Showing posts with label 2014. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2014. Show all posts

Monday, 16 February 2015

Belle and Sebastian/Stuart Murdoch "God Help The Girl" (Film Review) (2014)




'Rollercoaster Ride' - The Alan's Album Archives Guide To Belle and Sebastian Is Available To Buy Now By Clicking Here







"God Help The Girl"

(A Film By Stuart Murdoch with musical backing by Belle and Sebastian)

"If you have to grow up sometime you have to do it on your own" or "I've been born for ages but now I'm turning the pages" or "We're beaming to Dudley!"

Musical soundtrack (performed by cast with * an archival Belle and Sebastian recording): I Suppose That Was A Prayer/I Dumped You First/Pretty When The Wind Blows/I Know I Have To Eat/God Help The Girl/The Psychiatrist Is In/The God Of Music/If You Could Speak/Catwalk Of The Dukes/Perfection As A Hipster/Fuck This Shit*/Pretty Eve In The Tub/A Loving Kind Of Boy/What Do You Want This Band To Be?/Come Monday Night/Collective Idiocy/I'm Not Rich/I'll Have To Dance With Cassie/Stalinist Russia/Baby's Just Waiting/Patrick Whistle/Musician Please Take Heed/I Just Want Your Jeans/Invisible/The World's Last Cassette/Down And Dusky Blonde/Dress Up In You*

Corn Gig setlist: Winter Wooskie/I'm A Cuckoo/Le Pastie De La Bourgeoisie/Musician Please Take Heed/Photo Jenny/Piazza New York Catcher/Turning The Pages

Well, this is fun. We've never done an honest to God (help the girl) film review on this site before have we? Well not apart from the odd mini-DVD review we've done down the years for various Beatle films, Monkees TV episodes and somehow Stuart Murdoch's project deserved more than that. Goodness how it will fit in with the reviews we'd already written of the album (which is as different a beast to the film as The Beatles' 'Sgt Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band' LP is to the Robert Stigwood film) and I'm a lot less convincing talking about this sort of thing than music (I only sat through two film studies lessons before leaving for more useful and proper things that were much more likely to help with my employment - like a creative writing course for instance). The fact remains, though, that 'God Help The Girl' is such a crucial part of the Belle and Sebastian story (taking up five years of their lives now, off and on) that it needs to be told properly, not in a throwaway 'oh yes and there's also this' appendix, being so integrally involved with a (still fictionalised) account of how Belle and Sebastian came together (well ish, sort of). We also need to give you the plot for those who haven't seen the film yet, which is something we've toyed with doing for many a prog rock album but haven't so far because we figure anyone mad enough to click on a 7000 word review of said album will know it (though apparently we're wrong: lots of people have contacted us to ask if The Small Faces' 'Ogden's Nut Gone Flake' is as mad as we made out. Why yes, yes it is). However in a way it makes perfect sense that a novice is guiding through this film because it's all about novices. Well, novices with good ideas and talent - not so sure that applies here but never mind. I'm digressing again. Are all film reviews like this or just mine? Anyway...

The last six months have been ridiculously busy for a band who seemed on the verge of retirement last time we reviewed one of their 'new' albums. Worried that he'd 'lose' his band members to other groups and his audience to other bands, Stuart Murdoch effectively rushed the current Belle and Sebastian album through: a quirk of that record not coming out till January and only getting the film for Christmas means I haven't heard it yet except the opening flurry of singles. What I have heard - and the reviews I've read suggest it's more of the same as 'The Life Pursuit' and 'Write About Love', steps further towards the middle of the road and modernity, which as we've already discussed on this site is what the band probably needs to do to survive but it isn't what their fan base wants them to do (well, not us oldies anyway - lots of people seemed to buy the 'Funny Little Frog' single so somebody must have liked it). I fear from what I've heard that, yet again, Belle and Sebastian only make sense when going back to old ground - the love songs written between Murdoch and Isobel Campbell (who left in 2002), the brave hope of new tomorrows and how people cope once those tomorrows aren't there anymore.

'God Help The Girl', however, is refreshingly retro and makes no bones about being concerned with the past. No date is given throughout the film but it 'feels' early-to-mid 1990s in the way that 'Tigermilk' and 'If You're Feeling Sinister' both did (caveat: Eve's misguided boyfriend makes a joke about her having the world's last cassette tape which would suggest a later date - then again people were joking about my large cassette and vinyl collection the moment CDs arrived in 1987) so that doesn't completely nullify my dating . The film's main heroine, Eve, is effectively an innocent abroad - but abroad in this case means out of the room and asylum where she's been locked up for an unspecified amount of time; a throwaway line makes her out to be Australian and so more literally abroad. Since becoming anorexic (and, so some film reviews say, depressed although that's more of a secondary issue by the look of the dialogue)Eve has found that her world has collapsed since she left home and - reading between the lines - that she's too much of an 'artist' to be a fully functioning adult (we get very little about her back-story actually). Gradually forgetting to eat, she's ended up in a mental asylum where lots of well-meaning nurses with stern faces try to encourage her to eat, only to escape one day, attend a gig where a local band's two guitarists have a row and beat each other up on-stage (both hilariously taking off their glasses first) and one of them - James - gets talking to Eve and takes her to his flat when she collapses. He's a musician, she happens to write songs and he's currently teaching a promising young singer - bring it on! However Eve has a boyfriend of the pretty-but-pretty-simple Justin Bieber-meets-Red-Hot-Chilli-Peppers sort, he lets her down she lets James down and her world comes crashing down and the film ends with their tearful goodbye as she goes off to be a 'grown-up' and take a proper adult course. We won't spoil the ending, about whether they fit their last gig in or not, before Eve goes away, although suffice to say this isn't a film you watch for plot but character. As you'd expect from anything made by Stuart Murdoch, though most of the plot revolves around long walks, wasted summer days where not much happens and an awful lot of shots of scenic shots of Glasgow looking particularly beautiful. The theme of the film is a time when nothing in your life was sorted out and stuck in a strict regime just yet, when anything was possible and when music is the most important thing anyone could do with their lives.

Nobody says it here and Murdoch is careful to both change the gender and the illness of his main protagonist, but this is clearly his life-story writ large on screen, together with the usual quirks and, well, characters he's famous for giving his characters. In fact I'd go so far as to say it's the most personal creative project yet, telling the world stuff that was going on in his head that he wasn't ready to tell when 'Tigermilk' was being made and had forgotten for most of the past few albums. For those who haven't read our new expanded review of 'Tigermilk' yet here's the story: Stuart tried to go to university when he was 21, burnt himself out and fell ill with chronic fatigue syndrome and ended up confined to bed for most of the next nine years. This is the story of what happened to him when he returned slowly to health, finding that he had a 'voice' for his songs (most of whom became 'characters' who'd lived in the Glasgow he'd known before falling ill because being confined to the same old four walls everyday let his imagination soar), meeting and falling for Isobel Campbell in a scene not unlike the meeting between Eve and James in the film (although neither were playing at the time) and enjoying the summer of his love when after nine years of nothing and silence his head was full and his imagination was overflowing. I too suffer from this horrendous illness (which is why I live my life through the careers and music of others - I'm too poorly to make music myself) and though scriptwriter Murdoch deliberately changed the story to Eve being anorexic (Murdoch later gave an interview claiming that this was for 'visual performances as 'shots of people sleeping wouldn't have been that interesting!') I absolutely see the parallels: Eve sleeps an awful lot throughout the film, often after a hard day of living the night before, nobody believes her or listens to her and everyone lectures her instead of helping her - she's obviously been through the ATOS disability scheme too. She often wakes up uncomfortably, the radio still playing through her earphones in her over-darkened room, music the only outlet from the outside world allowed in (that settles is - Murdoch comes in and checks in on me, angel style, when I'm asleep - there's no other possible explanation). Note too how out of touch with the 'real world' Eve seems to be (including - inevitably for a one-time bus driver trainee - a memorable scene of her riding on a bus, looking on in shock at the world around her moving; it's a subtle scene if you don't know about the illness and how rare it is to leave the house, but it's clearly there if you know).

