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Good Night and Good Riddance: How Thirty-Five Years of John Peel Helped to Shape Modern Life Kindle Edition
Goodnight and Good Riddance: How Thirty-Five Years of John Peel Helped to Shape Modern Britain is a social history, a diary of a nation's changing culture, and an in-depth appraisal of one of our greatest broadcasters, a man who can legitimately be called the most influential figure in post-war British popular music.
Without the support of John Peel, it's unlikely that innumerable artists - from David Bowie to Dizzee Rascal, Jethro Tull to Joy Division - would have received national radio exposure. But Peel's influence goes much deeper than this. Whether he was championing punk, reggae, jungle or grime, he had a unique relationship with his audience that was part taste-maker, part trusted friend.
The book focuses on some 300 shows between 1967 and 2004, giving a thorough overview of Peel's broadcasting career and placing it in its cultural and social contexts. Peel comes alive for the reader, as do the key developments that kept him at the cutting edge - the changes in his tastes; the changes in his thinking. Just like a Peel show, Goodnight and Good Riddance is warm, informative and insightful, and wears its enthusiasm proudly.
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherFaber & Faber
- Publication dateSeptember 29, 2015
- File size2478 KB
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Editorial Reviews
Review
'A fabulously readable and deeply rewarding book: a musical travelogue, a cultural history of Britain, a radio diary, even a personal drama...Good Night and Good Riddance is like reuniting with a old friend, and realising you miss them more than ever' Keith Cameron Mojo
'Good Night and Good Riddance is a brilliant tribute to someone you probably owe at least half your record collection to' Uncut
'An amazing hybrid of social history and easy to dip into facts. Peel would be proud' Classic Pop
'Explaining in lovingly crafted prose just exactly how Peel charted and mapped the tastes of at least two generations (possibly three) of music lovers. This book isn't just diverting, it's essential' Dylan Jones GQ
'For a long number of years and for a great many people the John Peel Show was a kind of underground university, providing not just a free education in popular (and unpopular!) music but a gateway to independent thinking and alternative culture. This isn't just a re-telling, it's re-living, song by song, link by link.' Simon Armitage
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
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Product details
- ASIN : B011H5IGO8
- Publisher : Faber & Faber; Main edition (September 29, 2015)
- Publication date : September 29, 2015
- Language : English
- File size : 2478 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 698 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,497,826 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #1,527 in Music History & Criticism (Kindle Store)
- #1,557 in Rock Music (Kindle Store)
- #2,475 in Popular Culture
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I devoured this book with pleasure - rationing myself to a few years a day
Enjoy!
At 600+ pages this book looked ominously long and overbearing when it landed on my doorstep but in fact the pages fly by and it is a joy to read. Millions of music fans in the US already know about Peel the visionary, idealist, enthusiast, talent-spotter, starmaker and, ultimately, music industry institution. But what David Cavanagh gets across so well is that Peel was, first and foremost, a professional broadcaster - one of the very greatest the BBC ever employed - laconic, articulate, erudite, amusing, grammatically-impeccable, easy on the ear. But nobody else before or since - DJ or otherwise - has come close to Peel in defining the global and cultural reach of the BBC. Years before the internet arrived Peel already had a loyal following all over the planet via the World Service and received a growing deluge of letters, demo tapes and Festive Fifty entries from western Europe, Brazil, Japan, Australia, the USA and even from behind the Iron Curtain where in some countries, as recently as the mid-eighties, being caught listening to subversive music broadcast from the UK could land you in trouble, difficult though that is to comprehend now.
The book has an excellent introduction - a brief 28-page career biography and concise, well-written assessment of how the Peel phenomenon was created, highlighting each twist and change along the way. And Peel did change. He underwent several makeovers of style, attitude, taste, political (with a small ‘p’) views and even voice (it got progressively louder and deeper). But the amazing list of artists/acts Peel discovered - including many from America - and whose career he launched almost single-handedly is legendary and far too long to reproduce here (read the book!).
He wasn't perfect: Whilst cutting his DJ's teeth in Oklahoma City, Dallas and California he entered into a disastrous first marriage and quit the US in a hurry, never to return. Surfacing at the austere BBC in 1967 via (marine-based) European 'pirate radio', the surviving extracts from his early hippy-whimsical early shows on Radio 1 now make cringeful listening and, later on, his rebellious urge to cause incendiary mischief almost got him fired on several occasions. Ultimately what saved him was that at crucial times he found two staunch allies (Producers) in Bernie Andrews and John Walters. At each career turn Peel always managed to keep himself – as the cliché goes – one step ahead of the game, although as he used to say “it’s a game nobody else wants to play but that’s not my fault”.
