Nick Curran: The lipstick-smeared, skull-and-crossbones rocker who screamed into that good-time night

"My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --

It gives a lovely light!"

- Edna St, Vincent Millay

Sadly, Nick died in 2012.

I don't know whether he had any foes to speak of. I suspect not, save perhaps for lessers who envied his talents.

I never saw the man perform. I know I missed something very special, a five-alarm wildman in the raging tradition of sod-busting authentics.

Fortunately for us, audio and video documentation abound.

Like a rakish Rock'n'Roll predator, Nick constantly moved onstage. Manic. On fire. The man was possessed by wicked-fun forces - and he cast them all over ecstatic adherents.

Taut, his every sinewy muscle flexed, he thrashed his low-slung, weaponized Telecaster without quarter. Surely, no audience member protested the ear-shattering lashing; they were six fathoms deep into fracture, wallowing in dig-ification.

The raw music into which Nick breathed animation was a verdant and unashamed garden of under-the-table releases. It harked back to a primitive glory era, when stark, jaw-jutted Blues, jumpin' Rhythm and Blues, and barely out of the house Rock'n'Roll could be located in the same boisterous and bawdy joints -- patrons dressed to kill, liquored up, and more than ready for whatever and whoever midnight might visit upon them.

Little Richard, Etta James, Guitar Slim -- a host of storied worthies informed Nick's seething Rock'n'Roll. But he also packed in his own flashing, ripsaw personality.   

His last disc, 2010's "Reform School Girl" (Electro Groove), offers rich testimony of his worthy roar. A blazing and house-shaking rave up, Etta James' "Tough Lover" opens the proceedings with slamming certainty. Nick's own "Baby You Crazy," "Lusty Lil Lucy," and "Rocker" follow suit: furiously fun, knock-down cuts, jammed wall-to-wall with hip swagger.

The teen-love-in-tragedy title-cut ballad recalls the Shangri-Las (always a pleasant thought). Rough-edged road romp "Flyin' Home" features guest Phil Alvin, who characteristically imprints the value. And storming original "Psycho" is simply of such savage, sing-along, mad life as to charge unbound into the ether, a forever torch.

Nick once said that "With the music I write, I try to breathe new life into the traditional styles that I really love, using a lot of different influences from different styles of music and different eras...I always want to, not necessarily sound like something that already happened in the 50s, but something that could have happened back then, but got lost in the vaults somewhere."

He was successful in that ambition. I regret missing him onstage. But digging his waxings offers as much redress as can be had.

Videos: "Tough Lover" and "Women and Cadillacs" (both live) 

Cliff Richard & the Drifters

Essential Classics Vol. 823

(Essential Classics)

In 2020, Cliff told Callum Crumlish, of England's Express: "God bless him, but John Lennon said: ‘Before Cliff Richard and Move It there was nothing worth listening to in England.’”

As represented on these two compact discs, crooner Cliff was more than as good as the task he'd selected: lending British bouyancy and his own rave-up flourish to American Rock'n'Roll hits by Elvis, Gene, Little Richard, and similarly rough-hewn luminaries. Add to those songs' number originals (like Ian Samwell's Move It) that possessed their own jump'n'jive hearts. Cliff's marquee features ensured sales figures would know no hindrance. And the deal was sealed by his spring-heeled stage manner and hiccuped dynamism. Too, Donna and Living Doll showed he knew how to render a gossamer melody with due gentility, a gift that proffered particular attraction.

Cliff is rightly regarded as in England's bygone vanguard of teen idols. Lennon was bang on.

(Listen to No Turning Back's narrative to know what surely inspired Jumpin' Jack Flash.)

Recommended, Disc One: "Move It," "Donna," "Reddy Teddy," "Be-Bop-A-Lula," "Apron Strings," "Baby I Don't Care," "Danny (Lonesome Blue Boy)"

Recommended, Disc Two: "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On," "Down the Line," "I Got a Feeling," "Jet Black," "Don't Bug Me Baby," "Living Doll," "No Turning Back" 

Videos: "Move It"   "Living Doll"   "No Turning Back"   

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Songswave

anghami

Nick Curran

Player (Sleazy Records)

Doctor Velvet (Sleazy Records)

In Nick's yowling exhortations rang exuberant swagger that could rip heavy-duty nails from lumber. His ravers had spiritual roots in the shouted works of bygone masters like Little Richard, but were put over with innovative scintillation. There were belly-rubs, too; many-a wee-hours interaction doubtless derived inspiration from the achingly soulful tones of which Nick was capable. 

As regards his solos, suffice it to note that he put his shoe through each. Whether notes screamed in bursts, or orated poignantly, all seized oxygen. (And witness guest Jimmy Vaughn's own pyrotechnics on "Midnite Hour.")

Nick's toils were a far piece from foreigner mimicry. He was as honest-to-Salvation a man of the music as could be anyone who was not jukin' in the 1950s/1960s, or who lacked an H.G. Wells contrivance.

Recommended (Player): "Player," "What About Love," "Evenin'," "She's Evil," "The Groovy Jam," "The Stalker," "Down Boy Down," "Come Back," "Heeby Jeebies"

Recommended (Doctor Velvet): "Doctor Velvet," "Shot Down," "Don't Be Angry," "Please Don't Leave Me," "Midnite Hour," "One More Time," "Can't Stop Lovin' You," "Cold Cold Heart," "Stompin' At the Fort"

Videos: "Player"  (live)  "What About Love"   "Come Back"   "Doctor Velvet"   "Please Don't Leave Me"   "Midnite Hour"

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