As some of you may know, I’ve hosted a music podcast at National Review for well over seven years now (long before I ever began writing here full time, in fact). Political Beats is a bit deceptive as a name — we can’t really change it at this point! — because only the guests tend to hail from the world of politics; otherwise what we do is simply discuss great modern popular (and semi-popular) music in lovingly nerd-like detail.
Each episode centers on a single artist or band, and if seven years of data is anything to go on, there are a lot of frustrated music dorks out there in the world of politics. I don’t write about it often on the Corner simply because I understand it’s a niche obsession. But every now and again something really wonderful happens, and I want the world to know.
A year ago on our show we discussed the utterly fascinating British singer-songwriter Nick Lowe. I was so happy with the episode — and enthusiastic about the subject — that I couldn’t help but write about it as well. You can read that piece for more background into Lowe’s career, but the short version is: Lowe began in the late Sixties by co-founding a well-loved “pub-rock” band named Brinsley Schwarz, before becoming a songwriting collaborator with Dave Edmunds and producer-on-the-spot for a passel of the U.K.’s most important punk/new-wave acts (notably Elvis Costello, one of whose most famous hits in America is ironically enough a Nick Lowe song).
He then embarked upon his own solo career with a bang on 1978’s Jesus of Cool and 1979’s Labour of Lust while simultaneously moonlighting on tour throughout America as bassist in the band he shared with Edmunds, the charmingly (and accurately) named Rockpile. But the flush of late-Seventies success faded away throughout the next decade.
In the early Nineties — after his pop career had fallen into irrelevance and seemingly terminal artistic decline — Lowe suddenly found a new musical gear in his middle age. Comfortable in his own skin, embracing country and blues sounds, and redoubling his purist’s commitment to the formal craft of songwriting, he elevated himself from merely an interesting new-wave artist and wit into one of our genuinely great (and underrated) songwriters.
In fact, for many fans the most exciting part of Nick Lowe’s musical career begins after the fame: from 1994’s The Impossible Bird onward, all the way to the moment we taped last year. The only question was: Would there be any more music?
The joyful answer is: Yes, and how. After eleven years, Lowe has finally put out a new album titled Indoor Safari, recorded with Los Straitjackets (a fine band in its own right). And the biggest surprise of all is that it ranks among his finest works. Seriously — it’s a miraculously lively and assured album full of clever, sad, sophisticated songs that will hopefully be making year-end lists.
Nobody’s quite sure how this happened, including Nick himself. And I know that because guess who dropped by Political Beats to discuss it with us? That’s right, none other than Nick Lowe himself. Nick joined us for an hour, and we had a wonderful discussion about the new album as well as many of the other nooks and crannies of his career (both Dave Edmunds and the song “Bay City Rollers We Love You” are mentioned). Perhaps most fascinatingly, Nick spends a fair amount of time musing upon the reasons he changed his entire musical approach midway through his career, as well the nature of quality pop songwriting and the process he takes to get there.
If you’re a fan of Lowe’s music, then I hope you enjoy the interview; we are thrilled to bring it to you.