The reason Cavanagh succeeds where so many of the fawning Peel tributes, blogs and website don’t quite manage to, is because he constantly contextualize Peel and his various jobs and musical phases by cleverly using the playlists of hundreds of radio shows from ’67 to ’03, a news story from each particular day and, significantly, the prevailing events/characters/issues at the BBC. The level of research required to achieve this is - to quote Peel in his own assessment of Ken Garner’s classic compendium, ‘In Session Tonight’ (1993) - “almost lunatic”. Cavanagh is given access to the BBC archives and throws himself into the task with relish, delivering a forensic analysis which is almost the equal of Ian McDonald’s ‘Revolution In The Head’, possibly the greatest book ever written about contemporary music. But then the subject of McDonald’s book (The Beatles) and the subject of this one are arguably the only two British cultural icons of the past half-century whose work could be afforded such a detailed analytical process and still manage to hold the reader’s interest.
Sadly we can’t bring Peel back but for those of us whose musical taste - and for many it’s no exaggeration to say their lives – were so greatly influenced by his mesmerizing programmes and thought-provoking attitudes, this book as near as damnit puts that voice right back there with us, in our bedroom with our finger on the Pause button.
My only slight criticism, if I'm being picky, is of the claim of the book's subtitle that Peel "helped shape modern life". That is perhaps a bit too grandiose and fanciful. But I suspect the author - or more likely his publishers - came up with the byline to make it appeal to examination boards as a potential media studies (or even sociology) syllabus text. It may well work - the book is that good.
Either way, David Cavanagh his written what will undoubtedly come to be regarded as the definitive chronicle of Peel's radio career. Outstanding.
Cavanagh early on captures the man's approach. "Happy to dislocate while he educated, Peel caught the listener repeatedly off guard, revelling in surprise and innovation. A sequence of music might go something like this: Mississippi blues > riot grrrl > sludge metal > Berlin techno > Northumberland folk > Toronto surf-punk > Zimbabwean chimurenga > Seattle grunge. You don’t have to be au fait with all the genres to get a palpable sense of dizziness. The effect was like being whisked around a museum by a caffeine-overdosed tour guide with a train to catch. Look at this. Now this. Move faster. Come on." Peel egged on his audience, castigating them for their narrow tastes, yet catering often to that parochialism.
It seems as if Peel courted his listeners but also kept them at a distance, being a rather circumspect presenter who did not dwell on what appears off-set to be a private life full of listening to demos and singles sent in which must have taken up an enormous amount of effort. I wondered how he acquired so many LPs of such disparate genres, many undoubtedly rare and obscure, as well as how he afforded them. His salary may have been adequate if not commensurate with his stature among musicians and their fans and promoters and producers and distributors. Cavanagh late on shows how the BBC refused to compensate Peel for a hotel on a Friday night between shows when his commute was too long, and how Peel had to shell out 80 pounds for a modest room in Paddington. This fact captures a bit of what Peel must have felt, at the peak of success, about his lot.
His relationships with spouses and children are barely glimpsed. Evidently Peel wanted privacy and Kavanagh does not pry. The d.j. career took precedence. "No DJ ever credited his listeners with having such open minds; no DJ ever cared less about their complaints when their minds turned out to be narrower than he thought." The title of this book comes from his post-flower power "Perfumed Garden" early stage. Kavanagh notes how Peel changed his voice from Merseyside to somewhere nearer Birmingham, how his appearance became more severe along with his on-air patter. "It could be seen as appropriate that his voice changed several times over the years, adapting to new ages and new vocabularies. His chameleonic ability to blend into the cultural scenery – be it psychedelia, punk or drum ’n’ bass – while simultaneously blending into the background at Radio 1, surely provides a major clue to his longevity." He was shunted into "regular" reporting but it was not his forte. His musical colleagues at the BBC paled in their airplay picks, and when some tried to match Peel, they found themselves far behind. Again, how Peel kept up the pace is beyond me.
Kavanagh handles this cultural milieu with aplomb. He expects you to know his allusion, say, to King Canute or the Shroud of Turin. And behind his portrait of Peel lurks a shadow. He was very influential in noticing ca. 1969 Elton and Rod, Bolan and Bowie when all were comparatively unknown (although I'd say Rod already was getting notice.) But how much these and many others (The Smiths, Roxy Music, Queen, New Order and Happy Mondays come to mind to name a few) in turn remembered the support Peel gave them before some of them released albums remains vague. Kavanagh shares some sadness about the importance Peel played in many superstars' careers, and how fame beckoned once he gave artists their national exposure. "He may seem to be offering the world when he bestows his blessing on a debut single or a demo tape, but once Peel opens that box, it can never be closed again." It may well have been a mixed blessing, Kavanagh implies, when John Peel championed one's callow efforts.
