindisfarne Mark II "Roll On Ruby" (1973)
Taking Care Of
Business/North Country Boy/Steppenwolf/Nobody Loves You Anymore/When The War Is
Over//Moonshine/Lazy/Roll On River/Toe The Line/Goodbye
Perhaps responding to the 'cardboard sleeve' of
predecessor Dingly Dell, the first release by an all-new look Lindisfarne is
rather, erm, colourful in more ways than one. Apparently we're looking out at
the world from a church window, the stained glass perhaps significantly
removed, as we gaze at the summer clouds passing by and even coming into the
frame linking the inner world to the outer world. It's an idyllic cover,
befitting a bright and breezy album of country-folk-rock standards from the
early 1970s and reflects well the pastoral tranquillity of Lindisfarne in this
period. But the cover - and the album as a whole - is hiding a vicious ugly
secret of jealousy and bitterness. You might have to get a magnifying glass to
see it (you certainly do if you only own this album on CD not vinyl!) but
there, inscribed on the falling hacked-off branch of the tree at the bottom
left hand corner are the tiny words: 'FUCK OFF!' For all this album's sweetness
and light and carefree attitude and attempts to sound like the Lindisfarne of
old (but with the pop and commercial elements turned up high), it's actually a
wolf in sheep's clothing, a bitter album full of jibes at the music industry
and the three-fifths of the band who've just left to form Jack The Lad, literally
'cut off' from the Lindisfarne family tree. It's a pretty album in many ways,
but all that animosity also means that it's often not a pretty sight.
Lindisfarne Mark II were, as far as the makers of
this album were concerned, the 'real' Lindisfarne and ready to take up things
where they'd left off. They certainly had a lot going for them: the backing of
Lindisfarne record label Charisma, chief writer Alan Hull and chief singer Ray
'Jacka' Jackson. The four members newly drafted into the band were all sensible
choices known to the band's more passionate Geordie fanbase too: as the album's
original inner sleeve demonstrates all of the new quartet are North East
'locals' who might as well have ended up in the original band from the first
had luck and circumstances not got in the way. 'Roll On Ruby' even tells us
which end of Newcastle the band 'belong' to, each with their own character:
Drummer Paul Nichol and Bassist Tommy Duffy are both from Bensham, a district
in Gateshead on the Tyne and Wear. Jacka comes from Wallsend (technically
Wallsend-On-The-Tyne), part of Northumberland. Hully and Charlie Harcourt both
derive from Benwell, part of the more poverty-hit west end of Newcastle town.
Kenny Craddock comes from Gateshead, another part of the Tyne and Wear. For
those who don't know their North East geography that well five members of this
sextet grew up within ten minutes' drive from each other - even Jacka lives
within half an hour's heavy motoring. Though nothing else is given with the
'Roll on Ruby' captions the fact that the band is using them at all seems to be
saying 'See? This is the real band - we're all locals! Not like the old band!
Or Jack The Lad!' The band also take that defensive line into the album which
is crammed full of little references to past Lindisfarne classics, handled
nonchalantly as if to say 'oh that mandolin solo? No that's not a rip-off from
'Fog On The Tyne'. We've always done that sort of thing in all our bands. It's
a Geordie sound dontchaknow!'
Lindisfarne Mark II are, by nature, a loose-limbed
affair big on expansive walking-pace ballads and with lots of thinking time and
space for all the band to add their own signature sounds; they are in point of
fact a lot more in tune with the early 1970s love of pretty but generally lifeless
material than the feistier original Lindisfarne ever were. This experiment of
half-new ingredients could have worked, perhaps had a right to work even better
than the thrown-together mix of styles of the original band. But the problem is
the band are trying just that little bit too hard to sound like the old band
that they can't make the most of what they have to offer the world. The
bitterness of the split scurries over this album like the clouds on the front
cover, the elephant in the room that keeps coming back to spoil the mood. The
'dropped-in' references to old songs and styles, meanwhile, reminds you just
what a completely different band this now is. Even the band's original members
don't sound much like they used to: Jacka has been given a popstar makeover to
sound like a safe early 70s pop star (think Elton John, Rod Stewart or Leo
Sayer) while Alan Hull is reduced to writing simple songs for the lowest common
denominator without his usual passion emotion or politics. Only 'Taking Care Of
Business' let's slip any 'real' sense of what Lindisfarne are living through
and that is a song far more bitter and angry than anything the purer and more
idealistic Lindisfarne Mark I would ever have released. That's not to say this
album is bad. Parts of 'Roll On Ruby' and especially the follow-up 'Happy Daze'
show much promise and the new-look band are certainly tidier and tighter than their old selves, even if
they sell out much of the original band's loveable eccentricity in their search
for professionalism. You can tell, though, that the band are friends and
understand each other well: nothing here sounds it doesn't belong on a
Lindisfarne album, it's just a Lindisfarne album made up of the straightforward
pop stuff without the originality or quirkiness. One hit single to match 'Lady
Eleanor' or 'Meet Me On The Corner' and the band would have been fine. However,
there's one major flaw in how the band and record label went about making this
album: they called the band 'Lindisfarne'. Not 'Lindisfarne Mark II' (as bands
and fans have come to refer to this short era of record releases) or 'Sons of
Lindisfarne' but as 'Lindisfarne', implying that there is no change between
this record and the three earlier ones.
