LIVE REVIEW: Brooke Combe

This article is copyright of The Scotsman and used with their permission for this purpose only. 

Brooke Combe

Barrowland, Glasgow

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The story so far: raised by her parents on a nourishing diet of classic soul, the Scottish singer-songwriter Brooke Combe has spent the last four years making a name for herself with a well-received mix-tape and a recently released début album, Dancing at the Edge of the World, produced by fellow retro-head James Skelly from the Coral.

This was her biggest headline show to date, a promising showcase for a young artist with self-evident talent and charisma.

She may be mired in the music of Motown, Stax, Philadelphia International and Bacharach/David, but Combe never settles for mere pastiche. She reminds us that good, new, catchy songs can still be written in that vein – old tricks learned, absorbed and ensnared on fresh hooks.

It also helps that she has personality, sincerity, a sense of humour and a commanding voice. Brooke intuitively understands that the best classic soul singers never over-sang or show-boated. It's all about controlled power, and she has that in abundance.

Granted, there are a few too many mid-paced plodders in her nascent oeuvre – Texas-adjacent stuff that drifts in one ear and only tickles the other – but she's at her best when riding that intense, surging northern soul beat. This Town and Lanewood Pines are bona fide bangers.

And she's not afraid to express her rawest feelings. L.M.T.F.A (aka Leave Me the F*ck Alone) was prefaced by a frank and funny monologue in which she didn't hold back on the person who inspired it. “This is my therapy!” she declared, smiling.

The fact that this furious tirade against her hated step-mother is disguised as a sumptuous slow-jam just adds to its unabashed impact – subversive introspective soul music.

BOOK REVIEW: SMiLE: The Rise, Fall and Resurrection of Brian Wilson by David Leaf

This article was originally published in The Big Issue in April 2025.

SMiLE: The Rise, Fall and Resurrection of Brian Wilson, David Leaf, Omnibus Press, £19.35

The Beach Boys’ SMiLE is the most famous ‘lost album’ of all time. Intended as the ambitious follow-up to Pet Sounds and Good Vibrations – an album/single double whammy that cemented Brian Wilson’s reputation as one of mid-‘60s pop’s greatest innovators – it was eventually abandoned for numerous complicated reasons.

Wilson descended thereafter into years of substance abuse and severe mental health problems. SMiLE was a painful subject that he never wanted to revisit.

Hence why it was so astonishing when, in 2004, Wilson and his talented band of super-fans released Brian Wilson Presents Smile, a re-recorded version of his fragmented masterpiece. The reviews were ecstatic. Finally, one of rock’s great myths had become a reality.

An oral history curated by noted Beach Boys aficionado David Leaf, SMiLE: The Rise, Fall and Resurrection of Brian Wilson charts the entire saga from its origins in 1966 to its triumphant 21^st century denouement.

Key contributors include Wilson’s charmingly eccentric and erudite collaborator Van Dyke Parks and his brilliant bandleader Darian Sahanaja, without whom the resurrected SMiLE would never have happened. As for the fragile Wilson himself, he makes occasional contributions via interviews conducted for Leaf’s 2004 documentary Beautiful Dreamer.

It’s an uneven book – the lengthy prologue in which famous fans sing Wilson’s praises is blatant padding, and Leaf’s (affectionate?) digs at Parks’ elliptical manner of speaking are unnecessary – but it does provide some interesting insight into the making of an undeniable musical landmark. 

BOOK REVIEW: Yoko: A Biography by David Sheff

This article was originally published in The Big Issue in April 2025.

Yoko: A Biography, David Sheff, out now, Simon & Schuster, £19.03

Yoko Ono is a revolutionary conceptual artist, peace activist, feminist icon and musician whose work has inspired several generations.

She’s also one of the most unfairly vilified public figures in living memory, a woman who for decades was forced to endure a vile torrent of racist and sexist abuse for the alleged crime of breaking up the Beatles.

These days, only an ignorant minority of people (mostly men) still cling to that patently untrue opinion, but the rehabilitation of Ono as an important and respected artist in her own right was a long time coming. David Sheff’s Yoko: A Biography crowns that process.

It studies her life and work in the depth it deserves while authoritatively dismantling numerous scurrilous falsehoods. By the end you’ll have renewed admiration for this often misunderstood human being.

Sheff and Ono became close friends after he interviewed her and John Lennon in 1980, and his prologue emphasises that he’s fully aware of the potential conflict of interest when it comes to telling her story honestly. To his credit, Sheff hasn’t written a hagiography. He’s on Yoko’s side, quite rightly, but never ignores her flaws (at worst she could be weirdly naïve and occasionally self-absorbed).

Ono, who is 92, retired from public life a few years ago. She takes centre stage via archive interviews and perceptive contributions from loved ones such as son Sean and daughter Kyoko.

The most revealing chapters are devoted to her early career as a provocative avant-garde artist; Lennon’s infamous ‘lost weekend’ told for the first time from her perspective; and the harrowing aftermath of Lennon’s murder.

Sheff stresses that Ono was in a state of almost catatonic grief during that unimaginably awful time. For years afterwards, she received death threats from cranks while being betrayed by confidantes out to make a fast buck. Simultaneously, ill-informed critics continued to drag her name through the mud.

That she managed to survive so much trauma is testament to her incredible strength and resilience. And that above all else is what Sheff captures here: Yoko Ono is a survivor. And she rocks, hard.