Any Major Dude With Half A Heart

 

 

Here is a mix suggested by a Canadian friend. And what a great idea it was! So this goes out to the aficionado of worn-out motorbikes.

Sunshine Pop is one of those genres that are defined not so much by what they are than by their vibe. There’s no precise checklist of musical characteristics, and yet you know it when you hear it — a jangling intro, layered vocal harmonies, bright orchestration, and sometimes breaks into classical music (such as the tracks by Eternity’s Children, Peppermint Rainbow). It’s warm music with a gentle smile, even when the lyrics tell stories of falling apart or deliver social commentary.

Emerging in 1966, hitting its peak in 1967-68 and fizzling out by 1969, Sunshine Pop borrowed from the folk boom and from The Beach Boys. Indeed, Pet Sounds in 1966 and earlier Beach Boys hits like California Girls or When I Grow Up provided a template: the often intricate melodies, lush arrangements, cheerful flourishes and soaring harmonies. Bands like The Association took the cue, scoring hits with Along Comes Mary, Cherish, Never My Love, and Windy. Paul Revere & The Raiders, hardly the prototype Sunshine Pop band, created what could be Sunshine Pop’s national anthem with the catchy-as-hell Cinderella Sunshine, inexplicably only a b-side track to 1968’s rather inferior It’s Happening.

There was also a hint of psychedelia, or at least a sanitised version of it. You wouldn’t confuse Sunshine Pop psychedelia with the heavy stuff issued by Iron Butterfly or the 13th Floor Elevators, but psychedelic touches might reveal themselves in the use of harpsichords or reverb-drenched vocals.

Some people might dismiss the Sunshine Pop subgenre as commercial or lightweight, but that would ignore the extraordinary studio craft put into the sound and the complexity of many of its lyrics. The sunshine sometimes threw shadows.

A lot of Sunshine Pop was producer-driven. The Millennium, The Parade or The Yellow Balloon were studio projects built around top-tier LA session musicians — usually the Wrecking Crew — and guided by producers like Curt Boettcher, Gary Usher and Jerry Fuller. Boettcher, who was still in his twenties in the 1960s, in particular deserves mention as one who could turn a simple song into a cathedral of sound — a bit like Brian Wilson or Phil Spector. It’s not by chance that the nix ends with a Boettcher track from 1969. Boettcher died young, at 43, in 1987.

The Mamas and the Papas often get lumped into Sunshine Pop too, and they do feature here. They belonged properly in the folk-pop scene and had a more bohemian style. And yet, their sound is drenched in that same golden haze. And some acts of the Sunshine Pop genre, such as the Looking Glass, certainly copied the Mamas & Papas sound. Similarly, bands like The Turtles and The Left Banke flirted with the genre on tracks that paired orchestral sweetness with a lightly baroque structure. Both also find a place in this collection.

Even The Monkees, though initially a manufactured TV band, may be classed as being part of Sunshine Pop. Their Pleasant Valley Sunday offered a sun-drenched sound to score biting (and slightly naive) lyrics that condemn the consumer society. Many of the boomers who cheered The Monkees’ criticism of Status Symbol Land and its attendant alienation of the young in 1967 grew up and became exactly that which Micky Dolenz and pals confronted.

By the end of the ’60s, the sun began to set. The Summer of Love had turned sour, with the Vietnam War, Nixon’s election, Kent University murders, Altamont and so on. Even Brian Wilson, the godfather of Sunshine Pop, was withdrawing into his own shadows. The optimism of the 1960s was giving way to the realpolitik of the 1970s.

But Sunshine Pop didn’t really go away as the 1970s dawned. It lived on in its cousin, Bubblegum Pop. There was some overlap between the two sub-genres; you may find Tommy Roe, for example, on compilations of both. Some Bubblegum pop bands were also studio creations (such as The Archies), and some Bubblegum hits also featured the backing of the Wrecking Crew (such as the Partridge Family). But the audience had changed. The kids bought Bubblegum Pop, but Sunshine Pop’s audience had moved on — maybe to put down a deposit on that house in Status Symbol Land.

As always, the mix is timed to fit on a standard CD-R and includes home-sunburned covers and the above text in PDF format. PW in comments.