That's blatantly a lie as even a
cursory glance will provide and - together with the tales in the press about
bad blood between the band members, most of it blamed on Hull for causing the
row with Si Cowe that started it all and Jacka for jumping ship to where the
money was likely to be - the public weren't in a forgiving mood. You need one
hell of a strong record to fight back something the public has already decided
it probably won't like and pretty as much of this album is, consistently
listenable as it may be and interesting as the best bits of it are (especially
'North Country Boy' and 'When The War Is Over'), it's a
feeling-your-way-back-in album rather than a knock-your-socks off one. Ruby
might roll but she doesn't exactly rock and compared to this album even the
almost-as-poorly-received third album 'Dingly Dell' starts looking like an
eccentric masterpiece. Roll on Ruby plays things too safe - and things go wrong
when Lindisfarne start trying to play things safe, across their whole career.
That is, after all, kind of how we ended up here.
Few Lindisfans would have guessed at the end of a successful 1971, with their
favourite band riding high in the singles and albums chart both with releases
titled 'Fog On The Tyne', just how spectacularly the band would have imploded
in 1972. It wasn't just that cardboard sleeve on 'Dingly Dell' and a curious
choice of single ('All Fall Down') that did it: Lindisfarne were coming apart
at the seams across the year, in part because they'd conquered the universe (or
at least the parts of it that speak Geordie) relatively easily. If ever a band
were built for adventure and rocky roads it was Lindisfarne, a group that
enjoyed itself taunting politicians, judges and authority while speaking out
for the simple pleasures of the common man. Success may have taken a couple of
albums and multiple re-issues of 'Lady Eleanor', but it arrived in a much
bigger and accepting way than anyone in the original band had expected. For the
most part Lindisfarne was not a rich and privileged group who played as a
hobby; instead music was an escape from the ghettos and slums, an impossible
dream that everybody told them not to bother following. Most bands who have
this start in life take a long time to breakthrough: The Beatles failed more
auditions than most of this years' Apprentice candidates and it took several
mistakes and flop releases before anyone took The Kinks, The Who and Simon and
Garfunkel seriously. Lindisfarne went from zeros to heroes in a quicker time
than Justin Bieber and this clearly had an effect on the band who went from the
sweetest humblest and unlikeliest rockstars on the planet to greedy bickering
egocentrics (give or take a rhythm section or two). A gruelling European tour
with a foray in Japan directly after at just the point when the band wanted to
have fun and enjoy spending their newfound money didn't help matters much
either. After the release of a slightly under-performing third album
Lindisfarne should have re-consolidated their position in the charts,
re-doubled their efforts in all areas and proved 'Dingly Dell' was a blip not a career ending
(and, heck, most bands would love to have a 'blip' half as good, even if most
of them would have provided a better album sleeve for it). There's a telling
four-page letter from manager Tony Stratton released to all five Lindisfarners
in the dying days of the original band (re-printed in full on page 65 of Dave
Ian Hill's 'Fog On The Tyne' book, still the only one out on Lindisfarne) that
urges them to do just that: put their petty differences aside (and they were
petty, the big fight coming between Alan and Si over whether you really needed
to tune up for an hour in between songs on stage or not) and go back on tour,
with or without Hull who clearly needed some cooling time to make a solo album.
Had Lindisfarne taken this advice they might have had a very quiet 1973, but
you can bet they'd have come back stronger in 1974 and the rest and a chance to
adjust to all that fame would have been invaluable. That's what happened when
the band came back together in 1978 after all (following a much longer rest
than anyone in the group ever intended).
Instead Hull seems to have taken the advice
personally, agreeing with the others to disband Lindisfarne and start again
(with Jacka for a time a floating voter wanted by both sides) and writing
'Taking Care Of Business' as a sarcastic put-down of such advice. Used to
pointing out the stupidity of authority
figures for a living, he was never going to take advice without a fight, but he
seems in this period to have done everything he could to ignore what are
actually pretty insightful suggestions for a manager of a rock group to make in
1972. Instead of building on the franchise and band loyalty, Hull destroys it
by reforming a whole new band and then ignoring this fact on the cover so only
the biggest Lindisfanatics actually knew. Rather than head into the hills and
write song after song with the passion that he used to when he was hungry and
unemployed, Hull writes most of his new material while the band set off on
their first tour - and all too often it sounds like it too. Rather than
maintain the 'charming amateurism' that Stratton rightly outlines as a
strength, the new band are professional in the extreme and also slightly
anonymous. The only advice Hull did take was to record his 'Pipedream' solo
album - and glorious as the majority of that album is, in terms of band
development it's suicide, leaving Hull little time to write new songs for his
new band before a deadline (the 'other' established writer of Lindisfarne, Rod
Clements, having left to form Jack The Lad with the rest). Had Hull been able
to take his full 'Pipedream' band (all of them personally chosen and bonding
quickly into a funky backing band) into the new Lindisfarne line-up things
might still have been ok. But he couldn't: only Jacka and keyboardist Kenny
Craddock were free to play (it's amazing Kenny was actually - an old rival from
Newcastle pubs in the early days the two had become quite competitive and Hull
took to calling him 'fish-face' in envy at his good looks in private, before
the pair finally started chatting before a gig and found how much they had in
common and their mutual respect for one another. Kenny's career never took off
as expected though so Hull seems to have been making amends bringing him into
the band). Other friends like Colin Gibson (who nevertheless wrote songs for
the album with Kenny) and founding Lindisfarner Ray Laidlaw would have to wait
for Alan's 'Radiator' band of 1977. Hull's original sparring partner in his
first band 'The Chosen Few' Johnny Turnball turned his old friend down
reluctantly after being head-hunted by an unknown singer named Ian Dury
(Knowing Hull, he probably called him a 'Blockhead' for turning down his proposition).
