Julian H Cope

My brother, Wol, is a couple of years younger than me and by the time he started buying records, I was resolutely focussed on electronic music. At that time it was highly unusual for me to purchase any record that didn't feature a synthesiser somewhere in its mix.

Wol's listening habits were far more eclectic from the get go and, looking back from forty years later on, he had unerringly excellent taste. He loved seventies Bowie at a time when, amongst people of our age, this was not common place. He was an early adopter of The Smiths, and it was through him that I became familiar with artists like The Wedding present and The Teardrop Explodes. 

It was this last band that featured Julian Cope as its front man and Wol was a huge fan of his. I remember him playing Julian's first two solo albums, 'World Shut Your Mouth' and 'Fried' over and over. I was largely indifferent until the third outing, Julian's self-styled rock album 'St Julian', which was when Julian was, for a short while, a fixture in the charts. 

It was around this time that Julian appeared to temporarily abandon his muse  and pursued commercial success with the follow up 'My Nation Underground', which, while patchy did feature the wonderful 'Charlotte Anne', after which I named my first daughter. 

Perhaps feeling a little creatively lost, Julian disappeared for a while, only to reappear with his magnum opus, 'Peggy Suicide'. Sprawling across a double album, this extraordinary collection of songs seemed to me to be Julian at his most honest and unfiltered, an album made purely for his satisfaction without a care for its commercial or critical reception. I would recommend it unreservedly. 

And this started a run of terrific albums - 'Jehovahkill', 'Autogeddon', '20 Mothers', and 'Interpreter' - and around that time his was without a doubt my favourite artist to see live. And to cap it all, he also wrote and published his magnificent book, 'The Modern Antiquarian', styled as "A Pre-Millennial Odyssey Through Megalithic Britain". It is an extraordinary piece of work.

It was around this time, in the mid-nineties, that Julian began to follow a more obscure musical path, one that I didn't follow him down, but the last time I saw him live, at Burnley Mechanics after the release of 'Interpreter', remains one of my top three gigs ever. I'm so very glad that Wol was with me for that.

Actually, thinking about it, I did see him once more after that, before this evening, but it was all a bit too 'out there', with Julian's excellent songwriting skills and keen ear for melody apparently abandoned in favour of a heavier, wilfully uncommercial sound.

So it was not without reservation that I took the Minx along to the Arts Club in Liverpool, this evening, to see Julian on his current one man show in support of his new album, 'Self Civil War'. And do you know what? He was wonderful. He has always had a brilliant knack when performing live of being able to engage with the audience and goof around between songs, whilst delivering his music with a serous passion and that remains undiminished.

And the set list this tonight was better than I could possibly have hoped for, drawing heavily on that period in the eighties and early nineties when I loved him, including his first solo single, 'Sunspots', along with 'Passionate Friend', 'Pristeen', 'World Shut Your Mouth', 'Soul Desert', 'The Greatness And Perfection Of Love', and 'Autogeddon Blues'.

The high point for me, though, was the performance of 'The Great Dominions', which is my favourite track by The Teardrop Explodes, performed this evening on keyboards with the assistance of his roadie (see my Extras) and whilst different from the album version, it retained everything I love about the song and it was the most moving part of the show for me. 

I can't tell you how glad I am that we went; it was a great gig and it was a joy to see Julian in his element and on such great form both musically and in himself. What a guy. And to top it all off, the Minx enjoyed it, too!

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Reading: 'The Sound Of Tomorrow' by Mark Brend