Burning for the ancient heavenly connection.
It only seems right to start this music blog by writing a piece about my all-time favourite album. Howl.
It’s the band’s third album. Before it, they released a debut self-titled album (which might also appear on Reindeer Armies one day) and its follow-up, Take Them On, On Your Own.
It was 2005. It was summer and I think it was a Saturday. I was in town and I had nothing to do. So I did what I always used to do when I was in this situation. I walked over to Fopp (my favourite record shop which has since closed down) and spent three hours wandering around - looking at everything (and I mean everything) the shop had to offer. Just when I was about to leave, I spotted what I thought was the greatest album cover I had ever seen. It was sitting in the ‘new releases’ section by the door. It stood out. Superbly simple with its Wild West font, eye-wateringly menacing in black and white. And what an amazing name for an album. (I later found out it’s an homage to Allen Ginsberg, and the Beat Generation of the 1950’s, of which I’m also a fan). I was drawn to it. It had been a long time since I’d listened to the motorcycle club, and I didn’t know anything about this album, but I bought it. If it sounded as perfect as it looked, it was going to be momentous.
It did.
I should probably say that I already had a soft spot for BRMC. The first gig I ever went to was a Black Rebel Motorcycle Club gig in London that my uncle took me to. He had previously taken my brother to see Stiff Little Fingers so he owed me one. Not really knowing much about music in those days (I was quite young - 14, I think), I picked the band with the best sounding name. I might have heard one or two of their singles; I certainly wasn’t expecting an epiphany or anything. The concert blew me away. It was a tiny venue. Smoke machines, backlit silhouettes, leather jackets, walls of distorted guitars. Raw energy. That was just after their second album. They were still a fast-paced, furious rock ‘n’ roll band back then. I bought both their records and listened to them endlessly. Especially the first. But I was constantly discovering new music and, after a while, I forgot about BRMC.
So it’s Saturday (maybe), I’ve gone home, put my headphones on and I start to listen. It was honestly as if lightening struck me. This wasn’t the motorcycle club I knew. The first song (‘Shuffle Your Feet’) had an a cappella gospel intro, followed by bluesy acoustic guitars, stamping and hand-clapping. It sounded as if it was recorded in the early 60’s. There was even harmonica. And only brief flashes of electric guitar - an instrument that Black Rebel had previously completely relied upon for their sound. The once angry, anarchic BRMC, obsessed with psychedelic distortion, had turned americana. This was as shocking for me (and I’m sure for most other fans of the band) as Dylan going electric was to people in 1966. Only this was the exact opposite.
It was the first album I listened to from start to finish, without skipping a track.
And from the opening song, it just got better and better. ‘Shuffle Your Feet”s messy, playful recording with people laughing and talking in the background, is followed by a contradiction: the title track ‘Howl’ - a sharp, haunting epic, that opens with the surprising choice of electric organ and timpani drums.
The album is a beautifully strange mixture of blues, country and gospel. It’s as if the band have climbed onto a freight train with only their acoustic guitars and the leather jackets on their backs, and you’re with them, speeding across an ancient America in the dead of night.
In this one album, you can hear the complete musical history of early twentieth century America: Robert Johnson, Johnny Cash, Sam Cooke and, of course, Bob Dylan.
The standout track for me is ‘Promise’ - a lyrically brilliant, piano-led, mournful song that references my favourite W.B. Yeats poem. For me, this is BRMC at their best; meticulous instrumentation, heartbreaking harmonies and a satisfyingly grand ending, complete with brass band.
I could probably write a dissertation on this album, but that would be crazy, and besides, you need to listen to it yourself. So I’ll stop. BRMC have since released the excellent album, Baby 81 - A synthesis of the first three records, blending dirty rock ‘n’ roll with a softer, more soulful sound.
Howl.
A refreshingly original album from a simply brilliant band.
P.S. If you like the sound of Howl, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club released The Howl Sessions shortly after - an equally brilliant EP made up of unreleased tracks from the album. It’s home to one of my favourite BRMC songs ever, ‘Mercy’.