Band-mate Phil Collins, though interested in working with Charisma's biggest
band, turned the chance down after tour receipts began to pick up for his group
Genesis (with Hull even more adamant his old friend was throwing away his only
chance at success!)
With session dates booked and publicity material
ready, Alan and Jacka had to press on and formed an ad-hoc band who didn't
really know each other. Tommy Duffy was hired on bass after the pair enjoyed
his work as part of Gary Wright's Wonderwheel - exuberant, loud and soulful, he
was as opposite to the departing Rod Clements as anyone could wish for. Si's
guitar replacement, Charlie Harcourt (an acquaintance of Kenny's), was also
about as different to Cowe's eccentricity as it was possible to be - he was the
stable glue that held the new disparate band together. Paul Nichol, though,
proved to be very like the departing Ray Laidlaw and was quiet and reliable,
even behind a set of drums. The end result was a band that had the same pair of
lead singers, mandolin and harmonica playing and writing 'voice' as the
majority of the 'old' Lindisfarne material but who had room to add much much
more: soul and rock (Duffy's speciality), country-rock (Kenny's genre of
choice) and a curious MOR sound that ended up defining this album even though
none of the six band members ever sounded like this separate to each other.
What's curious about 'Roll On Ruby' isn't how different it sounds to the first
three albums (it is, after all, made by a nearly entirely different band) but
how uncomfortably their olds trademarks sound when dropped into this new
environment. The folk sound, as evidenced by Jacka's harmonica and mandolin,
have gone from being the default most comfortable band sound to being something
shoved on top of something else to make the end result seem more 'Lindisfarny'.
Anyone coming here expecting the polish of 'Meet Me On The Corner', the fun of
'Fog On The Tyne' or the perfection of 'Lady Eleanor' are in for a rude
surprise: this is a new band who are too polished to be as original and yet too
ramshackle to have a full sound of their own.
There are, however, some things going for this album
at least. When Hull forgets his bitterness and the deadline ticking away
demanding material and instead writes from the heart the way he always did the
album comes together nicely. 'When The War Is Over' may be a general rallying
cry for peace written in the style of his beloved Lennon's 'Give Peace A
Chance' and 'Happy Xmas (War Is Over)' but it also serves as a much-needed
olive branch to the band left behind and an admission that splitting up a band
because the guitarist spent too long tuning before a song is a silly way to go.
Jacka sounds as great as ever and gets far more to do, staying loyal to the old
band sound while proving there's more in his repertoire than folk-rock. Tommy
Duffy is the album's dark horse, spicing up the vocals with a sound much more
emotional and OTT than the gentlemanly first line-up would ever have made,
while contributing the lighter, sweeter, softer songs. Kenny Craddock and
writing partner Colin Gibson come up with one near-classic (the near-title
track 'Roll On River', whose polish and strings recall the last Lindisfarne title
track 'Dingly Dell') and two more slabs of inoffensive filler. Charlie Harcourt
shines on the swampy Creedence Clearwater Revival style 'Moonshine'. Paul
Nichol finds new ways to drum on what are actually quite similar songs all
round. Compared to some of the lesser Lindisfarne albums to come ('Dance Your
Life Away' especially) this isn't actually that bad. It just doesn't have the
fun, the depth or the originality of the old Lindisfarne and sounds as if it
was made too often by committee.
Which in many ways it was. 'Dingly Dell' may have
blemished Lindisfarne's star attraction, but the band were still very much
Charisma's biggest sellers and the powers that be wanted the band to get things
right. Roy T Baker was nominally in charge of this band of strangers. The
band's longterm producer Mickey Sweeney was nominally in charge of the
recordings. A disinterested and embittered Alan Hull was nominally in charge of
the songs. The result was a deeply unhappy ship where every song got
re-arranged, re-assessed, re-recorded and re-evaluated when all Lindisfarne
Mark II really needed to do was jam with each other, learn what they could and
couldn't play and experience the telepathy that all great bands have that allow
them to go out on a limb. Though 'Roll On Ruby' is made by a band with a much
bigger scope than the original band, their first album sounds all too often
like the old Lindisfarne with the stabilisers still on. Though far from the
worst album released under the Lindisfarne name 'Roll On Ruby' is by far the
safest - and therefore the most forgettable. Thankfully the poor response to
this album is in many ways the best thing that could ever have happened to
Lindisfarne Mark II: the people in charge back off, the band switch labels and sequel
'Happy Daze' will give a much better idea of how good this band could have
been.
