The one song that changed Graham Coxon’s life: “The filthiest”
Many fans would probably raise an eyebrow at the sound of English alternative guitarist Graham Coxon’s surprising musical box of favourites.
For an indie folk artist singing on a threadbare acoustic guitar, it may come as a surprise to hear what Blur’s co-founding member would be belting at a karaoke bar.
His emotional music sits quite far from the choices he brought up during an interview with The Guardian’s recent ‘Honest playlist’ feature, wherein the musical equivalent of Timothée Chalamet boasted secretly “becoming obsessed” with ‘Lay All Your Love on Me’ by Abba. Even more inexplicable than this choice, I would argue, was the song that changed his life.
“When I was a teenager, getting into Van der Graaf Generator, Caravan, Matching Mole, and Robert Wyatt, ‘Ladies of the Road’ by King Crimson changed my life, because it was so odd. I was learning the sax, as well as the guitar, and it’s got the filthiest tenor saxophone solo ever,” he recounted.
Upon the song’s opening notes, it’s immediately evident what Coxon’s “filthiest” would have been, surprising as it is to come from such a softly-sung poet. Released in 1971 with King Crimson’s fourth studio album, Islands, a little progressive rock album, fell relatively under the radar with a peak position at number 30 in the UK. The album was a culmination of increased tension between the band, leading to fundamental divisions in their lineup, with lyricist and co-founder Peter Sinfield being fired following its completion.
Some fans might have been relieved at the change of personnel, since the London songwriter had a peculiar choice of words in composing. The sexy saxophone in ‘Ladies of the Road’ mirrors the filth in its lyrics, which are just as inappropriate as they are absurd: “High diving Chinese trender/ Black hair and black suspender/ said, ‘Please me no surrender/ Just love to feel your Fender’”.
The use of instrumentation in King Crimson’s work would have appealed to so sensitive an artist as Coxon, with each player expecting a unique reaction from its listeners. The song’s lamenting guitar solo evokes a moaning female voice, reaching higher and higher into a climax, while Ian Wallace’s drums are similarly seductive, strengthening the saxophone’s provocative invitation.
The song’s memorable lyrics are a series of male sexual fantasies depicting ‘girls of the road’, that is the band’s groupies. Sinfield knew the move wasn’t totally appreciable, but still attempted to justify that “everybody writes at least one groupie song. We shouldn’t. But we do. It is the ultimate sexist lyric of all time,” he admitted to author Paul Stump in 1997. “I couldn’t imagine anyone taking it too seriously, because in those days you were still able to say things like ‘my lady’ with a capital M and a capital L.”
Why the voice behind ‘Love Is All Pain’ became such a fan of the controversial track is still a mystery, yet there’s no denying the track’s nuanced, textured charm, and the simplicity with which it all seems to come together. Perhaps it’s exactly because the song makes no attempts to mask its filth that it’s as real as rock and roll.
