IAN HUNTER - THE SOUND COMES AROUND
“I’VE GOT A BIG ONE, “SAYS Ian Hunter , Once Bitten intro style, at the opening of his new album Shrunken Heads.
Hunter sure was one of those verbose sons of Dylan when he hit his stride with Mott in the 70s.
Loved to play and mangle the words, wrought and rapped, wrote right through (and true) to his rocking Shrewsbury soul.
Sometimes there was a Baptist fervour to Ian, simply rocking the house to glory on Honaloochie Boogie. Other times (I Wish I Was Your Mother, Marionette, Violence) he had such a natural theatrical flourish it was enough to make Damon Albran shit his Good Bad and Smugly pants.
Shrunken heads is the sound of a man centred with Springsteen spring (E Street Band violinist Soozie Terrell is just one member of his great n groovey, swampy and sticky band).
But it aint no Bruce baby jive. Ian is as sure of himself - and his resources - as a 68 year old boy should be.
From the lovely droll pining for an other time of I loved It better When The World Was Round to the haunted HYmn For Dudes riff that’s the setting for the magisterial title track.
Shrunken Heads itself glowers, glows, builds like a truce, or a trance, a last dance chance where “nothing matters anymore/this house is haunted and the streets are dead/We are at the mercy of shrunken heads”.
The musicians - of course - provide the deliverance from this despair with one of several Dylan like musical arisings.
On the beautifully flippant Fuss About Nothing Hunter moves on from Dylan - whose late period Yeats like renewal has obviously been reflected in this acolyte’s matchplay.
The Tweedle Dee Tweedle Dum tricksters are here Gor blimey carpet baggers, knockabout riffs to match, as Ian depicts a world that is always up for renting, to be sold and soiled, used and exploited.
Pictcha this as JD would have it.
1972 on Ballyholme beach Co Down N Ireland Deborah Whittle and I splashed the sea high in the air.
Letting it land and fall, like salty glitter, on our preteen sun splashed bodies. we sang Honaloochie Boogie as we ran.
And then the air was free and life seemed wide, beautiful, full and round.
35 years on North Down council are being fined for the disgusting sewage that fills that bay, Ballyholme beach is home to dead fish.
And the Reverend Ian Paisley is in power.
But, thank God, the real reverend Ian ( Hunter) is still rocking the world.
Just back like he did when it was round.