1. The Rascals – A Beautiful Morning (1968)
2. The 5th Dimension – Working On A Groovy Thing (1969)
3. The Mamas & The Papas – Look Through My Window (1967)
4. The Monkees – Pleasant Valley Sunday (1967)
5. Chad & Jeremy – Distant Shores (1966)
6. Paul Revere & The Raiders – Cinderella Sunshine (1968)
7. The Buckinghams – Mercy, Mercy, Mercy (1967)
8. The Looking Glass – Silver And Sunshine (1966)
9. The Grass Roots – Let’s Live For Today (1967)
10. The Parade – Sunshine Girl (1967)
11. The Association – Never My Love (1967)
12. Eternity’s Children – Sunshine Among Us (1968)
13. The Left Banke – She May Call You Up Tonight (1967)
14. The Munx – Our Dream (1968)
15. The Merry-Go-Round – Live (1968)
16. The Vogues – Just What I’ve Been Looking For (1968)
17. Gary Lewis & The Playboys – My Heart’s Symphony (1966)
18. The Sunshine Company – Back On The Street Again (1967)
19. The Cyrkle – Red Rubber Ball (1966)
20. Yellow Balloon – Yellow Balloon (1967)
21. Roger Nichols & The Small Circle Of Friends – Love So Fine (1968)
22. Gary Puckett & The Union Gap – Over You (1968)
23. Peppermint Rainbow – Will You Be Staying After Sunday (1968)
24. The Cowsills – The Rain, The Park And Other Things (1968)
25. American Breed – Don’t Forget About Me (1967)
26. The Turtles – She’d Rather Be With Me (1967)
27. Strawberry Alarm Clock – Incense and Peppermints (1967)
28. Sagittarius – In My Room (1969)
29. Spanky And Our Gang – Sunday Will Never Be The Same (1967)
30. The Summer Winds – Another Time (1969)

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Live Aid: 13 July 1985. Forty years ago on Sunday!

The music wasn’t invariably good, the artists tended to be at least a bit self-serving, we had seats right at the back of Wembley Stadium, and the legacy of the event is questioned by many. And still, for me, attending Live Aid in London is an unforgettable event, not only as a historic concert but also because for one day there was such a concentration of goodwill among people.

The ticket price in London was £25, in Philadelphia $35. In terms of purchasing power, the value of the tickets today (July 2025), would be £96.80 and $105 respectively. But with a Taylor Swift ticket going for $250 — plus fees — today, the price of Live Aid tickets would likely be set to be much more expensive now. In 1985, going to a concert (or sports event) was not yet a luxury item in your budget. Two weeks before Live Aid, I saw Bruce Springsteen at Wembley Stadium. The ticket cost £14.50, now worth £56. That was for a concert by Springsteen at his absolute prime. In 2025, the cheapest ticket to see a 40-years-older Bruce costs you £87.50 (plus the cost of the hoops you may need to jump through for the privilege of supporting The Boss).

Of course, I bought the Live Aid T-shirt and the Live Aid programme (in duplicate, as gifts for my brother, at the HMV store at Piccadilly Circus the week before the concert). The programme cost £5.00, which today has a purchasing power of £19.20 — quite pricey even then.    

At bargain-priced Live Aid, there were some long stretches of tedium (Bryan Ferry!), as some acts performed songs which nobody needed to hear. And the creations by mad hairstylists immortalised that decade of my youth as one bereft of elegance. Just look at Bono and his hideous mullet! But the dull stretches were enlivened by some high point.

And everybody is right, Queen were indeed, well, majestic. Fred made crazy love to the whole of Wembley stadium. For all the transparent fact-fiddling bullshit in the mostly terrible Queen biopic, the recreation of the Live Aid segment was spot-on (though, of course, the narrative that they had not played on stage together for years was one of those transparent fact-fiddling bullshit inventions). That performance provided my abiding memory of Live Aid: the crowds doing that arms-aloft-clap-clap-arms-aloft-clap-clap thing from the video of Radio Gaga – what a sight that was from where I was sitting, overlooking the masses on the pitch (the photo below shows my view of the crowd) – followed by Mercury leading the 72,000 people in vocal exercises (they had opportunity to practise their vocal cords during Elvis Costello’s fine performance of All You Need Is Love). I was not particularly a Queen fan before Live Aid, nor was I one after. But on that day, I was a Queen fan.

Queen played six songs in their allocated time. Acts like U2, Dire Straits and The Who played just two, with all of them doodling on forever with one of these. Dire Straits’ Sultans Of Swing seemed never-ending, even testing the patience of this fan of the song. The Who went into extra-time with Won’t Get Fooled Again. It is a great song, so no complaints from me, but they could have played three songs in that time.

