Writer: Chris Roberts
Date: April 2004
O'SULLIVAN IS GENERALLY undervalued as a Milliganesque novelty act who penned a few melodic hits, including the schmaltzy "Clair", about his infant niece, and ploddy piano-rocker "Get Down", which made the phrase "you're a bad dog, baby" sound about as sexy as the Tweenies. He dressed as an urchin (though switched to preppier threads around the time of his first big US success in '72) and heinously, sang "Ooh-Wakka-Doo-Wakka-Day". for years, he's been about as hip as Leo Sayer.
Yet, eerie things happen here. Get over the stinking title, and at least three early songs here are glorious with abstract, melancholy wonder - poetic masterpieces which, had Harry Nilsson or Chris Bell birthed them, we'd be hailing as moody-bugger genius. In "Nothing Rhymed" (recently covered live by Morrissey) and "Alone Again (Naturally)", Eire-born Jersey resident Gilbert created classics of lonely whimsy, of child-like innocence that's so innocent it's sinister. And on the haunting and haunted epic "We Will", he outdid anything written by Dennis Potter - albeit with a lovely tune and ethereal strings. It's a sublime, frozen and freaky as, say, Big Star's "Holocaust". So he used to enjoy smiling on Top Of The Pops? Look for the clown's tears, friends, and see that his peak work is tragic, which we mean as the highest compliment. The three aforementioned songs will rise like a ghostly fog when 99 per cent of 20th-century pop music is burned to cinders. though he began to shave back his lyrics for jerky light dance fodder and woolly schmaltz, a lovely later song like the extraordinary minimal "Miss My Love Today" (think pared-down Andrew Gold) is a real find.
It's his early burst of creativity that does the damage, though. On "Nothing Rhymed" the (mother-fixated) narrator glances at his screen to "see real human beings starve to death right in front of my eyes". In "Alone Again" having been stood up then deserted by a dubious God, he recalls his parents' deaths and considers suicide ("it seems to me that there are more hearts broken in the world than can be mended...left unattended"). And for me , the breathtaking Proustian madeleines of "We Will" - "I bagsy being in goal...Do we all agree? Hands up those who do, Hands up those who don't...I see" - induce (given his impeccable phrasing and the perfect descending chord) a great big sissy lump in the throat.
Eccentric British pop, from the genre's insanely brilliant golden age, at it's best.
Q & A
THE RECLUSIVE MR. O'SULLIVAN KEEPS HIS CARDS CLOSE TO HIS CHEST
UNCUT: Was pop especially eccentric in the 1970's?
O'SULLIVAN: Presumably by "eccentric" you're referring to the way I looked!? The answer's no. However, between '67 and '77, originality was rife.
UNCUT: Were "Nothing Rhymed" and "Alone Again (Naturally)" written during bouts of melancholy? And to what degree were they autobiographical?
O'SULLIVAN: No, they were written during bouts of songwriting, and were autobiographical to a degree of zero point zero.
UNCUT: What inspired those magical lines about "bagsy being in goal" on "We Will"? And "at my age" - surely you weren't that old?
O'SULLIVAN: Genuine thanks for calling them "magical" - I'm not used to compliments about my work. "Bagsy" is a great English word. I love the fact that when Andy Williams recorded it he didn't have a clue what it meant. as for age - who said it's about me?
UNCUT: Do you love contemporary music? If so what?
ULLIVAN: I love pop music, period. "If so, what?" Hmm, great title for a song.
THANKS BRIAN PERRIS