Even the scene of her being told to keep up her 'pyramid' so that eating, sleeping and exercise can 'prop up' level two (a social life and work) and only then level three (arts and creativity and - curiously - 'morality') sounds spookily reminiscent of some of the tripe I was given (though like Eve's carers it's the paperwork not the people: they're not the monsters lesser writers would have made them and 'something to escape' - they clearly want her to get well, they're just clueless how). This is, of course, wrong: music is so integral to Eve's wellbeing because it isn't something she can switch on and off when she feels like it; it's a part of her that actually comes more naturally than eating and more effortlessly than sleep. Those of you who read my outburst about three years ago about 'why I write this site' will know my feelings on this (the biggest argument I ever had at school was aged eight refusing to put 'music' down on a list as a  'luxury' item during some God-help-the-teacher awful lesson about social science: to me it's always been more important than eating, sleep and shelter, the supposedly 'essential' items needed for life - I can cope without a house if I have to, will last a few difficult days without food and my illness means I often go days without sleep as it is but I cannot last any length of time without music, which is the equivalent of asking me to live without hope, or dreams, or escapism, or happiness, or beauty).

While it's not spoken out loud in this film (the sub-texts are part of what makes it so clever, a writing trait that's thankfully held over from the albums) but the biggest thing Eve needs to help her recover is to actually have a future to recover too; in this context it's a tragedy that see her leave on a train at the end of the film, her friendships and future apparently broken (this too is paralleled with Murdoch's decision to end his 'fun summer' and go back to university; his story turns out happily thanks to a brilliant music teacher, several like-minded classmates on a youth training course and a business studies project that sees him and his pals and an SOS to his girlfriend back home all getting together to make 'Tigermilk', one of the greatest records ever made by anybody anywhere - her story is open-ended, with success and failure equally likely). Eve does end up at the end of the film receiving the same treatment as Stuart, incidentally, when Eve visits the house of a faith healer who cuts her hair early on in the film and imagines a 'man standing over me - so I shut my eyes tight'; the filmic equivalent of 'The State I Am In's 'gave myself to God - there was a pregnant pause before he said 'ok'). Religion is a loose theme throughout the film, wrapped around the character's shoulders like a shawl (James' character goes to Church, Eve surrounds her cassette demo-tape with a drawing of a church and of course the project title: the hint is that God does help Eve but she has to work out what he wants her to do). Even James' flat looks remarkably like the one Stuart and drummer Richard Colburn shared during the band's early days when they worked as caretakers and lived on top of a Glasgow church.

Clearly there's a lot of fictionalisation going on here too and this is not a straight story: Murdoch is an excellent creator of characters, one of the greatest in fact (if he'd lived in the nineteenth century famous for caricatures  that would be him working with W S Gilbert satirising the MPs of the days as fairies or perhaps working with Charles Dickens as his editor) and there are lots of little quirks each has that help define them as characters. More than that, though, he seems to have split both his and Isobel's personality into three: 'Eve' is his artistic side coupled with her take-no-prisoners attitude and the moment she decides to suddenly become a 'blonde' at the end of the film (the beginning of the end, as she 'becomes' what others want her to be instead of her 'real' self) she even looks a little like Isobel. The almost equally wonderfully drawn 'James' mixes his athletic side (he's a lifeguard), slightly awkward physical presence and musical knowledge (which results in several excellent conversations about the chemistry of bands and what you need to be in one that sound very like the sleevenotes from an early B and S record; more of this would have been highly welcome; not to mention his excellent record collection still on vinyl), but Murdoch gives 'him' Isobel's side of the story - equally passionate about music but slightly left behind, a part-of-the-band-but-not-in-the-band and having to pick his life back up when he leaves, despite knowing it will never be the same. And then there's Cassie, James' still-at-school-pupil who falls into their older crowd remarkably easy for someone that age: she shares Murdoch's bubblier side, the part that talks to crowds nineteen to the dozen despite being intrinsically shy, the natural cute lead singer with the good looks (though the camera still doesn't quite love  actress Hannah Murray quite as euphorically as it does Eve, Emily Browning) but is also slightly clueless, out of her depth amongst crowds older than herself (how Murdoch must have felt finding his old friends of the same age had done so many extra years of living he never got to see). Cassie also shares a little something with Belle and Sebastian's original bassist Stuart David (the second member of the band, who joined before even Isobel): she's quirky and full of odd ideas yet always happy to fall in with what everyone else does (you can imagine her spending the rest of her summer before going back to school writing the sort of letters Stuart David once shared with future wife Karn, or the weird equally-fictionalised pen-and-ink drawings he made of how Belle and Sebastian 'really' formed!) Murdoch's writing means that all three are likeable and very different, the films seen from all three points of view along the way (James even tells Eve to 'go away' from his monologue scene as they try to say goodbye, a clever breaking of the fourth wall which says much about this film's playfulness).

For those who don't know, this project started life in 2003 - inevitably the moment when Campbell left the band and Murdoch wasn't yet ready to open up his vulnerable heart (the band will eventually delay this with the rather good pop album 'Dear Catastrophe Waitress' in 2003 instead). Perhaps out of guilt at not using his missus' talents enough (Isobel's been far more prolific over the past decade than her former partner and had better critical acclaim of late) or out of a need to still hear her voice, lots of the new material Stuart was writing sounded like a girl's voice to him and much of it dealt with their shared past. The project was shelves while he worked out what to do with it, reviving it again in 2007 when the fuss over 'The Life Pursuit' and resulting tour had died down. Looking round for a singer and writing a first draft of the script, Murdoch toyed with the project across the next two years and persuaded the rest of the band to back a now extended cast of three singers (Catherine Ireton, Celia Garcia and Alex Klobouk) who sang the leads on the album. A single 'Come Monday Night' was released in May 2009 (it turns up right at the very end over the start of the final credits and had an exclusive B-side attached), a fourteen track album followed in June (which featured eight songs re-recorded for this soundtrack) , another single (a re-recording of 'Funny Little Frog' with another exclusive B-side, neither of which made the film) was released in July, a five-track EP 'Stills' followed in November (adding just 'The Psychiatrist Is In' to the film soundtrack) and finally a third single 'Baby You're Blind' appeared in May 2010 (the B-side was 'A Down and Dusky Blonde' - the A side has never been heard of again). With B and S busy or resting, these projects weren't promoted and none of them did very well - but then measuring releases by commercial success has never been the B and S way. Thereafter the project was put on the back burner while Belle and Sebastian wrote, recorded and toured 'Write About Love' (released at the end of 2010). The project also underwent a complete re-write, with several sub-sections taken out and others inserted, while Murdoch feebly tried to interest every one of the big cinema production companies to make it: nobody wanted to know. However just as 'Tigermilk' made pioneering use of the internet to sell copies before most people had any idea what it was or what it could be, so Murdoch turned early to the relatively new 'Kickstarter' project, with fans and movie-goers building up funds (rather sweetly one of their bigger backers even gets to introduce the band and hang around on stage for the 'premier' gig in Edinburgh as featured on the DVD).

