A truly wonderful review of the latest Beau “Palace Of Light” album has
just been published in the Stick It In Your Ear webzine! Many thanks to Brian
Hinton!
"Palace Of Light"
Cherry Red BEAUPOL 1 - DL-only - (49:58)
..by Brian Hinton
Beau, aka Trevor Midgley, or
briefly John Trevor was hand picked back in 1969 by John Peel for the now
legendary Dandelion label, alongside other unique talents, Bridgett St John,
Clifford T Ward and Kevin Coyne. It is Coyne with whom Beau’s later work most
chimes, songs of anger and bitter humour. And of all of these troubadours from
the post Dylan/Donovan musical revolution, Beau is surely the most prolific.
This is his nineteenth download-only album released by Cherry Red. It is a true
cottage industry, just Beau and his 12 string, homely recording studios and a
seemingly endless supply of things to say. I went back to Beau’s first and its
a fascinating contrast — the same mastery of 12 string, almost
a one man orchestra, a mastery of storytelling with a twist and social comment,
but the voice is now starker, more of a Northern timbre — Beau hails from
Leeds, where his first local radio broadcast was with Jake Thackray and a
budgie called Puck. Indeed there is humour here as well as a heavy dose of
irony. Beau rails against the world of identity culture and celebrity culture
like an updated Thackray, minus the pluminess and affectation.
Things kick off with ‘I Plagiarise
Beethoven’ in which Beau imagines himself a superstar, whose classical
appropriations have gone unnoticed (with little tweaks of musical quotations).
It is a shame that Beau does not gig more, this would go down a storm. ‘Twenty-Twenty
Vision’ is a blast against social media, and the inherent fascism in woke
orthodoxy. Again the 12 string is a musical counterpoint. Masterly. “Sceptic
tanks” indeed. These are lyrics which really deserve to be printed out. ‘Glimpse
of Venus’ is so multi-layered that the listener can hardly keep up with the
wordplay — | think of Alan Clayson and his similar fantasies of an alternative
show biz sensation. ‘Green Hill’ makes climbing a hill a metaphor for lost
hopes. ‘Cuckoo Land’ presents Beau at his most bitterly sarcastic, and his
perfect diction merely makes each point sharper. ‘Opportunity Knocks’ revisits
Hughie Green, though it opens with Machiavelli not the winking Canadian. Again
the twelve string dances in counterpoint.
Beau says that an early influence
was Tom Paxton. There is the same underlying compassion, but a sharp point made
all the same. Humour leavens anger. Even if the next song is about a public
hanging. For saying one word too many. ‘A Target On Your Back’ is so speedily
sung that the listener can hardly keep up. But every word clear as a bell. I
have a picture in my head of Beau as an updated Greek cynic, railing at the
modern world from a dustbin. Relentless. So it is no surprise that this is
followed by ‘Cultural Appropriation Blues’ which tells the story of a posh
blues singer from Stoke Poges, rhyming chatter and Henley Regatta.
‘Epigram’ is the portrait of a man
needing tranquillisers to keep going. ‘Lost For A Cliche’ is jaunty confession
of a man obsessed with getting just the right form of words. Which turns out to
be a hack journalist seeking out exactly the tritest cliche he can. ‘The
Worshipful Company Of New April Fools’— now there’s a title — opens “We’re
living in truly Onwellian times” and doesn’t let up. Blithely happy, this
album is not. Give us a glimpse of hope, Beau. Even though you are undoubtedly
right in your diagnosis of cultural malaise! Three to go. ‘Ballad Of The Rowdy
Knave’ is about the new fascism. Masquerading as populism. ‘Celebrity
Memorabilia’ imagines Beau’s cast offs coming under the hammer, “consomme
stains from Watford Gap". Even Adele gets a mention! ‘The Song’ is the
most wistful thing here, sung with passion, about music that can “bring a
quiver” to the heart. A song about the power of memories and love. It’s an
anthem. Beau has gathered a much deserved cult following. A man of clear sight
in a country of the blind. The more I imbibe this album and then turn on the
news, the more Beau’s lyrics hold true, and come to haunt me. I just hope that
he cheers up now and then. And John Peel will be listening up in heaven, and
thinking “the boy done well”.
Brian Hinton