U2 also played my favourite in their repertoire, Bad. Suddenly, Bono jumped off the stage, grabbed that girl from the crowd, and danced with her. In a documentary made 20 years later, Bono suggested it was a spontaneous act. It may well be that he hadn’t planned to do this at Wembley, but he had pulled that stunt — probably copied from Springsteen’s Dancing In The Dark video, the one with Courtney Cox as the dancee — during every single U2 concert at the time, during the same song. I know, because I had seen three of these gigs in three different countries over successive weeks that summer, preceding Live Aid. So my reaction was one not of surprise but of familiarity; I thought it was planned and marvelled at the audacity of it. I can see why The Edge, Clayton and Mullen might have been annoyed at Bono’s stunt, but they cannot have been surprised by it. The narrative that they just went on improvising, not knowing what was happening or what to do while Bono disappeared from their view, is overstating things.

If Queen had not stolen the show, then Elton John’s set might have taken the honours as the best act in the London leg. Elton did the right thing: play the hits. And then he introduced George Michael, who came out as a bearded man for the first time. He was magnificent as he sang Elton’s Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me. When George got around to recording the song with Elton John almost a decade later, it had lost something of the magic of that July night.

In Philadelphia, Hall & Oates stole the show. In a fairly soul-deprived line-up, the blue-eyed soulmen hooked up with bona fide soul legends, and sang soul music. Temptations alumni Eddie Kendricks and David Ruffin had appeared as guest stars on stage with Hall & Oates just a couple of months earlier — it is captured on the fine Live At The Apollo album, recorded in May 1985 and released in September that year — so the act was well-rehearsed.

Otherwise there were the Four Tops and Billy Ocean. Neither they, nor Run-DMC had prominent slots. Patti LaBelle did, but her acute histrionics were entirely distressing, even for a soul fan. Ashford & Simpson appeared with Teddy Pendergrass, the latter appearing on stage for the first time since his accident which had left him paraplegic

Tina Turner was there, but only as a duet partner with Mick Jagger. In any case, her thing by then was rock, rather than soul. Some people regard their duet as a highlight of Live Aid. They certainly had stage presence, chemistry and energy — how could it be otherwise? — but why on earth did they perform the atrocious State Of Shock, Jagger’s 1984 duet with Michael Jackson? And their rendition of It’s Only Rock & Roll is more shouty than nuanced. Visually, that performance was great (even if one had to suffer Jagger awkwardly tearing off his shirt to reveal the kind of pasty chest you might associate with that of a plucked duck). Aurally, however, it was underwhelming, in view of what both singers might have done.

Phil Collins performed in both London and in Philadelphia, thanks to being flown over on a specially laid-on Concorde flight. In the ego-driven 1980s, everybody thought it was a cute stunt. Few questioned whether the thousands of pounds spent on it, courtesy of British Airways, might not have been better awarded to famine relief. Nobody raised ecological concerns about that unnecessary venture either.

I missed Led Zeppelin’s set, sitting on a tube train on my way home. Backed by the freshly-imported Phil Collins, Page and pals regarded their performance as their worst ever — and blamed poor Phil for it. They have not given permission for the footage to be used since. So it doesn’t appear on the official four-disc DVD set. Also missing from it is Duran Duran’s performance of A View To A Kill, thanks to Simon Le Bon famous note-malfunction (see it here).

Carlos Santana also has forbidden release of his Live Aid performance. I have no memory of it (possibly still going home), and that is a shame, because Santana’s appearance was a bit historic. Carlos appeared at both Woodstock and Live Aid, as did Crosby, Stills & Nash and Neil Young.

The Who, of course, beat that: they played at Live Aid, Woodstock and Monterey. So did Stephen Still and Neil Young, at Monterey as part of Buffalo Springfield.

Anyway, back in Philly, the embarrassing moments kept coming. Bob Dylan and the two craggies from the Stones (who looked 60-plus then, but were only in their early forties) contrived to perform an amusing cacophony of Blowing In The Wind, an aural disaster reportedly because they could not hear each other due to some technical problem or other.

Doubtless many acts on the bill were sincere about feeding the world and reminding the starving Ethiopians that they were doing their best to ensure that there will be snow in Africa next Christmastime, regardless of the inopportune consequences of such radical climate change. But among those who took part were also opportunists, wanting in on the cash-in. Some revived their flagging careers on the back of Live Aid. In fact, reportedly all but one act who appeared at Live Aid recorded increased sales after the event, the exception being poor Adam Ant. Live Aid was about corporate profiteering as well as about social engagement. Did much of the artists’ profits from increased post-Live Aid sales go to famine relief? Didn’t think so.

Paradoxically, Live Aid was also a bit of a racially problematic event. No African artists other than Sade — hardly an artist whom one would file under World Music — appeared in either London or Philadelphia; an oddity when the event was supposed to raise awareness about Africa. As noted above, black artists were thin on the bill, especially in London (the same was true of the Band Aid single).

