From Across the Pond

"This constant lying is not aimed at making the people believe a lie, but at ensuring that no one believes anything anymore. A people that can no longer distinguish between truth and lies cannot distinguish between right and wrong. And such a people, deprived of the power to think and judge, is, without knowing and willing it, completely subjected to the rule of lies. With such a people, you can do whatever you want."
Hannah Arendt

Watching from across the pond. As Trump punches the air and wears his flesh wound like a stigmata, his feverish followers fall at his feet: supplicant believers become dumb disciples. He can do no wrong. Modern American 'politics' eh? Nothing seems rooted in reality: it reads like a fiction that you couldn’t make up, let alone believe. I do recognise that the UK’s political bar hasn’t exactly been set high of late. Debate has become more about abuse and mockery than open minded discourse and authentic argument. Our baleful blues shirked responsibility and pointed the tawdry Tory finger of blame randomly, spitefully, whilst smugly lining their pockets. They didn’t even blanch when caught out: just shrugged it off as though self interest was part of the game. Good riddance. Galbraith nailed it: “The modern conservative is engaged in one of man's oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness.” 

Meanwhile, stateside, Biden stumbles on, seemingly oblivious of the crucial need for fresh blue blood. But where's the beef? I’m reading that, despite her smarts and fresh energy, Kamala Harris is liked rather than admired, and will lose the Dem’s votes simply because of her gender? Where are the ‘strong and forceful voices’? It’s been a while since we have seen a youthful US politician of vision, integrity and charisma. 

Trump's support is bewildering mass myopia. Emboldened, he knows no shame and is thus shameless: his sins unquantifiable because they simply don’t count. If Donald is the answer then what on this flat earth is the question? Beyond a confirmation of their tribalism, beyond enabling his self serving adventurism, beyond mindlessly nailing their colours to his mast, what course are DT's cowing crew expecting him to plot? What’s in it for them? 

Trump has sold short the value of caution and care: politics aren’t meant to be dramatic, exciting, thrilling or emotional, but that’s the shit-show they’ve become, and Don the Con's your toothsome, loathsome host. Without coherent character he has no cogent conscience, and as such, he exists in a moralistic void. His vulgar vapidity has shrouded what was once bright and beautiful: an American independence of thought and vision that enabled and demanded genuine, authentic inclusivity. 'We the people' means everyone!  Doesn't it? 

Trump has dulled his toadying tribe into reverent, slack-jawed acceptance: a blind faith that precludes logical assessment or judgment.  And so it goes; he has effectively elevated himself above the regulations and restraints of law and truth; of dignity and duty. Regardless of those disdains, what does his popularity say about America’s moral compass?

Sleepy Joe's innings is over and yet he is still pitching to be there for the next four and a half years. Surely his work is done? He is a good soul but his energies are spent. Well spent, but spent. Perhaps the 11th hour is perfect timing for derailing the orange juggernaut? Cometh the hour. But where’s yer man?

Meanwhile, above the law, effectively unchallenged, an unprincipled Donald J. Trump continues to live in his own little world, determined to make it ours. We couldn’t be dumb enough to let him. Could we?

Paul Auster: Gone

                                        “Stories only happen to those who are able to tell them.”

Paul Auster: gone. He likely wrote his own epitaph: “To leave the world a little better than you found it. That's the best a man can ever do.” More a Gillette ad than a eulogy, but apt. He's alongside Raymond Carver and Richard Ford as my 'go to' American writer. ‘Moon Palace’, ‘Book of Illusions’, ‘Music of Chance’. My favourite is always the one that I’m reading. His manner was lofty but worldly; a spidery intellect, wonky enough to be lovable. His style is impossible to bottle. This morning I’ll go for ‘wide-eyed and squinting!’ That'd be a poet’s eye: one that fuelled a forensic mind; and yet he clutched the inquisitiveness of childhood like a beloved balloon.

"If nothing else, the years have taught me this: if there’s a pencil in your pocket, there’s a good chance that one day you’ll feel tempted to start using it. As I like to tell my children, that’s how I became a writer."

Funny yet fathom deep, his playful tales are frequented by ‘chance’. And lost chances. Flighty thoughts imbue core truths. Auster’s observations are often so startlingly simple that you catch yourself rereading, just to be sure of their directness. “It was. It will never be again. Remember.” Strewth! And then he mangles meaning and encourages you to rebuild it: from cloud to clarity. We are offered cyphers and codes, mysteries and clues. And as we grapple for understanding, the blissful reconciliation of concept and conceit is the mischief that engages. Narratives bounce between impenetrable Kafkaesque fables (City of Glass) and rattling good yarns (Book of Illusions); the stumbling protagonists as unreliable as memory and the stories that carry them. He taught me much about the writing process: the compulsions and the contradictions. “We find ourselves only by looking at what we are not.” And what was he not? At 77 he seemed ageless: tireless in his pursuit. And what was that? Perhaps Paul put it best here: Why Write?