Murdoch jokes during the 'introduction' of the film's premiere in Edinburgh  (as seen on one of the DVD extras) that 'you do all know that this is a musical, right? Because if I knew I'd want to leave - right now!' However we all knew that 'God Help The Girl' would be one of those films where the music plays throughout: Murdoch's songs have always been like film scripts anyway, full of visual clues and character enhancing phrases. We've already covered some of the songs used on our site already by reviewing the full album and two EPs released as 'God Help The Girl' in 2009. Being a Belle and Sebastian spin-off band, though, means that many of these fine songs ('Beneath My Umbrella' 'Stills' 'Mary's Market' and the glorious 'Act Of The Apostle' as released by B and S on 'The Life Pursuit' in 2006) aren't here. Luckily neither is 'Funny Little Frog', a great song (and still B and S' biggest hit at the time of writing) that always sounded wrong for this project. The music that does make the film is largely excellent. For instance 'I Suppose That Was A Prayer' captures Eve's escape from her mental and physical prison over the opening credits magnificently and sums up her character in one go: acting more confident than she feels, buying an Independent newspaper to make her look clever and desperate for new experiences. 'Musician Please Take Heed' heard during Eve's last breakdown (when James has learnt the truth and is hiding from her) is exceptional: this is Murdoch, older and wiser in his 40s trying to remember the first lesson he learnt from rock and roll and not to get too carried away, while simultaneously capturing Eve's new-born hurt and fury that James can get away with living a life separate from hers (even though that's exactly what she's been doing the whole time; this too sums up the 'hurt' situation of 'Pursuit' and 'Love' and especially 'I'm Waking Up To Us', the extraordinary EP announcement of the impending Murdoch-Campbell split released in 2001). Even Eve's decision to take along her wind-up gramophone to the river bank and spending hours working out what to play in order to wallow in her hurt is pure genius (if only she'd taken a book called 'The State I Am In' to read too for us fan completists, eh?!) 'Pretty Eve In The Tub' is weird, Murdoch doing Noel Coward but it works in conjuring up the pair's blossoming gentlemanly romance where both sides are too afraid to make the first move. The title track is a clever condensing song that sums up everything curious fans need to know about the style, mood and plot of the film: God help the girl - she needs all the help she can get, even from the unlikeliest sources. Finally 'Dressed Up In You' may have already been used by the band on the 'Life Pursuit' album here, but it's the perfect accompaniment to the end of the film: James, left sadly bidding goodbye on the station platform (till Cassie and bike come to his rescue) contemplating his empty and her bright future while it plays out in music over the credits ('Now you're an actress, though you're made of card - you couldn't act your way out of a paper bag!' 'I'm knitting jumpers' and 'We had a deal there - I thought that you would keep your word'. Suddenly this song becomes clear: we reviewed this song as if it was Murdoch singing to Campbell but it's actually her singing to him). Only one song fails and fails spectacularly: I didn't like 'The Psychiatrist Is In' on the record and I hate it in the film: Eve is afraid, only just out of her room for the first time and nervous of people - and yet she seduces the kindly boy she's just met? Hardly - even if Eve was desperate for attention she'd do something like fall in the swimming pool and make James rescue her before promising him a reward - stringing him along, in other words, until he falls for her and thinks it was all his idea; the Eve of the rest of the film would have the fire but not the motive to do this (even her dalliance with her 'other' bloke in the film seems out of character: while pleased at having bedded someone every other girl wants - a great boost to any ego - she'd have done so with more doubts and guilt than she does in the film, where she only regrets it when learning that the completely unsupportive twit didn't pass on her demo tape to his contacts like she asked - yeah, she's an innocent abroad and all that, but even she's not thick enough to think he ever would, surely?)

So, is this film any good? Largely, yes. We've been saying for a while now (since 'Fold Your Hands' in 2001 if you've been reading these reviews in order) that Murdoch had a game-plan in his sick-bed for how he dreamed his life would turn out. He never bothered thinking past that point because he never thought it would ever happen, so when life caught up with fiction he struggled to know what to do next - his songs get less, the rest of the band do more and the band sound changes (inexplicably from about 2006). We said on both 'The Life Pursuit' and 'Write About Love' that for all the really clever inventive decisions to go into new directions (some successful,, some not) it was the songs that returned back to those early days and looked afresh at Murdoch and Campbell's Summer together (either trying to recapture it, or seen as a distant memory, or spoken to a picture of 'her' in the present day and wondering what happened to her as per the 2006 'Dressed Up In You' that works remarkably well over the end credits) that were the most emotionally involving, the way B and S always used to be. However Murdoch clearly has been struggling to return to that theme as often as he wants: the band are older, their fans know the story and there are few angles he can get out of it now that we've gone from love to rage and betrayal to acceptance over the past few years. By making himself a 'character' (or three in fact) Murdoch has finally discovered how to best return to the year that influences him and excites him the most without having to do it as himself. You don't need to know or like Belle and Sebastian to enjoy this film. Anyone of any age who ever dreamed of doing something artistic that either took off or failed miserably will get something out of this film and like these characters (although no doubt the sniffy critics who think the band are 'twee' and middle-class will think the same about them; incidentally where does Eve get all her money in the film? We need a missing scene where she has to apply for her money to the DWP endlessly, be sent on random job centre courses despite being desperately ill and end up trying to decipher their weirdly worded letters in the middle of the night to work out whether she needs to do anything about them or not. Even James can't be that generous, especially when they 'fall out' - he's clearly a trust fund kid to afford a flat that gorgeous and with a conveniently empty room; he only works a few hour at the local swimming pool and as a council employee won't be earning that much).

What's more this isn't just a sad and serious film either: there's a life to this project despite the emotion of the script and the earnestness of some of the scenes, with Murdoch's comments that forming Belle and Sebastian 'really was like the comedy scenes in A Hard Day's Nights' coming over in the film too - in every giggled conversation, debate and argument. Music is a deadly serious business - but it also involves a lot of laughing, especially in the early days: just like 'A Hard Day's Night' I can so see youngsters who see this film unsuspecting leaving the cinema determined to start their own bands (maybe we'll even cover them at the AAA in the future, who knows).

The film works partly because of some cracking lines and tender scenes in Murdoch's script and partly because of the largely excellent musical score, but mainly because of the excellence of the cast. As anyone whose read our review of the three attempts to tell this story on album back in 2009-2010 will know, I was slightly worried. It's not that the original Eve (Catherine Ireton) is a bad singer: she's got a lovely voice and I'll gladly buy any future album she does, but she was too tough and not vulnerable enough for Murdoch's character, moving the band further away from their natural sound. Emily Browning is pitch-perfect, her wide brown eyes of innocence a nice contrast to her naturally charisma and flirting style with the other characters; you can well believe her as both the troubled friendless teen going through hell but too tough to say so, the struggling innocent so easily pushed into bad ways by forces beyond her control and the blossoming writer whose suddenly found a way to connect with the world and will do anything to get back on stage (oh alright then, it's not exactly a big secret: yes the band do get to play their gig!) Eve is also Murdoch's single best and most rounded character since the early days, at one with Photo Jenny, Lisa and Lazy Line Painter Jane, dancing to the beat of her own drum but with consequences this time round. Dare I say it, her comedy strops might well be an essence of Murdoch too, especially her grumpiness over Scottish weather. The camera loves her and her ever-changing face in the same way that the microphone loves Murdoch's voice; despite their near-enough 30 years age difference and sex change the two are believably, recognisably the same and she's a natural at speaking through his voice. Olly Alexander is the perfect Murdoch-style mix of energetic just-seen-the-world toddler and grumpy old man as James. Hannah Murray as Cassie doesn't get much to do but does it all with aplomb. All three are clearly going to be stars of the future, although they might never be lucky enough to get dialogue this rich again. Amazingly all three are unknowns, chosen by Belle and Sebastian after adverts placed in the acting trade magazines and their own website (from what I've read only Olly had even heard of the band before the audition or had any desire to go into music). The theatrical world owe Stuart Murdoch big time for finding three actors who will all surely be around for a long time to come.

