Rainstorm blues

An ambient mix with a lot of history behind it and very little in the way of summer vibes.

 

Track	Artist	Title	Label	Year
1	Cabeza de Vaca	Leaving Rupert Street April 2003	Dullsville Trax	2003
2	Vangelis	Blade Runner blues	EastWest	1982
3	Francis Harris	Fangerdream (original mix)	Scissors and Thread	2014
4	Flying Saucer Attack	Rainstorm blues	Domino	1994
5	The Jesus and Mary Chain	F hole	Blanco y Negro	1987
6	Lou Reed	Berlin	RCA Victor	1973
7	Surgeon	Not two	Dynamic Tension Records	2011
8	Swans	Nathalie Neal	Young Gods	2014
9	Donato Dozzy	Il Canto Della Maga	Stroboscopic Artefacts	2014
10	Nesta Kerin Crain	Gongs in the rain	Light in the Attic	2013
11	The Cure	Plainsong	Fiction Records	1989
12	Deaf Center	Thunder night	Type	2005
13	Alice Damon	Waterfall Wind	Light in the Attic	2013
14	Burial	Night bus (+ Gutted)	Hyperdub	2006
15	Fennesz + Sakamoto	Trace	Touch	2007
16	ASC	Washed away over time	Silent Season	2013
17	William Basinski	Disintegration loop d|lp 2.2	2062	2002
18	Flying Saucer Attack	For silence	Domino	1994
19	Faust	Meadow meal	Polydor	1971
20	Bohren and Der Club of Gore	Dead end angels	Wonder	2000

Shining the light on Spiritualized

Since the break-up of Spacemen 3 in 1991, the two main protagonists, Pete “Sonic Boom” Kember and Jason “Spaceman” Pierce have gone on to wildly different things with quite different degrees of success. Sonic Boom has quietly droned away as the prolific and ambient Experimental Audio Research (EAR) and his less visited, but highly loved pop alias Spectrum (who's first album has just been re-released on vinyl alongide the Sonic Boom "Spectrum" album). Yet somehow Kember feels confined to the outskirts of indie-dom and the more academic circles of experimental music.

Spiritualized on the other hand, have engrained themselves into British music history, releasing either one or two classical albums (depending on your point of view), headlined festivals and the Royal Albert Hall and still make the papers whenever there is some news. Pierce is thus a legend, although at times his music has been questionable, whereas the more consistent Kember is frequently overlooked.

There are some parallels to be made with another British song writing power house, John Lennon and Paul McCartney. In the final days of The Beatles, McCartney was praised for his championing of experimentalism, like allowing William S. Burroughs to use the Abbey Road studios, and yet went on to produce a whole lot of dross for many years as if he had learned nothing.

Meanwhile, Lennon was holed up at home, drugged out and wondering where to go. In the process of finding out, he made several influential and enduring albums, as well as a lot of dross, before his untimely end. The enduring reputation of the two men, like Kember and Pierce is starkly different. The key word here is obviously “enduring”, that might also be defined here as “the functional myth of something”.

(This song even has many similarities to a lot of Spiritualized tracks)

McCartney of course bears some resemblance to Pierce who, despite all the posturing and the occasional brilliant track, has largely underwhelmed on disc recently, whereas Kember might not have a cemented classic in his solo discography, but he nonetheless has accumulated an unshakeable respect and his discography is less accessible, but nonetheless consistent. It’s a shame that commercial success doesn’t always mean credibility.

The problem for Spiritualized is really their supposed classic “Ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space” (1997). While a fantastic album it nonetheless only served to roust Pierce into a corner from which he is still trying to escape: each album since then has, at worst, copied from the template (in particular the hit and miss follow-up “Let it come down”), or at least cherry picked from the same musical and lyrical ideas. But “Ladies and gentlemen…” ’s other problem is that it is also not a perfect album musically. It’s classic status comes from its importance to the moment it was released: a Britain savouring the first post-Tory days with Blair’s New Labour government as well as the thrum of being “Cool Britannia”  with both Brit-pop and the now infamous Sensation exhibition conquering the world. The album’s packaging both acknowledged this, in particularly the work of enfant terrible Damian Hirst who around the same time as the album release opened his chemist shop-inspired bar The Pharmacy in London’s en vogue Notting Hill, based on a 1992 work. But the second half of the album suffers somewhat from a lack of ”endurability” in songs and form, even while the sentiment and lyrics occasionally still run rich with Pierce’s sincerity. Without the epic “Cop shoot cop”, still probably Pierce’s best solo song, the album would easily fade away.

