The winsome warbler may not be to every rocker’s taste but our resident rocker won’t have a word said against her.
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There were certain moments on Top Of The Pops which stood out, never to be forgotten.
The Bohemian Rhapsody video for example or Boy George’s first-ever appearance. I remember my Dad asking me if this strange, then-unknown lead singer of Culture Club was man or woman.
And then there was Kate Bush singing Wuthering Heights.
It was February, 1978 and the nation’s male adolescents instantly fell in love.
I can still recall the following day’s main topic of conversation at school. We loved the song, we loved the singer even more.
Suddenly, it became no formality that we’d all be voting for Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks, Sally James of TISWAS or Debbie Harry in Sounds’ annual poll which featured the politically incorrect “sexiest female” category.
Kate Bush was different. An ethereal, enchanting, mystical beauty, whose haunting, delicate, weirdly wonderful music seemed to reflect the girl herself.
Wuthering Heights was No. 1 by early spring that year, the first time a female artist had hit the top of the charts with a self-penned release.
Cynics say she peaked too early, never writing another song quite as good as her homage to Emile Bronte’s classic novel and they are probably right.
Yet I’ve continued to buy Kate Bush’s records, even though her output slowed to a trickle with no fresh material between 1993’s The Red Shoes and the double-CD Aerial which hit the shelves 12 years later.
And I’ll be joining the throng of applicants hoping to buy tickets for her shows at the Hammersmith Apollo this summer – her first live performances since May 1979
Apparently demand for the 15 shows at the same venue is expected to exceed supply 100-fold so I hold out little hope of seeing Kate Bush live.
Which would be a shame because her show is tipped to rival Roger Waters’ The Wall in terms of theatre and majesty.
The Tour of Life performances 35 years ago were a lavish fare, featuring 15 costume changes, poetry, magicians, wacky projections and of course Kate’s pioneering use of the headset microphone allowing her to act as well as sing.
She may be 55 now but the Before The Dawn set promises to be equally grandiose though it will be almost impossible to improve on the Melody Maker’s description of her last shows as “the most magnificent spectacle ever encountered in the world of rock”.
The word rock sits uneasily on the slim shoulders of such an eclectic musician yet I would hazard a guess that a significant chunk of her fan base comes from the classic rock tradition.
Perhaps that has something to do with Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour discovering her.
Or it could be the fact that back in 1978 she so obviously eschewed the fashionable punk/new wave look, with her wild black hair, bewitching looks and dark costumes appealed to those whose roots lay in the hippy era.
Then again, I would argue her musicality and songwriting genius had far more in common with bands such as the aforementioned Floyd, even Yes, Genesis and even The Doors than The Clash.
All I know is that those very same mates of mine who wanted to see Led Zeppelin at Knebworth at around about the same time as Kate last toured, who’ve followed Rush on every tour since the 70s and who buy every AC/DC record in their back catalogue, will be joining me in the stampede for tickets when they go on sale next week.