There's a tale that Alan Hull turned up early to
these album sessions, realised that because so many of his early choices for
the new Lindisfarne line-up hadn't made it the new band wasn't gelling and so decided
to keep his best material for himself and sit out the contract rather than
waste money after bad. That's why 'Roll On Ruby' ends up turning out like a
karaoke Lindisfarne at times, full of loose memories of what was rather than
making the most of what could be. He should perhaps have listened a bit more
carefully: though 'Roll On Ruby' is clearly no 'Dingly Dell' never mind another
'Nicely Out Of Tune' or 'Fog On The Tyne', it's still a good album made by some
of Newcastle's 'other' finest musicians of the period. Had this been by a new
band rather than under the new Lindisfarne banner they might well have made the
AAA series in their own right the way that Jack The Lad would surely have done.
As it is Lindisfarne have missed the mark again and will have to wait another
five years to recapture any of the momentum they once had.
'Take Good Care Of Business' reveals just how deep
the rift between the original Lindisfarne was. Both Alan and Rod spent their
first few songs post-split trying to work out what had gone wrong and feeling
rather bitter, but 'Business' beats even 'Fast Lane Driver' for weary sighs and
temper tantrums. Thankfully Hull saves his biggest wrath not for the band but
the management, appearing to write this song in protest over the fact that if
he wanted to recycle the Lindisfarne name he had to fulfil the contract at
Charisma to make one last album. Hull didn't sign his soul away 'for another
ten years' as he sings here, but it did effectively leave him (and Jacka) stuck
where they'd always been and with the same management and producer, while Jack
The Lad got to try out pastures new (though at the time most assumed the pair
held the trump card after winning rights to the band name). We've long said in
these reviews how cruel the music business can be and the sad fact that few
bands ever end up using the same management for life - something always happens
when money gets involved and several long-term friendships got broken for life.
After all, asking a creative musician to understand how the music business
works without allowing them to trust anyone else to have their best interests
at heart is a little like expecting a manager to write a hit record and know
instinctively what to do with it; the two sides don't often mix. However Hull
is being a little unkind in his comments here: everything he was told by his
bosses was arguably good common sense: if Hull had listened and simmered during
time off and a solo album Lindisfarne might never have broken up at all. Even
the record label weren't quite as nasty as some others can be when bands split
(such as Mercury deciding 10cc still owed another album a decade after they
broke up or David Geffen suing Neil Young for not sounding like Neil Young):
Charisma simply said that if there was to be a new Lindisfarne album they
wanted to be a part of it (and after all would the world have heard of
Lindisfarne at all had they not taken a chance?) In other words 'Take Good Care
Of Business' is one of Hull's rare cruel songs that misses its target: unlike
similar diatribes against politicians, war-mongerers and slum architects who
never have to see the ugly tiny boxes they create ever again, both manager and
record label were relative supporters in this period. Hull's just having a
hissy fit and throwing his toys out the pram because he already knows
Lindisfarne Mark II won't match Lindisfarne Mark I whatever the band tell each
other and/or local music journalists. That said, viewed in a more general
world-weary light 'Business' is often a very funny song. Hull excelled at
sarcasm and he was never more sarcastic than here: borrowing a standard
'blues-song-turned-into-a-pop song' lick, telling the 'story' of Lindisfarne
complete with Jacka spoofing posh producer John Anthony's voice and singing a
vocal that both doesn't care at all and cares all too much. The big worry of
the song is the band's lack of control: the bigger the band get the less money
they have ('You spent it you see, up and down the country!') and the more power
they have to give away to other people, 'otherwise you'll end up on the shelf'.
That's clearly how Hull feels after the 'Dingly Dell' debacle, complaining that
the band weren't led properly ('We're not clever like you!') and that the only
way to dig himself out of this hole is to 'sign for another ten years'. The
country hoe-down style is unusual for early Lindisfarne but the Mark II band
will use this style a lot, somewhere between genuine melancholy and jovial
banter. The end result is a bitter, nasty and often unhinged composition
rescued by a sparking band performance (perhaps the best on the album) and a
sense of joyful abandon. Curiously released as the only single from the album,
it was too un-Lindisfarne like and cruel for a public who hadn't heard 'All
Fall Down' and thought the last band single was still 'Fog On The Tyne'. It
works better as an album opener though.
Roll on's shiniest Ruby, however is surely next
track 'North Country Boy', Tommy Duffy's first published song. And it's a
cracker, putting together several of Lindisfarne's old strengths in a way we'd
never heard them before (harmonies, politics, folk-rock and a mandolin solo).