Indeed, the sincerity that made “Ladies and gentlemen…” so famous became the most obvious tripping point in the subsequent albums, with lyrics lacking poignancy as they searched for that same, intimate revelation, but often ended up sounding corny and, with time, repeated, thereby dulling the meaning. Musically as well, Pierce seemed to be struggling for direction, trying to rough things up on “Amazing Grace” for example, while playing stripped down as “acoustic mainlines”, or losing the once ubiquitous gospel choir. Even the artwork has become a little resurrected, with the stark green lettering of “Songs in A&E” very reminiscent of the new “Huh?” cover, or the inner photo of the bloody-nosed pierce resembling the pasty portraits of “Amazing Grace”. Finally, even the stories of ill health and near death start to sound weary. Pierce recorded the recent album in difficult circumstances, undergoing experimental drug treatment for a serious liver condition. The drug company Roche is even credited with thanks, alongside Haribo, presumably for his daughter Poppy who is also credited on two tracks. “Songs in A&E” was famously preceded with the story of Pierce literally dying of double pneumonia with his partner and daughter by his side while there is almost no point in mentioning the broken heart that inspired “Ladies and gentlemen…”. But go back to “Let it come down” and Pierce was bemoaning fake internet stories that said he had lost all feeling in his legs that, retrospectively, doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

But my argument is that “Sweet light, sweet heart” is one of the best Spiritualized albums for a long time, by both default and merit, but also that Spiritualized’s debut “Lazer guided melodies” is more of a classic than “Ladies and gentlemen…”. Not only is it genuinely psychedelic, unlike much of the new material, despite the frequent drug references, but it has more expressive song writing and Pierce’s exceptional level of detail in the production. Just as importantly it is sincere and fallible. One feels and relates to the uncertainty of the world that Pierce describes and transmits, perhaps inspired by the breakup of Spacemen 3? In particular the C-side double of “Take your time” and “Shine a light” are perhaps the only true rivals to “Cop shoot cop” in intensity and perfection. Live versions delivered on the records potency while the rest of the album is just as perfect, as are the many singles that accompanied it at the time and eventually became the compilation-like "Pure phase".

(This live version of "Shine a light" that becomes the extended jam "Clear light/clear rush" is one of the other pinnacles of Spiritualized's output from the "Fucked up inside" live album).

The new album works better than predecessors by sounding a bit more earnest lyrically and musically. Sure, Pierce is still copying and pasting from old material, like the lyric “I got two arms that hold you but no mind for the road” from “Freedom” which recalls “I’ve got two little arms to hold on tight and want to take you higher” from “Soul on Fire”. What makes the difference here is the use of more 3^rd person narratives whereby Jason becomes the observer and recorder of events, a bard, like a less dramatic Lou Reed. As well as the homage to Reed in the title, there are some Reed-like tributes to women like the lovely lead single “Hey Jane” and “Mary”, whereas the excellent “Headin for the top” and the aforementioned  “Hey Jane” have voluminous lyrics by Pierce’s standards.

The change in lyrical style may be due to age or being a father and thus the need to have a certain distance from the often seedy and/or spiritual subject matter. That said, Poppy does sing on several tracks including some weird lyrics on the closing “So long you pretty things”.

Curiously, the title and sound pays homage to the David Bowie track “Oh! You pretty things” from “Hunky Dory”

This is not the first Bowie tribute in the music of Spiritualized. The main riff from “Come together” is an homage of sorts to the finale of “Rock n roll suicide” from the “Ziggy Stardust” album.

One of the interesting features of this video is the lyric “Little Johnny’s all messed up”, sanitized for radio friendly air-play from the original “Little Johnny’s sad and fucked” that appeared on the slightly longer album version. Not the first time Pierce, or indeed Spacemen 3 censored lyrics. “Walking with Jesus” once sported the lyric “I can’t stand this life without sweet heroin”, occasionally sung live, against the official version of “I can’t stand this life without all of these things” from "The Perfect Prescription". Strange that such confrontational groups would see the need to tone their language down. At least in the "Walking with Jesus" case, the censored lyric has more universal interpretation.

