- Music
- 01 May 01
THERE WAS a time when the magical words "for charity" were the guarantee of any old tat selling a million but nowadays, cynicism being what it is, there has to be musical substance to the good intentions.
THERE WAS a time when the magical words "for charity" were the guarantee of any old tat selling a million but nowadays, cynicism being what it is, there has to be musical substance to the good intentions.
Bearing this in mind, Peace Together have steered clear of the 'girl who used to be in Eastenders' and 'bloke from the soap powder commercial' syndrome and recruited an all-star cast of rock 'n' rollers who aren't trying to resuscitate an ailing career or prove how politically correct they are. With a few notably execrable exceptions, this makes for an album that's as listenable as it is worthy and which boasts at least four certified classics.
Let's start with the cream. My Bloody Valentine have made a career out of clubbing poor defenceless guitars over the head but on the old James Bond theme, 'We Have All The Time In The World', call a halt to their sonic abuse and reveal a hitherto secret penchant for Burt Bacharach. The obvious assumption is that the lush vocals belong to Belinda but a little studio dickie-bird tells me it's actually Kevin messing around with a pitch control unit. Whoever's tonsils they are, can we have some more please?
Ian Dury supervises Curve as they take a razor sharp gutting knife to 'What A Waste' and scatter the entrails over a '90's industrial-techno backbeat. It may bear scant relation to the original but I'm sure Blockheads everywhere will approve.
Therapy?, on the other hand, opt for a fairly straight run through 'Invisible Sun' with Andy's monotone delivery adding a malevolent air to the lyrics. Weaving in the riff from 'Alternative Ulster' is a stroke of genius and if anyone has the ability to follow in Stiff Little Fingers' footsteps and represent the province's disenfranchised youth, it's these guys.
Cathal Coughlan seems genetically incapable of making a duff record and Fatima Mansions' plaintive reading of 'John The Gun' does the late Sandy Denny proud.
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In the 'not half bad' category come Pop Will Eat Itself's technicolour demolition of 'Games Without Frontiers', Carter USM's chirpy cockernee rendition of Elvis Costello's 'Peace In Our Time' and both versions of the Peace Together anthem, 'Be Still', which employ Sinead O'Connor, Peter Gabriel, Feargal Sharkey and Liz Cocteau among the main protagonists. These communal 'choir' efforts normally sound muddier than the Tolka Park penalty area in mid-December but Clive Langer's sparse production eliminates unnecessary clutter and emphasises the fragile beauty of the song.
It's a shame that Langer wasn't airlifted in to oversee the recording of 'Religious Persuasion' which finds Billy Bragg, Andy White and Sinead O'Connor jostling for position rather than indulging in teamwork. Likewise a fresh pair of ears might also have been of benefit to the Young Disciples whose antiseptically clean 'Bad Weather' substitutes gloss for soul and is likely to have Stevie Wonder straight on to his lawyers. And there's not much you can say about U2 and Lou Reed's old pals act on 'Satellite Of Love', except that to fully appreciate this live Zoo-TV jam, you'd probably have needed to be there.
On now to the downright indefensible. The idea of getting Liam O'Maonlai to accompany His Rolfness on 'Two Little Boys' probably seemed a right old wheeze when it was conceived down the pub but the unbearably earnest end product is no laughing matter. Ditto Blur's turgid update of 'Oliver's Army' which even your average elavator would reject as being too bland.
Overall though, if the goal of this album is to provide food for thought, you're in for a veritable haut cuisine pig-out.