Lesley Duncan/Elton John/David Bowie. Love Song (1971).

Whatever you make of the flamboyant Sir Elton John now, there was a time around 1970, starting out as solo artist (after failing his audition for King Crimson!), when he was taken quite seriously as a critically acclaimed, sensitive singer-songwriter. His 1971 album, Tumbleweed Connection is, in fact, a flat-out masterpiece. But there is a track on Tumbleweed that he didn’t write, and it’s one of the very rare instances of Elton covering someone else. That haunting tune, simply titled, "Love Song," has always held a wistful allure for me. It was written by Lesley Duncan, and I always wondered who she was and how that song ended up on Tumbleweed. "Love Song" is singled out as the “the most memorable track on the album,” by David Prakel, in his book, Rock 'n' Roll on Compact Disc (1987).

I had just downloaded a compilation of British pop songs from the mid-60’s that includes a track credited to Lesley Duncan, and wondered if it was the same person. Doing some research on the Interwebs led me to learn more about Duncan and the legacy of "Love Song." I found it has been covered by more than 150 artists over the years, but Duncan was never able to pull off a successful career as a featured artist herself, although she sang backup on numerous records, including Dark Side of the Moon. Before Elton recorded his version of "Love Song," I was amazed to find out David Bowie had recorded it on a demo tape for his folk duo Feathers, with John Hutchinson singing lead. That demo helped Bowie get signed to Philips/Mercury, shortly before making Space Oddity.

Here’s Bowie singing backup and probably playing 12-string guitar on his demo of Love Song:

After years of singing with the stars and releasing a couple of commercially neglected albums, Lesley retired to Mull, in the Inner Hebrides, with her second husband, Tony Cox. She was well known in her town, not as a singer, but as a smiling, cheerful woman who was often seen working in her garden.

After struggling for years with cerebrovascular disease, Lesley succumbed in March of this year at age 66. A recording of "Love Song" was played to her as she lay on her hospital bed. Her husband sensed a tremor of recognition in her body while it played, just before she passed away.

Uffie. Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans (2010).

Uffie polarizes critics.  From “catchy, fresh-sounding and brilliantly self-referential” on MusicOMH, to “Uffie sucks at just about everything” on Tiny Mix Tapes, writers are at odds on whether Uffie’s debut is treasure or trash.  Critics hating on her get themselves tied in knots attempting to express their indignation: “This is an anti-review. It’s supposed to be bad. Therefore you cannot raise an objection. See?”  Or,  “I’d rather not have to endure seeing someone eat their own sick,” both of these from the charming  Drowned In Sound review.

Collaborating with French producers, Mirwais, Mr Oizo, and Feadz, Uffie came up with this debut album four years after she became a sensation at age 19 with only a few tracks posted on her Myspace page (where the stats for plays are stratospheric).  Since then she got married, got divorced, and had a baby.

As soon as I heard Uffie’s album I wanted to listen to it over and over.  Its appeal only strengthened with repetition.  Many of the tracks sound classic to me, in the sense that they could become reference points, or maybe already have done (see the debate over Ke$ha).  

Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans is like a kinetic sculpture made of Jolly Ranchers.  The colors are bright,  it’s transparent, it’s sweet with a slight edge of tartness.  So, why all the critical objections?  She does brag quite a lot about being a success, and she outrages some by saying she’s not a lyricist, but just an entertainer.  Whether or not she’s a good or bad rapper isn’t even the point, I think she’s just using her voice as one part in a musical thing which we’ll call a “song,” for lack of better terminology.  I find her lazy lack of “flow” a refreshing relief.  I believe she’s playing a role that happens to be based on her life, similarly to how Andy talked about himself in the 60’s. It all comes off as a little too ironic and artistic to be taken at face value.  It’s not what it is, it is what it’s about (claro?).

I think I figured out what the fuss is all about.  Her music is neither ground-breaking Electro, nor is it innovative Hip Hop.  It’s actually just another hybrid sub-genre of Pop.  Hip Hop, Electro and Synthpop are simply reference points push-pinned up on Uffie’s personal inspiration wall.   And that irritates purists with no sense of humor.

Pop The Glock

Edvard Grieg - Notturno Op 54, No 4, for Piano (1891).

I first heard this piece at an exhibit of Norwegian art at the Elvehjem (now the Chazen) Museum of Art in Madison, Wisconsin, around 1980.  It pretty much overshadowed the most beautiful paintings in the exhibit and stopped me in my tracks while I took in its chilling and deep mournfulness. 

