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The Crybabys |
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| They rehearsed (must've done, at least a little bit), and signed to a notoriously shit label that screwed the poor barstads over, but did put out this classic album, one of the best. Ever. Chock full to the brim, nay overflowing, with champagne sparkly springy songs that have the humorous, good-naturedly self deprecating tongue in cheek lyricism of a lot of great (and, sadly too little in actuality) Rock'n'Roll, blues, country...etc etc music, coupled simultaneously with a smudged mascara smattering of sadness and regret. And boy, do they straddle this border with the expertise of a top dollar cocktail maker, from good time goofy Rock'n'Roll to rhinestone resplendent countryesque melancholy. A lot of people don't seem to follow that line, it seems to befuddle them, which in turn befuddles me. Makes sense to me. But there we go again I guess. F'rinstance, on eponymous opener great lines just ooze out like puke from a kid drunk for the first or second time: |
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"Cold outside, it looks like rain, to make matters worse,
I missed me last train, there I was thinking she'd show me a bed, to my
surprise got shown the door instead..." and hell, I'm warming to this
theme, "She said she wants a feller with a GTi, filofaxed up, y'know the
kinda guy, she made it quite clear it was plain to see, there's no place
here for a rocker like me". Hey, so I can relate, but it's brilliant,
especially the line about "Girls like me dear old mum never stopped me
having fun". See, this album is a corker for great one-liners, all sang
with a Steve Marriott grin, sipping a drink with a sly wink, dragging on a
smoke, shrugging half-heartedly and world wearily, whilst
effortlessly wheezing out staggeringly well written tunes. And to flip the old coin over, about half way through, you come across the majestic splendour of "Remember To Forget", a tear in yer beer weepy if ever there was one (see also Quireboys piece and "Take Me Home") yet it's also suffused with a healthy splash of bittersweet humour going from the start off point in the boozer "Outside the window I can see sunny shiny day..." to, at the songs finale, "Outside the window I can see....noffink at awlll", him trying to talk the lassie in question round but what he's gonna say is risky "After so much beer and whisky". A truly wistfully insistent heartache song saying 'let that other idiot go', erm, 'so you can come and sit in the battlecruiser with lil ol wine drinker me', backed up by dramatic and despondent flourishes of the old banjo that can bring a tear to your eye, and a choking in the old throat department, in themselves. Please, people, if any fuck is reading this and has never heard these boys, order a copy from Ian at www.changesone.co.uk and listen to this song. Now. Wheeew, got that off me chest, where were we? See, it's okay to talk about the goofy kinda lyrics that make you grin, and cheer you up, but you look around and there ain't that many folks that (can) do it, knocking out, "My friends say she's just bad news but she digs me shades and me platform shoes" ("Lovin' What's Left") and on the closing rawkus bar-room barrelhousing knees up Mother Brown in the old East End romp of "If You Leave Me Baby Can I Come Too" - a genius line in itself - "And before you pack your bags don't forget my Duty Free fags" through to "I promise not to drop one in bed, I'll do it in me coffee instead". And then my whole point is on this last song, with the guitar solo descending (or should that be ascending?) into double-tracked crescendo so it resembles nothing more than a mini "Free Bird", cept faster. A lot faster. As with this song's title been a work of art, mirroring old country plays on words ("Pick Me Up On Your Way Down", which I believe may have been by Stonewall Jackson, for example, and of course, old Hank's "I'll Never get Out Of This World Alive") standing shoulder to shoulder with it having a cheeky swift slurp or two at the bar before popping home to the lass is "Go Go Girl" (as in "My Go Go Girl has gone") and the rather beautifully bizarre "You Don't Have To Wear Boots To Be A Cowboy (But You Gotta Leave Your Horse Outside)". Honest John effortlessly lives up to his appointed title in "This Is What We Want" by neatly summing up every rocker's lifetime wish - "Things to take so we need no sleep, scotch & coke & all the girls you can eat". I prefer my whiskies just on