M1-44 Simon Jeffes
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Yes, there has been a bit of a gap since the last blog entry. I offer no excuses I’m afraid, other than sometimes it feels right to put some things on the back burner (an American phrase, I believe, which I quite like) and concentrate on more urgent or just more vivid, of-the moment work and play.
Now that most of us are staying home to a greater or lesser extent (me greater), it seems a good time to pick up loose ends and re-organise and move forward. So the blog is back, and I thank you kindly for your patience.
This also happens to be the date (May 1st. 2020) that Cherry Red Records are re-issuing/repromoting/repressing (that’s re-pressing – pressing again – not quashing) both Miniatures 1 (40th anniversary) and Miniatures 2 (20th anniv.) in a very reasonably priced double CD with extensive notes and photos of everyone. 106 artists, 113 tracks in all.
Normal service will now be resumed to cover the last eight tracks of Miniatures 1. Whether I will write a similar blog for Miniatures 2 rather depends on how the world is in a few months from now. To use another favourite Americanism – it’s a crap shoot.
Music From The Penguin Cafe is 44 years old this year. Simon Jeffes’ first album as the Penguin Cafe Orchestra was the 7th in a series of 10 albums of contemporary/experimental/minimal British music produced by Brian Eno for his own Obscure Records label. For me, Simon’s album stands out in the series for its warmth, melody and humanity. I snapped it up on its release in 1976, was immediately captivated, and still am.
Miniatures was a first, in its way. I like firsts. Simon’s Miniature track was the first to use strings only (Michael Nyman followed close behind). The PCO were the first to collaborate with another Miniatures artist – something I had hoped might happen following the release of this album. It was The Phantom Captain, who added their dadaist theatrics to at least one PCO concert I saw happen in a record store in 1981 – at HMV in London’s Oxford Street.
Also, Simon Jeffes, genial creator and leader of the PCO, was the first Miniatures artist to invite me into his own studio, where he had recorded his miniature. Most of the other artists were either recorded in their homes on my trusty Revox (e.g., Cutler, Crisp, Steadman, Wyatt), in my tiny home studio on ditto (e.g., Bedford, Newman, Nichols) or made their contributions while recording a larger project of their own in a proper studio (e.g. Bryars, Chambers, Partridge).
How I first met Simon has faded into the mists of time, although there was a definite connection bandwise. My 70’s band Mott the Hoople had Roxy Music’s sax man Andy Mackay play on some of our tracks, notably “All The Way From Memphis.” Brian Eno was a member of Roxy Music. Also Roxy’s engineer from 1974-76, Steve Nye was heavily involved in the first PCO album as mixer, electric pianist, co-producer and co-writer.
Anyway, one day in 1979 I found myself one day heading to Hippodrome Place, not far from my Notting Hill Gate flat, and entered a pleasant house which seemed to consist mainly of one large room with soundproofing, mike stands, etc., and a staircase going up to a kind of loft where there was an upright piano and a pot of tea. After pouring, Simon played me an eerily familiar tune (which I’d never heard before) on the piano, which he said he’d adapted from an African folk song. It was repetitive, hypnotic, and untitled, until finally when it appeared on the PCO’s eponymous album in 1981, he’d anointed it with a beautifully evocative title, “Cutting Branches For A Temporary Shelter.”
I was delighted to receive Simon’s beautiful miniature soon after, and when I sequenced the album, the delicacy of his string quartet seemed the perfect palate-cleanser to follow the distorted maelstrom of the Half Japanese track. He then invited me to a birthday party at his home, where I presented him with a large bag of Cadbury’s Miniatures.
I last met Simon in 1982 in a pub over some Guinnesses, to tell him about my recent meditative experiences in India. I got the feeling that he was a complete man, one who had absolutely no need of meditation, therapy, psychology or any of the other explorations I was into at that time. I was devastated to get the news, far away in Japan where I now live, that he had died in 1997 aged just 48, of a brain tumour. He led an all-too-short, but very full, rich life, and his music, also used in numerous films and ballets, resonates down the years, bringing pleasure to listeners of all ages and all stripes. Enjoy this 75-minute PCO/Jeffes video collection!
Simon is one of six Miniatures 1 artists who also contributed to Miniatures 2. His son Arthur, the dedicatee of his Miniatures track, would have been 2 years old when Miniatures was released.
Arthur is now leading a completely new band simply called Penguin Cafe, who kicked off in 2009 with a highly successful concert at the Royal Albert Hall, largely consisting of pieces by the original PCO, plus a few of Arthur’s own compositions. He has flourished since then, producing several albums of his own compositions in the same vein as Simon’s, and touring the world. I met Arthur in Tokyo on his band’s first Japanese tour. It felt like a much-loved circle had been completed.
Several members of the original PCO formed a band called The Orchestra That Fell To Earth, in order to continue playing some of the original repertoire. In this way too, Simon’s dream endures…
Coming up: Dylan sniffs glue?
