Jude Cowan Montague’s Wikipedia entry expends a substantial proportion of its verbiage on how she’s considered a ‘controversial’ songwriter, and how her work divides critics (but no mention of audiences), citing one writer who described 2010’s folk-cabaret album ‘Doodlebug Alley’ as having ‘a Marmite-like quality – you’ll either love it or hate it.’ Personally, I’m more affronted by the fact said critic felt the need to patronise their readers with an explanation of the Marmite analogy, which was more than well-established even then. It also fails to fully explore the prolific nature of her polyartistry, but that’s a whole other matter. JCM’s output is nothing of not wide-ranging.
It’s a truism that you can’t please all of the people all of the time, and nor should any artist strive to do so: unanimous approval is the aim of popular entertainment, not art. But the Hammond organ has heavy connotations of (ch)easy listening, sonic wallpaper and aural chewing gum for the masses. Hammond connotes naff cabaret, WMC in a pall of B&H and John Player Special fag smoke, weak mild and shandy drunk from dimpled glasses, comfy armchairs, cable-knit sweaters, dralon sofas and eye-bleeding patterned Axminster, 70s parents and family snaps shot in faded Kodachrome, bad haircuts, and the very worst of all things retro.
‘Hammond Hits’, recorded in collaboration with Matt Armstrong on electric bass, was first released on cassette in 2018, and is now receiving a vinyl release, which is only fitting for an album so steeped in the cult of the vintage.
It would be false to suggest that Montague Armstrong don’t exploit that cult here: however, vintage in their inspiration as they are, the compositions here aren’t easy, cheesy listening, and instead, Jude and Matt mine a seem of quirkiness. The fairground trillings of ‘Herstmonix’ setting the tone. It’s like The Stranglers without the guitars or the spiky punk edges. It’s at once playful and almost boppy, but somehow dark, in the way that fairgrounds and circuses always have sinister character just around the corner in the form of a shady stranger, a scary clown, or a dangerous mutant.
‘Astercote’ very much evokes the fading Kodachrome tints of the 60s and 70s and the retro flavours of Sterolab, the wordless ‘bap-bap-baaaaah’ vocals occasionally clashing with more Doorsy moments that counter the sweetness and prevent it from becoming cloying with that grating quiver that only Hammond organs can create. Elsewhere, ‘1466’ (we all know what happened then, right? No, me neither – probably something to do with the first brewing of a bland French lager) introduces clattering percussion before slipping into a space that exists between jauntiness and off-kilter psychedelia – and if that space sounds like a yawning chasm, ordinarily, it probably is, but here, they bridge it with a niftiness that likely belies the effort required.
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Jude’s soaring, semi-operatic, and often wordless vocals, consisting primarily of laa’s and ooh’s in lieu of lyrics, are as dominant a feature as the quavering organ work, and this accentuates the anonymous Muzak-like quality of the album overall. There’s a playfulness at work here, as is the case with much of Montague’s work, but the key to appreciating ‘Hammond Hits’ is to take it at face value. ‘Hammond Hits’ is not an album designed to convey any message or emotional content, and unashamedly exists to celebrate – and recreate – a bygone era with an affection so strong that it feels authentic.
It’s worth mentioning here that they’ve done a magnificent job on the vinyl, too: it looks and feels like a period piece, down to the typefaces and layout on the back cover. As such, the experience is a rounded one: it doesn’t just sound vintage, but looks and feels it, too, and it all adds up to an enjoyable audiosensory experience.
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