To his credit, Kavanagh sustains a thoughtful pace and sprinkles in wit and accuracy in fresh analogies. These help when in the later years, after grunge declines, the novelty of innovative rock music diminishes and one senses a malaise set in that's there still. "Britain is a Christian country with a great many lessons to teach the world about how to kill time. The BBC’s popular-music stations do their best to make it an event-free afternoon."
"In the time it took Steve Miller to describe Billy Joe and Bobbie Sue carrying out their first robbery in ‘Take the Money and Run’, the Ramones have just changed the face of music." "Wherever rock has prodigally roamed, the blues has always been the understanding mother in the threadbare armchair waiting patiently to welcome it back home." "We monitor the extent of our stasis by observing changes in the lives of old friends."
"Test Dept’s ‘Shockwork’, which Peel plays tonight, sounds like the lifers on Death Row banging their plastic cups on the bars of their cells." "Peel sizes ‘Jit Jive’ up with vague incredulity, like a boy who asked for Mouse Trap and got a mouse trap." "Happy Mondays are a shopping-precinct funk band with an intimidating face, and the songs on Bummed, which reference gangster movies and Hogarthian women, are as sensory as a headbutt and as hallucinatory as a sleep disorder. Peel liked it very much, the way someone would like a well-taken photograph of a bull terrier with blood on its jaws." There is also sly critique: "Step forward John Peel, who never tires of hearing sensitive boys and girls sing bittersweet songs of Morrissey-esque dolour on low-selling seven-inches. Come strum your guitars, ye floppy-fringed bands of Oxford and the Home Counties. There’s no such concept as irrelevance to a musical omnivore like Peel." You learn that the fabled Peel Sessions began ca. 1968 when the musicians' union restricted how many records could be played on air. The gaps were filled by musicians Peel solicited, but they were pre-recorded and aired later.
"Contextualising modern life with music. Commenting on the news without commenting on it. Shepherding his listeners safely across the midnight border with the sounds of the most extreme vinyl he can lay his hands on. Reconciling the irreconcilable by making sense of the nonsensical. He’s been doing it since 1967." And he kept doing so in his inimitable style or shifts in styles until his death in 2004, when on holiday in Cuzco, Peru.
Kavanagh compiles a welcome addition to rock criticism and cultural history. His account is researched well. (Even if he thrice misspells the dusty burb where one John Ravenscroft labored pre-Beeb around 1965 as "San Bernadino"; this is the elided pronunciation but it's spelled "Bernardino.") How he re-invented himself as hippie and then again as scourge or champion of much of what made rock yesterday and today still is mysterious.
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As Cavanagh points out we forget that Peel in shows like Perfumed Garden and Top Gear also championed Genesis, Pink Floyd, and Mike Oldfield plus was central to promoting the early David Bowie and Roxy Music. His hippie obsessions came fully formed and were later a source of embarrassment although at the time describing Jefferson Airplane as "one of the most important groups in the world" made sense. Indeed, all the old rock "dinosaurs" continued to figure in his famous festive 50 for a number of years following the punk explosion in 1976 and it's wholehearted embrace by Peel.
It was that period from 1976 onward that truly defined Peel. As Cavanagh shows he took on a much harder, more cynical and wryly self-deprecating persona but one also with many faults. This book is affectionate but by no means a hagiography. His research shows that Peel could often descend into seventies sexism, casting himself as a "regular bloke" and indulging in boorish humour about "nubile schoolgirls". These criticisms aside Peel's brilliance was to discover and act as a transmission belt for a generation of bands that would be picked up by the big labels and would essentially graduate to "Peel shows decaffeinated". These included more mainstream programs such as Kid Jenson, Andy Peebles, Mike Read and the eventual possibility of a shift onto Top of the Pops. Cavanagh also stresses his importance in developing regional or city rock scenes criminally ignored by Radio 1's army of Smashy's and Nicey's. His role in supporting Terri Hooley's Good Vibrations label in Belfast is well documented and it rewarded him famously with his favourite anthem the Undertones "Teenage Kicks". but he went well beyond this. Peel's championing of great Welsh Language bands like Datblygu, others like Sheffield's Vice Versa and Scotland's Orange Juice, Fire Engines and Josef K saw him argue for music being "devolved out of London".