Jacka shines on a song that gives him an emotion to convey and it's an emotions
he's used to singing from Hull songs past: hopelessness. The poor North Country
Boy of the title is down-trodden and 'ordinary', moving down South to follow
his 'dream' before finding that he's been left with nothing, having been stolen
from by 'fine weather friends'. There are some good lines here: the narrator's
dreams have 'faded edging' and sighs that he should have stayed at home because
'We have no choice except what we're born into'. It's almost a Thomas Hardy
novel this, with the working class labourer hoping for big times in the city
and discovering instead that he only understands the ways of the country, hence
the chorus where he runs off to the water (the closest thing he can recognise
to his old home) and tries to be re-born in the waters, rubbing his 'fake' self
away ('Gotta get me clean!') For all that, though, this song still has a breezy
optimism blowing through its veins and producer Mickey Sweeney sensibly leaves
Jacka's delightful falsetto singing along with Craddock's chirpy organ sound
which is a very home-made Lindisfarne touch. Well performed and driven along by
the author's upright bass bubbling, like the North Country Boy himself this
song has been overlooked for far too long and is rather better than reputation
suggests.
Many fans prefer 'Steppenwolf' - nothing to do with
the 'Born To Be Wild' band but a Hull original about where that group got their
name from: a 1927 German novel by Hermann Hesse (the author, not the nazi).
Meaning effectively 'werewolf', the novel is a very Hull-ian dystopian novel
about the author's rise from rags to riches and the difference between how he's
treated when he's homeless compared to when he's a millionaire. Clearly fitting
the album's themes of fair-weather friends letting you down, Jacka takes the
lead on a lyric that tries hard to find justice and happiness and also shows
off Hull's kinder side as he offers to lend an ear to a friend whose hit rock
bottom. 'Steppenwolf is stepping out' Jacka chortles as he then presumes to get
drunk ('I can hardly see!' he complains), urges his friend to talk and even
sings with him to keep him company, while ultimately trying to show his new
friend how to 'step into the light'. Though Hull never mentioned why he wrote
this song (indeed, he never really mentioned any of his Mark II era songs
again), it's easy to imagine him using his new-found money to treat a beggar to
the night of his life; after all, unlike many millionaires, Hull knew what it
was like to be down and out and it would have been entirely in character. Sweet
as this song is, though, it doesn't really go anywhere: the vaguely threatening
and uncomfortable verse gives way to a major key chorus that sounds like the
sun coming out - but then it hides behind a cloud again for a second verse that
doesn't add anything and we simply keep going round and round in circles. Even
the ending of the song could have been a lot shorter: Harcourt's sharp but
rather basic guitar riff gets played a full eleven times over the final ninety
second coda which is at least eight too many, even with a pretty (if rather
lush) orchestra playing over the top, a first for Lindisfarne. The rest of the
band don't nail this song any better either, with only Hull's nagging harmony
vocal catching the ear. Steppenwolf is 'alright' indeed, but it's arguably no
better than that.
Kenny and Colin's first collaboration 'Nobody Loves
You Anymore' is clearly meant to fill the slightly wacky role of a Si Cowe
track, although structurally this song recalls the Rab Noakes covers of old.
Jacka, Kenny, Alan and Kenny again take the lead vocal (in that order) on a
simple silly track that again spoofs miserable country songs and takes the
mickey out of self-pity. Lyrically this is standard fare and a worrying move
towards silliness without charm for Lindisfarne, with lines that make the
narrator out to be a right twit, locking himself away in his room to cry only
to find he can't remember what was making him sad and a mocking third verse
where the narrator withdraws from everyone and only then wonders why no one is
speaking to him, never mind 'loves him anymore'. A bit different to normal then
(even 'Fog On The Tyne' didn't feel this flimsy and insubstantial), but at
least Lindisfarne perform it straight. Musically this is easily the most
Lindisfarne moment on the record (despite the fact that the old band never
really did country), with plenty of harmonica and a 'bluesy' bass part plus a
moment during the middle eight (right near the end of the song) where all four
singers suddenly take off on brilliant sweet 'n' sour harmonies that sound
remarkably like the old band. Duffy has really latched onto how to re-create
Rod's walking bass lines too by now.