The almost complete absence of black acts in London was shameful, but in Philadelphia it was not entirely for lack of trying. Stevie Wonder declined to participate — he just called to say “No, thank you” — because he did not want to be a token black act, and others followed his example. It probably didn’t help that US promoter Bill Graham was a, let’s say, complicated character.

For all the big names on both stages, none of the biggest solo stars of 1984/85 played a set at Live Aid (and let’s recall that in July 1985, Madonna’s star was still rising). Michael Jackson was missing (despite having co-written We Are The World), as was Prince, as was Bruce Springsteen (who later regretted his decision, and at least he had left his stage up at Wembley for Live Aid’s free use). And Lionel Richie turned up only for the triumphally messy finale.

I don’t quite buy into the idea that Live Aid was in itself malign, though a valid case can be made that it reflected White Saviour Syndrome. Pragmatically, it raised money which saved lives, and built clinics and water purification schemes, even if a lot of the money sent to Africa did not even reach the poor (as tends to be the case with foreign aid). But the idea to raise money to save lives is commendable. It did raise awareness on a range of issues concerning famine, albeit imperfectly, and it promoted some sense of social responsibility. In the callous, self-centred 1980s, Live Aid made charity cool. But it also proposed a notion that charity is not selfless, that for your charity you must get something in return, at the very least the option to congratulate yourself. Consumerist charity, one might call it.

And still, Live Aid, at least initially, did not see itself as a solution but as a contribution to facing a problem. Read that way, its contribution was admirable.

Oh, and Bob Geldof never said: “Give me your fuckin’ money.”

And so, here is a compilation of selected Live Aid highlights and notable moments (I excluded Paul McCartney’s Let It Be, which was later overdubbed to cover technical problems, and The Beach Boys’ brutal assault on their own Wouldn’t It Be Nice). The mix is timed to fit on three standard CD-Rs, and includes this text in an illustrated PDF. PW in comments. Some comments refer to an earlier version of this article.

And if you liked this, please consider donating money to famine/food-crisis relief in Gaza, South Sudan, Sudan, Mali, Yemen or Haiti.

DISC 1:
1. Live Aid – Intro
2. Status Quo – Rockin’ All Over The World
3. The Style Council – Walls Come Tumbling Down
4. Boomtown Rats – I Don’t Like Mondays
5. Ultavox – Vienna
6. Spandau Ballet – Only When You Leave
7. Spandau Ballet – True
8. Elvis Costello – All You Need Is Love
9. Sade – Your Love Is King
10. Phil Collins – Against The Odds
11. Alison Moyet & Paul Young – That’s The Way Love Is
12. Bryan Adams – Summer Of ’69
13. Paul Young – Everytime You Go Away
14. U2 – Sunday Bloody Sunday
15. U2 – Bad
16. Beach Boys – Good Vibrations

DISC 2:
1. Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody
2. Queen – Radio Gaga
3. Queen – We Are The Champions
4. Queen – We Will Rock You
5. Simple Minds – Don’t You (Forget About Me)
6. David Bowie – Heroes
7. David Bowie – Modern Love
8. Pretenders – Chain Gang
9. The Who – Won’t Get Fooled Again
10. Elton John – Bennie And The Jets
11. Elton John – Rocket Man
12. George Michael & Elton John – Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me
13. Ashford & Simpson with Teddy Pendergrass – Reach Out And Touch
14. Madonna – Holiday
15. Freddie Mercury & Brian May – Is This The World We Created
16. Live Aid Wembley Finale – Do They Know It’s Christmas?

DISC 3:
1. Stills & Nash – Teach Your Children Well
2. The Cars – Heartbeat City
3. Neil Young – Nothing Is Perfect (In God’s Perfect Plan)
4. Eric Clapton – White Room
5. Eric Clapton – Layla
6. Phil Collins – In The Air Tonight
7. Duran Duran – Save A Prayer
8. Hall & Oates – Maneater
9. Hall & Oates with Eddie Kendricks – Get Ready
10. Hall & Oates with Eddie Kendricks & David Ruffin – Ain’t Too Proud To Beg
11. Hall & Oates with Eddie Kendricks & David Ruffin – My Girl
12. Mick Jagger – Miss You
13. Bob Dylan, Keith Richards & Ron Wood – Blowing In The Wind
14. Live Aid Philadelphia Finale – We Are The World

Wembley – Disc 1: All except tracks 12 & 16. Disc 2: tracks 1-4,6-7, 9-12, 15-16
Philadelphia – Disc 1: tracks 12, 16. Disc 2: tracks 5,8, 13-14. Disc 3: all tracks

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June, a busy month for the Reaper, hit us hard with the deaths within a couple of days of Sly Stone and Brian Wilson, both members of the Any Major Songbook Hall of Fame.

