I don't really know Clive Bell, but I think of him as part of a British tradition that is fading as its principal members reach retirement age. I'm thinking of people like Robert Wyatt, Anthony Moore, David Cunningham in his Flying Lizards days, the London Musicians Collective bunch, and maybe (more peripherally) people as distinct as Billy Jenkins and Robert Fripp. What these people have in common is a deep engagement with the avant-garde from Cardew and Cage to free improv, combined with an abiding love of a great pop song from Brecht/Weill to Blondie. They're old-school revolutionaries of the intellect and of aesthetics, but you just know they'd be great value as guests at a dinner party.
I bought The West Has Won at the same time as Sylvia Hallett's Let's Fall Out, when Hallett and Bell (who I think may be domestic partners as well as musical ones), were performing as part of British Summertime Ends in Mick Beck's back room.
Clive is a bit of an expert, around these parts, in playing the shakuhachi, and, sure enough, there's a setting of an odd prose poem about Alfred Hitchcock's childhood. Alongside these are some catchy-as-hell songs that would not sound out of place in the Top 20 from better days, perhaps between Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark and M|A|R|R|S. The only thing that undermines it is the automated rhythm section.
Clive is also an informed writer and contributor to The Wire. More of that in a few days' time.
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