(lyric around 2:30 in this demo version. Note the sound is also very reminiscent of The Cramps, one of Kember’s favourite bands at the time).

But while “Sweet light, sweet heart” is a good album, it still is not quite one that seems like it will endure like some of its predecessors. The trippyness of the third vinyl side, in particular the excellent “I am what I am”, gives way to an okay country and western finish, but one laced with far too many (more) lyrics about Jesus. Having been so close to death so many times, and so close to life with his family, you can forgive Pierce for the searching, but slightly redundant questions about the meaning of life and the need for salvation, but a little bit more diversity is needed to elevate the album to the next level. But the overall feeling is one of gladness to have Jason home and well again, but still hoping that he will get better still and make at least one more classic before he finally does go walking with Jesus.

Recent gigs – In-Edit : Festival Internacional de Cine Documental Musical de Barcelona

Not quite a gig in the usual sense, but close enough. Now in its 9^th year in Barcelona, the annual Festival of Music Documentary Cinema feels as big a part of the festival circuit as Sonar, Primavera Sound, The Mercè and the Jazz Festival. The cues tell their own story: around the block half an hour before entry in the pouring rain. I didn’t attend a single session that didn’t seem full and that is saying something for big cinemas like the Aribau Multisalas that pack in plenty. The concept is addictive even for many who would be more passive “users” of music. With a subscription you can go to a session for as little as €4, so why not see something a little more periphery or go on a whim with a friend? As it happens, the festival seems to highlight just how fertile the music documentary field is, showcasing an extremely broad range of themes, styles and of course characters. Record companies looking for new revenue streams might think more carefully about this aspect of the business in the future.

Queen: Days of Our Lives (2011. Dir: Matt O’Casey)

This film actually started life as a two part BBC TV series in the UK and was spliced together to make a full length film. It is not the made-for-TV aspect as such that facilitates the rushed feel to the film, but rather the number of details that must be addressed in the allotted time. Aiming for the global view necessitates a certain amount of skimming across the surface and while fascinating, it all feels slightly superficial by the end. Perhaps if aiming for a cinema release or DVD they can afford to add in a few more minutes, because at times the film skips from myth to incident to anecdote without indulging details and in rapid fire succession. For example, in 1982 around the time of the “Hot Space” recordings in Munich, Freddie Mercury came under supposed “bad influences” but no more is said of this or the real impact. Albums and tours come and go. There is also the slight sense of bias since bass player John Deacon does not appear in the film, and at times the voices of Brian May (still the worst hair in music) and drummer Roger Taylor seem a little too cosy. Space for a little more analysis wouldn’t go astray. Nevertheless, some new footage for die-hard fans and a fascinating story for the neutrals makes it a great primer of the band.

Two highlights were seeing some of the videos for the solo work that the members did during their bad tempered hiatus in 1983. Brian May’s “Star Fleet Project” featuring Eddie van Halen is totally hilarious, the video somewhere between Battlestar Gallactica, Transformers and Thunderbirds all rolled into one.

Freddie Mercury’s solo career was marginally more successful, better when it was remixed as this 1992 version of his 1985 solo track “Living on my own” from the “Mr Bad Guy” album shows.

Tangent: Lost in translation.

All of the films shown at the festival are subtitled in Spanish. An unusual, but useful side of this is that they also translate the song lyrics into subtitles, when it does not interfere with dialogue. So you get Bowie singing “Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles, I'm feeling very still” coming up as “Aunque he pasado 160 000 kilometros, me siento muy tranquilo” with the joke being the imperial to metric conversion.

But there was also more trouble with Queen. How do you translate “We will rock you” into Spanish? I have seen the verb “to rock” conjugated as “rockear” and it does exist on the internet and was indeed used in one of the films I saw in a similar context. But “Os rockeraemos” or “vamos a rockearos” doesn´t sound right. The subtitle used was “Vamos a estremeceros”. Google translator would interpret this as “Let’s shake” bizarrely, but a more literal translation would be “We will shake you”. I asked my work colleague today how he would translate the phrase and he replied “But what does rock you mean?” He suggested another possibility which is “Vamos a sacudiros” which is a similar verb to “estremecer”, to shake, but with more connotations of physically violence.

