Shun Fame

Cush was musically unique in so many ways; his voice could soar like a sail or batter like a cudgel; he could freestyle, toast, scat, rap and he could testify. He could roar a lullaby and whisper an anthem. He never met a melody he didn’t want to change and make his own. His timing as a singer could be so risky you would have your heart in your mouth as he zigged zagged to the end of a line. And if he wasn’t going to make it, he would just dive into the crowd.
As a songwriter he was an original. If Syd Barrett had co written with Ian Dury it might come close. But not really. His lyrics are full of myths, rural utopias with a dark edge, mad skewed characters with a Dennis Hopper vibe. I think of the bitter impotent prison warder of Life of A Small Fry, the solitary DJ of Archangel, bringing rock and roll to the frozen tundra of the Arctic Circle, the grave robbers of Gig Harbour.
Many of his tales were set in his beloved Wales; the homage to Dylan Thomas that is Dog’s Eyes, Owl Meat and Man Chop, the beautiful idyll of Turquoise Bracelet Bay, the sinister edge of Beast of Brechfa. And throughout the surreal stories, a thick vein of humour and word play runs freely.
His melodies and arrangements were also unique. He didn’t do traditional formats. Listen to Denis Law and Ali McGraw. There are four completely different bridges, each coming in at totally random intervals. And there’s no chorus at all. When we recorded it we all had to face him as he played and hope we could hold onto the changes and pauses as he played. Listening to it now I hear the sound of a band swinging in the wind, hanging on, always just about to make a mistake. And that’s no bad thing.
Cush tried to call every album we ever made ‘Shun Fame’. It appealed to his humour and his wordplay. We’d sit around swapping titles and he’d always throw it in. Well here it is at last, though a good subtitle could be taken from another of his underrated classics, the epic Wonder Of It All.
We’ll call it Shun Fame. It’s The Wonder of Cush.