207 Hello Gilbert O'Sullivan - Nothing Rhymed

Chart  entered : 28  November  1970

Chart  peak : 8

Number  of  hits : 16

We  mentioned  him  a  couple  of  times  in  the  previous  post  and  now  here  he  is. It's  very  difficult  for  me  to  write  objectively  about  Gilbert. Even  more  than  Karen  Carpenter, he  is  the  voice  of   the  seventies  for  me. I'm  aware  that  he's  still  active  and  entertaining  a  solid  though  ageing  fanbase   but  to  most  people  he  is,  as  Paul  Gambaccini   put  it,  "missing  in  action" , one  of  pop's  great  vanishing  acts. More  specifically  he's  the  voice  of  the  early  seventies , apart  from  a  couple  of  outrider  hits,  which  mean  we  don't  say  goodbye  to  him  for  quite  a  while, his  chart  career  was  over  by  1975  so  hearing  his  voice  on  the  radio  , which  isn't  that  frequent  an  occurrence , always  provokes  a  Proustian  rush  back  to  writing  in  Silvine  exercise  books, Whinberry  tarts  from  Burney's, collecting  tadpoles, Marvel  comics , the  Moomin  books  and  so  on . Since  2002  his  towering  masterpiece  "Alone  Again  ( Naturally )"  has  carried  an  extra  sting  as  I  guess  it  does  for  everyone  who  finds  themselves  an  orphan. It  is  the  most  moving  song  ever  to  chart.

But  that's  not  the  one  we're  talking  about  here. Raymond  O' Sullivan  was  born  in  1946  in  Waterford  although  his  family  moved  to  Swindon  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixties. He  went  on  to  Swindon  College  of  Art  where  he  met  Rick  Davies  ( later  of  Supertramp )  who  taught  him  to  play  piano  and  drums.  He  played  in  some  part-time  bands  while  at  college  but  in  1967  he  was  signed  up  by  a  publishing  arm  of  CBS  as  a  songwriter  after  The  Tremeloes  recorded  a  couple  of  his  songs  on  their  1967  LP  Here  Come  The  Tremeloes .  The  manager  suggested  the  name  change  as  a  pun  on  the  light  opera  giants.

Apparently  much  of  his  early  material  was  weird  enough  to  attract  the  Bonzo  Dog  Doodah  Band  and  his  preferred  image  was  weirder  still, choosing  to  dress  as  an  overgrown  schoolboy  ( Angus  Young  was  taking  notes )  from  a  DH  Lawrence  novel  with  ridiculous  pudding  basin  haircut  to  match. His  1967  debut  single , "Disappear"  is  further  evidence  of  his  very  singular  approach.  CBS's  clearly  baffled  press  release  stated  that  "He  has  the  voice  of  a  tired  old  man"  which  is  an  unusual  way  to  sell  your  product   but  understandable when  you  hear  the  record. Gilbert  affects  a  hoary  old  bluesman's  intonation  ( though  you  can  still  tell  it's  him )   on  a  short  ditty  about  outsiderdom  over  a  quietly  recorded  baroque  wind  quartet. The  Temperance  Seven  are  the  nearest  reference  point  I  can manage. To  nobody's  surprise  it  wasn't  a  hit.

The  second  CBS  single in  1968  "What  Can  I  Do "  is  a  more  attractive  proposition. The  song  about  an  unhealthy  obsession  has  a  touch  of  early  Neil  Diamond  about  it  particularly  in  Keith  Mansfield's  brass  arrangement  and  Gilbert's  still  affected  vocal  is  the  barrier  to  fully  enjoying  it. The  Tremeloes  recorded  a  version  a  little  later  adding  an  early  synthesiser  solo  to  the  end.

CBS  gave  up  on  him  after  that  and  his  third  single  in  May  1969  "Mr  Moody's  Garden" , which  sounds  like  a  non-smutty  George  Formby  ditty  translated  to  piano, was  released  on  the  small  Irish  label  Major  Minor. Inspired  by  a  real  Swindon  neighbour, it's  a  jolly  tune  and  Gilbert  sings  it  in  a  more  conventional  tone.

His  fortunes  changed  when  he  sent  his  demo  tapes  to  Gordon  Mills. Mills  immediately  saw  the  potential  in  the  songs  although  he  only  tolerated  the  image  and  signed  him  up  to  his  and  Tom  Jones's  newly-launched  MAM  label.  "Nothing  Rhymed"  was  his  first  release. The  sophistication  is  startling; each  line has  more  than  one  meaning. The  title  could  be  about  writer's  block, in  this  case  the  "failure"  to  write  a  chorus  or  it  could  be  a  comment  on  helplessness  in  the  face  of  the  random  nature  of  the  world, watching  famine  on  the  TV   while  snacking  on  apple  pie. There's  also  a  lot  of  Catholic  guilt  in  there, wanting  parental  approval  for  giving  up  a  seat  on  the  bus  or  feeling  uncomfortable  about  winning  a  bet. Gilbert  was  now  using  his  own  keening  voice , the  imperfection  of  which  adds  to  the  raw  honesty  of  the  song. Johnnie  Spence  as  arranger  also  deserves  credit  for  keeping  in  the  background  until  the  middle  eight  gives  him  the  chance  to  demonstrate  the  strength  of  the  melody  line. It  reached  number  two  in  Ireland  and  Holland  gave  him  his  first  number  one. Gilbert's  spell  in  the  spotlight  may  have  been  brief  but  at  its  best -  and  this  is  close - his  music  is  timeless.