The closest in terms of quality to the old
Lindisfarne though is 'When The War Is Over', a Hull song that's clearly in
part a song of healing to his old band. Like many of Hull's political songs
it's profound in its simplicity: surely peace is better than war? Few people
ever came out of a war wishing that it was still going and the few that did
(Hitler mainly) were mad. Instead Hull looks forward to a time when people can
pick up their old lives, when people can 'be kind again' and can worry about
things much more important than 'victory'. Hull pours his heart and soul into
the lyric which is one of his best, imagining a world where children have all
seen first-hand what war is like an vow never to fall into the same traps again
('The children will be the teachers, their lessons will be so clear, to see
with open eyes, to hear with open ears...', a line that Lennon would have proud
of). Hull then turns to his critics, imploring them to give peace a chance to
'understand me..to reach with open arms and speak with open minds'. Of course
he also knows it's a utopian ideal that will probably never happen with the
'wrong' people in charge so he includes a verse about passing dry ginger to
passing tramps like some idealistic nursery rhyme. But that's ok: like this
song's close cousin 'Imagine' (both songs are based around wide open major
chords which try to make sense out of chaos) it's more about uniting with
fellow dreamers than the detail of the dream itself. In many ways as a song
this is superior to 'Imagine' - it's more universal, less clichéd and doesn't
have a multi-millionaire with a whole room for his wife to keep fur coats in
telling us to do away with possessions. However as a performance 'When The War
Is Over' is sadly lacking. Lindisfarne get precious little to do as a band,
with Hull's voice and piano the only thing heard up until the halfway point
when Nichol's awkward drum part kicks in. The OTT string arrangement that fills
up much of the last minute or so of the recording also sounds false and overly
pretty - after all, this is not a pretty song and is more about picking up the
pieces after a struggle than living in peace forever more. The final full-on
chorus when everybody turns up 'Hey Jude' style just falls flat: this sounds
like take 107 and there's no passion for this song in the room anymore. Even
Hull's vocal sounds slightly off-kilter, as if he was intending this as a demo
that got lucky rather than a fully focussed take. The result is a great song
that should have a lot more impact than it does and should by rights be the
song from this album that everyone knows. It's a song that worked better in
concert and should have been performed more often (Hull's BBC Sessions set is arguably
the best way to hear it, although it's slightly undone by Alan's jovial switch
of words from 'when the war is over' to 'when the bar is open' because it was
the last song before a drinking break!)
'Moonshine' is, as we've discussed so often on this
site by now, a slang term for home-made booze - usually of the strong variety.
This album's chief drinker is Tommy Duffy, with Jacka singing a soulful lead
behind a mass of Lindisfarny folky harmonies and again he proves that he's
grasped the band's 'old' sound rather better than the people who were actually
in the old joke (there's even space for a mandolin solo!) Though the song
sounds slightly drab and dreary, returning to the chorus over and over like any
boring obsessive drunk, it's a more interesting song when you scratch below the
surface in a Kinks-style 'warning about the evils of alcohol even though the band
are way drunker than you have ever been in your life' kind of a way. 'This is
the life and times of a man who almost made it' is the song's expressive
opening line, before outlining a man who seemed to have everything but was so
unconfident about what he had that he took to the drink to make him feel better
- and lost what he didn't know he had in the first place. He gets so upset at
what he's lost he goes back home to brew up three more barrels 'just
because...' sputters Jacka, without any explanation why anymore, 'Just
because!' Oddly enough, despite Lindisfarne's reputation as a drinking band bar
none, it's the first real reference to any form of booze in any of the band's
songs and it's a critical song at that ('Moonshine' clearly unleashes the
floodgates - almost everything Hull writes for sequel 'Happy Daze' will be
based around the demon drink). A fiery Harcourt solo, perhaps his best during
his short two-album period with the band, really lets fly near the end of the
song, but the track arguably needs something more - some form of conclusion or
understanding - before the narrator collapses off his bar-stool in a stupor (or
the track suddenly fades, depending on your interpretation). A slightly wonky
production with lots of things coming and going but none of them that clear
makes the listener want to reach for something strong, but whether that's by
choice or coincidence is unknown!
Alan Hull's laziest song, certainly in his first
decade as a known professional writer, is undoubtedly 'Lazy'. Yet another
flimsy re-write of 'Fog On The Tyne' this song finds him feeling lazy and
enjoying a nothing day even though there's so much he should be doing. It's the
sort of thing we've heard other bands do lots and usually better down the years
without his usual distinctive style and perhaps fittingly even the chord
changes sound familiar, as if Hull was too 'lazy' to come up with anything
particularly inventive. This isn't a terrible song though, just a largely
uninspired one, raised to a higher level by a middle eight that again complains
of a hangover (though probably emotionally caused this time) and reaches up
wearily from the song's lowest to its highest note as if stretching and trying
to pull itself together to do what the narrator should be doing. The second
verse too is of passing interest: turning the song from a general first verse
everyone must have agreed with at one time or another (having so much to do you
don't want to do any of it) to Hull's current predicament as a songwriter
fading from view. 'You get by singing songs to the crowd' Hull sings to
himself, 'But in the back of your mind you can see there's only one place you
want to be' - and that's back at home, fooling around and enjoying the money,
not tramping around the country plugging an album that isn't selling. Hull is
ashamed of feeling lazy and quite possibly depressed about the direction his
life is going in, but he doesn't know quite how to put himself back on track
just yet and, well, hasn't he worked hard enough to enjoy this moment? Like a
lot of Ruby's diamonds, this track could have benefitted from a tighter band
performance and feels slightly unfinished without any conclusion or realisation
to send us on our way. Even Hull's laziest songwriting has its charms, though,
if you aren't expecting a masterpiece like in years gone by.
Kenny and Colin's 'Roll On River' takes the old
folk-rock Lindisfarne sound and nudges it towards prog-rock, with an
atmospheric five minute track that uses lots of nature and love metaphors and
comes in multiple sections. Lindisfarne have clearly been listening to too much
Pink Floyd or Moody Blues and unlike those two bands their biggest problem is
that although each part is good they don't necessarily hang together that well.
