EDWYN COLLINS
BADBEA
AED
H
SUZI QUATRO
NO CONTROL
STEAMHAMMER / SPVHHH
If you’ve seen 2014’s deeply
moving documentary, The
Possibilities Are Endless, you’ll
understand the struggles Edwyn
Collins faced following his two
2005 cerebral haemorrhages.
If you’ve looked at his
discography, though, you’ll
barely know they occurred.
Badbea’s the fourth album
he’s released since – though
admittedly 2007’s Home
Again was recorded before his
misfortunes began, and only
mixed 18 months afterwards
- and it’s tempting to let his
courage colour one’s reaction
to his music. But what Badbea
proves is that Collins doesn’t
need sympathy.
Though his voice may have
suffered, he’s also, quite apart
from a masterful melodicist,
a distinguished lyricist given
to expressions of understated,
succinct eloquence.
It’s All About You, which
opens the album in jovial
fashion – “The sun was a
bright bikini yellow/ The sky
was a Wedgwood Blue/
The mood was unspeakably
mellow” – appears first to
be a pledge to a lover, but
closer attention reveals it’s a
sly putdown of an unbearable
narcissist as he adds, “You
came and spoiled the view”.
Beauty, meanwhile – whose
quiet acoustics recall Mark
Knopfler’s work on Local Hero’s
soundtrack – is a pithy catalyst
for the kind of resolve he
himself has exhibited: “Don’t
despair/ Fight the fight/ Don’t
give up/ It’ll be alright”.
There are acknowledgements,
too, of his mortality on I Guess
We Were Young, whose
colourful mariachi flavours
embellish recollections of a
youthful relationship – “I was
wild and so was she/ I guess
we were young” – and on the
rubbery synth and sax shuffle
of Glasgow To London: “Now
I’m old, I must admit/ I couldn’t
give a fuck.”
With Tensions Rising’s
thrusting groove and howling
vocals, and, in contrast, the
title track’s ode to a deserted
village near his highlands
home, it’s clear: the possibilities
remain endless. WWSince quoting people out of
context is all the rage, let’s take
a line from Suzi Quatro’s 17th
album and wilfully misinterpret
it. “I’m a rolling stone,” she
claims on Going Home, but
obviously she’s not. For all the
records she’s sold – in excess
of 50 million – her profile’s
nothing like Mick Jagger’s.
But though she’s no longer a
household name, Quatro has
every reason to be celebrated.
A leather-clad bassist when
women, if allowed to rock
at all, were rarely permitted
to be more than decorative,
Quatro refused all record
company attempts to mould
her – whether into ‘the new
Janis Joplin’ or ‘the new Lulu’- and took the boys on at their
own game. For a while, too,
she succeeded. She’s also
maintained a witty sense of
self-awareness, whether playing
Leather Tuscadero in Happy
Days or affectionately mocking
Goldfrapp’s Strict Machine by
including elements of her own
notably similar Can The Can in
her cover version. Suzi Quatro
is, in other words, a badass.
The time’s ripe for a reminder.
No Control is that, but only
at times. It’s at its best when it’s
rawest: opener No Soul / No
Control sounds like Courtney
Love had she enjoyed cleaner
bathrooms, while Don’t Do
Me No Wrong is a dirty blues
jam whose two-note bass riff is
spruced up by rowdy blasts of
harmonica. The cartoon-esque
Heavy Duty, too, punches
above its weight, with a sax
solo Springsteen might admire,
while the closing Going Down
Blues suggests she’s not going
down without a fight.
Her self-awareness kicks in,
too, making even punier tracks
entertaining. Who else writes a
song called Macho Man, then
has it sound like Status Quo, or
another called Bass Line: “It’s
in the pocket, deep and low”.
As for making brass the
defining feature of Strings?
That’s the mark of someone who
knows just what they’re doing.
So, is Quatro like a rolling
stone? Nah: then she’d be “a
complete unknown”. We can’t
let that happen. WW