A couple weeks back I skipped
guitar practice to watch the Bruins play the Penguins and we lost. I blamed the vengeful Gods of Guitar Practice.
Tonight I skipped most of the
Bruins/Habs game to go to guitar lessons.
Sadly, we still lost, but I can’t blame the Gods of Guitar
Practice. Instead I’ll fall back on the
time-honoured tradition of blaming the officiating and bad luck. Damn I hate the Montreal Canadiens.
Disc 498 is… Sunshine on Leith
Artist: The
Proclaimers
Year of Release: 1988
What’s up with the Cover? The Reid brothers look out on urban Scotland, and
give us a backside view of their eighties jeans. It was not a good decade for jeans.
How I Came To Know It: I first heard these guys when I was going to
university in the late eighties. They
were pretty big on campus for a couple of years. I bought this CD very early on and I’ve had
it in my collection for over twenty years now.
How It Stacks Up: I only have two Proclaimers albums; this one and
“This Is The Story” which I reviewed back at Disc 363 (also the day after
I got my last tattoo – January 29, 2012).
Of the two albums, I prefer “Sunshine on Leith.”
Rating: 4 stars.
When you
proclaim something you do more than tell someone, you lay it down like it is
some kind of gospel, and that’s how this record by the Proclaimers comes across
– big, brash and unapologetic.
The boys
play their acoustic guitars loud and they sing brazenly on top of it, mixing in
love and politics in equal measure. I
can’t decide if they are the male version of the Indigo Girls or the Scottish version
of Billy Bragg.
Like
their previous release, the politics once again strongly reference Scottish
nationalism. Songs like “Cap In Hand” are pointed, but more
directed at Scottish complacency than at any foreign power. In places it sounds like they’re channeling Sean
Connery on a bad night, but I still love this song. It feels like a soccer chant and a picket
slogan wrapped up into one guitar strumming package of protest folk.
More
thoughtful, and heart wrenching is “What
Do You Do” which paints the distressing picture of what it is like to be a
majority community, but to feel like a minority within a larger confederation:
“What do you do
When Democracy’s all through
What do you do
When minority means you?”
It is a
longstanding political question the world over, with no perfect answer. Fortunately, we don’t solve political
questions on “A Creative Maelstrom,” we discuss music. Huzzah!
On that note, it should be mentioned The Proclaimers aren’t always dour
and politically combative. For example, “It’s Saturday Night” is a funny song about
a bender that sounds like it could’ve been a country and western hit in the
fifties except for updated activities like this:
“So let me walk straight, don’t
let me feel pain
I’m gonna scratch cars, with my
keys again.”
The lyrics
say “Sex Pistols” but the tune says “Hank Williams” and the American country
influences don’t stop there. Considering
how long I’ve owned this album and how many times I’ve listened to it, I was
more than a little embarrassed to only now notice that “My Old Friend the Blues” is a remake of the Steve Earle song
recorded for his album “Guitar Town” two years earlier. Major kudos to the Proclaimers for remaking
one of my all-time favourite artists. I
particularly like the guitar playing on the Proclaimers version, and the
harmonies of the twin brothers are on fine display. That said, overall I still prefer the sadder,
more introspective Steve Earle version. With
the exception of the brilliant guitar work, the remake is just a little too
stilted and by rote.
Of
course, this album can’t be discussed without noting the huge song that
propelled them briefly to international stardom – three times. “I’m
Gonna Be” was a fairly big hit when the album came out in 1988, and then even
more son when it was rediscovered first in the 1993 romantic film “Benny and
Joon” and then again in 2001 for “Shrek.”
So every
decade, “I’m Gonna Be” got massive
radio play, to the point where this otherwise very good song may be terminally overexposed.
It is a damned shame, because it was
never a bad song, but I still wanted to skip it (and “I’m On My Way” as well, which isn’t far behind in terms of overplay).
For good
or ill, Odyssey rules preclude skipping songs – a full listen, monkey! I dutifully complied and found myself
begrudgingly enjoying the song yet another time despite my fervent wishes to
the contrary.
The
biggest disappointment of “Sunshine on Leith” is that it is universally
remembered for these two latterly mentioned tracks, which while OK are at best
middle of the pack compared to some of the lesser known gems on this balanced
and musically stimulating folk record.
To know
more about some of those other songs, all you would have had to do was pay
attention but in case you haven’t, just check out the next section of this
entry.
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