Returning to the previous post of La Balanguera: I cut the original poem at four lines, but after discussing with my colleagues in a similar vein of translation issues of rock lyrics I thought it worth to expand on that. The entire first verse is:

“La Balanguera misteriosa,

com una aranya d'art subtil,

buida que buida sa filosa,

de nostra vida treu lo fil.

Com una parca bé caviŀla

teixint la tela per demà

La Balanguera fila, fila,

la Balanguera filarà.”

The full translation would then be:

“The mysterious Balanguera

Like a spider of subtle art,

Emptying to empty her wheel,

Removing the thread from our lives.

Like a brooding Parca

Weaving the fabric for tomorrow.

Spin, Balangura, spin.

The Balanguera will spin on.”

The fascination here is Parca, which in modern Spanish would also be as in English, a parker jacket, but actually refers to the Parcae, the three women of fate. As Wikipedia puts it “They controlled the metaphorical thread of life of every mortal and immortal from birth to death. Even the gods feared the Parcae.” The three are (from Wikipedia):

Nona (Greek equivalent Clotho), who spun the thread of life from her distaff onto her spindle

Decima (Greek Lachesis), who measured the thread of life with her rod;

Morta (Greek Atropos), who cut the thread of life and chose the manner of a person's death.

Note also the mathematical aspect to the names.

 

Not surprisingly given the description, one can also literally and figuratively substitute “Parca” with the Grim Reaper. The emphasis here is also on “distaff” which is also the literal translation of the Mallorquin word “filosa” in the third stanza ("rueca" or “wheel” in Spanish). While distaff would have been the most accurate selection, “loom” has a much more visual context in English, like “rueca” does in Spanish. Besides, who really knows what a distaff is these days anyway, whereas a loom at least comes to mind?

The Parcae are clearly identifiable with the three witches or three fates of Macbeth:

“I will drain him dry as hay:

Sleep shall neither night nor day

Hang upon his pent-house lid;

He shall live a man forbid:”

Here in Roman Polanski’s version of the opening scene starting at 1:10.

Macbeth forever struggles for his goodness and will to power, only to lament at the end “I bear a charmed life, which must not yield/To one of woman born”, but all too late. The emphasis on fate is played out throughout the tragedy whereas in Hamlet for instance, the ghost plays a different more eternal role. Macbeth’s refrain at the end seems to highlight is acceptance of outside influence, of the Parcae reclaiming his thread, and he is never drawn to Hamlet’s existential queries nor concerned with the haunting within. Akira Kurosawa reinterprets the three witches as a single entity in his samurai adaptation of Macbeth, “Throne of Blood” from 1957 with Toshiro Mifuni as the ill-fated Macbeth character Taketoki Washizu. Here the witch symbolically uses a loom (but not a distaff) to maintain the connection.

High on hope (2009; Dir: Piers Sanderson)

They call it acid (2009; Dir: Gordon Mason)

Piers Sanderson’s film of Blackburn warehouse parties won a prize at last year’s festival and for this reason was shown again this year where it worked well alongside Gordon Mason’s “They call it acid. The latter’s global view and galaxy of celebrity interviewees (narrated by none other than Robert Owens) complemented the more local and down to earth reality and characters of “High on hope” and yet both champion the same history.

“They call it acid” opens the story in Chicago, Detroit and New York, with only a teasingly short insight into the local cultures that fractured the original homogenous electronic disco sound into its three first schools of style. The story here is not the music anyway, but the culture surrounding it. The gay black and Latino discos of the US become the warehouses and clubs of England via their most tropical seed in Ibiza in the late 80s. There is a tip of the hat to Manchester’s Haçienda and far too much interview time with Noel Gallagher, while the Blackburn parties are mentioned in passing.

Sanderson film works then like a budding off of the main story, where the parties and the planning are shown in detail, courtesy of the archival footage of Preston Bob. The highlight of the film comes in the middle. Tommy and his colleagues describe how it all worked: finding the venue, heading off as both decoy and convey, breaking in, connecting the power, setting up the decks and letting in as many as possible before the police came so they couldn’t close it down. The frenzy of images and the clear enthusiasm from the various narrators as they retell their version of the story builds to a crescendo. Suddenly the lights drop and the music kicks in with Age of Love (I think). The collective sigh in the cinema was almost as big as it was in Blackburn up on screen. “They call it acid” then ends the show with the Freedom to Party demonstration in London, January 1990 as Margaret Thatcher’s years were coming to a close.

