Unless you’ve been living in the Tora Bora caves for the last couple of weeks, you can’t have failed to have noticed that popular beat group The Beatles have released some new wares onto the marketplace.

I say “new”, but most of it is the very definition of old rope. Alongside the admittedly very shiny and apparently very good Beatles Rock Band video game, is a glut of “remastered” albums released on a long-forgotten format known as “CD”. So we have one cutting edge 2009 release, and several very old fashioned releases that would have seemed cutting edge circa 1982.

The remastered CDs will sell of course, thanks to millions of pounds worth of marketing and blanket media coverage, although not as many as Dame Vera Lynn, who pipped the Fab Four to this week’s number one in the UK album charts. But do we really need them?

There’s no denying they’re a great pop band – maybe the best pop band of all time – and I’m a big Beatles fan (despite that rubbish pun of a name, the often tiresome psychedelic nonsense, and the inescapable fact that John Lennon was a right tit…). They recorded some of my favourite songs of all time – Blackbird, You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away, Eleanor Rigby… Most probably if I had an XBox I’d buy The Beatles Rock Band game. But the remastered albums have precisely zero appeal.

The Beatles albums have already been released as they were meant to be heard – on vinyl (most of them in mono). The subsequent original CD releases are apparently of ropey quality. If that is the case then I’d be delighted to return my CDs to Apple/EMI to be replaced at their cost with satisfactory ones. But I don’t see why I should be expected to fork out for “remastered” CDs.

Perhaps the most annoying aspect of this whole thing is that Apple and EMI have yet to release the Beatles’ music digitally for download. This is due to a long-running disagreement (yes – over money) with the unhappy consequence of making the Beatles virtually irrelevant to an entire generation of music fans. I wrote about the online “Beatles Gap” in the Guardian.

Now that the music has been remastered, and with Rock Band pricking the interest of the internet generation, why not release the Beatles catalogue for digital download, rather than on hoary old CD? (And if CD, why not cassette or mini-disc?)

The answer, I’m certain, is greed. Digital downloads will eventually be released, probably in 12 months time when fans have had a chance to empty their wallets purchasing the CDs. They’ll then be expected to buy the downloads as well. Anything to wring more cash from the Beatles’ legacy. Money, that’s what they want.

The whole farrago reflects poorly on Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr (and of course the other players involved in the Beatles’ estate). Nether surviving Beatle can be accurately described as being short of funds, and Ringo in particular has seemed to become particularly irritating in recent years.

First there was the Liverpool 8 debacle, then his regrettable rant at those autograph-seeking fans who have so generously contributed to his fortune. Then there is the frankly dim-witted Aviva name change advert in which Ringo asks, “Would any of this have happened to me if I’d still been Richard Starkey?” No, a common name like Richard would never have worked, you’d have needed an unusual name like John, Paul or George…

So ignore the money-grabbing tactics, but continue, like me, to love the Beatles’ music. Listen to the vinyl (or the old CDs), convert it to mp3, maybe hold out for the digital download release. But you don’t need the remastered CDs, and The Beatles don’t need your money. Money can’t buy them love.

Music, Technology

This morning we lost one of the good ones. Sir Bobby Robson died at around 6.30am, peacefully, at home, and surrounded by his family. Tributes from the likes of Sir Alex Ferguson, Jose Mourinho and Alan Shearer say a lot more about the man than I can.

He has had a great innings, enjoying a remarkable 50-year career in football – as a player at Fulham and West Brom, and a manager at Vancouver Royals, Fulham, Ipswich Town, PSV Eindhoven, Sporting Lisbon, Porto, Barcelona, Newcastle United, and as national manager with England, and consultant with the Republic of Ireland.

As a Newcastle supporter, I knew him best for his time as Toon manager between 1999 and 2004. There were some great times, even if there were no trophies. And when his reign petered out, courtesy of a clueless generation of multi-millionaire players, it said more about the sad decline of the game than of the man himself.

A great raconteur, Sir Bobby’s regular after dinner speeches and football talk-ins were legendary – full of humour, honesty, and passion for the game he loved so much. He loved Newcastle United, too, and it must have hurt him so much to see his once-great club in its current reduced circumstances. His funny and moving Lifetime Achievement Award speech at the 2007 BBC Sports Personality of the Year Awards is well worth another watch.

Sir Bobby seemed to be a man who had time for anyone, and his selfless charity work after his multiple cancer battles will have long-lasting effects. Through the Sir Bobby Robson Foundation, established to aid the detection and treatment of cancer in the North East of England, Sir Bobby has done something more important than anything he did in football – he has saved lives.

He was working right up until Sunday, turning up at a charity match to raise yet more money. “WOW!!!! What a fantastic reception I received,” he said in a message posted on his charity website. “It was one of the best nights of my life and I can’t believe how many people turned up to support me and my charity… Thank you all again from the bottom of my heart.”

RIP Sir Bobby, thanks for everything.

