I have never bought any single or album by this band. None ever went onto my turntable, nor into my cassette player, nor CD drive. Of the hundreds of bands I went to see in my student days and beyond, not one of them was ELO.
Yet so so prolific was its output of airplay-friendly songs, that during my peak radio-listening days (early 1970s to early 1980s), ELO tunes were always, unavoidably, there in the background.
No one that I associated in those days with would for one second have admitted to liking ELO. Especially during those exciting days when punk rock ruled. Here was a band that were still wearing flared trousers! With a bearded lead singer with big hair! No. Unacceptable. 1977 was the year of the Pistols, Clash, Ramones, Damned, Stranglers etc - not a year in which one could profess to liking songs like Telephone Line or Turn to Stone and retain any semblance of street-cred. Yet tune into daytime listening on National Radio 1 (275 and 285 on the medium wave band) and you were far more likely to hear ELO than something to which one could pogo along to.
Yet today, in retrospect, I can see that the band had crafted some outstanding tunes that were catchy while not simple - and - most importantly - they had stood the test of time. Take Mr Blue Sky. How many of you who grew up in the 1970s have it in your record collection (as a single, or as a track on the album Out of the Blue, on vinyl, cassette or CD)? How many of you can conjure the song up in your head now, effects and all, from the beginning right through to the last words, sung through a vocoder - "please turn me over"? Try it now!
The first two singles came from a band that it was still hip to like. 10538 Overture and Roll Over Beethoven - arguably better than Chuck Berry's original. But then Roy Wood left to form Wizzard, trends moved on, fashions diverged, and ELO became spectacularly uncool. Song after song entered the charts and earwormed their way into my subconsciousness. Solid pop tunes that today tower above the corporate, algorithm-generated mediocrity that is foisted onto modern youth.
But hey, these guys were from Birmingham. Not Liverpool, not London. Britain's second city had a thriving but disparate music scene that had neither the glamour of the capital nor the right-place-at-the-right-time cachet of Liverpool. ELO was formed by Jeff Lynne and Roy Wood, both of The Move, a reasonably successful band. The idea was to add electronically-amplified strings to the rock music, cellos and violins, to create a cross between a Phil Spector-style wall of sound and the kind of intricate production that George Martin gave to the Beatles' later songs. Roy Wood left after 10538 Overture to form Wizzard, consigned to the railway sidings of pop history for I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day. (Well, that and Ball Park Incident and See My Baby Jive).
ELO songs are philosophically shallow; do not look for poetry in the lyrics, do not look for insights into the human condition; you will find none. The words merely stop the songs from being instrumentals. The human voice adds another detail, another sound effect in a wall of sound; that is all. Rockaria, a frothy confection, drives along admirably, but the lyrics falter; the last line must rank among the weakest in pop history ("I thought I saw the mayor there/But I wasn't really sure/But it's alright")
ELO tunes figure strongly among those Songs That Remind Me Of Where I Was When They Were Hits. Livin' Thing, for example, along with Joan Armatrading's Love and Affection and Chicago's If You Leave Me Now were played to death on Radio 1 during my first weeks at university, October 1976. Livin' Thing was also played incessantly on the jukebox at the Port O' Call, Earlsdon, Coventry, where I'd pop by for a pint of mild and a bag of pork scratchings of an evening after lectures.
And when Disco arrived, ELO's singles output subtly embraced the genre, with a danceable beat which any DJ could fade in and out of a Donna Summer or Chic twelve-incher. The hits continued. Until 1983, when they petered out, coincidentally at the time I grew out of listening to daytime radio.
I can say that I've always loved David Bowie, James Brown, early Roxy Music; I can say that certain albums hold a special place in my affections - Trick of the Tail by Genesis, Ummagumma, Atom Heart Mother and Meddle by Pink Floyd, Bruce Springsteen's bleak Nebraska. Vast swathes of soul plus much of the punk canon. But ELO - it was just there, on in the background, the car radio, the kitchen. Today, it can be appreciated for what it is - extremely good pop that had penetrated its way into the library of my consciousness.
Here's a YouTube playlist of 18 ELO songs. [Some may be blocked for copyright reasons in some countries.] If, like me, you lived in Britain in the 1970s and 1980s, memories of those years will come flooding back to you.
Interesting Rock'n'Roll fact. As of today, Chuck Berry (89), Little Richard (83) and Jerry Lee Lewis (80) are still alive.
