Night Teacher – World Too Close
As always, Dylan was right. Those not busy being born are busy dying. And you don’t get a better sense of that than from reading the biographies of old rock stars, something that I tend to do as much because of job requirements as from morbid curiosity.
There have been plenty of talented, good-looking people who could play a guitar or sing a ballad in tune. Even a few visionaries snuck. And many of them made more money, for a while, than they ever dreamed that they would. But where did they end up? And, boy, how long does it take them to finally reach the bottom?
Night Teacher’s “World Too Close” sounds like the song of someone living in a city of darkness, in a modern Kowloon, but preparing themselves for years that will be spent in the sunlight. It’s the song of someone daring to dream as a form of protest.
But “World Too Close” is also a song for everyone who can’t quite muster the enthusiasm and energy to see a better way out. It’s a soundtrack for every rockstar that followed up their great hit with decades of nothing but misery on a drip. Having any kind of success is the easy bit. Shaping into something is a whole other matter.
Larry Beckett – Don’t Walk Away
Young musicians are still attracted by the promises of big record companies, managers and top-name producers. But in an era where independently released songs receive so much attention, why do so many people still bother with an old system? Is it the money, or the guaranteed stamp of approval? Do they think that signing a contract with one of these organisations will guarantee free limousine trips?
Those things are less likely to occur now than ever. But record labels and their employees still offer a mighty shield. And many artists, of course, would like to have the option of hiding behind it.
Larry Beckett faces the audience like an actor tasked with entertaining armed stormtroopers. All he has up there on that stage is himself and the weight of the words he’s about to speak. By contrast, most artists would like to have their name, their face, their wardrobe and their story changed before any such risks are to be undertaken.
Inspired by the immortal Jacques Brel, a comedy actor capable of highly emotional, dramatic performances, Beckett delivers his own version of “Ne Me Quitte Pas,” with the help of Stuart Anthony, who is singing the song. It’s called “Don’t Walk Away,” and it’s wholly heartbreaking and fragile. It’s an artist wrestling with life’s biggest doubts without any shield, and in front of a world that rarely dares to take a break and consider such questions. Beckett’s performance is moving.