However there's one major flaw with this project: the beats are all wrong. A lot of the time the film is simply rushing to a conclusion instead of spending time on the plot. This is annoying simply as a viewer watching events unfold: one minute the band are together, the next they're apart and meeting up again without any idea how long time has passed. It's the same problems a lot of new writers have: how do you keep having character enter a room and make it interesting? The answer is you don't they just magically appear, teleportation like, which looks good on the scripts but not in real life (Eve's many hairstyle changes - seemingly intended to showcase her desire to change her personality to 'fit in' - means you don't always recognise her at the start of a scene anyway). Eve's songwriting seems to disappear somewhere about the middle (a scene of her stressing over writing new material now that she has people to sing them - something she never ever thought would happen - would have been an apt and Murdoch-like touch I feel). The trio's backup band comes out of nowhere (well, actually one brief audition: B and S didn't get that much interest even when they let people know they might be on a real live record!) So does Eve's job - when did she have time to become a waitress (and how ironic is it that someone with an eating disorder serves other people food? Presumably she's hired because she's pretty and thin - coincidence or marked comment?) Weirdly none of the trio have a back-story involving family: Eve and James are forever calling on Cassie at home and she's always willing to run off with them (even threatening to climb out the window in one funny scene); it would have made the story even more poignant if Eve had received a postcard from home asking where she is and if she's alright, or if James' parents turned up asking when the rent is due and who is his new lodger who keeps making a mess of his bath, making him blush in the process or if Cassie had a fiery speech about being old enough to make her own mistakes and how she trusts her rather antiquated, properly brought up elder friends more than the idiots her own age (there's a scene where the trio are paddling on a canal where some passing boys from Cassie's school ask her to go out with one of them - while meant to show Cassie as innocent, it seems to make her woefully thick; surely one of them would have asked her out in school, where they could alternately laugh at her or show off to their friends depending how the conversation turned out). While both Chris 'Beans' Geddes and Mick Cooke make lovely audience-pleasing cameos in the film (Beans is the referee in the football match, with Mick at the back tutting and looking on - sadly most people are too busy gawping at DJ Josie Long in an excellent cameo as the captain of the mental asylum's team) and Stevie Jackson gets a random song playing on a radio during the scene in the clothes-shop (where Eve's nasty boyfriend gets her to try on lots of clothes that are just so not her), it would have been lovely to have everyone there. For instance, why aren't Belle and Sebastian themselves the backing band at the final gig? It's not as if they've gone out their way to find anyone the right age (and that is indeed Bobby Kildea on bass anyway). Did we not emphasise this enough earlier? 'The Psychiatrist Is In' is a truly awful song, at completely the wrong point in the movie (and turning Eve from victim to predator so quickly its in danger of making her whole character unravel - yes she is a predator in the sense that she's 'playing' her boyfriends against each other, but she shouldn't be aware she's doing it - it should be a side effect of her not understanding how to control her own beauty).

Above all, though, this film should not have been a 100 minute movie but a 300 minute TV series: that way it would have mattered less that the project is all about character rather than dialogue, that the 'beats' are 'out' and the symmetry if the film so uneven and lumpy, given the characters more time to naturally develop and could have sported the greatest theme tune ever devised if they'd gone for the title track (a clever summation of the film). Of course Murdoch would have been even less likely to get this project made then, however (films tend to make more money back than TV, even Kickstarter projects like this one): in which case it's a sacrifice worth making. 'God Help The Girl' may be out of synch with the big action blockbusters that were hits in 2014, every other film ever made and what fans might have been expecting, but it's perfectly in synch with Murdoch's career arc and offers old fans like me much more than a modern Belle and Sebastian album would (although I'm open to being proved wrong when I get round to getting to know the new one). The end result is far from perfect and badly needs a stronger second half resolving the first (is James really that settled in his ways and unable to move up a gear, the crime that Isobel once threw at Stuart? He was gigging long before she was, in both cases!) but is still an absolute triumph. How the hell can godawful rivals like 'Mama Mia' get such a following when this film all but disappeared is beyond me (admittedly it's been received very well by experts, getting a nomination at the Sundance Film Festival, but seems to have disappeared and is available in HMV at the time of writing for the highly reasonable price of £7).

Our review in a nutshell then: don't watch this film if you want a strong plot, hate musicals and don't like movies with young people in them (the band's cameo and the nurse aside, nobody in this film is older than 25; this may deliberate given that Eve has been surrounded by older carers for most of her recent past: that might be why she chides James so much for being old before his time)or you expect B and S to play a major part in the film: two old songs, one new mumbled Stevie Jackson part and a couple of cameos they don't. But do watch it if you love low budget character-driven films, love the fact that at last they've made a film about Glasgow (a beautiful city), if you want to discover new talent (all three actors plus writer/director Murdoch), if Stuart's writing has always made you cry or if you're currently stuck in some cell of your own, waiting for your one glorious summer of sunshine. Fan response has been largely positive but quite often negative (often the fans who joined the party from 2003 onwards and expected a bigger production). We say: God help the fan who doesn't like this film - they need all the help they can get.


A quick word too about the impressive extras on the DVD: there's a typically shambolic half hour B and S gig from the premiere which took place at the Corn Exchange in Edinburgh and was beamed to select cinemas across the UK (including Dudley, much to Murdoch's amusement, although he gets the fact that it's in Lancashire wrong - its actually in Staffordshire). Typically the band only do two songs from the film, only one song the casual audience might know ('I'm A Cuckoo') and open with their most obscure song ever: Stuart David instrumental B-side 'Winter Wooskie!' The rest of the band don't get much to do sadly (this would have been a fine moment to show the world how united they still are) but Murdoch is on good form, admitting to the crowd that it was him hiding in the car park trying to listen in to what they thought of the film! There are also four puff pieces about the making of it (which are informative on details and the 'hows' and 'whens', but not too good on the motivation and 'whys'), a trailer and a fun music video of the title track - which is actually a better trailer for the film than the trailer! 

Other Belle and Sebastian related articles from this website you might be interested in reading:


A Now Complete Link Of Belle and Sebastian Articles Available To Read At Alan’s Album Archives:
‘Fold Your Hands, Child, You Walk Like A Peasant’ (2001) http://www.alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/belle-and-sebastian-fold-your-hands.html
'Storytelling' (2002) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.com/2017/02/belle-and-sebastian-storytelling-2002.html

'Push Barman To Open Old Wounds' (EP compilation 2003)
http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-100-belle-and-sebastian-push.html

'Dear Catastrophe Waitress' (2004)
http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/news-views-and-music-issue-139-belle.html
'The Life Pursuit' (2006) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/belle-and-sebastian-life-pursuit-2006.html

'Write About Love' (2010)
http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/news-views-and-music-issue-86-belle-and.html
'God Help The Girl' (Stuart Murdoch Film) (2014) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/belle-and-sebastianstuart-murdoch-god.html
Girls In Peace Time Just Want To Dance (2015) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/belle-and-sebastian-girls-in-peacetime.html

Belle and Sebastian: Existing TV Clips http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/belle-and-sebastian-existing-tv-clips.html
Belle and Sebastian: 12 Unreleased Songs http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/belle-and-sebastian-12-unreleased-songs.html
Belle and Sebastian: Non-Album Songs http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/belle-and-sebastian-non-album_29.html
Belle and Sebastian: Solo/Live/Compilation/Rarities Albums http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/belle-and-sebastian-assorted.html
Essay: B and S Talkin’ ‘Bout My Generation https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/12/belle-and-sebastian-essay-talking-bout.html
Five Landmark Concerts and Three Key Cover Versions https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2018/02/belle-and-sebastian-five-landmark.html

Monday, 29 December 2014

Yusuf (Cat Stevens) "Tell 'Em I'm Gone" (2014)


You can now buy 'One Day At A Time - The Alan's Album Archives Guide To The Music Of Cat Stevens' in e-book form by clicking here!





Yusuf/Cat Stevens "Tell 'Em I'm Gone" (2014)

I Was Raised In Babylon/Big Boss Man/Dying To Live/You Are My Sunshine/Editing Floor Blues/Cat and the Dog Trap/Gold Digger/The Devil Came From Kansas/Tell 'Em I'm Gone/Doors

"Though I teach I'm not a preacher and I aim to stay that way!"

'Cat's in a cage, chained to a stone, Max The Singing Dog is outraged, with less to chew on than a bone, Cat Stevens - come home!'