Still, it's good to hear someone involved in this album have some ambition and
both Kenny and Jacka's alternating lead vocals tap into the emotion hiding
somewhere in this sombre track. In a twist on 'The Long and Winding Road',
Craddock sees love as like a river - it has potential estuaries, deltas and
breakaway streams that could all spell disappointment as 'day by day we fade
away' and the currents are too strong for either partner to control. The song
certainly sounds like a sea-storm at parts, with Jacka's simple harmonica sound
set against the majesty of one of the better orchestral arrangements on the
album. However like 'War Is Over' this song lacks the big finale it deserves
and is actually at its most convincing at the start when Kenny is noodling away
at his piano by himself before falling, almost by accident, into the song's
main haunting riff. Though this song does indeed have a nice roll, it could do
with rocking a bit more - the band sound a shade too relaxed on what should by
rights be an intense song about making the most of every day in a relationship
with each wave another crescendo - like many a song on this LP it sounds like a
promising demo that didn't get the attention it deserved. Poor 'River' (there's
no clue where Ruby fits in by the way) feels a little like the title track to
'Dingly Dell' with it's same sense of nature and destiny and love and has
similar peaks and troughs across the song. However the song's pair of writers
don't quite have Hull's grasp of melding intellect with emotion and the song
still comes across sounding slightly hollow despite its often intriguing lyrics
and one of the more memorable melodies on the album.
The same writers came up with the unfortunate 'Toe
The Line' which, poor spelling and all (it should of course be 'tow') is easily
the weakest song on the album. Jacka sound deeply uncomfortable being turned
into a country star on the thigh-slapping pantomime vocal, even if the combined
effects of his mandolin, Hull's acoustic and Charlie's electric guitars are
actually quite convincing. Like many a Rolling Stones comedy spoof, this song
tries to square the idea of 'country music' meaning 'conservatism', using this
song as a chance to remind everyone that life is better when you behave and do
as you're told. Though the song reads like it's meant at face value (and many
fans probably took it as such), the sarcastic massed vocals make it clear the
band are joking - it's hard to think of a band less likely to deliver these
sentiments for real than the one who came up with 'We Can Swing Together' or
'Peter Brophy Does Not Care'; Lindisfarne have always been about standing up
and speaking out for yourself, even against the fat cats who carry way more
weight than you. Unfortunately Lindisfarne have never really been about comedy
country songs and their sarcasm seems out of place despite a lively backing
track that features some great Jacka harmonica work. Still, though, this song
is more likely to have you crying 'yee-hah - it's over at last!' than
'yabbadabbadoo my favourite song's on!'
Ruby rolls away, rather fittingly, with 'Goodbye' -
the final track the band recorded for Charisma so it's a farewell in more ways
than one. Tommy wrote this sad song which sounds more like a Jack The Lad
number with its full-on folk and deeply depressing words about the music
business (actually, together with Charlie's particularly guitar squeal, it
sounds most like Badfinger who also wrote songs about being at the wrong end of
the charts). Tommy's narrator (sung at first by Kenny) is in need of a rest
before he has a complete breakdown, fed up of playing court jester to a room of
people who don't laugh anymore. Jacka then takes over for a slightly happier
chorus where he sings 'See you next time', implying there's going to be one,
and promises that he'll be back 'after one thing I do alone'. We never find out
what that is though - the narrator is too busy saying goodbye to tell us what
he's actually leaving behind, with some nicely vari-speeded vocals recalling
'Nicely Out Of Tune' and sounding as if phantoms are flying across the track. However,
the band clearly have too much to say and even after a longish gap (which makes
me get up to turn the record over every single blooming time!) suddenly pitch
back in again with a final end in which they all cry 'Goodbye' like some big
Medieval round. All this waving goodbye to themselves for five minutes soon
becomes hard work, but the melody is strong and arguably Duffy's best tune for
the Mark II band. Even the slightly over-written lyrics that don't really go
anywhere sound mighty fine when handled by Jacka at his most emotive. If
Lindisfarne had ended here then it would have been a pretty fine way to go out
and the song's in-yer-face coda leading into slow end also makes rather a neat
mirror to the start of the band's opening song for Charisma 'Lady Eleanor'.