East of Ely: 10: The First Ad

 

East of Ely: 9: The Fatea Review

EAST OF ELY, is Miracle Mile's first album since 2012. Songwriter Trevor Jones has used the seclusion offered by the Suffolk coast to arrive at some insights about the human condition. There is a strong theme of love and deep connection, both personal and universal running through the album. The silence and space of the Suffolk and Norfolk coasts informs both Jones’ lyrics and Marcus Cliffe’s music, occasionally in the atmospheric snatches between tracks, the keyboard sounds and the two instrumental postcards, the space itself gets onto the tape. Jones himself says in a very poetic way, ‘In the silence we found sound’, you could almost put that in brackets after the title.

"Appletree" is a soft, gloriously languid love song, reflective vocals and atmospheric pedal steel. This isn't music to dance to, but Trevor's vocals and Marcus' music leave you with a kind of Blue Nile warm glow. “Shivering Boy” carries on the warm love songs with some great lyrical imagery ‘You taught me how to dance like no-one else was there I came as Eric Morecambe but left as Fred Astaire’. “Sparrows” adds another voice to the warm lush sound. “Night Wedding” is a bruised, jaded song about dreams and making do. In feel its a Country song with ethereal electronic backing. With pastoral atmospherics and Trevor’s acoustic guitar “Postcard From Happisburgh” is a jazzy Floydian interlude. “Ocean Of Song” keeps the nimble guitar going, lightening the mood, contrasting the melancholic but poetic lyrics. ‘Well, I’m a shallow man Complete in my incompleteness I am what I am what I am.’ “Shorebound” mixes spoken poetry and sung lyrics. There is a real sense of place and of a moment, created by the imagery and the arrangement. Light and atmospheric “Shorebound” is a stand out track with its lyrics titling the album. “Butterfly Broach” is a very english pastoral love song with a dark edge like the best of Boo Hewerdine. “Silent Sigh” is another electronic Country song, weary delivery with some superb lyrics about the slow drift apart. ‘Now love is whiskey, love is wine I know I’m fading but I’m fine’. “Come Morning” with its light touch, electronic drums and reflective vocal has a touch of The Blue Nile. The wave like keyboards and pastoral imagery are followed by “Postcard From Walberswick” a final sea shore interlude that closes this thoughtful and delicate album.

Marc Higgins

East of Ely: 8: The Paul Woodgate Review

Miracle Mile released 'In Cassidy’s Care', their last full-length recording, in 2013. It was the year Taylor Swift released her fourth long player, 'Red'. She was still a year away from the titanic shift that 1989 and its globe-swallowing exploits were to herald. Tay Tay is not the reason Miracle Mile went quiet, but it seemed possible to those of us who cared that they were never ever (ever!) getting back together. 

A lot can happen in 11 years. Music has succumbed to the digital diktat of corporate streaming services where it is now described as ‘product’ and a lot of it seems created only to fuel our connection with the adverts scrolling across the small blue screen in front of us. You’re probably reading this on your smartphone, right? The whole world is in your hands, but where is your heart?

Perhaps you need Miracle Mile more than you thought.

And what of our heroes? Marcus Cliffe, multi-instrumentalist, studio owner, all round melodic marvel has, amongst other things, toured on and off with Manfred Man, released solo LPs and worked on a musical with Mark Knopfler. Trevor Jones, always with Marcus’ assistance - it would come as no surprise if they finished each other’s sentences (I sort of want them to) - has released a series of solo LPs culminating in 2019s 'Carver’s Law', which have allowed him to step outside the ‘band’ ethos and explore a gentler, more introspective journey.

That tilt towards introspection continues here. It will be no surprise to long-term fans of Jones and Cliffe, and can be measured in rough correlation with the decreasing number of ‘official’ band members over the years. From the fizzing pop of 'Bicycle Thieves' with a full compliment, to the later LPs where the duo made best use of friends and hired hands to conjure music so irresistibly catchy and thought provoking it’s probably illegal. The road now arrives on the windswept shores of East Anglia; East of Ely.

There isn’t a bad song on the album; the quality level is shockingly high. All the touchstones are here, from musings on family past and present, the joy of solitude, the passing of, and gratitude for, time. Add to those love, friendship, forgiveness and always, always, hope; it’s Miracle Mile’s oxygen.

Opener 'Appletree' reads like a reintroduction to Miracle Mile's manifesto. Over a typically gorgeous piano and string melody Jones reassures all those who wondered at their absence that ‘It's from me, just for you..’, recognising the relationship between the artist and listener, between influencer and influenced; ‘..you wouldn’t be you without me / but I wouldn't be me without you.’ The re-connection is, I'm happy to report, instant.