I've always been fascinated by the concept of time. How it changes depending on the feelings and emotions of the one experience it. The difference between how the same time span is experienced by people looking in or looking out. That's grown all the more so as I've got older and weaker with chronic fatigue and marvel at how roughly the same set amount of activity, approximately the same number of tracks and written words, can pass by in a flash one week and on others seem like the single most difficult task set possible. Time hangs heavier over some AAA albums than others: many were written in a blaze of inspiration and fire and noise; others took longer to write, painstakingly pored over and deliberated and written from the point of view of someone whose been around a long long time. Time hangs particularly heavy on Cat Stevens aka Yusuf's latest, 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' for a number of reasons. Practically, it's the first record Cat has made after a five year-gap: a blink of the eye to someone like Mark Knopfler or Pink Floyd who like to take their time over new albums, but more than double the largest gap in either of Cat's two careers. To put that in context, when last album 'Roadsinger' came out  in May 2009 Alan's Album Archives wasn't even up on the internet and came as part of News, Views and Music issue 30 (we're on issue 279 today). In that time we've reviewed no less than six new Neil Young albums, three Paul McCartneys and either two or three albums depending on whether you're supporting Liam Gallagher in Beady Eye or Noel Gallgher and his High Flying Birds. To be honest I was beginning to assume that Cat had retired or at least had too many other things on his plate because, you see, this was a songwriter who always prided himself on the speed of his delivery, who thought nothing about releasing two classic albums ('Mona Bone Jakon' and 'Tea For The Tillerman') just four months apart and who didn't spend this long between releases even when he was in hospital dying from TB.

Of course things are different now - and that's really the theme of this rather odd third record since Yusuf's comeback. Frequently across this record we get flashbacks to times that seem so long ago: old R and B songs and standards Cat would have cut his musical teeth learning to play, serious references to supposed misdemeanours from Cat's years away that got misunderstood and playful ones about Cats and dogs. If the first comeback record (the  pretty awful 'An Other Cup') was an old-style Cat Stevens record seen through the new eyes of a religious convert and second album (the much superior 'Roadsinger') was an attempt to see what an 'old style' Cat Stevens record might sound like with a contemporary sheen, then third album 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' falls somewhere uncomfortably down the middle. At times Yusuf wants to be young again, to return to the joyful wilful ignorance of youth - but his voice cracks and tears so painfully on some of the older songs he'd have once sung with ease that it's actually rather painful. The new originals, meanwhile, have Cat singing newer songs in his old style, but rather than sighing about growing population and modern day fears the way he did on 'Roadsinger' Cat sounds bitter here, sarcastically delivering two songs ('Cat and Dog Trap' and 'Editing Floor') that are his wickedest since 'Pop Star', laughing at the messed up capitalist world that didn't understand why he'd left them behind and why he couldn't just be left in peace. As a result we get a record that wants to have its teacake with the Tillerman and eat it, with Cat sounding young and old all at the same time - a nice idea on paper (especially with Rick Rubin, the producer who did so much to make Johnny Cash sound old/young at the end of his life, in the producer's chair), but sadly it doesn't quite come off.

Most reviews I've seen of this record have reviewed it against everything else out at the time and come away scratching their heads. That's a bit of a danger - Cat's records never were of their time and this one is actually probably closer, if only because Wilko Johnson and Roger Daltrey made roots R and B 'in' again at the start of this year - but even so I'm left scratching my head a bit too. 'An Other Cup' was hopeful, bordering on naive, full of songs about how peace is still obtainable and how so many people want it. 'Roadsinger' was more realistic but mainly dealt with Yusuf's fears about growing older, family commitments, memories of lost loves and whether the world still needs an aging singer-songwriter telling it what it should already know. To take one of Yusuf's favourite metaphors, both works were fiery creations, with lots to say and an urgency behind saying it. 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' reads like another urgent album: there's one song where Yusuf actually talks about dying soon and wanting to do his best until his number is up, but the only two songs that are anything quicker than laidback and snoozy are songs answering hurts against Cat made 30 years ago ('Editor's Room') or against the Eastern world centuries ago ('I Was Raised In Babylon'). Despite having found surprising success with his modern day career, outselling records by ex-Beatles and Stones and seemingly enjoying the journey up till now, suddenly Yusuf sounds tired of it all. There's no hope across any of this record, no sudden uplifting moment of joy and even the quiet  sadness over lost opportunities that was the highlight of the last two records ('One Day At A Time' 'Maybe There's A World' 'Everytime I Dream') seems to have been replaced by an anger we haven't heard since 'Izitso?' days. It wouldn't surprise me if Yusuf disappears for good after this record. Even the title, a new name Cat has given to his recycled version of traditional standard 'If I Had A Hammer', sounds like we're getting the brush-off once again just as we did in 1977-78 with the contract-fulfilling 'Izitso?' and 'Back To Earth' records: 'ahh, tell 'em I'm gone, nobody's listening anyway'. Only Yusuf seems to have signed up to a whole new label Legacy - which seems a bit mean to old label Island who stumped up the money for the last two records (which were pretty successful too - well more successful than I expected them to be). As I write this album has fared a little better in America, but a little worse in Europe and it remains unclear as to whether Yusuf will stay put, continue on one-album/two album deals or disappear again for good. The bleakness of the record and the gap since the last one suggests that if there are any follow-ups there probably won't be many, which would be sad: the world needed the 'Roadsinger' style Yusuf and the claiming balm he could offer the world; I'm not sure the world needs this new sarcastic crusader turned blues covers singer quite so much.

Admittedly the twin themes of the record - our mortality and the inevitability of death on the one-hand and our inability to record how people see us when we're gone - aren't exactly made for uplifting listening. We start with this album's scope at its biggest, with several thousand centuries of Christian rule coming to an inevitable end with another turn of the wheel towards the East, America a second Babylonian Empire waiting to fall (although lately it's seemed more like Rome). The single most openly hostile Stevens song since 'I'm Gonna Get Me A Gun' (Not that an 18-year-old Cat really meant that at the time...),Yusuf even eggs the end on, perhaps reflecting on how badly the Christian West has treated him and his reputation since his conversion ('They used to call us civilised, those days are gone' Yusuf mocks bitterly at one point). 'Editing Floor Blues' really is a blues, a chugging 12-bar that features Cat talking about his life and how now when anyone mentions Cat Stevens all they'll tell you about is his misquoted line about Salman Rushdie deserving all he got for his blasphemous comments and how even when Cat rang up to sort things out to get a 'correction - well, they never printed that!' Had this song turned up on 'An Other Cup' I'd have understood it (wanting to speak out all those years and not having the platform too), but why wait now? What good will it do? 'The Cat and Dog Trap' is a cleverer and sweeter take on the same thing, Yusuf reflecting on his younger self as 'ready to fall into any danger but about to learn'. Once again though it's a wild world out there and dogs are ready to jump on unsuspecting felines, getting them into fights they don't want to have. Finally 'Doors' returns us to the gospel of 'An Other Cup' with the idea that another opportunity will always be around when one seems to leave us and that 'another flower' will grow when one dies. It seems from the lyric as if Yusuf is finally making peace with what might happen to his catalogue if he disappears again (given the mortality theme of this record, perhaps he knows something we don't?), but even this song is scary full of long drawn out descending chords that makes even phrases like 'God makes everything right' sound like there's a zombie behind him about to kill him. 'All Things Must Pass' this isn't, but we fans have often wondered (or is only me?) what a Cat Stevens record about the afterlife might turn out to be. For the moment 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' is more a pondering over what will happen to Yusuf and his past in this world once he heads onto the next, but he's clearly heading down that path - is a Paul Simon style trilogy about death on the cards?