Thirty years later, it retains its spell over me.  It's performed here by Mark Gasser:

Daphne Guinness - “Through art, you create your own world."

Lately, I’ve been deriving some inspiration from the career of Daphne Guinness.  An heiress of the brewing family, daughter of Lord Moyne, she spent summers in Cadaques, Spain, among a contingent of Surrealist artists, where Salvador Dali was a frequent visitor.  

Daphne is a designer, has directed a couple of videos, written articles on fashion, and created a scent for Comme des Garcons.  For me, she is reminiscent of characters, both real and fictional, from the 19th century who dedicated their lives to outré aesthetics.  She’s a throwback to artistic thinkers and writers such as Wilde, Huysmans, and Baudelaire for whom the pursuit of style was not an avenue for self-aggrandizing ostentation, but rather a process of spiritual discovery.  

In her own way, she has made herself into a work of art, as well as a work in progress.  True to the Surrealist motivation to “épater le bourgeois,” Daphne is well-known as a icon of eccentricity.  

Speaking of her outlandish style, she says, “I do it for the old people who laugh at me in airports.”  She did, after all, attend a prominent clown school in London.

Daphne explains her style (or attempts to):

Dubstar

Pithy, poignant, and at times deep and bitter, the underrated British trio, Dubstar, gave the world some expertly composed and executed gems of Indiepop. Chris Wilkie played deft and tasteful guitar parts, while Steve Hillier crafted sophisticated harmonies on keyboards. The memorable Sarah Blackwell delivered her cool vocals with perfect intonation and a Yorkie accent.

Dwelling beneath the appealingly polished surfaces of their sound were profound observations of intimate human experience. Music this light has never been so heavy. The Day I See You Again is a positively chilling account of making a date with an ex. Elevator Song is a sweet ode to promised fidelity. Ghost conjures up images of loneliness and loss (I'll trace the whole world to find your ghost, but wherever I go I'm alone) that any songwriter would envy.

Their biggest hit, the wondrous Stars, is simply a miracle. This is the place where mere Pop attains the plateau of bliss:


It’s best to go straight for Stars: The Best of Dubstar, as some of the previously unreleased versions of songs on it are better than the originals.

Strawberry Switchblade (1985).

Their Goth, proto-Harajuku Girls regalia suggested some kind of post New Wave, novelty act. However, despite their intimidating appearance, Strawberry Switchblade was actually a couple of nice girls from Scotland that worked really hard at writing and performing their original tunes. Jill Bryson and Rose McDowall only released one album as a duo, but it was filled with Pop gems as catchy as Bananarama at their best, and some lovely slow ballads that linger when they're over.

The album, produced by Queen bassist, John Deacon, has a crisp, punchy sound, and is full of deluxe and glittery, state of the art (as of 1985) digital instrumentation (I'm thinking, probably the Emulator II, or the Ensoniq Mirage: two cutting-edge, 8-bit samplers that came out in 1984).

They reached the UK top ten with the single, "Since Yesterday" (with a little help from Jean Sibelius' 5th Symphony).

The cheesy video is all you'd hope it would be:

The Radio Dept.

Sweden has its share of death metal, doom metal, gloom metal, metallic metal, etc., but what the country has really succeeded in is its export of Pop music. ABBA conquered the world in 70's and we continue to be charmed or irritated by their evergreen oeuvre.

Every country has its Pop music, but unlike, say Poland, or Portugal, Sweden has successfully competed and pushed hitmakers past the US/UK hegemony of Pop with bands like Roxette, A-Ha, the Cardigans, and Ace Of Base, et al. Less known, but no less worthy of attention, are The Radio Dept., The Bridal Shop, Cinnamon, and Action Biker (whom I've already written about and interviewed here).

Swedish pop is clean and shiny, and so pretty, it's all white and gold. The most refined example I can think of is Club 8, a duo so delicate it seems they might break if they dare take a breath.

I do love The Radio Dept., a band that looks a bit rough around the edges, but make the most appealing fuzzy pastel noises. Many of their tracks start with a beat that rocks out, only to be washed over with lovely, fizzing guitar strumming. Johan Duncanson always sounds like he's singing through a length of plumbing. I really admire a band that can write a tune called "Pet Grief," which is not meant as a metaphor, but is actually about consoling a friend (presumably feminine) going through that sad process. And it's done without irony or phony naivete. The song's plainspoken earnestness is sweet and poignant: