grumpyf1

Last year was rightly heralded as being a bad one for the music world, with numerous stars leaving us too soon. The chameleonic-genius that was David Bowie. The hugely talented, diminutive, star with just the one name – Prince. 80s pop-God with the amazing vocal range, George Michael. Each were individuals I admired and appreciated for their raw talent, their influence on others, and their contributions to my listening pleasure through the 1970s, ‘80s, and beyond. But the news this week that American rocker Tom Petty had died, as the age of 66, hit me harder than Bowie, Prince or Michael, or any of the other talented musicians and singers we’ve lost in recent times. Unless you count briefly landing there on the way to a holiday in Mexico, I’ve never been to the USA. I’m not specifically a fan of American music, but something about Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ songs struck a chord with me. At a point in my life when I couldn’t have been more into music unless I lived ins...

Sunglasses when it's dark? Check. Rock God? Check. Brace yourselves, I’ve got some shocking news. My faith in humanity has been restored. In London. That’s a lot to process, isn’t it? First off, I can reassure you that I haven’t been kidnapped and a cheerier, equally dashing, doppelganger parachuted in to replace me. It’s fair to point out that this may also be a fleeting version of me, destined to have evaporated like the mist on a sunny morning by the time you read this. But hey – I’m in a happy place for the time being. All thanks to a trip to Wembley Stadium last Saturday to see Jeff Lynne’s Electric Light Orchestra. I haven’t been there for 25 years... or ever, if you take into account the fact that it’s been replaced since I went to the Freddie Mercury Tribute concert in ’92. True, the day could have started better. As we approached Arnside station in the car, a train was rattling across the viaduct, accompanied by a dawning realisation that we’d got the departure t...

Theresa May has called a snap general election for June 8th. Please vote for me – I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear (it worked for Donald Trump). I’m a safe pair of hands, and will cut through the red tape and in-party bickering by running everything myself. I mean, how hard can it be? Sure, I’ll be busy, but there are quite a few jobs in government that seem pretty undefined a best. Lord Privy Seal? No idea. Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster? Aren’t other towns allowed one? And what do they do anyway? Is it something to do with that song “Pass the Duchy?” The Grumpy Party will be a voice for the disenfranchised (once I’ve worked out what ‘disenfranchised’ actually means). I’ve got a great slogan already for the campaign: “Vote Grenville – Grumpy is terrific!”, or, if you’re pushed for space, you can abbreviate that to “Grenville – GIT”. Catchy, no? If that isn’t convincing enough, let’s move on to my policies, which I’ve hastily scribbled on a toilet roll I borrowed...

Good things come to those who wait. And I had to wait more that 30 years to catch a musical hero doing his thing live. Was it worth it? Some time in the early 1980s, me and a couple of friends had cycled into the slightly rough end of a nearby town, and were zipping around a block of garages in a high-speed game of “tag” – we didn’t have mobile phones then, so we had to find other ways of entertaining ourselves. Around a corner was a vandalised car. Some cassette tapes were scattered around on the ground, shiny-brown contents blowing around like synthetic grass, broken free of their cases by cruel stamping. One of them was pretty much intact, with just a few feet of tape flapping in the breeze. On it was a swirly logo consisting of three letters: ELO. I sort of knew ELO – I’d heard their late 70s stuff as I started getting interested in music. The album was “Time”, and – dexterous use of a screwdriver, Stanley knife and slivers of sticky tape later - I had a working cassette,...

Rock!  Loud, vibrant, visceral, finger-on-the-pulse stuff, performed by angry young people with several chip shops on their shoulder. Yeah! Apparently not... You know you’re no longer riding the wave of popular culture when you realise that some of your favourite new-fangled CDs are significantly older than family members attending university. That, and time spent styling what’s left of your hair before a night out takes less time than shaving your ears. Just me then? Oh. Moving swiftly on, I seem to remember that pop music was pretty slick, syncopated, brilliant stuff, performed by beautiful young people who were so achingly cool they probably slept in fridges (but don’t try that at home, kids.) For me, rock royalty and perfect pop bestrode the late 70s and early 80s in a heady blur of big hair, glossy MTV videos, enormous gigs and record sales that today’s acts can only dream about - when they aren’t autotuning themselves or trying to out-shock each other for another in...

Hold on tight! This week sees the return of a man who is definitely a musical genius with a capital G. Don’t walk away – it isn’t strange magic... Jeff Lynne is back! Yes, the be-afro-ed one with the shades who bestrode the 70’s with orchestral rock of the highest calibre did apparently not turn to stone, or purchase a ticket to the moon, for this week sees the release of not one, but two albums, all over the world. Considering it’s 22 years since the ELO frontman/writer/guitarist/everything else too’s last solo outing, it’s true that this could cause some confusion. For a man heading into the twilight of his career, it’s an ambitious outing – “Long Wave” is an album of covers of songs from his youth, whilst “Mr Blue Sky” is a best-of... but re-recorded entirely by his Jeffness as - get this! – he wasn’t happy with the original versions. Don’t bring me down, Jeff – they were awesome. But I guess that’s the way life’s meant to be. If he wants the world to know “I’m alive”...

For those of a certain age (better know as middle-aged and grumpy), the name Jeff Lynne conjours up certain, youthful memories of catchy tunes, brilliant pop sensibilities, a white bloke with an afro, sunglasses and some high-quality use of strings in a rock band (as opposed to modern acts palling up with a symphony orchestra and poncing about being pretensious on stage). Ring a bell? No? He was in The Idle Race. And The Move. He pretty much WAS The Electric Light Orchestra (who incidently are, in a movable event based around my mood swings, often my favourite band). He has produced records by The Beatles (yes, The Beatles!), Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Regina Spektor, Dave Edmunds and a whole bunch of other folks and is soon to return with a new ELO album (bearing in mind he isn't exactly speedy at that process. Soon could be next decade.) Oh, and he was a member of 80's supergroup The Travelling Wilburys. Except, according to some dingbat in The W...