Finally, Ian Prowse and his band Amsterdam have a real album out on a real record label and a real chance of getting some of the recognition that they so richly deserve. Throughout the lifetime of Prowse’s former band Pele and the earlier offerings of Amsterdam there has always been a feel of the ‘home made’, of the ‘cottage industry’ – this is no bad thing, but at long last we have a record that we can buy in HMV, of course this isn’t an indication of quality in any way whatsoever, but it does suggest that people are starting to realise what this Merseyside beat combo are about, and just how great their songs are. They have already had a number 32 single off this record, now all we want is a Top of The Bloody Pops appearance.

“You be France and I’ll be Germany,
you be the States and I’ll be ‘Nam;
You be Spain and I’ll be Italy,
you be Madrid and I will be Amsterdam...”

With that opening couplet Amsterdam’s Ian Prowse immediately sets himself out as an outsider, he casts himself as the underdog, the enemy, the darker side of things. Well, maybe he does, or maybe he just writes a beautifully structured and presented ditty that eases the listener into this record perfectly. Who knows? Whatever the basis for this fifty three seconds of magic you’ll find that with it you are sucked into the most wonderful album opening of the year. The track, billed only as ‘Intro’ flows immediately and effortlessly into ‘Takin’ On The World’ a continuation of the same chord structure, but with added balls, gusto, potency – call it what you will, whatever name you give it, it makes you sit up and take notice.

It is immediately obvious to anyone who has followed the history of Amsterdam that a number of the tracks included here have been previously available on the now deleted, self released albums Attitunes and The Curse, and whilst it is initially disappointing to realise that the songs have not been re-recorded there is no detraction from the feel of the record whatsoever, the collection of songs reads remarkably well as an album from start to finish, and to top it off we get to keep some of the older vocal additions of Ex-Amsterdamster Genevieve. The male/female foil, the sparring off each other has always had a prime role in the songs and performance of this band, and the new all male line up misses that somewhat, but that is my only complaint.

“...it’s just love, belief and a feeling that we will have our day...”

Hot on the heels of this force ten gale of an opening, and keeping the tempo and the feeling right up there is one of the albums definite highlights. The Glorious Day has the engine room going at it like a steam hammer whilst Johnny Barlow rips sonic shreds from his Les Paul before casting them casually to the breeze and watching them flutter to earth from the heavens. Maybe I am hearing this all wrong, but I am convinced that this is a paean to Che Guevara, and it flies with the spirit and the passion that a youthful Che did when he set off on that motorbike. It’s easy to start thinking that this is the best set of songs that Prowse has ever unleashed on the public, but then you get to thinking about past classics and you realise that it is simply a triumphant continuation of what has been a consistently magnificent, but brutally underrated career.

The acoustically driven Nostalgia, the ‘hit single’ sub-funk-punk-pop-rock of The Journey, and the anti-Blair rocket propelled grenade of You’re a Phoney lead the album to its central pillars of strength. The three way classic convergence of The Gangster, Love Phenomenon, and John Peel’s second favourite song (which according to his wife Sheila even moved him to tears) Does This Train Stop on Merseyside? The first a ballsy out and out rock and roll class riot, not the first time that the writer has addressed social interest matters, this time the likes of rough estate boys made bad, maybe through drug dealing or car ringing get the workout. This is a complete contrast, musically at least to Love Phenomenon, a fragile, bracingly delicate ballad filled with the bile and hate of lost love, again, the vocal contribution from Genevieve is essential. It may be minimal but it really goes a long way to making this song the epic that it is. It sashays and sways, it glides and fades like a just out of reach dying embers of a faltering star. Stunning, nothing more, nothing less.

...Merseyside is an instant classic, it’s Liverpool’s culture, history and people in a five minute slice of oozing and pulsating, throbbing guitars and strings. It’s utterly anthemic, insightful and in a way heartbreaking. It gives a sense of disillusionment and disenchantment about the Liverpudlian past yet is laced with a definite civic pride and distinct ray of hope.

“...can’t conceive what those children done, guess there’s a meanness in the soul of men. Yorkshire policemen chat with folded arms while people try and save their fellow fans...”

Knowing what we know it’s impossible to listen to this song and not be moved, for a native of Ian Prowse’s homelands it must be an innately vital song. This is who we were, this is who we are, this is who we want to be...

It would be hard to see where a record could go from here, it almost leaves you exhausted after listening this far, but the simple acoustic ballad John is maybe the most perfect, and indeed the only direction to take. Maybe the writers most insistent and pure song of love and of life, it is perfectly structured and soothes the anguish of what has gone before.

“...with these drums and these guitars, and with these chords and with these tears...”

The tempo is not stilled for long, before maybe the best song that Prowse has written – ever – is lifting your spirits again and dragging you to your feet for a final slam around the disco. If ever a song celebrated the life of a dead star then Joe’s Kiss does it perfectly. The loss of Strummer was undoubtedly great, by all accounts he was one of those irreplaceable rarities of a nice bloke in a shitty industry, and it’s clear that Prowse felt a personal loss as well. It is an utterly euphoric, cleansing, jubilant and introspective anthem to the doomed Clash front man. It’s hard not to believe that Joe isn’t looking down and smiling, and thinking “...top tune Ian, top tune...”

Without exception Amsterdam have, here crafted an album that all lovers of serious song writing and performance will find essential. And hopefully, with the aid of decent distribution and (don’t believe I’m saying this, but) marketing they will finally make the impact that they deserve to...

Yeah, even H.M.fucking.V. have it, send your mum to get it for you.

Words by Johnny Mac
 

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