'Sparrows' unwinds delicate memories - ‘Home holds your scent, and whispers your name / He scratched it there on the back window-frame’. Underpinned by brushed snare and a wash of keys, it has one of the band’s brilliant trademark codas, a songwriting skill so often lacking these days but well understood by these gents.

No-one’s Walking John Wayne here, but there’s no less drama. 'Night Wedding' opens like one of Carver's short stories. There’s no disguising the storytelling craft in ‘Well she walked down the aisle with a Scotch in her hand / She was only really there for the wedding band’. The beautiful strings in the middle-eight could have soundtracked Brief Encounter. I don’t have a favourite, but I keep coming back to see how the girl got on.

'Shorebound', a title track of sorts, continues Jones’ penchant for the spoken word in song, in this instance joining with both Marcus and Lucinda Drayton (whose voice in her spoken word verse sounds uncannily like Sarah Cracknell) to extol the virtues of their coastal retreats, retreats where most of the album was conceived and which birthed its title. The song is an anchor around which all the others float. Try getting the ear-worm of a chorus out of your head - you’ve been warned.

If I were to choose a song for the first 7” - ah, those were the days! - it would be 'Chapel Flower Morning'. It’s the most immediate track on the album and reminiscent of 'Limbo' and 'Glow'-era Miracle Mile, with a steadily rising wall of melody that breaks on your shore like a benediction. You’ll have to buy the CD if you want it though; it’s not on the vinyl. Buy both, why don’t you?

Nowhere is the sense of calm and clarity of thought they’ve discovered better summarised than in the album’s two short instrumental pieces. The first, 'Postcard from Happisburgh', is a wonderful guitar piece from Cliffe that leaves you envious for his having found a place that makes him so happy. 'Postcard from Walberswick', the final piece on the album, is Jones’ gift, a musical wish-you-were-here from a man with a heart too big for his body. No, I’m not crying, you are.

Over eight studio albums and a compilation, Miracle Mile have built a beautifully crafted catalogue of articulate, intelligent music. Beautifully rendered, resolutely anti-zeitgeist, often melancholy, always hopeful. They might not be in everyone’s sights, but when you travel under the radar, you can hit the target without being found out. If there’s a sadness in not having been more widely recognised, perhaps we should just be grateful Miracle Mile are here at all. 'East of Ely' is bullseye number nine. Hit the coast roads and rejoice; our happy/sad place is found again.

Paul Woodgate   27/1/2024

Pre-order 'East of Ely' here

'East of Ely': 7: A Good Egg

One of the pleasures of writing, recording and releasing music, is in meeting the folk with whom your music resonates. It's quite a thing to have a stranger let you in. In my songs I try to demystify the mundanities and clarify the confusions by using facts of life. It is encouraging then to hear when 'specific' translates as 'universal'. It helps if you steep your writing in truth: it keeps things authentic and convincing. If folk whiff falsity or contrivance you'll soon lose them. So, when a stranger calls to tell you that they recognise their own world in yours, the sense of 'connection' can be overwhelmingly gratifying: particularly when your moment of clarity has been born from confusion. 

A few years ago Di and I were at a Case Harding gig in Soho. The Borderline has long gone, but was once a regular haunt: an atmospheric basement venue that offered cheap beer, decent Mexican food, a great rig and seemed to lean towards the artists that I admired. It's where Mark Eitzel's brilliant live album 'Songs of Love' was recorded. I saw Ron Sexsmith there on his first UK tour: a young Sheryl Crowe too, when she was raw and hungry. I digress. This particular night I was aware of a young chap side-eying Di and I as we watched the zesty Pete Gow and Jim Maving strut their stuff as Case Harding. The next morning I received a FB message asking me if I was at the gig and was I the singer with Miracle Mile? Those recognitions don't happen very often so I was intrigued. The message came from Paul 'Egg' Woodgate. It seemed that Paul had recognised me from the cover of 'Slow Fade' and was an admirer of Miracle Mile. My ego was stroked and we chatted. We were clearly kindreds and eventually met up for a messy pub crawl in Islington, followed by a gig at The Union Chapel; The Unthanks I think. Egg has since become a good mate. He is a sweet man: self-deprecating, witty, fiercely intelligent and wonderfully articulate. It also turned out that, amongst his many strings, Paul was a music writer. A great one at that. He has reviewed my solo albums a time or two for AmericanaUk. The reviews were always positive but, more importantly, perceptive: on the nose in terms of understanding and deciphering the thing that I do with Marcus Cliffe. He is therefore one of the first people that I send new recordings to: a bellwether: a touchstone. I trust his judgement and know that I'll get honest feedback. This rambling preamble is by way of introducing a piece that Paul has written for the album; essentially the first review for 'East of Ely'. 

It'll be my next post. 

Thanks to Paul for his kindly words: both elevating and humbling: he really is a good egg!

I hope that his insight whets your appetite and perhaps might move you to pre-order the album. 

Pre-Order 'East of Ely' here.