Six degrees of separation, as defined on Wikipedia, is the idea that if you are one "step" away from each person you know, then you are two "steps" away from each person who is known by one of the people you know, and therefore you are no more than six "steps" away from each person on Earth.
Strange but true? Well, my music collection certainly seems to bear out the theory, because it's probably true that every piece of music ever made is, culturally speaking, just six steps away from being connected in some way to the great Jeff Lynne, the Beatle-obsessed, bubblepermed, aviator sunglasses-wearing Brummie genius who masterminded the success of ELO throughout the 70s.
Lynne tragically found that being in one of the world's most successful bands ceased to be any fun anymore at a point when he still owed Epic three albums, which he grudgingly released in the 1980s. The last of these, Balance Of Power (1986), found the once-mighty 'Orchestra' reduced to three members, with all those once lushly-arranged string sections replaced with 80s synths and Lynne singing as disinterestedly as the guy who does the safety announcements on my morning train.
Turning his back on the road, Lynne called time on the band in order to produce records made by his heroes, people such as Tom Petty (whose Full Moon Fever he co-wrote and produced in 1989), Del Shannon, Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan and of course George Harrison, whose Got My Mind Set On You was a massive hit and invigorated both Harrison's and Lynne's fortunes, and thus his new career as a producer to the stars hit the ground running. Arguably, the high point of this period was the formation of the Traveling Wilburys, a kind of cross between the Rat Pack and the Monday afternoon Crown Green Bowling team.
The affable Lynne must have received thousands of credits on album sleeves, for everything from production and songwriting through to playing tambourine and, for all I know, making the tea, but it's actually nothing short of astonishing that he has only ever officially released one solo album (released between the two Wilburys albums) and, even more criminally, it remains out of print 17 years after it was released.
Armchair Theatre is one of my favourite albums, but while it lacks the inventive genius of ex-partner Roy Wood's debut solo album 'Boulders', its widescreen production and warm, rich sound make it a joy to listen to time and time again, in fact along with ELO's 1977 masterpiece Out Of The Blue, it's one of my favourite Sunday morning albums.
The opening song Every Little Thing is a pacey little number which starts with an in-yer-face section of chorussed saxophones (all of which are played by the aptly-named Jim Horn) that, despite honking away excitedly like a gaggle of distressed geese, wouldn't have sounded out of place on an Art Of Noise album. Make no mistake - it's definitely a Jeff Lynne production - the heavily-gated snare sound is a dead giveaway for starters - but the impeccably-arranged vocals echo classic ELO in a way that Lynne hadn't managed to do since the band's popularity began to wane in the late 1970s.
Rocking up like it was made by Elvis Presley's backing band in 1956, Don't Let Go, the second track, is a delicious piece of rock and roll pastiche that wouldn't actually sound of place on a Wilburys album, and demonstrates clearly Jeff Lynne's passion for his heroes' music. The saxophones return in a brief but joyful solo that recalls the best of Lord Rockingham's XI, and the stop-start chorus of multi-tracked 'ooo-eee's and 'ah shucks'es are simply gorgeous.
Lift Me Up is a soaring ballad which reminds me of World Party, which when you think about it is an incredible feat indeed, considering that Karl Wallinger built his whole sound around his own self-confessed obsession with ELO! The same could, in fact, also be applied to the soulful ballad What Would It Take, with an amazing chorus which could have been arranged by the Mamas and the Papas, and even more so the final track Save Me Now, which, like World Party's own Bang! (1991) takes environmental destruction as its main lyrical theme, though for some reason Lynne chooses to sing it in the style of Bob Dylan, which completely defies explanation.
At times, Armchair Theatre features lush string arrangements that recall the timeless sound of 1930s Hollywood productions, and never less so than on some tasteful reinterpretations of the standards September Song and Stormy Weather (recorded in tribute to his recently-deceased mother) as well as his own Don't Say Goodbye. Stormy Weather, in particular, boasts some fine slide guitar from – ooh, surprise surprise – George Harrison, as well as some cheeky lifts from Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue. In this respect Lynne displays a real love and respect for this era's classic romantic sound. September Song also takes the unusual step of using recorded footsteps as a percussive element, a trick he first tried in 1977's album cut 'Jungle' (and which Roy Wood had used in 'Wake Up' as early as 1969!) However, if you're talking production techniques, Now You're Gone, perhaps my own favourite cut after What Would It Take, is another affectionate pastiche, all swirling Indian strings and tablas, and if, as I suspect, Lynne is using a varispeed to impersonate the female Indian vocals, then his skills are better than I have ever given him credit for.
Was there a follow-up album? Well, Armchair Theatre received some good reviews but failed to sell in any kind of quantity. In the late 80s, Lynne had fallen out with Bev Bevan over the use of the ELO brand name, creating an acrimonious rift between the two musicians and resulting in Bevan forming the inferior ELO Part Two, who continue to this day under the name 'The Orchestra' without the involvement of Lynne or Bevan.
Lynne released an album in 2001 under the ELO name called 'Zoom', which could be considered a close relative of Armchair Theatre, but not by any means an ELO album - after all, the only other classic ELO member present on the album was keyboardist Richard Tandy, and with contributions from George Harrison and – ack! – Ringo Starr, it was probably more of an exercise in getting the surviving Beatles back together. The set lacks the atmosphere of Armchair Theatre, and while I wouldn't dismiss it as a complete failure, the fact it was released as ELO probably reflects the record company's lack of faith in Lynne to sell records under his own name.
But to give credit where it's due, Armchair Theatre is definitely a masterpiece in its own way. It's easily the second greatest thing Jeff Lynne's ever recorded, after ELO's Out Of The Blue, and a great companion piece to the solo albums he recorded with Tom Petty and George Harrison at the time.
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