Even with this theme scattered throughout the songs like prayer mats across a temple, though, the result is an album that I don't quite understand. Had these songs been joined by others on the same theme I'd understand it more - an attempt to change direction 'Foreigner' style, however confusing and unliked the style might be, with a bit of 'All Things Must Style' repent-before-it's-too-late counter message that listeners can choose to take up or ignore depending on their own faith. But when Cat follows up a song about the fall of Christianity with a cover of an old blues song about being rude to your boss and later starts adding African lyrics to 'You Are My Sunshine', you have to ask what on Earth we're supposed to make of it. When I first read about this record people kept mentioning 'roots' 'R and B' 'back to basics' - all terms to excite, as even as early as the first album at seventeen Cat had outgrown his R and B phase and we never really got to hear that influence in his records bar the odd bit here and there (most notably parts of 'The Foreigner Suite' funnily enough). But this isn't 'really' a roots record: it's a couple of R and B standards played in the usual Cat Stevens vein, while the 'back to Earth' (or even 'back to 'Back To Earth', which would have been preferable) element of the lyrics really just means it's a bit more autobiographical than usual (not always in a good way). The closest thing this record is would be a call to arms to overthrow the Christian world - exactly what the powers that be feared with the first comeback album - but even that adds a bit of notoriety and danger this record doesn't possess - Yusuf's merely fed up of Western hypocrisy and just as he's always told us, doesn't pretend to know the answers or what comes next (there's less references to religion here than 'An Other Cup' too, though more than on 'Roadsinger').

Not that this is an awful record either: there's nothing here quite as bad as half of 'An Other Cup' and a handful of songs are rather good. We haven't mentioned 'Gold Digger' yet because it doesn't fit in even with the 'what the?' half theme of everything else, but it's a rather good dig at the Western world with some fancy sprightly playing that sounds like a natural progression for the younger Cat Stevens to have made. 'The Devil Came From Kansas' features one of the worst ever Cat Stevens lyrics - but comes with a catchy, singalong melody that's the single best since the return from retirement. 'I Was Raised In Babylon' might be delivered with the tired preach of an old convert but it's anger and shock at how the Western world is a brave statement made well (and again it's something the old Cat would have pointed out, though he'd have made light of the religion and politics and worried about the children instead). The Edgar Winter cover 'Dying To Live' is by far the most suitable one on this record and really sounds like a Cat Stevens song. The composition runs away from the message quickly, but the idea that some people live their lives through different views (as a training ground for what's to come, as punishment or as the only life you've got so make the most of it) is a good one, long overdue for studying in song. 'The Cat and Dog Trap' is a sweet autobiography, even with a few uncomfortable lines within the lyrics I could have done without. Even the cover of 'Big Boss Man' is quite fun in a 'bootleg session warm-up' kind of a way, even though I haven't got a clue what on earth it's doing here. The rest, though, would have been a disappointment as a rushed, make-it-while-you-can follow up a year on from 'Roadsinger' - after a gap of five years and given some of the less than salutary messages inside it seems like a slap in the face from an old friend (made all the odder by Roadsinger's quite genuine sounding warm hug).

One other point to make is the 'sound' of this record. While 'An Other Cup' didn't know what on earth it wanted and alternated solo performances with orchestra extravaganzas, 'Roadsinger' was an acoustic guitar record very much like the 'old' sound. 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' is primarily a piano record, not quite the 'rootsy R and B' style genre we were led to believe but still very much down the 'Foreigner' route of Stevie Wonder style piano with everyone else falling in place behind that. The minor keys that most of this album sound as if they're played in means this is less 'up' than soul though, being either a sad Motown album or an uptempo blues record, depending which of those two sounds least weird to you. Even that is significant: after two records of trying to show he's like us, really, Yusuf is keen to point out that he isn't 'one of us' any more, he's an outsider reflecting on a world that's made it clear it doesn't want him there. This was roughly the message of 'Foreigner' and took place in Cat Steven's lifespan just before the Muslim conversion, at a time when he was getting increasingly angry and depressed at the modern world. Personally I quite 'Foreigner', which is challenging indeed on the back of four well-loved and fairly similar sounding records, but it's a hard album to get into, with Cat screaming at his audience throughout to stop coming to him for answers and going down the path of an 18 minute title track that veered suddenly between affection, doubt and sarcasm. 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' sounds to me like another 'Foreigner' i.e. another record sent to be challenging which really sorts out the true Cat Stevens fans from the casual ones. The difference is that 'Foreigner' ended with one great message of hope (on '100 I Dream', one of Cat's greatest unknown songs): that all you had to do to find inner peace was to 'not let your weaknesses destroy you and to be true to you'. On 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' the message seems to be 'well, you're laughing at me in this world, but you wait till we're both dead and then I'll prove you wrong!' Hilarious, for the two reviewers who've probably long retired and once laughed at Cat for his part in the Salman Rushdie fatwah, but not very fair given that it's mainly Cat's fans (who never laughed at his conversion and stood by him even at his reputation's lowest) who are buying the flipping thing. Even the closing 'Doors', which badly needs to be the fond farewell Yusuf usually gives us (and which this album needs more than most) manages simply to hammer home one last 'believe in God' message before the mosque closes for business (and this from a songwriter who has the nerve to write the line 'though I teach I'm not a preacher' - anyone who categorically states that their belief system is 'right' and others are 'wrong' is a preacher in my eyes, even if I'm willing to concede that for all I know Yusuf is right; not that I'm off to train with the jihadis yet - the Western world may be unquestionably bad, corrupt, evil and threatening, but no empire in history has ever been bad enough to make it right for innocent people to die, no matter how sure of an afterlife you are. And yes most Western capitalists are innocent, whatever other regimes might think, all prisoners of the ignorant culture they were born in and guilty of nothing more than  believing the garbled versions of world events they get on news reports - well everyone except possibly David Cameron and Ian Duncan Smith who are guilty of everything going. And The Spice Girls).

Erm anyway, I digress. I was hopeful after 'Roadsinger' that we'd see a return of Yusuf as a voice for peace, delivering songs to remind the Western world that not all Muslims are out to kill (well, durrh, but there are a few Daily Mail readers out there who still like lumping people together) and picking up his career with the same wise, open eyes of before. Instead we get the tired harrumphing of the 'An Other Cup' convert, one who can't be bothered with all these modern hassles when there's so much more to see in the world - a fair point, but one already made far better and with more interest given over to the material than here. There are several entertaining moments, but nowhere near enough to sustain an album - certainly not a record lasting just 36 minutes (a whole five minutes longer than 'Roadsinger' but still pretty stingy). Ultimately there's not much in this record to make you want to follow Cat on the road he took to find out, because the cartoon devils and gold diggers he portrays are cheap and easy shots, not deserving of his talents, which is awfully sad. This is a return to the tired hectoring and poorly worked out songs of 'An Other Cup, a record that was bitterly disappointing after a 27 year wait, and while the lows aren't quite that low this record can't quite match the two highs of that record either ('Maybe There's A World' and 'One Day At A Time', not coincidentally the most free of religious songs there). The result is an album that I was hoping would be better because of so many things: the five-year wait, Rick Rubin working as a producer, this being the sequel to the excellent  'Roadsinger', the 'promise' of R and B given to us in pre-release interviews and the fact that the Western half of the world needs an articulate, peaceful spokesman for the Muslim half even more in 2014 than when we last saw Cat in 2009. Even taking those factors away, though, and viewed simply as yet another Cat Stevens record this one is below par, with only the occasional idea taking flight and the occasional performance suggesting that the singer-songwriter's heart is still in his 'second job'. Cat Stevens' spirit lived on in 'Roadsinger' but now I fear he's gone, man, solid gone.


'I Was Raised In Babylon' is one of the two real highlights of the album, with Yusuf well out of his comfort zone, although some listeners might find it rather uncomfortable. A short history of toppling empires and civilisations, with verses taking in Babylon, Ancient Egypt, and the Crusades before ending in the present day. The track is clearly designed to show that white man's supremacy cannot last forever, ending with the shocking couplet: 'We thought our white skins would save us - then we got burned'. Cat sings the track with the most naturally 'old' voice he's had thus far, sounding like an aged prophet of doom whose seen many sights and knows that nothing can last. Had this track been made by any other figure it would have ruffled feathers, but the hint in the song is that capitalism and Christinaity have had their day, that the new regime will soon be upon us and no amount of natural born riches or inherited powers can save us. Considering that Yusuf spends a lot of his other 'conversion' era records (especially this one) claiming that peace is the only answer, this is a highly provocative message and the closest to a 'Muslim v Christianity' fight so far in his solo career ('I thought that we were the chosen - I must have been wrong'). Thankfully this time, at least, Cat is a better writer than that and really gets the feel of decay and fading lavishness the song demands, with a clever acoustic whine that sounds as if it belongs in the soundtrack of 'Lawrence Of Arabia', packed with sand and false promises, superbly helped out by guest star and fellow Muslim Richard Thompson filling in where Alun Davies normally would. Like a lot of the rest of the album, this track sadly doesn't go anywhere interesting past the opening, without any middle eights or even a chorus to break the song up, but what is here is rather good, Yusuf finally coming out and nailing the unvoiced criticisms of the Western world that have run through his two other comeback albums. It's not the sort of Cat Stevens song that would ever become my favourite, but it's easy to admire this song's stark monochrome-ness and the impressive seriousness of the performance.

