MUSIC
18
Jeff Beck and Johnny Depp
Rhino Records
Listening, and reviewing, this album begins not with the music but a question.
Johnny Depp leaves the Sage concert venue after performing with Jeff Beck in Gateshead, England, in June.Credit:AP Photo/Scott Heppell
Can the life of a person outside his artistic endeavour cancel that endeavour? Could it render it tainted, even worthless? In the case of Johnny Depp, accused abuser of women (in two court cases in the US and UK, one which he won, the other lost), self-admitted former drug addict and abuser of alcohol, the answer for many would be yes.
The split between an artist and their work has always been a gnarly debate. What can you forgive of a person for culture’s sake? They (it is nearly always “he”) may have been a genius, but they were a bastard. Just one example is Warren Zevon. Bruce Springsteen, in honouring him in concert not long after Zevon’s death, described him as one of the “great American songwriters”. Zevon’s partner would beg to differ as to his greatness.
Cover art for “18,” an album by Jeff Beck and Johnny DeppCredit:Rhino Records
And now there is Depp. His work, in film or music, will be forever entwined with his very public personal life. Should that condemn his work here?
No, the music can do that.
It’s not as if Depp is untalented and is only on the stage and in the studio with a legend of the electric guitar because of his fame. He can hold a note sufficient to keep the melody recognisable, and he can hold a guitar sufficient to move the strings with his fingers. Sufficient, however, isn’t nearly enough.
This album sounds like a side project between buddies, much like his band The Hollywood Vampires, which he formed a decade ago with Alice Cooper and Joe Perry. They have put out two albums (Beck plays on one song on the second album), and still occasionally perform – film schedules and court cases notwithstanding for Depp. They have a European tour scheduled for next year.
This album’s genesis came six years ago when Depp reportedly knocked on Beck’s dressing room door at a concert and introduced himself. They became friends over music and cars (Beck is a huge collector of cars). In 2019, they started playing and recording together, and then COVID hit, and other matters for Depp, and nothing happened until now. The album’s title is explained by Beck: “When Johnny and I started playing together, it really ignited our youthful spirit and creativity. We would joke about how we felt 18 again, so that just became the album title too.”
It’s a sweet anecdote, which ultimately has led to sweet fatuous apathy.
And that’s really the nub of 18. It has nothing to say. It comes and goes with nary a touch to the senses and hence to the soul. It may well be that the eclectic gathering of songs – from Celtic to Motown, to the Californian sound to Goth to pre-punk to John Lennon – might be a sampling of the pair’s favourite tunes, plus a couple of Depp originals, but together it does not gel. Worse than that it’s not even cringeworthy, if it were so it would indicate a visceral reaction in the listener. In the main, it just passes you by.
It begins with Beck covering Midnight Walker by Irish uilleann piper Davy Spillane. Beck has a penchant for Celtic melody, having covered several airs and songs such as Women of London. It’s lovely, as only Irish airs can be. But then comes Death and Resurrection Show by industrial rockers Killing Joke. Depp appears, and one wishes one could say singing full-throated, but rather more like dragging his voice along behind him.
The songs then alternate between the sublime – Beck instrumentals, such as covers of The Beach Boys’ classic Caroline, No and Don’t Talk (Put Your Head on my Shoulder) and the Everly Brothers’ Let It Be Me, and the ridiculous, which is pretty much anything Depp touches.
Beck has said of Depp: “He was a major force on this record. I just hope people will take him seriously as a musician because it’s a hard thing for some people to accept that Johnny Depp can sing rock and roll.”
That may be true, but it’s just not much in evidence. Much has been made in other reviews of Depp covering the Velvet Underground’s Venus in Furs, written by Lou Reed. Given the evidence that came to light in the two court cases in the UK and America, it does portray a tin ear to sensibilities, but then musically it is also one of the most powerful tracks on the album.
It’s hard not to find in the Depp originals, Sad Motherfuckin’ Parade and This Is A Song For Miss Hedy Lamar as well as in his cover of Janis Ian’s Stars, the parallels he sees for his own life: anger, sensitivity, melancholy. The Lamar piece is the strongest, but Stars is musically akin to cocktail bar dregs in the bottom of the glass at the end of the night and Sad Parade is just that.
Of course what should get the album across the line is Beck’s playing. Several years ago, in an interview with this masthead, Beck said of his music that “melody reigns supreme”. It shows in his instrumentals, but it can’t help Depp’s performance.
The guitar player’s flash and virtuosity is only really let loose in the final track, John Lennon’s Isolation. The track is 18’s finest moment, but by then it’s too little, too late.
I hope Jeff Beck, aged 78, has another album in him. It would be a tragedy if his last were to be this one. I hope Johnny Depp doesn’t.
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