Showing posts with label Verity Sharp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Verity Sharp. Show all posts

Thursday, 9 March 2017

On Radio 3 Late Junction, Annette Peacock makes claims for Candy Dulfer's playing

On Radio 3 Late Junction, Annette Peacock makes claims for Candy Dulfer's playing

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2016 (20 to 27 October)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)

8 March

On Radio 3 Late Junction from 11.00 p.m., during International Women's Day (8 March 2017), Annette Peacock makes claims for Candy Dulfer's playing (and, more surprisingly, about childcare¹ [last paragraph])

When, in one of the programme's signature seamless trio of tracks, Annette Peacock played 'Lily Was Here' [at 00:20 mins in, but maybe only for the next 30 days] on Radio 3 Late Junction (@BBCRadio3 #LateJunction) - on the same evening when Kerry Andrew gave us her mix-tape for International Women's Day (#InternationalWomensDay) - one straightaway recognized Dave Stewart with saxophonist Candy Dulfer...

Then, as Peacock spoke to presenter Fiona Talkington (@fionatalkington) and explained / justified her choices, she praised Dulfer, and made a few assertions [at around 23:00 mins in, available to listen to for the next 30 days] about the stature of Dulfer's playing. These were in the context of being asked to say what these three tracks were, which, as Talkington described it, Peacock had Not just chosen, but crafted together, and are transcribed here (and below¹) :

Well, of course, the first track was Diamanda Galás, and, uh, the second was ‘My mama never taught me how to cook’, by Annette Peacock. And, uh, Diamanda’s track, I think, was recorded in 1996, mine was… 19… 78. And the last one, Candy Dulfer, that was 1980, yeah.




I mean, the thing about Candy is that, you know, she’s just the embodiment of effortless joyous expression. She is a consummate musician – she was born to do this, you know. And every phrase is lyrical and definitive, and she is one of the great players on the instrument, beyond the equal of, you know, many of her male counterparts, I think.

You know, those three tracks were all, sort of, done in one take, you know, Diamanda’s, mine and Candy’s – just spontaneously, basically, they were recorded as a one-take sort of jam, basically. So you get that sort of realism when that’s happening, you know – it’s a different sort of approach to recording.

[To consider the matters raised in the above Tweets, the transcript is continued below¹, with comments².]


Yet are Peacock's comments especially borne out by this track by Dulfer, which we will all know - but need not, for that reason, think remarkable (please see below) - or which we may not even like all that much ? :


At the time, it then seemed best to Twitterate the question... :







In a way, one cannot disagree with what Candy Dulfer herself comments, except that :

 (a) The track was, at the time, a hit / it was in the charts

 (b) Which means that, love even what one does, might one still not wish to hear it, over and over, for weeks - or months ?

 (c) The danger with 'Lily Was Here' is that it had grounds to be immensely popular, and there is almost nothing not to like - even so, does the fact remain that something that is lacking reasons not to be liked is a subtly different matter from there being positive reasons to like it... ?




Could one contend, though, that Baker Street – cited on account of its own sax solo, by Raphael Ravenscroft – makes a bigger impact and statement ?



Unlike the Dave Stewart track, and Dulfer’s sax-playing, does Gerry Rafferty’s song, and the place of the solo within it, make a more persuasive case that we should actually approve of it, not disapprove of it ?




End-notes :

 ¹ Fiona T. : I’m so glad, Annette, that you chose ‘My mama never taught me how to cook’, because, uh, there are some absolutely great lines in there, which you deliver with, with such immaculate timing² – I think we’re all sitting there, going, I’m not big in the kitchen, I’m not big on cleaning, and we’re all, sort of, shouting, Yes, I completely agree with you ! Um, would it be OK to take that as a feminist anthem for us, even to-day ?

Annette P. : It is ! I’ve always thought of it as a feminist - I’m so delighted to hear you say that, ’cause that’s what I’ve always thought of it as. You know, My destiny’s not to serve. I’m a woman – my destiny is to create. (Laughs) We are the embodiment of the creative process aren’t we ?

Fiona T. : […] I guess, along with all of that, we ultimately, somehow or other, we do have to clean the kitchen and pick the children up from school, and, and, and balance things. And it’s all those things that make us so good at juggling… ?

Annette P. : That’s true, but I think men are better at those… things, like, you know. I mean, women are brilliant : if you can keep a kid alive to the age of five, you're a genius – so many things can go wrong. And women have a huge investment in, you know, the offspring surviving – much greater than men. But, once a child gets to be the age, you know, where they are self sufficient, in a way, then men can take over at that point. You know, it's a job, a kind of job that men are very suited for, you know : it's, like, disciplined and, you know, they're good at those kinds of things – more than women, I think.


² There are, indeed, some hilarious lines in the song [which can be heard here, on YouTube (@YouTube)], delivered equally hilariously (and not always sung as such, but – amongst other things – wailed, or squealed, or shrieked), which have words stressed, or distended for suggestive emphasis, and defy being taken literally (or seriously), for example :

 My mama never taught me how to cook
That’s why I am so skinny !


The succeeding part of the song, before the singer’s persona has left home and become involved with other men (as at the end of the second section next quoted, or in a line such as I wanna suck your honey), is again rendered with drawled emphasis :

 My mama never taught me how to cook
But my brother, now, my brother, he taught me how to eat
Daddy never taught me to suck seed
That’s why I’m so crazy, crazy, crazy

 And :

 Never had no one to believe in me,
Even though, you know, my brother gave me a head start
Even though, you know, my brother gave me a, a head start
And I’ve had men say ‘Hey, baby, your love is the greatest show on earth !’


However, the text now clearly speaks of incestuous oral sex, neither of which the song’s persona seems to regret, but rather cherish – which, when Talkington refers to ‘some absolutely great lines in there, which you deliver with, with such immaculate timing’, might be what we would more naturally think of than the lines that she quotes, which are relatively indistinct, and where wrily making ‘succeed’ sound like ‘suck seed’, or equally smuttily prolonging the word ‘head’, do not enter into it.

 Peacock is invited to endorse a view of ‘Mama never taught me how to cook’ as a feminist anthem¹, and does so. Both in the last paragraph quoted above¹ from the broadcast, and at this point, someone seems to be being disingenuous on International Women’s Day…




 Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)
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