‘Allo, ‘allo, ‘allo.
I’ve always had a liking for Ian Hunter. First in the days when Mott the Hoople were
on Top of the Pops with a string of classic hits, all razor-wire guitar,
pounding piano, attitude – and shades!
Then there was his first solo hit, ‘Once Bitten, Twice Shy’, which along
with Dr Feelgood’s ‘Back In The Night’ seemed to be on permanent rotation at
school discos when I was fourteen. I’ve returned
to his stuff periodically ever since, most notably with the terrific,
three-quarters live album Welcome To The
Club, and the Hunter Ronson outing YUI
Orta – and also a couple of incendiary gigs at the Liquid Rooms in
Edinburgh in the late 90s.
Fingers Crossed
has been kicking around since September, but having grabbed a copy of it
over
Christmas I couldn’t resist banging out a belated review. Because
here Hunter is again, at the grand old age of 77, still delivering the
goods with a knockout album.
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Ian Hunter - attitude and shades |
People’s attention will naturally be drawn to ‘Dandy’,
Hunter’s anthemic eulogy to Bowie and the way he lit up the Seventies. But there’s plenty more to enjoy on this
ten-song set, right from the opening ‘That’s When The Trouble Starts’. It’s a stomper on which a needle sharp guitar
riff from Mark Bosch underscores Hunter’s way with words as he skewers the TV
talent show phenomenon: “After your 15 minutes of fame – look out, here come
the howlin’ rain”.
There’s a great hook on ‘Ghosts’, as Hunter captures the
spine-tingling sensation of being able to jam at Sam Phillips’ Sun Studios,
among the spectres of his heroes. Hunter
and co-producer Andy Yorke capture a full sound from the Rant Band throughout,
with little details of shading in the various arrangements – on this occasion
some nice slide from James Mastro, while Bosch delivers a searing solo on the
shoutalong of ‘Bow Street Runners’,
which tells the tale of the prototype London coppers.
Hunter has always been a master balladeer as well, and the title track is a classic example, piano-led in the mould of ‘Irene Wilde', with
a lovely, soaring chorus. It’s
imaginative lyric is far from your typical lurve song though, as it contemplates
the privations of ‘pressed men’ in the 18th century navy. ‘You Can’t Live In The Past’ is a similarly
downbeat mediation on loss, loneliness, and the fatal charms; underpinned by a
simple, gentle reggae rhythm, it conjures a beautifully melancholic mood.
Further variations in style are apparent in the likes of
‘Stranded In Reality’ and the closing ‘Long Time’. The former has the jangling, lilting feel of
something like The Pretenders’ ‘Back On The Chain Gang’, and yet more imaginative
wordsmithery: “Bought my space ship second hand / Should’a known better – the
steering jammed”. The latter muses on
the ups and downs of a musical career in a style that suggests The Band crossed
with an East End knees-up. On YUI Orta
Hunter declared that “I love American music, I play it all night long / Just me
an’ my records an’ a vivid imagination”, but in spite of his love for all his
Stateside rock’n’roll’n’soul heroes, his songs are infused with a distinctly
British sensibility – reinforced by the fact that he continues to sing in a
raucously English accent.
The Stones’ Blue &
Lonesome may demonstrate that the old codgers have still got it, but in
essence it’s a rebooted trip down memory lane.
Fingers Crossed may come from
the hand of a fellow veteran, but it’s something different – another great
blast of new and memorable material from one of Britain’s finest rock’n’roll
songwriters. Go get it.
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