Mike Tobyn

Mike Tobyn is a Scottish Scientist, and lapsed Pharmacist. Brought up, along with Aztec Camera and The Jesus and Mary Chain, in the New Town of East Kilbride near Glasgow he has lived and worked near Liverpool for the past 20 years. He has recently returned to writing about music when he was reminded that the follies of one’s youth need not be abandoned forever, although the golfball type IBM typewriter he used then could be.

May 052026
 

In Memoriam pays tribute to those who have left this world, and the songs they left us to remember them by.

Beverley Martyn

Beverley Kutner, who passed away on April 27, was a supremely talented musician, bandleader and songwriter, who used her classical drama training to present a beguiling figure on stage. In 1966, when Decca Records wanted to showcase new recording technology, combined with the best music available in London in the Swinging Sixties, they chose her to launch the label, from a stable that included Cat Stevens and David Jones/Bowie. They gave her the cream of London’s session musicians to realize her musical vision, confident in the success that would follow. Later, they provided a budget to travel to record in Woodstock, at that time the center of the folk revolution in the US.

Beverley earned the admiration of Paul McCartney and Barbra Streisand for her music, and the enmity of Sandy Denny, who feared being outshone by another folk songstress. She performed at the Monterey Festival of 1967, and was treated as a peer by Simon and Garfunkel, Jimi Hendrix and all. She recorded some of her best music nearly 50 years on from that heyday, when she could once again call on the best musicians due to her reputation.

Despite all of that, she is likely to be remembered for her relationship with a man.
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Apr 032026
 

Full Albums features covers of every track off a classic album. Got an idea for a future pick? Leave a note in the comments!

Kind of Blue

Columbia Records invented the long playing record in the late ’40s. By the late ’50s, they had turned the LP into the dominant musical artifact of the period. That meant that their Pop department had a busy 1959 planned. Johnny Mathis would release an album that year, and they were preparing for a new Tony Bennett release, along with a compilation LP featuring Mathis, Bennett, Doris Day and Frankie Laine.

The same team was also preparing for some jazz releases. In 1959, jazz was Popular music. Rock and roll had provided some energy, but had not yet evolved in musical sophistication to become the dominant form, and was still shunned as 45-RPM music for teenagers by many who bought LPs. Tamla Motown was evolving its brand of R&B, but it was not the full package of music and presentation that would lead to chart dominance later on. Being part of the Pop department meant that jazz records were plugged for radio play, were merchandised in record stores, and appeared in as many jukeboxes across big cities as the marketers could achieve. Dave Brubeck released an album featuring Take Five that year, and that would be a record of the year in many places.

Miles Davis never gave up on the idea of being a popular artist. He cut his teeth in dance bands that filled halls and floors. In 1948 his Birth of the Cool helped spawn a whole new realm of popular jazz. He would go on to cut fusion albums in the late ’60s, and rock-infused records in the ’70s. His version of “Human Nature” from late in his career is even more wistful than usual, as he considers what Michael Jackson’s talent had given him, compared with what felt he had. He enjoyed the accoutrements of fame, driving his sports car around New York City whilst attired in immaculately tailored suits, Broadway star at his side. He enjoyed playing in front of large, adoring audiences in Europe on Festival tours. If Sly Stone could be musically sophisticated and adventurous, and sell millions of records, what was stopping the marketing department at Columbia from getting him a number one record on the pop charts? If The Temptations could be at the cutting edge, or if James Brown could bring the house down with the JBs at his side, or if Jimi Hendrix could revolutionize rock — well, what was to keep Davis from being thought of in the same way?

But Columbia Records and Davis had a relatively good relationship at this end of the ’50s. At their insistence, Davis had developed a consistent lineup for his band (you would hesitate to say “stable” for a lineup that contained several people who struggled, along with their leader, with substance abuse, and most of whom died young), which became his First Great Quintet/Sextet. The band was popular and had worked together in various forms for several years. His early releases on the label had got him the sports car and fancy apartment.

Whilst Davis wanted to be popular, he also had a vital musical sensibility, which he would not compromise on. The music had to be new, and fit with Davis’s current ideas of freshness and relevance. In 1959 he, along with pianist Bill Evans, were fascinated with Modal ideas. The standard Western Classical pattern of tones and semitones to choose which seven notes from the possible twelve semitone steps is one way to slice the pie, but there are others. Folk traditions have other scales, and 20th-century composers such as Erik Satie and Belá Bartók were translating those folk traditions into vital new music. Debussy was incorporating other scales into his music. Davis and Evans would have been aware of all of that music. Within jazz it was felt that, with fewer chords but also fewer restrictions on the form, so the improvised solo, the most important part of jazz, could be freed from the number of bars generally acknowledged in a blues tune. There was more musical space, including for space between the notes, which some classical and jazz artists view as a vital part of the art.

The band that assembled for two recording dates in the spring of 1959 was ready, and knew each other. Bill Evans had largely left the band, but was brought back for this session due to his modal sensibilities. This might have irked Wynton Kelly, but they both appeared on the record, with Kelly playing the blues-infused “Freddie Freeloader.” Tenor saxophone genius John Coltrane was there, and alto Julian “Cannonball” Adderley was the augmentation from Quintet to Sextet. The peerless rhythm section of Paul Chambers and Jimmy Cobb rounded out the lineup. Although the band was very familiar with each other, Davis’s habit for band dates (in contrast to his work with larger orchestras and Gil Evans) was to use relatively new tunes, or even sketches of tunes, to get the activities rolling. Although Davis took all the writing credits (and royalties), some of these sketches and ideas, particularly the modal ones, came from Bill Evans. In most cases, the first complete take was used. What we ultimately hear is brand new, fresh, vital.