the rocks, but that's as close as dammit, y'know. Also his delightfully welcome un-PC "I don't wanna die in a nuclear look, I just want a pretty gurl - one that can cook". The boys also deal out the cards in handling times when you hope against hope, but you know deep down it'll come out in the end. Yup. "She Didn't Like Rock'n'Roll", sees her being offed, the confusion in the vocal leaving only one option. "It's time to take a walk baby there's the door". From the opening Ian Hunter drawl of "'Ow are ya?" to the closing "That's Awwll" (the man Hunter again), this first album really is a lost classic that makes me want to write to MOJO to inform them of their oversight in this department. In fact, I think I will. A veritable "X" in the spot of any record shop that is stocking it, that means ya'll have to go buy a copy and treasure what you find within forever, for like me it has me, and indeed old Maxie, it will keep you sane for years to come. Literally. |
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After a stinkingly shitty day the other day, The Crybaby's made me step out the front door a good deal lighter of heart and head, with a crooked smile on the old craggy sack of skin that we must call a face and a spring in the old step. An added spring besides me big fuck-off creepers (courtesy of Johny and Kaffy Skullknuckles at www.rockersengland.co.uk - shameless plug for ma chums). And isn't that what the greatest music should do? Everything about it positively reeks of greatness, oozes class and every chord and note is struck with a sure precision and deftness of touch. Not for nothing is the remarkable Mr Bath a very busy man, what with Sabre Jet, Dan Baird, Diamond Dogs, Ian Hunter, himself, and he's even playing with 70's folks Medicine Head of late (who I saw once on The Old Grey Whistle Test, I think it was, and was bored stupid, but maybe Darrell's taken it upon himself to liven them up a bit, eh?). Tis a shame I was 13/14 in 1991 when this came out and couldn't see them play, lest I ran away to London, which wasn't really on the cards, especially as at that time I'd not heard of them. That little pleasure was to come a year or so later, on a taped copy, I believe, before Max chanced upon it in the sale amongst, I dunno, Luther Vandross and Lionel Ritchie and company. |
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______________________________________________________________________________________ And onto the lost second album, that aforesaid record company dickheads didn't see fit to release (not good enuff??!"£$%^&*())"$%) is not a patch on the first album. But wait. That's not a slag off, that shows how horrifyingly, stutter-inducingly grandiloquent "...Good Girls..." is. Those darned titles again kick start the heart of things with "(Boo Hoo) I'm Not Your Crybaby" standing proud with the achingly great line "Cos it's the name of the band and not what I am to you" and my current top 10 smash "Don't You Ever (Cuz it Wouldn't Be Clever)", I mean, set your sights on this baby - "You can ride my bike, you can drive my car, and if you ask me nicely you can play on my guitar, but don't you ever let me catch you with my girl...you can use my razor, and my best cologne, play your stupid records when I wanna hear Ramones but dont...". Hell, the crazy cats even manage to sneak in a line mentioning Dandy's and Beanos - just hangs in there. Elsewhere the boys see fit to show The Stones, or perhaps Mick, sorry sir Mick, what they shoulda been up to in the late 70's, instead of largely sucking, by taking the muscular Keef crunch from embarrassing Jagger shit like "Summer Romance" and "Where The Boys All Go" (yeah, yeah, so I've got "Emotional Rescue", which is crud, I know, but it has got "She's So Cold" which for an anorak is interesting, as Tyla nicked it on "Girl In Black", and he also keifed Keef's title "All About You") and turning them into stunners like "Lil Miss Paradise". As an aside, these kinda tunes remind me of The Dirty Strangers, who, if you're unfamiliar, had Keef and Woody on their first album (that featured the classic "Bathing Belles") and had a similar boys out at the beach, on the pull and on the lash veneer that The 'Baby's had. All "Kiss Me Quick" shirts, traditional Blackpool cheeky postcards, fish and chips wrapped up in The Sun and a spot of spewing before starting all over again. There's a gorgeous tip of the cap to Mr. Thunders on "Sad Souvenir", a solesplit thought provoking intermission in the rampant ravages of the rest of the rekkid. It