This time last year:
Making sense of Andrzej Duda
This time four years ago:
Work starts on ul. Gogolińska
This time four years ago:
Waiting for The Man
This time six years ago:
The Flavour of Parallel reviewed
This time eight years ago:
Twilight in the garden
This time nine years ago:
Late May reflections
No one that I associated in those days with would for one second have admitted to liking ELO. Especially during those exciting days when punk rock ruled. Here was a band that were still wearing flared trousers! With a bearded lead singer with big hair! No. Unacceptable. 1977 was the year of the Pistols, Clash, Ramones, Damned, Stranglers etc - not a year in which one could profess to liking songs like Telephone Line or Turn to Stone and retain any semblance of street-cred. Yet tune into daytime listening on National Radio 1 (275 and 285 on the medium wave band) and you were far more likely to hear ELO than something to which one could pogo along to.
Yet today, in retrospect, I can see that the band had crafted some outstanding tunes that were catchy while not simple - and - most importantly - they had stood the test of time. Take Mr Blue Sky. How many of you who grew up in the 1970s have it in your record collection (as a single, or as a track on the album Out of the Blue, on vinyl, cassette or CD)? How many of you can conjure the song up in your head now, effects and all, from the beginning right through to the last words, sung through a vocoder - "please turn me over"? Try it now!
The first two singles came from a band that it was still hip to like. 10538 Overture and Roll Over Beethoven - arguably better than Chuck Berry's original. But then Roy Wood left to form Wizzard, trends moved on, fashions diverged, and ELO became spectacularly uncool. Song after song entered the charts and earwormed their way into my subconsciousness. Solid pop tunes that today tower above the corporate, algorithm-generated mediocrity that is foisted onto modern youth.
But hey, these guys were from Birmingham. Not Liverpool, not London. Britain's second city had a thriving but disparate music scene that had neither the glamour of the capital nor the right-place-at-the-right-time cachet of Liverpool. ELO was formed by Jeff Lynne and Roy Wood, both of The Move, a reasonably successful band. The idea was to add electronically-amplified strings to the rock music, cellos and violins, to create a cross between a Phil Spector-style wall of sound and the kind of intricate production that George Martin gave to the Beatles' later songs. Roy Wood left after 10538 Overture to form Wizzard, consigned to the railway sidings of pop history for I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day. (Well, that and Ball Park Incident and See My Baby Jive).
ELO songs are philosophically shallow; do not look for poetry in the lyrics, do not look for insights into the human condition; you will find none. The words merely stop the songs from being instrumentals. The human voice adds another detail, another sound effect in a wall of sound; that is all. Rockaria, a frothy confection, drives along admirably, but the lyrics falter; the last line must rank among the weakest in pop history ("I thought I saw the mayor there/But I wasn't really sure/But it's alright")
ELO tunes figure strongly among those Songs That Remind Me Of Where I Was When They Were Hits. Livin' Thing, for example, along with Joan Armatrading's Love and Affection and Chicago's If You Leave Me Now were played to death on Radio 1 during my first weeks at university, October 1976. Livin' Thing was also played incessantly on the jukebox at the Port O' Call, Earlsdon, Coventry, where I'd pop by for a pint of mild and a bag of pork scratchings of an evening after lectures.
And when Disco arrived, ELO's singles output subtly embraced the genre, with a danceable beat which any DJ could fade in and out of a Donna Summer or Chic twelve-incher. The hits continued. Until 1983, when they petered out, coincidentally at the time I grew out of listening to daytime radio.
I can say that I've always loved David Bowie, James Brown, early Roxy Music; I can say that certain albums hold a special place in my affections - Trick of the Tail by Genesis, Ummagumma, Atom Heart Mother and Meddle by Pink Floyd, Bruce Springsteen's bleak Nebraska. Vast swathes of soul plus much of the punk canon. But ELO - it was just there, on in the background, the car radio, the kitchen. Today, it can be appreciated for what it is - extremely good pop that had penetrated its way into the library of my consciousness.
Here's a YouTube playlist of 18 ELO songs. [Some may be blocked for copyright reasons in some countries.] If, like me, you lived in Britain in the 1970s and 1980s, memories of those years will come flooding back to you.
Interesting Rock'n'Roll fact. As of today, Chuck Berry (89), Little Richard (83) and Jerry Lee Lewis (80) are still alive.
This time last year:
Making sense of Andrzej Duda
This time four years ago:
Work starts on ul. Gogolińska
This time four years ago:
Waiting for The Man
This time six years ago:
The Flavour of Parallel reviewed
This time eight years ago:
Twilight in the garden
This time nine years ago:
Late May reflections
Re. the last sentence of yóur post - life begins after 80. :-)
ReplyDeleteThere is still something in front of us!
Best regards,
Neighbour (50 this Dećember)