Cavanagh's superb book is a chronological history of 265 programs that Peel presented between 1967 and 2003 that begins with Radio London's The Perfumed Garden and ends with the John Peel Show. Throughout he encountered the bemusement and downright opposition of BBC executives who never quite worked out what to do with Peel over the 35 years broadcasting until it dawned that they had a national treasure on their hands. It also shows that Peel enjoyed disagreeing and positively taking on his audience in a relationship based on a mix of equal parts provocation and affection. His listeners loved him for it. The anecdotes here are often hilarious and Cavanagh takes you back to that wonderful time where for two hours every evening you would sit patiently with a cassette deck waiting to tape a new band or a classic session. Although often you could wait exasperated as Peel bombarded you with awful post-punk and horrible grindcore, but he made you think. The importance of Peel in the history of modern music will never be underestimated after this book. Covering 600 pages the memories of Peel flood back not least his love of introducing the lineups of bands. One such listing by Peel for a Dutch band called the Helmets saw him reflect that they have "a vocalist called Pi Pi, the guitarist is Frankenstein and the drummer I'm afraid is called Ronnie Tampon". How John Peel is sorely missed.

It was a lost opportunity – not to mention a disgrace – that last year's tenth anniversary of John Peel’s death was not more prominently commemorated by the BBC and the wider media. But the publication of this superb book more than makes up for that collective oversight. At 600 pages it looked ominously long and overbearing when it landed on my doorstep but in fact the pages fly by and it is a joy to read.
We all know about Peel the idealist, enthusiast, talent-spotter, starmaker and, ultimately, music industry institution. But what David Cavanagh gets across so well is that Peel was first and foremost a professional broadcaster - one of the very greatest the BBC ever employed - laconic, articulate, erudite, amusing, easy on the ear, in the tradition of Reithian giants from Wilfrid Vaughan-Thomas through Richard Dimbleby to Peel's own broadcasting hero (which I didn't know 'til I read this book) John Arlott. But nobody before or since - DJ or otherwise - has come close to Peel in defining the global cultural reach of the BBC. Years before the internet arrived Peel already had an international following via the World Service and received a growing deluge of letters, demo tapes and Festive Fifty votes from all over the planet including from behind the Iron Curtain where in some countries, as recently as the mid-eighties, being caught listening to subversive music broadcast from the UK could land you in trouble, difficult though that is to comprehend now.
The book has an excellent Introduction - a brief 28-page career biography and concise summary of how the Peel phenomenon was created, highlighting each twist and change along the way. And Peel did change. He underwent several makeovers of style, attitude, taste, and voice (it got progressively louder and deeper). He wasn't perfect: the surviving extracts from his early hippy-whimsical shows on R1 now make cringeful listening and, later on, his rebellious urge to cause incendiary mischief could have got him sacked by the austere BBC on several occasions. What probably saved him was that at crucial times he found two staunch allies (producers) in Bernie Andrews and John Walters, the latter becoming a close personal friend and soulmate. At each career turn Peel always managed to stay one step ahead of the game, although as he used to say “it’s a game nobody else wants to play but that’s not my fault”.
The reason Cavanagh succeeds where so many of the fawning Peel tributes, blogs and websites don’t quite manage to, is because he constantly contextualises Peel and his various jobs and musical phases by cleverly using the playlists of hundreds of programmes from ’67 to ’03, a news story from each particular day and, significantly, the prevailing events/characters/issues at the BBC. The level of research required to achieve this is - to quote Peel in his own assessment of Ken Garner’s classic compendium ‘In Session Tonight’ (1993) - “almost lunatic”. Cavanagh is given access to the BBC archives and throws himself into the task with relish, delivering a forensic analysis which is nearly the equal of Ian McDonald’s ‘Revolution In The Head’, possibly the greatest book written about contemporary music. But then the subject of McDonald’s book (The Beatles) and the subject of this one are arguably the only two British cultural icons of the past half-century whose work could be afforded such a detailed analytical process and still manage to hold the reader’s interest.
Sadly we can’t bring Peel back but for those of us whose passion for music - and for many it’s no exaggeration to say their lives – were so greatly influenced by his mesmerising programmes and thought-provoking attitudes, this book puts that voice right back there with us, in our bedroom with our finger on the Pause button.
My only slight criticism, if I'm being picky, is of the claim in the subtitle that Peel "helped shape modern life" which is perhaps a bit too grandiose and fanciful. But I suspect the author - or more likely his publishers - came up with the byline to make the book appeal to examination boards as a potential media studies (or even sociology) syllabus text. It may well succeed, the book is that good.
Either way, David Cavanagh his written what will undoubtedly come to be regarded as the definitive chronicle of Peel's radio career. Outstanding.