comes complete with a take off of Johnny's mainly inimitable guitar whine in the solo, which is a nice flourish. "Operator" will get you walking around singing to yerself for days on end, just like "Don't You Ever" will. To the point where you'll be walking down the street, at the supermarket checkout, hell, even getting intimate with the missus (perhaps), and you'll just have to sing it. It's that addicitve, and you won't wait till the old chap in the street's walked past, cos you can't stop yourself. There's not many tunes that do that. There's Royal Trux's "Waterpark", where I just have to yell out for no good reason whatsoever "And a place where you can get Tatttt-oOOOOOoosssssss". Gawd bless Jennifer Hermererramerramerramo or whatever she's called. ______________________________________________________________________________________ |
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| The Crybaby's did two other records, the "Rock on Sessions" which I don't have, so can't say much - well anything - about, and the recently released, (tho dating from the mid-90's) "Daily Misery", which is a fine, fine record, perhaps missing the 'certain something' that the French'd say at times, but which does include the rather touching and poignant "Joe's Song", which I can only assume is a nod to Honest John's kid or mate by the sounds of thangs (and being them still comes off being a cheery singalong). Ian Hunter's "Rock'n'Roll Heart" acknowledges the influence with yet another great line in "A million thanks to me dear old mum, saved the pennies in a jar...and bought an old banjo". The mournful "Forever's Gone" is about as down as these guys get when they're together. |
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"Staggering Lengths" is another in
the pantheon of great titles, there's a spirited dash through Dylan's
"I Want You", and Darrell's rather lovely "Marie Marie",
which has resounding echoes of Eddie Cochran's "Something Else"
in the wordage. _____________________________________________________________________________ Stoical, resolute, hard as nails, tender and caring, these timeless songs are quintessential Rock'n'Roll. They really are like what you always think in your heart of hearts what R'n'R sounds like, but never quite does. Indeed, by their own admission, "Probably the best Rock'n'Roll band in the world". I queried the website guy and sleevenote writer, who said that after The Crybaby's, Oasis came and filled the gap. With a big "Pardon?", early Oasis had the Les Paul bite, but I disagree with the statement that The Crybaby's play(ed) Oasis style music. If it helps shift a few CD's then good, but I fail to see a connection at all. Ultimately, what matters is that this is music that envelopes you. Sucks you in, leaves you dancing on your bed, with the repeat button activated. Yup, even at age 28. Walking down Withington high street in this dirty city that's become my adopted hometown blues, softly murmuring the lyrics to "Don't You Ever" or "Go Go Girl" and chuckling to meself, not giving a hoot if anyone notices, and then not noticing when people do notice and are thinking "What's that Ted guy doing. Is he mental?", "Fuck yeah, baby, I is. Mental for the life saving glories of this twang thang". You really have as good a time EVERY time you hear it that the boys musta done and one can only imagine the laughs and times these lucky, plucky and gifted fuckers had writing and recording these tunes together. Rabblerousing, carousing Rawk in all it's glory, a ragged red scarf to a guttergaunt old ram. Yessir. As T sayeth - "Put on your noo boots, and get yerself out on the town". Cam orn! And after all that, and 10/11 years gone, there are guys at the bar still wondering "Where Have All The Good Girls Gone?" Answers, alcohol, airfares and anchovies to themedicinebow@hotmail.com One day, we'll find out. Till then, hats raised and glasses tipped, fag burns and pink creepers. Further: Darrell Bath website ______________________________________________________________________________________ |
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Best of Order, Mr Stuie Rocka Woofer |
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First of all, I'm cheating a bit here, cos my mate
Max E Rave bought this
in the hot, hot summer-stoned, strange land of '93. My copy comes with the
recent double reissue jobby "What Kind of Rock'n'Roll", which has the lost
second album on it, but I'm a-gonna concentrate on the classic first album, so
there we go, explanation finished. 