'Big Boss Man' is an old friend - we've already reviewed cover versions by The Grateful Dead (which was fun) and The Animals (which was harrowing). Yusuf's version is somewhere between the two, with a rhythm borrowed from the chain gang that sticks rigidly to the same hammered beat, but with a playful keyboard part over the top that flies away and escapes the tyranny of the track for a little while. 'You ain't so big, you're just tall that's all' cackles Yusuf as he comes to terms with the fact that the boss overseeing him is only 'human'; in the context of this album and most of Cat's work the hint is that the boss only has power in 'this' world anyway, not the next. Overall this is quite a fun cover version and it's nice to hear Yusuf going back to his roots, although compared to most versions of this song doing the rounds this is a little over-polished, with its multiple guitar parts, harmonica, violin, clattering drums and choir. Considering that the whole point of the song is that the narrator has no power except what's in his mind this song ought to be tough, brittle and self-reliant; hearing it as a sort of mass-singalong is somewhat disconcerting. Still, another of the better songs on the album.

Edgar Winter's 'Dying To Live' is another successful cover song, a pretty ballad that's sung quieter and gentler than the original. It's a highly apt song for Cat to do, sounding like a cross between 'Morning Has Broken' (the lovely piano-based melody) and 'But I Might Die Tonight!' (the lyrics). In context it's clearly about Yusuf's belief in a better afterlife and trying to work out what to do with his life in the mean time and features perhaps his most menacing line in a song ever about the decadent West: 'I wonder if they'll all still be laughing when they've died?' (Funnily enough Winter is a Scientologist, so probably wrote the song with quite a different message in mind). The chorus seems to come round again awfully quickly and soon gets on the nerves, but there's some nice wordplay in there: 'Why am I fighting to live if I'm just living to fight?' and 'Why am I trying to give when no one gives me a try?' You can certainly hear a little of the outraged, frustrated younger Cat in this song and the piece would have nestled in snugly on 'Teaser and the Firecat' especially. The older Cat must also have identified with this song's reflections on a younger, confused self who used to 'weave words in confusion' and who 'lived life as an illusion', the memories of the 'Matthew and Son' era Cat now so far away. Overall it's a nice choice of song, although the fact that already by the third track on the album we've had more cover songs than originals is a little alarming.

Astonishingly, we get a fourth. Jimmie Davis' 'You Are My Sunshine' is another much-covered AAA gem, most notably heard on The Beach Boys' 'Smile'. Yusuf's re-arranged version is arguably the weakest cover song on the album, turning what is one of the key songs of the American songbook into a religious rant, complete with an African translation of the central lyrics for no apparent reason (although as Yusuf admits in interviews, the translation came out sounding somewhat at odds with the original lyric!) The 'new' verse has no place in this happy uplifting song and sounds clumsy and patronising: 'My mama once told me what the soul should know, it's about the devil and I hate him so, he'll be crying if we don't frown, and keep on smiling, he'll stop hanging around'. The song's original floaty pretty melody has also been turned into an angry turbulent cliff-climb that ascends little bit by little bit and sounds like hard work. Thankfully some nice guitar work embellishes the track and makes it sound more interesting than it really is, but the main result is 'why?', followed by the thought that even for an album this short this song should have ended up on the editing room floor.

Ooh that's a good link if I say so myself, because here we are at the 'Editing Floor Blues', at last a Cat original although it doesn't really sound like it. Not since 'The Joke' has Cat attempted a blues song and thankfully that time the song got left behind (released only on a box set) because the style doesn't really suit Yusuf, even with some more strong guitar work to push the chugging riff along. Like 'I Never Wanted To Be A Star', but less interestingly, this song is a little slice of autobiography, telling us that Cat was 'born in the West End in the summer of '48...', while the most interesting years (1967-1970) get dismissed in a single sentence ('This boy became a star, then he dropped - but got up again'). There's a nice reference to Cat's elder brother David, early champion of younger brother's songs and the person who thought Cat might be interested in a book he'd just read on the Qu'ran which got him started ('Big brother took a trip...'), but sadly little else we haven't heard before, done better. The real meat of this song comes in the last verse when the newspapers call Cat up as a kind of go-to Muslim (with an excellent mock 70s music journalist voice at the end of the line) and asked about the Salman Rushdie fatwah (misquoted, Cat rang up to complain and tell them the truth, 'but they never printed that!' he resignedly sighs, although Yusuf's comparisons to 'Socrates' are a little over the top). Throughout the song that old Cat Stevens theme, 'the truth', keeps returning: he starts out offering 'the truth' from the editing floor where he's busy crafting his songs, but by the third verse the 'truth' about the world's religions is being 'buried' there instead, while the song ends rather oddly with the image of a 'cup spilling out on the editing floor': what does Yusuf mean by this? Has his cup of good faith overflowed? Is he reduced to begging to get his work done? Or is this the 'Tea For The Tillerman' Cat getting 'spilt'? The song that, to date, most fans and critics have been taken with, 'Editing Room Blues' isn't quite as sophisticated as it ought to be: blues songs are two a penny even if they're unusual from Cat, the autobiographical lyrics have been done before, better and the idea of the truth getting lost is only really enough to sustain one verse, not four. Also, why bring up an incident that's now old news? Had this song come out in the late 1970s (the period of the Fatwah, with Yusuf at his most misunderstood) then I'd have understood it more - but dragging up the past seems an odd move  for one so keen on other songs to let past mistakes be bygones. A rather ungenerous and unlikeable track, even if the performance is nicely gritty and against the odds ends up sounding as tough as any Cat Stevens recording since 1977.

'The Cat and Dog Trap' is the second highlight of the album, a rather better slab of autobiography that tells Stevens' history as a sort of parable or nursery rhyme. Yusuf the older looks back, amazed at all he used to get up to in his first career, telling us 'There was a time when I was younger, I'd chase the tail of any danger - about to learn'. There's rarely been a better summary of Cat's mid-70s career than the last verse either: 'Cat's in a cage, chained to a stone, empty bowl at his side, just an old fish-bone, dreams of home' (we've been banging on about the recurring theme of 'Home' on Cat Stevens records for quite a few reviews now, although oddly it hasn't featured in his 'comeback' career much so far). Taken together, with a few pretty cat noises and barking dogs, this could have been a song on a par with Yusuf's best, certainly since his comeback and is undoubtedly the cleverest thing on offer here. But even then Yusuf has to spoil it: with such a career to choose from why settle for intervening verses like 'Cat jumps a fence, lands in a pram, baby screams 'mama', out runs the man, Cat gets the can' - if this was in a book of nursery rhymes I'd be disappointed. (Our sample of what might have worked better, at no extra charge: 'Then Puss got his boots, and travelled far, On The Road To Find Out, under a Whistlestar, used up his nine lives, will he be saved in the next? Still more to go in this quest...', I'm here all day, folks!) Ah well, a couple of duff verses and again a surprisingly rigid refusal to change anything in the song once it gets going (there's no middle eight and a single-line chorus of 'about to learn' tacked onto the end of every verse) can't get in the way of what's actually a rather moving and sweet little song, the one track here fully in keeping with the traditional Cat Stevens ethos (there's even an 'oohed' instrumental section in the middle, straight out of 1972-73!)