In the end, they produced the most popular jazz album of all time, with over five million sales. During the current vinyl revival it seems that most turntable purchases are quickly followed by a visit to the store to get a copy of Kind of Blue. It denotes a certain level of sophistication to a certain group of people. In movies, you can indicate a thoughtful person by having the sounds on in the background. Many babies have likely been born after their parents got in the mood with this sound (as long as one of them did not make the classic error of concentrating too hard on the music). For some fans, it was all downhill from there for jazz. They believe that jazz was not defeated by R&B, rock and roll or hip-hop; it defeated itself. Free jazz might be seen as actively alienating some listeners (whilst delighting others), but it denotes a different world from the sophistication and elegance of Davis’s classic, and would denote a different type of amorous activities to modal jazz.

Kind of Blue is, of course, popular within jazz circles, but perhaps its greatest legacy is in other forms of music. Musicians of all sorts, growing up in the ’60s, would know the album. They would go on to form bands, as diverse as Steely Dan, The Allman Brothers and Talk Talk, and could incorporate the musical ideas from the record (and sometimes Davis’s ways of leading a band) into their music. There are hundreds of covers of each of the tracks, so we have chosen some that mark jazz, pop and other musical traditions!
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Feb 202026
 

One Great Cover looks at the greatest cover songs ever, and how they got to be that way.

She

Nearly 50 years ago, Elvis Costello earned the temporary enmity of Lorne Michaels, and a healthy dose of publicity. During his performance on an episode of Saturday Night Live, he stopped playing “Less Than Zero,” a song about undue deference to a dangerous Fascist, and swung into “Radio Radio,” a song about unreasonable control of what could be said in broadcast media. Different times.

As Costello was only on the show because the Sex Pistols had made themselves unavailable by going through one of their breakups, people might have been tempted to consider him as another artless provocateur from the British punk scene. Costello, however, would contend that it was a reasonable musical decision to change the song. Americans, fortunately for them, would know little about British Fascist lickspittle Oswald Mosley, but could understand something about the marginalization of artists by broadcasters. For his cheek, Costello was then marginalized by SNL for the next decade.

Being led by the music has been the key to Costello’s career. Long-time fans could have seen him in Grand Concert Halls with leading-edge classical ensembles covering Kurt Weill, or in the less salubrious surroundings of a converted circus in Liverpool, playing his early hits, in a building that helped shape those hits. He has collaborated with hip-hop artists and New Orleans legends. His album with Burt Bacharach, 1998’s Painted from Memory, is a beautiful piece of work. His work with Paul McCartney was a career highlight, for at least one of them, and the emotion in every aspect of his performance for McCartney and the Obamas at the White House is touching.

These successful collaborations, which often last beyond the original nature of the project, do not suggest a man who provokes ire unnecessarily. Musical differences are a catalytic necessity, but one needn’t be difficult about it.
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Feb 062026
 

John Martyn Project Vol 2The John Martyn Project’s first album was one of our Albums of the Year in 2025. The six expert musicians who comprise the occasional collective captured the energy and innovation of their long-standing live show and put it on disc, providing an exquisite rendition of songs that sound great with a rapt audience in front of them.

For The John Martyn Project Volume 2, the band has expanded their vista and ambition, taking the listener on a journey through a wider range of Martyn’s capabilities, but, much more challengingly, they attempt to capture the moods of a man well-known for his extremes of emotion. It is an amazing journey.
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Dec 082025
 

In Memoriam pays tribute to those who have left this world, and the songs they left us to remember them by.

Mani

Gary Mounfield, who performed as Mani, died on November 20 in his beloved home town of Manchester, four days after he turned 63.
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Nov 212025
 

Wainwright Does WeillSongs are always about time and place. The time and place where the composer conceived them, with a new set created when a new person hears them and associates them with a place, lover, or friend. You can say the same about a cover version.

Kurt Weill’s best-known songs come from a place of emotional turmoil, at a time of national confusion and fear. There was some resolution on the former, but the wider issue turned into an international catastrophe. This is always the challenge of covering the songs of interwar Germany. How can you capture the sense of the time and place that the songs came from, when you know the disastrous outcome?

For instance, Alan Cumming played Emcee in Cabaret hundreds of times in London and New York, and even at the Kennedy Center. He knew how the show was going to end. The reason that he won a Tony Award for the production is that he could hide that knowledge from the audience at the exuberant start of the show, but could still generate the necessary pain at the end. When Ute Lemper recorded her wonderful Weill album in 1988, she was doing so in West Berlin before the Wall came down. She does not hide that she knows where the chaos of the Weimar  Republic led, and how the story had gone. She saw it every day, and that is what drives the album’s emotional intensity.

Rufus Wainwright, a Canadian citizen, has chosen to release an album of Weill songs from a period when an angry but complacent nation wandered mistakenly into disaster, without seemingly seeing it for what it was, until it was too late. Perhaps because some of them were having too much fun, or were too selfish to care about others. Who knows why?

Wainwright clearly knows these songs very intimately, and feels them closely and strongly. He may have been listening to them since before he was born. His parents would be familiar with one of the greatest songwriters of the period, and both he and his sister Martha have performed versions of them over the years. He has said that Canadian Opera singer Teresa Stratas’ interpretations were his touchstone in developing his love for the songs. He has exquisite musical knowledge of the genres that Weill operated in, having written operas, worked in jazz, and lived in the home of the Moritat. Also, he has a huge linguistic advantage, having loved in three of the languages that Weill created songs for, and has lost in at least two of them (his marriage to a German seems solid).

All of this means that, whatever the driver for doing it now, we are on solid ground. I’m a Stranger Here Myself: Wainwright Does Weill features a series of tracks with the Pacific Jazz Orchestra, recorded live, with occasional guest artists. It is a marvel and a joy.
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