Overall, then, 'Roll On Ruby' isn't bad. There's
only one song that's truly poor and even that's not diabolical. At the same
time, though, it isn't always that good: the songs are there (half of them
anyway), the performances too (half again - though frustratingly not usually
the same half!) and there are some good ideas being thrown around here. It just
sounds as if the Mark II band don't have the confidence, the telepathy or the
knowhow yet to make the most of this record and, as has so often been said, it
was designed by committee so all the bits that in the olden days would have
been mad, bad an exciting to know come out sad, trad and excruciating waiting
for it to go. The old band's ramshackle amateurism was, perhaps, the greatest
thing about them: every track sounded 'real', lived in and was tremendously
exciting (at least in their Charisma days - the reunion era is effectively
another band style again), impossible to be background music. 'Roll On Ruby' is
more professionally played, given more overdubs and is at least meant to sound
like there's more going on (even though, compositionally, this would still be
the weakest of the first four Lindisfarne albums had it been made by the
original band still) - if you were a record company or a listener who preferred
professional emptiness to an amateur's hills and valleys you'd have picked the
Mark II band to be the winners, but no one who ever heard the Mark I band first
could ever claim to love this album more: there's just less about it to get
involved with and feel for emotionally. In a parallel universe though, where
Rome never fell (hail!), The Spice Girls were never born (yippee!) and
Lindisfarne never split the best of this combined with the best of their rivals
debut album 'It's Jack The Lad' would have made for a phenomenal LP, perhaps
the band's very best. I mean: 'Fast Lane Driver' 'Why Can't I Be Satisfied?' 'Song
Without A Band' and 'When The War Is Over' all on the same album - what's not
to love? (Especially if Lindisfarne had 'contracted' 'North Country Boy'
'Goodbye' 'Turning Into Winter' and 'Lying On The Water' from 'outside' members
too). Ruby could have shone like no Lindisfarne album before it and would
surely have allowed the band to recover after the poor reception of 'Dingly
Dell' but it was not to be - instead 'Ruby' just rolled on, without anything
like the impact an all-new singing and dancing Lindisfarne needed to bring the
public back on to their side. Both sides of the argument paid an awfully high
price for that one small broken branch off the family tree depicted on the
album sleeve - though the Mark II band tried to pretend their fruits were
juicier, they were simply kept too high up the tree for anyone to be
interested. Better is to come for the Mark II band at least - 'Happy Daze' in
fact.
A NOW COMPLETE LIST OF LINDISFARNE ARTICLES
TO READ AT ALAN’S ALBUM ARCHIVES:
'Nicely Out Of Tune' (L)
(1970) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-37-lindisfarne-nicely-out-of.html
'Fog On The Tyne' (L) (1971) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/news-views-and-music-issue-88.html
'Dingly Dell' (L) (1972) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/news-views-and-music-issue-146.html
'Roll ON Ruby' (L) (1973) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/lindisfarne-roll-on-ruby-1973.html
'Fog On The Tyne' (L) (1971) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/news-views-and-music-issue-88.html
'Dingly Dell' (L) (1972) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/news-views-and-music-issue-146.html
'Roll ON Ruby' (L) (1973) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/lindisfarne-roll-on-ruby-1973.html
'It's Jack The Lad' (JTL)
(1973) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-61-jack-lad-its-jack-lad-1973.html
'Happy Daze' (L) (1974) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2009/12/news-views-and-music-issue-50.html
'Pipedream' (AH) (1974) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/news-views-and-music-issue-63-alan-hull.html
'Happy Daze' (L) (1974) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2009/12/news-views-and-music-issue-50.html
'Pipedream' (AH) (1974) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/news-views-and-music-issue-63-alan-hull.html
'The Squire' (AH) (1975) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/11/alan-hull-squire-1975.html
'The Old Straight Track' (JTL) (1975) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/news-views-and-music-issue-109-jack-lad.html
'The Old Straight Track' (JTL) (1975) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/news-views-and-music-issue-109-jack-lad.html
'Rough Diamonds' (JTL)
(1975) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2016/04/jack-lad-rough-diamonds-1975.html
‘Jackpot’ (JTL) (1976) https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/jack-lad-jackpot-1976.html
'Magic In The Air' (L) (1978) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/12/news-views-and-music-issue-15.html
'Magic In The Air' (L) (1978) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/12/news-views-and-music-issue-15.html
'Back and Fourth' (L)
(1978) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/11/lindisfarne-back-and-fourth-1978.html
‘The News’(L) (1979) http://www.alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/lindisfarne-news-1979.html
'Sleepless Nights' (L) (1982) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-83-lindisfarne-sleepless-nights.html
‘The News’(L) (1979) http://www.alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/lindisfarne-news-1979.html
'Sleepless Nights' (L) (1982) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-83-lindisfarne-sleepless-nights.html
'Dance Your Life Away' (L)
(1986) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.com/2017/01/lindisfarne-dance-your-life-away-1986.html
‘Amigos’ (1989)
https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/10/lindisfarne-amigos-1989.html
'Elvis Lives On The Moon' (L) (1993) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/07/lindisfarne-elvis-lives-on-moon-1993.html
'Here Comes The
Neighbourhood' (1998) http://www.alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/lindisfarne-here-comes-neighbourhood.html
'Promenade' (2002) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2016/11/lindisfarne-promenade-2002.html
Si Cowe Obituary and
Tribute (2015) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/simon-si-cowe-lindisfarne-guitarist.html
Surviving TV Clips http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/surviving-lindisfarne-tv-clips-1971-1996.html
Live/Solo/Compilation
Albums Part One 1970-1987 http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/lindisfarne-sololiveraritiescompilation.html
Live/Solo/Compilation
Albums Part Two 1988-2015 http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/lindisfarne-sololiveraritiescompilation_29.html
Essay: Keepin’ The Rage On Behalf Of The Working Classes https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2018/03/lindisfarne-essay-keepin-rage-on-behalf.html
Essay: Keepin’ The Rage On Behalf Of The Working Classes https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2018/03/lindisfarne-essay-keepin-rage-on-behalf.html