Age of love: proto-trance from 1990

Hardcore Uproar’s 1990 track “High on hope” features a sample of an angry Tommy saying “I’m not on anything I’m high on hope” in response to a mindless and obviously socially primed TV commentator during a live debate on the phenomenon back in the day.

The importance of both films is their reinforcing of the strong cultural significance at the roots of acid house and also the precursor sounds in the US and what it meant for minority people of race and sexuality. Tommy in “High on hope” in particular seemed hell bent on a revolution which in some ways bore fruit, although perhaps not as he expected it. But the importance is the climate of the time, with poor economy, unemployment and repressive social tactics from the government. There are several parallels that could be made with the recent “Indignado” movements in Spain, and similar protests elsewhere, including the protests against the London Stock Exchange  and the blockade of the Port of Oakland and the Stock Exchange on Wall Street.

Of related interest are two recent or upcoming releases. First up is Strut Music’s collection of dance remixes and assorted 12” obscurities from the Factory label called “Fac. Dance”. While historically interesting and collecting together some legends of the time, the collection somehow misses its own point. The dance in the title is the biggest problem. Many of the tracks here are arguably not entirely dance floor, like X-O-Dus’s 100% dynamite reggae track “See them a’come”. The following track is The Durutti Column’s dreamy “For Belgian Friends” which is more come down or wake up than “dance”. The confusion is compounded by the liner notes which say in the opening line “This is the story of how Factory Records shook off post-punk sobriety and found its dancing feet” as if you were about to enter an electronic compilation. And after listening to Section 25’s staggering opening, the megamix of “Looking from a hilltop”, you wouldn’t be a surprised if it was. That most of the compilation is actually “sober” post-punk funk or fringe dance floor then feels slightly strange, especially after reading the veiled barbs against this type of music in the notes. Royal Family and the Poor’s “Art On” is one of the better examples of this, with its toxic cut-up poetry intoned monotonously over funk bass and distance drum machine. Conceptually not clear, but a great collection of diverse tracks.

This year I have been a bit anti to the retro house craze that seemed endemic at times (see a great pair of recent posts  by Josh Meggitt on his blog about the interpretation of house in 2011). Not least when Steve Bug made a Resident Advisor podcast  in May (Mick Huckaby’s mix soon after wasn’t quite as bad). Before delivering a set of retro house Steve Bug (SB) had this to say:

“RA: Is house music revivalism here to stay?

SB: I don't know, it is around since a while now and it seems to become bigger, but usually every little hype is over after some time. The good thing about this is that these are the roots and somehow they will always be a part of modern dance music. Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

Steve Bug’s Poker Flat label will release a follow up to “Forward to the past”, called “Forward To The Past 2 - The Acid Flashback”. As the name suggests, the new volume pays tribute to Acid House whereas the first volume was a tribute album of sorts to Chicago house. Despite the derivative concept, the results are actually pleasing.

Various Artists - Forward To The Past 2.1 - The Acid Flashback by Poker Flat Recordings

Cracked Actor (1974; Dir: Alan Yentob)

The Sacred Triangle (Bowie, Iggy and Lou 1971-1973) (2010; Dir: Alec Lindsell)

Famed Bowie documentary “Cracked actor” also started life as a BBC TV show and captures the actor between the under recorded “Diamond Dogs” tour and the plastic soul of “Young Americans”. Bowie is clearly paranoid and suffering from cocaine-fuelled delusions and over work, being little more than a well-dressed bag of bones. The infamous scenes in the back of his limousine as Bowie was driven around LA and the US were a direct inspiration for Nicolas Roeg’s film “The man who fell to earth” that stared Bowie and even his driver as they sought to recreate the same alienation (see the mythical scene of Bowie high and drinking low fat milk starting around 4:30 in the video below). Apart from the uncomfortable proximity to Bowie that the film offers, the footage affords an impressive comparison between the Ziggy Stardust years and his newest stage incarnation which are remarkably different in visual aspect, but also in how they add layers of interpretation to the music.

