World Party – ‘Goodbye Jumbo’

Before the summer of 1990 I’d travelled abroad a bit. Jersey, Switzerland and Spain hardly made me a globetrotter, I was still selling tracksuits, cricket bats and using the gym far more than was good for my health. On a boy’s holiday in Spain where amigo Simon was working, we hatched a plan. Simon planted a seed. “Who fancies travelling?” he asked. “Me! Me! Me!” replied I. I paraphrase profusely, but a few months later we were off, and with us came our new favourite album, World Party’s Goodbye Jumbo.

We had a VW Camper, we had a van full of music, we had a map, Lenny Kravitz and The Who Maximum R&B t.shirts, and we were wearing sunglasses. But as we set off on a three-month trip across Europe it was Karl Wallinger’s sunshine, foresight and relentless positivity that were sending us on our way. Way Down Now highlights his Beatles obsession, with the eco aware, playful Lennon-esque lyrics and his love of the Stones with the glorious “woo woos”

“The clocks will all run backwards
All the sheep will have two heads
And Thursday night and Friday
Will be on Tuesday night instead.

And the times will keep on changing
And the movement will increase
And there’s something about the living, babe
That sends me off my feet.

There’s breeding in the sewers
And the rats are on their way
They’re clouding up the images of my perfect day.

And I know I’m not alone
And I know I’m not alone
And I know I’m not alone”

Karl Wallinger’s work with The Waterboys and World Party’s epic single Ship Of Fools had already shown his immense talent, but whilst Private Revolution showed some signs of brilliance, its follow up Goodbye Jumbo showed nothing but. He was another crazy talented maestro; a writer, performer and multi-instrumentalist whose influences glow throughout the music rather than define it. The album flows rhythmically, melodically and like our trip across western Europe, it brings back nothing but sunshine memories.

Goodbye Jumbo is perfect pop with faint psychedelia and large dollops of ‘60s folk. It’s hugely uplifting yet at its heart is the sublime and sorrowful story of love lost, And I Fell Back Alone, which despite its lament did nothing but add to the emotional ride. Put The Message In The Box, Show Me To The Top, Love Street and Sweet Soul Dream are luxurious and captivating, and just listening to Karl Wallinger just encourages smiles.

Mixtapes were our musical medium, with a splattering of essential albums and as we’d pull into campsites our music choice would accompany our arrival. We’d wind down the windows and treat our new neighbours to some Hendrix, Marley or Led Zep. Music was ever present. Some albums take you straight back to a time and place, and Goodbye Jumbo takes me straight back to our VW Camper and that joyful summer of 1990.

Elvis Costello – live at Glastonbury CND Festival 1987

I’ve been to the Glastonbury Festival twice, first in 1987 and again in 1990. 1987 brings back much better memories due to the music, the sheer excitement and the love I felt amongst 60,000 mud-soaked revellers, in particular my comrades and fellow peacenicks, Gary and Simon. The latter supplied the transport. A 2CV. A cool choice, even when being gang-pushed up a muddy hill upon exit. In ’87 it was still the Glastonbury CND Festival, by ’90 the acronym was dropped, and that year I have no magical musical memories, although I do remember the Happy Mondays being shit and our total festival hash fund being wasted (not in a good way) on day one. That lump of rubber looked so real!

It intermittently lashed down both years, but the mud was nothing compared to the memory of the gut-wrenching stench emanating from the trenched pits of piss and crap (see shit pic below). On the plus side, in ’87 we parked a few hundred metres directly in front of the Pyramid Stage, just because we could. I was yet to discover the magnificence of Van Morrison, so he passed me by, but I loved World Party’s album, Private Revolution. Karl Wallinger radiated much needed warmth and positivity, with Ship Of Fools sounding like a glorious stream of sunshine as the rain fell relentlessly. Julian Cope was at it too, aboard his climbing frame mic, rocking out World Shut Your Mouth, Trampolene and Teardrop’s Bouncing Babies.

toilets-glasto

So, Elvis Costello. We were fans. I owned Armed Forces and Get Happy and he was clearly an all round dude de force having produced The Specials’ iconic debut album. I played him plenty at Charivari and of all the acts playing at Glastonbury, he was the only one not to be missed. Here’s what I remember. He played solo, a mixture of classics and albums tracks, including a spine-tingling version of Shipbuilding. Mostly acoustic, never less than totally captivating he finished after about ninety minutes. A great gig, almost worthy of the entry money alone.

Encore one. Encore two. Encore three! A boombox assisted Pump It Up / Sign Of The Times mash-up. I’d have very happily walked away there. But, behind Elvis were large drapes covering the width of the stage. He pulled a cord, the curtains parted, and there were the Attractions who immediately launched into Oliver’s Army! What’s the sound of about 30,000 people deliriously gobsmacked? Oliver’s Army was followed by an hour or more of full band action, including Watching The Detectives and climaxing with Instant Karma. Three hours of pure joy.

I loved Elvis Costello’s early stuff, Spike in ’89 was a big favourite, and ten years later came my most played Elvis album, his stunning collaboration with Burt Bacharach, Painted From Memory. An absolute masterpiece of classic songwriting. But, that evening, THAT moment as the band appeared and that classic piano intro kicked in… Oliver’s Army will always mean Glastonbury 1987.