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Music For 2012

Bill Withers plus Terry Callier plus Richie Havens plus Nick Drake plus early John Martyn equals … Michael Kiwanuka. He’s appearing on many lists of those tipped for popularity this year, and deservedly so. He’s on the same record label as Mumford and Sons, but I prefer him.

His album Home Again is due for release in March, conveniently the month of my birthday, and I can’t wait. Here’s why:

A word, too, for torch singer Ren Harvieu. Recently heard singing the Rolling Stones’ Sister Morphine on a Mojo magazine cover CD, a song she relates to after major hospital treatment, she is a wonderful interpreter of song.

Her own stuff is pretty powerful, too:

Vodpod videos no longer available.

John Martyn

Driving back from an away day today, I tuned into BBC London 94.9 and found Danny Baker was playing non-stop John Martyn. It was a shock to discover the great man had died this morning. Well, not such a shock, given Martyn’s history of substance abuse.

And yes, his lifestyle was far removed from my Christian ethic. A brawling boozer. (How did he relate that to the Buddhism of his later years?) Yet one who had a way with a tender song. He hardly ever charted, but surely millions know the wonderful May You Never:

Maybe the beautiful Head And Heart:

Then, Solid Air, the song he associated with his late friend Nick Drake:

Or the love found and lost of Bless The Weather:

The echoplex masterpieces such as Glistening Glyndebourne:

An album like Grace And Danger was a divorce album to rank with Marvin Gaye‘s Here, My Dear. One World fused dub way before trip-hop was apparently invented in Bristol. Later, tracks like Sunshine’s Better 

would cross over into dance circles, although he was surely the godfather of chillout. (I remember Robert Elms playing that one to death.) That, along with his appearance on the Sister Bliss track Deliver Me:

There are several other tracks where it was difficult to track down video clips – Lonely Love or John Wayne from Piece By Piece, for example. I associate the former with a girl I rather liked. The feelings weren’t reciprocated!

There’s no theology in this, no punch line, just a deep sadness and sense of loss that someone whose music has given me great pleasure over thirty-five years is gone at the age of sixty.