Non-music cultural deaths included Enzo Staiola, the kid in the incredible 1947 Italian film Bicycle Thieves, who has died at the age of 85. And Frederick Forsyth, author of The Day of the Jackal, The Odessa File, and The Fourth Protocol, all superior page-turners, left us at 86.

Same day, June 9, Barbara Ann Holdridge, co-founder of the female-owned Caedmon Records in 1952, died at 95. She was a trailblazer in spoken word literary recordings and helped pave the way for modern audiobooks.

The Pop Genius
The obits, and the recent film, to mark the life of Brian Wilson have covered it all — other, perhaps, than to note that he was also the subject of one of the great songs titled after living persons (by the Barenaked Ladies).

Wilson’s songwriting was, entirely needless to say, superb, but I marvel even more at his production genius (which would lead to his mental breakdown). What he achieved with Good Vibrations is obviously the gold standard in 1960s production, alongside Strawberry Fields Forever, the track he admired so much that it distressed him. Good Vibrations is the monument Wilson built, but one track that I think is equally impressive is Wouldn’t It Be Nice. It’s the song that bridges the striped-shirt era of the Beach Boys to Wilson’s period of production innovation — the best of both times.

Wilson was the subject of a Songbook I compiled in 2022, for his 80th birthday; I reposted it upon his death. In my notes for the Brian Wilson Songbook I mentioned the “rivalry” he had with Paul McCartney, who was born only a week before Wilson. The latter, I wrote, “collapsed under the weight of his own ambitions, and fragile mental health. Crucially, where McCartney had the support, even if often troubled, of his fellow Beatles, who shared in the processes of artistic growth, Wilson had to contend with those — in the band and commercial departments — who still wanted fun fun fun songs about hot cars ‘n’ tanned gals.”

Happily, Wilson slowly re-emerged from his breakdown, finally completing his own vision of the Smiley Smile project in 2004 — SMiLE, as it was called, is a very, very strange album that could have emerged only from the mind of a true genius.

The Hip Revolutionary
Two days before Wilson, another legend whose drug use helped curtail his career died — also at the age of 83. The obits for Sly Stone also have covered everything, including surprise that he had lived as long as he did. And as I did for Wilson, I also reposted the Sly Stone Songbook in June.

In my notes for the Songbook, I observed: “Sly & The Family Stone are important as a musical act, having integrated various genres to create their funky music, using a drum machine when that was still nascent technology, and so on. And they were one of the first major multiracial acts to score hits — much to the chagrin of the Black Panthers, who demanded the two white members be replaced. That wasn’t Sly’s way. His way was to advise abstention from the use of racial epithets.”

Sly’s band also included women, which was groundbreaking; the Family Stone was multiracial and multigender. A decade or so later, Sly’s heir would emulate that with his own band. Indeed, without Sly, there would have been no Prince as we knew him. How bizarre that Sly Stone outlived the pupil!

The funky sounds of the man born Sylvester Stewart are well known. Less famous is his career as a child gospel singer — one of the tracks, from 1952, featured on the Saved Vol. 1 mix — and his attempts at breaking through as a soul crooner; the debut solo effort is included here.

The Composer
Argentine-born jazz musician and film and TV composer Lalo Schifrin, who has died at 93, was one of the most versatile and influential composers of the 20th century — but probably best remembered for one tune: the theme of Mission: Impossible.

Schifrin was raised in a musical family; his father was concertmaster of the Buenos Aires Philharmonic. A gifted pianist, Lalo studied classical music in Paris under Olivier Messiaen while performing jazz in clubs at night. This duality shaped his music: the discipline of classical form and the free improvisation of jazz. In the 1990s and 2000s he recorded a series of jazz albums with the backing of symphonic orchestras around the world.

His international break came when he joined Dizzy Gillespie’s quintet on piano in 1960, also writing arrangements. Around that time he began working on film and television scores.

Apart from the theme for Mission: Impossible in 1966 — which provides for a rare occasion to use the term “iconic” appropriately — he also wrote the scores for hit movies like Bullitt, Kelly’s Heroes, the Dirty Harry series, Cool Hand Luke, Enter the Dragon, The Eagle Has Landed, The Amityville Horror, The Voyage Of The Damned, and the Rush Hour trilogy, among many others. He earned six Oscar nominations, as well and five Grammys. In 2019, he received an Honorary Academy Award for his “influential contributions to the art of film scoring”.

In the 1970s, he made a foray into jazz-fusion, later he fused his jazz with symphonic music. In the 1990s, he wrote many of the arrangements for The Three Tenors concerts. Schifrin remained active into his nineties.

