ADELE

I got to confess I know absolutely nothing about Adele , I wrongly thought that she was an X factor winner , the first time she appeared on my radar was when I was researching the  activities of a Mr Martin Mills, owner of Beggars Banquet Records , what Martin owns and controls is much more than the Beggars company or group as they like to called .

At the time Martin was in a dispute with another party over Adele , I wished I kept copies of the available information because it appeared to me that despite the lofty positions of both parties the evidence or some of it was of an extremely petty nature ,over heard conversations in bars for example , from what could extrapolated from this was an insight into the nature of record companies and the control and greed that seems to govern their behaviour .

Martin as I have previously explained is a strange guy , beneath his benign exterior is a man who seems to be a ruthless operator and a person who through accumulation of wealth can remain entirely elusive and insular.

Beggars and me parted company many moons ago and so much has happened since I am barely qualified to offer any insight into Martin’s world however when I see  Adele I am always remind of Martin and his soft spot for her , I can imagine he  has a photo of Adele  on his desk , I can see him reclining in his arm chair in his office whilst all around the Beggars staff go about the daily chores ,  Martin staring  long into her eyes.

Meanwhile the ghost of Ian Lowery is in the basement along with all the other spirits captured by Martin , trapped in magnetic tape , digital masters and acetate , all kept in the dusty confines of Martins  Alma Road castle , the balls out sonic surge of Thee Hypnotics , the glory of Ray’s guitar , the dark scary passion of Ian Lowery , Whitely’s Rickenbacker bass  riffs , and the psychedelic wanderings of the Darkside , Kev Cowan’s spectacular guitar dynamics , Rosco’s fluid expressive drum patterns , it all lies in the Beggars vault hidden from view .

Adele is currently the Queen of the Beggars , but she is not on BB you say , XL was one of those Beggars basement labels that appeared in the early 90’s , early release’s were quite raw ,vacuous but infectious techno dance tunes issued in sleeves that had a distinctly  bland  unartistic look , however they did eventually hit pay dirt with the Prodigy and aided by the chemical consumption of the populous shifted many units.

Martin is yer Capo , the family boss and has been  ever since Beggars began , why have one label when you can have  many , why have one company when you can have many , XL like all the myriad digressions from Beggars all add up to a remarkable web of intrigue or a remarkable success story depending on your perspective.

Martin has  something a kin to a financial  modular synthesiser , a basic signal can be amplified , subverted , manipulated and sent in many different directions with the end result being far removed from the original source . A company like Beggars have an extremely long and complex history which perhaps is unique having one man attached to so many different labels .

It is fair to assume Martin’s modular synth is bigger than most people’s , thinking about it I would not be surprised if he has a huge  system stashed away but anyway back to dear Adele , I go to get the Sunday Times, yes I know it’s crap but we get the coupon’s ! and it’s an excuse to get the Tiger out , on the front cover is Adele ! don’t mind the disaster that is enveloping the world , the real news is Adele has sold 300 k lp’s  in a week  , the story positioned not in a corner but  in the center of the newspaper .

So the first million is not too far off  ,  that’s ok but I am not living the remainder of my life inside  your fucking vault Martin , you don’t need to keep us locked up forever , we are older , wiser , well those of us still alive , the music industry is a hollowed out rotten log , don’t be the fat worm that eats everything inside ,  i’m just gonna gather up my music and i’ll be gone just don’t come looking for me .

 

 

 

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