"The Sacred Triangle" is potentially a critical film for fans of music as its subject is one of the most important stories of cross-influences and cataclysm in modern music. However, Alan Yentob’s film is somehow too starstruck and reverential to deliver a compelling argument and several conceptual leaps are not addressed at all. The focus of the film is essentially David Bowie, which is historically true as he was the centre of the relationship as, in the end, Lou Reed and Iggy Pop had precious little to do with each other. However, Bowie is made to look a mere copyist, incorporating The Velvet Underground’s street lyricism and Iggy Pop’s savage stage presence into his Ziggy Stardust character. But the reverse influence of Bowie on Reed and Pop is poorly addressed. For example, while Bowie’s and Spiders From Mar’s guitarist Mick Ronson are shown correctly to play a big role in the production of Lou Reed’s “Transformer” album, there is little mention of Reed’s somewhat discomfort at adopting glam’s tropes of eyeliner and bisexuality during this period.

Mick Rock’s famous album cover (and the related shot of the hammed up “Rock n Roll animal” live album) come from somewhere. Similarly, the cover of the Stooges "Raw Power" was shot at the same time in the same style. Bowie’s influence on Pop, who seems rather peripheral to the film at times, is left at his mix of “Raw Power” with no critical comment about its merits versus the final mix and, more surprisingly, there is no follow up to the Berlin period where Pop and Bowie worked so closely together. Moreover, Yentob’s reluctance to enter into this later period leaves Bowie seeming to be the imitator as his most influential and original albums per se are from this period and not from the two years addressed in the film. Worse is the short shift shown to Marc Bolan who could easily replace Iggy in the title since his rivalry with and influence on Bowie during the same period was critical. Finally, the film presents the often told story of Bowie being the first in the UK to hear the Velvet Underground’s first album and immediately copy its influence, most notably in the track “Little Toy Soldier” which literally lifts lines from Reed’s “Venus in furs”. But surprisingly, during all the talk of Reed, Warhol and the Factory influence on Bowie’s early work, there is never once use of his track “Andy Warhol” from “Hunky Dory”. One last criticism which is unlikely to be the fault of the director, but rather the triumvirate of stars, is that none of the three are newly interviewed for the film and only appear in archival footage. The narration and storytelling is left to knowledgeable journalists and managers which limits the primary source material of the film.

The Ballad of Genesis and Lady Jaye (2010; Dir: Marie Losier)

This biographical film is at face value a simple love story between Throbbing Gristle’s Genesis P Orridge and Lady Jaye (Jacqueline Breyer) as they attempt to become each other physically through surgery and performance. But once the film is over and the images and the ideas start to coalesce inside it becomes something more than the sum of its parts. The story telling has a lot to do with this. There is little recourse to names and dates and the whole story could be days or weeks when in fact is years. Sound from one scene is often overlaid with alternative scenes to create a sense of disorientation as a composite memory is generated. While the focus is on Genesis, Lady Jaye becomes more mysterious and mystical by her absence. Her death in the end almost elevates her to the status of phantom or spirit as well as muse and lover. The genius of the film is however, its tender portrayal of what are potentially brutal events: scenes of COUM Transmission shows become the violent force of TG live and then the intensity of elective cosmetic surgery. Add on to this buried ideas of pandrogyny, sexual fetishism and the potential stigma of social prejudice and it is a miracle at all that Losier is so easily able to suggest a path for your intuitions to so freely embrace all the possibilities proffered in the film

Miles Davis: A different kind of blue (2004; Dir: Murray Lerner).

Murray Lerner’s celebrated footage of the 1970 Isle of Wight Festival was the focus of the homage section of the festival this year. I only saw the concert footage of the famed Miles Davis show given on August 29^th 1970, but also on offer was The Who, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan and Jimmy Hendrix as well as the festival overview “Message to Love”. What makes “A different kind of Blue” stand out is that the concert footage of around 40 minutes has essentially been doubled with archival and contemporary interview footage from all the players from the show and the different groups Miles used at the time. The story is fascinating and shows again the creative genius of Miles as well as the deeply ingrained prejudism against change inherent in jazz critics at the time, especially Stanley Crouch. Indeed, parallels should be made to the same problems facing Dylan at the time and Joni Mitchell is shown on stage earlier during the Isle of Wight festival remonstrating with the audience for their reluctance to embrace the new electric sound. “Isle of Wight is a masterpiece” says guitarist Carols Santana and indeed it is.

Check around 2 mins for percussionist Airto Moreira’s humorous and impressive homage to Miles Davis.