The Lead Guitarist
Losing a guitar on tour must be upsetting; scoring a hit with the story of losing guitar is fair compensation. The hit was Mott the Hoople’s All The Way From Memphis, and the careless axeman was Mick Ralphs, who has died at age 81.

Ralphs was a founding member of Mott the Hoople, and stayed with the band until 1973, playing on their three Top 10 hits (All The Young Dudes, All The Way To Memphis, and Roll Away The Stone). Of Mott’s five-men founding line-up, only two are still with us now.

After leaving Mott the Hoople, Ralphs co-founded Bad Company, with Free singer Paul Rodgers. He stayed with the band till the first split in 1982, and was part of the successful 1986 reunion. He wrote the 1974 hit Can’t Get Enough and its follow-up Movin’ On, and co-wrote the classic Feel Like Making Love, with its memorable riff.

A stroke in 2016 confined Ralphs to bed; in June he was released from his incapacitating condition.

The Whisper
Once a Whisper, always a Whisper, it seems. The death of Walter Scott is a reminder that in its 62 years, The Whispers only ever head six members, and only one replacement (in 1973, for reasons of health).

Walter Scott co-founded the soul band in 1963 with his identical twin brother Wallace and three others in Watts, LA. In 1966, Sly Stone invited them to come to San Francisco, where The Whispers defied their moniker by being an explosive opening live act. The following year Walter Scott was drafted to fight in Vietnam for 18 months, rejoining the band in 1969.

The Whispers recorded steadily throughout the 1960s and ’70s, hitting the R&B charts on a regular basis, though only three of their 18 entries up to 1978 reached the Top 10. The crossover breakthrough came with 1979’s Billboard  #1 As The Beat Goes On. Another Top 10 hit followed in 1987 with Rock Steady.

Up to 2009, The Whispers released 23 albums, plus a live set and compilations.

The Atlantic Star
Atlantic Starr, one of the most popular soul bands of the 1980s, has lost its first member to the reaper in keyboardist, singer and songwriter Wayne Lewis, who has died at age 68. Lewis and his two brothers were founding members of what originally was a nine-member line-up. By the 1980s, the band settled on a line-up of five, including a frequently changing female singer.

The band did well on the soul scene with tracks like Circles and Silver Shadow, but had their crossover breakthrough only in 1986 with the great cheating song Secret Lovers. More hits followed, culminating in a 1991 #3 pop hit, Masterpiece, which Wayne co-produced. In 1994 the band split; all subsequent reunions featured Wayne.

As a songwriter, he co-wrote with brother David tracks like Circles, Touch A Four Leaf Clover (featured on Any Major Soul 1983), Silver Shadow (which will feature on the forthcoming Any Major Soul 1985), Secret Lovers, Always, and Love Crazy.

The Keyboardist
Almost unnoticed, keyboard player and producer Bob Andrews died at 75. He was not well-known but very prolific, as a member of Brinsley Schwarz and Graham Parker & The Rumour, and as a session man for Al Stewart, Dr. Feelgood, Frankie Miller, Dave Edmunds, Maxine Nightingale (also on Right Back Where We Started From), Kursaal Flyers, Nick Lowe, Rory Gallagher, Carlene Carter, Tenpole Tudor, Jona Lewie (on Stop The Cavalry, You’ll Always Find Me In The Kitchen At Parties, and Louise), The Bluebells, The Dugites, The Go-Betweens, Johnny Thunders, Sam Brown (the woman singer of the late 1980s; including the organ solo on the hit Stop!), Katrina & The Waves, Alison Moyet and others.

Many of them he also produced. Among hit records he produced or co-produced were the Jona Lewie songs mentioned above, Tenpole Tudor’s Sword Of A Thousand Men and Wünderbar (the latter features on Any Major Whistle Vol. 1), The Bluebells’ Young At Heart, and There She Goes by The La’s.

The Apartheid Survivor
The story of pioneering South African jazz drummer Louis Moholo tells us about the brutal absurdity of apartheid. In the early 1960s, he was arrested under the regime’s notorious pass laws. Jazz pianist and bandmate Chris McGregor, who was white, intervened and Moholo was freed — and the two went straight to rehearsals.

Under apartheid, racially mixed groups couldn’t perform openly, so Moholo often had to play behind curtains. Even private rehearsals could be deemed a political conspiracy. Moholo was repeatedly jailed and once sentenced to forced labour on a potato farm.

Eventually, his passport was revoked due to anti-apartheid activism, and he went into exile in the UK. There, too, he faced prejudice, with some doubting that an African could play jazz. Moholo proved them wrong.