Make a donation to the Sir Bobby Robson Foundation

Football

Brian Wilson
The Sage, Gateshead

In a world of rock and pop where the words “genius” and “legend” are thrown around with carefree abandon, here is a man who truly deserves to be called both.

Having survived drugs, mental illness and a rock dad who made Joe Jackson look like father-of-the-year material, for 67-year-old Brian Wilson to be on any stage, anywhere in the world, is something of a triumph.

Tonight he shuffles on at the Sage in a baggy beach shirt and white running shoes, perches slightly precariously on a stool behind his electric piano, and yells, “Hello Newcastle upon Tyne! I hope you enjoy the concert!” His ten-piece band assembles behind him and, after a sweet harmonising intro, launches into California Girls. And what a glorious sound. Paul McCartney reckons the musicians behind Brian are the best touring band in the world, and on this evidence it’s hard to argue with Fab Macca. To hear intricate teenage symphonies like Good Vibrations recreated live with such detail in this fantastic venue is simply stunning.

Brian seems happy and genial, even if some of the between-songs banter and skits induce a touch of deja vu. And when he sings, his voice fragile but unmistakable, it’s thrilling. To hear Brian Wilson sing God Only Knows feels like nothing less than a privilege.

The show lasts for two and a half hours, and the only grumble for my 50 quid is that there is not enough material from the Pet Sounds and Smile LPs in the set (no I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times or, my fave, Surf’s Up). The emphasis is on the upbeat, and there is little room for Brian’s more melancholic output. Not that the wedding dancers in the aisles care a jot. By the end of the show, everyone is on their feet, including Brian, leading his band through a finale of Surfin’ USA and Fun,Fun, Fun. Hats off to the band, and thank you to Brian. Won-won-won-wonderful.

Listen to my Beach Boys / Brian Wilson Spotify Playlist.
Listen to Brian’s latest album That Lucky Old Sun on Spotify.

Music

Anvil! The Story of Anvil: DVD Review
American Movie: DVD Review

Watching Anvil! The Story of Anvil, the feature documentary about a hapless Canadian heavy metal band, at the weekend I couldn’t help but be reminded of one of my all-time favourite documentaries – American Movie.

Anvil! catches up with the titular rockers some 25 years after they flirted with stardom. We see footage from 1984 of the band playing packed stadiums alongside the likes of Whitesnake and Bon Jovi. Talking heads like Lars Ulrich, Slash and Lemmy explain how influential Anvil were, and how they were expected to be huge stars. “These guys were gonna turn the music industry upside down,” says Ulrich. But that never quite happened.

Cut to the present, and frontman Steve “Lips” Kudlow”, now in his 50s, delivers school meal for a living. But by night he and best mate and drummer Robb Reiner are still rocking out as Anvil – albeit in front of modest crowds in local bars. The chance to embark on a European tour reignites their dream. Can Anvil make a comeback?

Cue scenes of the band travelling around the arse end of Europe in a Winnebago, playing in front of a handful of people in basement clubs, arguing with venues over payment, missing trains, falling out with each other, and generally having their dream thoroughly stamped on.

It’s obviously full of Spinal Tap-esque moments and lines, but it’s more than just a freak show. Both Lips and Robb are eccentric characters, but they also come across as very likeable. “I started out with Robb when we were 14 years old, and we said we’re gonna do it til we’re old men,” says Lips. “And we really meant that.”

What emerges is something of a “bromance”, to use a current Hollywood buzzword. Director Sacha Gervasi was an Anvil fan as a teenager, and here he offers an affectionate, and often very funny, account of two friends who just don’t know when to stop the rock.

Chris Smith’s American Movie, released in 1999, follows independent filmmaker Mark Borchardt as he attempt to make his great American movie Northwestern. Mark, lanky and lank-haired, lives about one step above a trailer park in a run-down part of Milwaukee, and is utterly obsessed with movies.

Before he can get started on Northwestern he needs to complete the horror movie Coven, which he insists rhymes with “woven”. Trouble is he has no money, a dysfunctional family, oddball friends, and a host of personal demons.

Marks’ best friend is Mike Schank, an affable drug casualty (he happily tells the story of a brain-damaging overdose) with a permanent grin and the loyalty of a puppy dog. “We used to do a lot of partying together, but I don’t party anymore,” explains Mike.

The friendship between Mark and Mike is central to the movie – like Anvil! it’s a “bromance”. Throw into the mix Mark’s decrepit but loveable Uncle Bill, with his bizarre improvised poems to his dead wife, and you have a trio of unforgettable characters.

American Movie is fascinating, hilarious, touching and genuinely uplifting, all soundtracked by Mike Schank’s gentle acoustic guitar rendition of Mr Bojangles. Probably as good a feature documentary as you’ll ever see.

Anvil! 9/10
American Movie 10/10

Get Anvil! on DVD
Get American Movie on DVD

Film