'Gold Digger' is the track that tends to stand out of the album on the first few hearings and has a nice jazzy rhythm that really suits Yusuf's deeper, older voice. There's a great production here too which again reverts back to the 'chain gang hammered-nails-in-the-ground sound and a singalong chorus that's by far the catchiest thing on the album. So why isn't this another album highlight? Dear God, those lyrics! 'Hey Mr Gold Man, where's my pay? Hey Mr Gold man, one more day, come along with us, get onto the bus!' Presumably Cat had the faults and inequalities of Capitalism in mind when he wrote this song about a bunch of gold-diggers who are bound to get burned in a something-for-nothing culture (these gold-diggers offer a service to no one but themselves and pick-sellers). That's a strong target, but this is not a strong set of words and the closing defiant gesture 'Don't come back - this is my country now' sounds rather eerie in the context of both this album and what's going on in the wider world: is this a threat from a Muslim convert to a Christian world? Normally I'd be cheering anyone who wants to point out that capitalism isn't quite the grand American Dream everyone treats it as (no other system barring dictatorships causes as much harm among innocent residents and I think the experiment has lasted long enough by now to prove it doesn't work - well, it doesn't work for the 95% trapped under the rich 5% anyway). But like much of 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' this song is woefully ungenerous in spirit: everyone gets lumped together here, with all of us the 'gold diggers' and we're all made out to be 'blind'; that's not actually the case, but the patient has very little chance of curing himself from a disease his doctor forces him to have - had Yusuf gone after reckless bankers rather than, well, all of us likely to buy this album this might have been a better song. It's still a catchy, memorable track though, which makes the weakness of the words all the worse.

'The Devil Came From Kansas' by Gary Brooker (but again with a few new additions - generally the worst bits) is another really oddball cover song whose message I can't decipher: is this is a song about Western greed in general, with Kansas - a rich state in a rich country - standing for everybody capitalist? Or is it a specific attack on someone (George Bush?) And are the confusing lines about 'silver paper' and 'cheese' a reference to Western bartering and unequal swaps for unequal goods or is it simply gibberish? 'If you really are my brother then you better start to pray' might also be the single worst line on this record, especially coming after one that says 'I'm a teacher not a preacher' because it's being exactly that: the younger Cat had eyes open to everyone and everything but his older self is telling us how to act and that sits wrongly somehow (so much for being true to yourself and finding yourself 'awake' as in the past). I'm quite happy for Yusuf to attack dated Western institutions, I'm quite happy for him to sing about his personal faith in whoever he wants, I'm even willing to listen to songs about how religion changed his life for the better - but the assumption by a convert of anything that we should all follow suit like sheep is not an idea that sits comfortably with me. Yusuf adds some lines about a monkey 'riding on my back' though he's 'no friend of mine' - a rare reference to Yusuf being less than perfect, actually, on this album to go alongside another line from this song: 'I am not a humble pilgrim' (compare to 'Roadsinger', which worked partly through it's humility). Bah! If it wasn't for another catchy melody and another strong performance I'd rate this the worst song on the record, but as it gets half of everything right I can't quite give it that accolade.

That might well belong to title track 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone', which senselessly takes the old traditional blues standard 'Take This Hammer' and, well, hammers it out of all proportion. A much repeated song that takes one line and repeats it endlessly before moving onto another, it works when most bands do it because they do it so fast you barely notice (although I must confess that even Johnny Cash's version of this song is a bit of a drag). Yusuf's version is deadly slow and the chanting mass vocals from the backing group don't help, turning what should be a resonating song that again came from the chain gang (and fits this album's theme of being tied in to some regime that isn't working) into a slow dirge. I don't want no more boring cover songs, I don't want no more boring cover songs, I don't want no more boring cover songs, take this message and take it to the captain, tell 'em if this album don't get better soon I'll be gone, woa yeah I'll be gone.

Alas the album ends on a fourth weak song. 'Doors' is a simple gospel with a profound message: that everything happens for a reason and that everything has its place. 'One door opens, another door closes', 'when a flower dies there's another one blooming', 'when the sun goes down the moon rises' etc etc. This should be a great platform for a writer who, more than any other we cover perhaps, has gone through career swings and personal shifts so huge that Yusuf's had to change his name for three separate parts to his career (sadly early talk that 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' would be the first of his 'comeback' releases under his old name proved to be unfounded, with the 'Yusuf' name bigger than ever on the sleeve). Alas we don't get 'that' song - instead we get a tired song big on metaphor and platitude but low on any actual insight or credibility. The 'God made everything just right' is also an excruciating chorus, comparable to the laughable side of 'An Other Cup' - again fair enough if it's made personal ('In my world God's made everything right' or even 'I believe God's made everything right')- but no - we get this statement unquestionably made, without any room for debate; trust me in a world with ebola, Ian Duncan Smith and The Spice Girls God so didn't get everything right! The result is a terribly twee and faceless way to say goodbye - all the more shocking if the hints of Yusuf having enough and leaving for good draped across the rest of this record make this the last song in his discography. Once again there's no change in this song and this time what's here is boring indeed, dragging long before the three minutes are up.


Overall, then, in many ways 'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' is a disgraceful record: we have ideas shoved down our throats without any questioning, there are some truly atrocious lyrics and five cover songs on a short-running ten track album is appalling, really. But there is plenty of talent on display too: 'The Cat and Dog Trap' is a genuinely moving song, 'I Was Raised In Babylon' is more troublesome, but brave and courageous with it, while the best cover songs ('Big Boss Man' and 'Dying To Live') are at least suitable and rather fun. This record is less disappointing than 'An Other Cup' overall, with more good songs in ratio to bad, even if the best of them isn't quite at the same peak, but given that it came after the excellent 'Roadsinger' that in context it's probably more disappointing (we didn't know what to expect with that first comeback - we do now and to change it is fair enough if you have something new to say; the problem is Yusuf doesn't, by and large). The result is an odd little album - not terrible by any means, with much to enjoy, but full of some ghastly mistakes. Let's hope that this is just a blip and Yusuf will get on to making that R and B rootsy album we all thought this record was going to be when we read about it and that the singer once more goes back to making his songs personal statements and feelings, rather than sermons designed to tell us what to think (as Cat Stevens' superlative back catalogue deserves the tribute of a writer who can at least let their audience think for themselves). 

 
A NOW COMPLETE LIST OF CAT STEVENS ARTICLES TO READ AT ALAN’S ALBUM ARCHIVES:


'Matthew and Son' (1967) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/05/cat-stevens-matthew-and-son-1967.html

'New Masters' (1968) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2011/09/news-views-and-music-issue-114-cat.html

'Mona Bone Jakon' (1970) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-35-cat-stevens-mona-bone-jakon.html

'Tea For The Tillerman' (1970) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-41-cat-stevens-tea-for-tillerman.html


‘Teaser and the Firecat’ (1971) https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/09/cat-stevens-teaser-and-firecat-1971.html




'Back To Earth' (1978) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/05/cat-stevens-back-to-earth-1978.html


'An Other Cup' (2006) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.com/2016/05/yusufcat-stevens-other-cup-2006.html

'Roadsinger'
(2009) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2009/05/news-views-and-music-issue-31-yusuf-aka.html

'Tell 'Em I'm Gone' (2014) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/yusuf-cat-stevens-tell-em-im-gone-2014.html


‘The Laughing Apple’ (2017)  https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/10/cat-stevens-laughing-apple-2017.html


Surviving TV Appearances 1967-2015 https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/cat-stevensyusuf-surviving-tv.html


The Best Unreleased Recordings 1969-2009 https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/cat-stevensyusuf-best-unreleased.html


Non-Album Recordings 1966-2014 https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/cat-stevensyusuf-non-album-recordings.html


Compilations, Box sets and Alun Davies LPs Part One 1963-1990
https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/cat-stevens-compilationslive-lps-part.html


Compilations, Box Sets and Religious Works Part Two 1995-2012