He played in McGregor’s groundbreaking Brotherhood of Breath, led his own ensemble Viva La Black, and collaborated widely across Europe and the US. He also co-founded the Afro-rock band Assagai.

After decades abroad, Moholo returned to South Africa in 2005 to widespread acclaim. He headlined festivals, recorded fresh collaborations, and received long-overdue recognition. The University of Cape Town, where he had once been chased away, awarded him an honorary doctorate. National honours followed.

Read more at Sisgwen Jazz blog.

The Internationalist
It’s quite amazing that the death of one of German schlager’s greatest legends went unreported for half a year! Ricky Shayne died on November 8, and he and his partner had decided to let him rest in peace discreetly, announcing his passing only in June.

Born in Cairo in 1944 to a Lebanese father and French mother, spent his youth in Paris, and moved to Rome as a teenager. With his good looks and moody charisma, he carved out a career in Italy as a rocker, covering Elvis songs and performing in beat groups.

But his big break came after he moved to West Germany in the late 1960s. His 1967 single Ich sprenge alle Ketten, written by a young Giorgio Moroder and future schlager great Michael Holm, made him a star. Hits like Mamy Blue and Delta Queen followed.

Though often lumped in with the schlager scene — and he was a regular on the hugely popular ZSF Hitparade TV show — Shayne didn’t quite fit that genre. At heart, he was a rock star, with a dash of chansoneer, cultivating a rebel image. He moved to the US in 1975, but Shayne was too European to make it in the English-speaking world.

By the late 1970s, his career as a pop star was pretty much over. Over time, he became forgotten, and faced financial struggles.
As always, this post is reproduced in illustrated PDF format in the package, which also includes my personal playlist of the featured tracks. PW in comments.

Ricky Shayne, 80, Egyptian-born pop singer, on Nov 8 (reported in June)
Ricky Shayne – Ich sprenge alle Ketten (1967)
Ricky Shayne – Mamy Blue (1971)

Marcie Jones, 79, Australian singer of Marcie and The Cookies, on May 31
Marcie & The Cookies – I Would If I Could (1968)

Sharon Moe, 83, jazz French horn player, classical composer, on June 1
Cast of ‘Fame’ – I Sing The Body Electric (1980, on French horn)

Colin Jerwood, 63, singer of English punk band Conflict, on June 2

Nicole David, 51, Saint Lucian soca musician, on June 2

Birgit Carlstén, 75, Swedish singer and actress, on June 2

Arthur Hamilton, 98, songwriter, announced June 3
Julie London – Cry Me A River (1955, as writer)

Frankie Jordan, 86, French rock & roll singer, on June 3
Frankie Jordan – Tu parles trop (1961)

Nicole Croisille, 88, French singer and actress, on June 4
Nicole Croisille – Aujourd ‘hui c’est toi (1966)

Arnold Wise, 89, UK-born jazz drummer, on June 4

Wayne Lewis, 68, keyboardist, songwriter with soul band Atlantic Starr, on June 5
Atlantic Starr – Circles (1982, also as co-writer)
Atlantic Starr – If Your Heart Isn’t In It (1985, also on co-lead vocals)
Atlantic Starr – Love Crazy (1991, also as co-writer)

Bob Andrews, 75, keyboardist (Brinsley Schwarz, The Rumour), producer, songwriter, on June 5
Brinsley Schwarz – Happy Doing What We’re Doing (1972, on piano and as co-writer)
The Bluebells – Young At Heart (1984, as producer)
Sam Brown – Stop (1988, on organ)

Norman Hutchins, 62, gospel musician, on June 5

Changuito (José Luis Quintana), 76, Cuban percussionist, on June 6
Changuito – Changuito Se Botó (2007)

Mike Ejeagha, 95, Nigerian musician, on June 6

Miti Adhikari, 69, Indian-born engineer (BBC sessions), announced June 8
The Brand New Heavies – Never Stop (1992, as engineer)

Cheo Zorrilla, 75, Dominican songwriter, singer and trumpet player and singer, on June 8

Ariel Kalma, 78, French new-age composer and electronic musician, on June 8

Sly Stone, 82, soul-funk singer, musician, songwriter (Sly & The Family Stone), on June 9
Sylvester Stewart – Help Me With My Broken Heart (1962)
Sly & the Family Stone – Stand! (1969)
Sly & the Family Stone – Thankful N Thoughtful (1973)
Sly Stone – His Eye Is On The Sparrow (2011)

Axel Skalstad, 32, Norwegian jazz drummer, on June 9

Don Moore, 86, jazz double-bassist., on June 10

Brian Wilson, 82, singer, musician, songwriter, producer with The Beach Boys, on June 11
The Beach Boys – In My Room (1963)
The Beach Boys – Don’t Worry Baby (1964)
The Beach Boys – Surf’s Up (1971)
Brian Wilson – Heroes And Villains (2004)

Douglas McCarthy, 58, singer of English electronic band Nitzer Ebb, on June 11
Nitzer Ebb – Lightning Man (1990)

Steven Leckie, 67, leader of Canadian punk band The Viletones, on June 12

Honest John Plain, 73, guitarist of English punk band The Boys, on June 13
The Boys – First Time (1977)

Dill Katz, 79, British jazz bassist, on June 13

Louis Moholo, 85, South African jazz drummer, on June 13
Assagai – Hey Jude. (1971, as founding member)
Louis Moholo – You Ain’t Gonna Know Me ‘Cos You Think You Know Me (1978)

Bira Presidente, 88, musician, composer with Brazilian samba band Fundo de Quintal, on June 14

Topsy Küppers, 93, Austrian actress, writer and schlager singer, on June 14

Sven-Åke Johansson, c.81, Swedish free jazz drummer and composer, announced June 15

John Reid, 61, Scottish acid-jazz singer, songwriter, producer, on June 16
Nightcrawlers – Push The Feeling On (1992, as member and co-writer)
Leona Lewis – A Moment Like This (2006, as co-writer)

Hélio Delmiro, 78, Brazilian jazz fusion guitarist, on June 16
Hélio Delmiro – Esperando (1980)

Rafael Acosta Córdoba, 80, Mexican rock musician, on June 16

Patti Drew, 80, soul singer, on June 16
Patti Drew – Workin’ On A Groovy Thing (1968; original version)

Charles Burrell, 104, classical and jazz bass player, on June 17

Leander ‘Pionear’ Topp, 56, German singer and producer, on June 17

Lou Christie, 82, pop singer-songwriter, on June 18
Lou Christie – Lightnin’ Strikes (1965, also as co-writers)

Ron Woodbridge, c.86, founding member of The Searchers, announced June 19

James Prime, 64, keyboardist of Scottish band Deacon Blue, announced June 19
Deacon Blue – Real Gone Kid (1988)

Cavin Yarbrough, 72, half of soul-funk duo Yarbrough & Peoples, on June 19
Yarbrough & Peoples – Don’t Stop the Music (1980, also as co-writer)

Anne Marie Børud, 76, Norwegian singer, on June 19

Patrick Walden, 46, guitarist of UK rock band Babyshambles, songwriter, on June 20
Babyshambles – Fuck Forever (2005, also as co-writer)

Clifford Barbaro, 77, jazz drummer, on June 20

Aki Aleong, 90, Trinidadian-born actor, singer, songwriter, producer, on June 20
Aki Aleong – How Long (1962, also as co-writer)

Raïssa Gbédji, 52, Beninese jazz singer and journalist, on June 21

Mick Ralphs, 81, English guitarist, songwriter (Mott the Hoople, Bad Company), announced June 23
Mott The Hoople – All The Way From Memphis (1972)
Bad Company – Can’t Get Enough (1974, also as writer)
Bad Company – Shake It Up (1988)

Feya Faku, 63, South African jazz trumpeter and flugelhornist, on June 23

Rebekah Del Rio, 57, American singer and actress, on June 23
Rebekah Del Rio – Llorando (2001)

Yuriy Parfyonov, 79, trumpeter of Russian rock band Auktyon, on June 23

Serge Fiori, 73, singer of Canadian prog-rock band Harmonium, on June 24
Harmonium – Vert (1975)

Bobby Sherman, 81, pop singer and actor, on June 24
Bobby Sherman – Little Woman (1965)

Kealoha Kalama, 93, Hawaiian singer, on June 25

Walter Scott, 81, singer with soul band The Whispers, on June 26
The Whispers – The Time Will Come (1969)
The Whispers – (Let’s Go) All The Way (1978)
The Whispers – Love Is Where You Find It (1981)

Ocasional Talento, 29, Bolivian rapper, on June 26

Lalo Schifrin, 93, Argentine-born film composer, jazz pianist, on June 26
Dizzy Gillespie Quintet – Long, Long Summer (1962, as member and as composer)
Lalo Schifrin – Mission: Impossible (1966, also as composer and arranger)
Lalo Schifrin – Middle Of The Night (1979)
Lalo Schifrin – The Baroque Connection (2001, also as composer)

Anísio Mello Júnior, 60, Brazilian singer-songwriter, musician, producer on June 27

Carlos Schvartzman, 77, Paraguayan jazz musician and composer, on June 28