Category: Cover Versions

Cover Versions, demo, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Live!, studio outtakes

Are You Experienced?

Craig McAllister

“We’d like to stop playin’ this uh, rubbish an’ dedicate a song to The, uh, Cream…” My first brush with Jimi Hendrix was at the tail end of the 80s on one of those Sounds Of The 60s shows where they showed a clip of the Jimi Hendrix Experience playing a brief blast of Hey Joe before freeforming into Cream’s Sunshine Of Your Love. On the Lulu show, no less. “That was really nice!” deadpans the still Scottish-accented Lulu through gritted teeth. On first seeing it (the full 9 minute clip is below), 20 years after the actual event, I thought it was fantastic. The string bending! The guitar tone! The way he re-tuned his guitar while he played! The way he sang and played at the same time! The way he sneaked a wee Beatles riff (I Feel Fine) into it! The sheer outrageous flamboyancy of it all – he looked like a pirate and, uh, did he just play that bit with his teeth?!?!?

It would be a few years later until I’d find out what that Plaster Casters slogan on Noel Redding’s tee-shirt was all about (Google it!), though Jimi Hendrix made just as big an impression on me, in much the same way as I’d hope today’s guitar obsessed teenager stumbling across a Sounds Of The 80s show would feel on hearing Freak Scene or Fools Gold (YouTube ’em kids!) for the first time. Man! I. Am. Old. Certainly older than Jimi was when he made his best stuff, that’s for sure.

James Marshall Hendrix.

The only guitarist ever to be named after an amplifier.

Jimi died 40 years ago today, on the 18th September 1970. At the ripe old age of 27 he joined that heavenly choir of fellow 27 year olds who drowned, drank and drugged themselves to death before their time was up. Brian Jones. Janis Joplin. Jim Morrison. Later on Kurt Cobain. And they’re just the well known ones. Daddy of the blues, Robert Johnson danced with the devil and paid the price at the same age. You can add Big Star’s Chris Bell to the list. Echo & the Bunnymen’s Pete de Freitas too. You could even argue a case for missing Manic Richie Edwards. He disappeared aged 27 and has never been seen again. He was officially pronounced dead in 2008. Weird, eh? I thank my lucky stars that at the age of 27 I was still trying to master Wild Thing on the plank of wood I called a guitar. Unlike my 40 year old self, the members of the 27 Club never got stale, bloated, fat and comfortable with it all. Well, apart from Jim Morrison of course. But you knew that already.

I’ve got all the Jimi Hendrix I need – that’s the first three albums done with the Experience and a compilation of his pure blues stuff as well as a couple of studio outtake bootlegs and a sneakily downloaded copy of the Jimi Hendrix Experience 4 CD box set, choc full of alt versions, live stuff, unreleased takes and all manner of the sort of stuff that thrills me to this day. I couldn’t care less if I never hear Purple Haze again, but you can never have enough versions of Third Stone From the Sun, especially 9 minute versions that are more jazz than blues, with Jimi taking on the role of stoned space captain. I don’t really need to hear his version of Hey Joe again, but I never tire of hearing the “Oh Goddam! One more time…make the voices a little lower and the band a little louder” version – replete with great swooning female backing vocals.

On his recent tour, Paul McCartney told the well known story of The Beatles going to see Jimi Hendrix at the Albert Hall and Jimi serenading the 4 moustachioed mop tops in their box with his own version of the freshly-minted Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band. The Sgt Pepper album had only been released a day or two before and Jimi thought he’d play his version for the writers. It sounds thrilling to me. I can only imagine how thrilling it must’ve been for them. Note too, that in those days Jimi didn’t have access to any of the gazillion tab ‘n chord sites that litter the internet with badly tabbed versions of Sweet Child O’ Mine. Get this homeboys ‘n girls –  he learned straight off the record. Just like me. But better – he even replicates the brass parts. Show off.

It’s pretty clear that, post Experience, Jimi had bought himself a one way ticket to Flaresville, Seventies Central. Along with the hemlines and bottoms on his trousers, his music had expanded even further into the cosmicness of free jazz. He was playing with Buddy Miles, his Band of Gypsies even had a bongo player ferchrissakes. This is a much maligned and misunderstood period in the Hendrix canon. Had he stopped after those 3 JHE albums then died, he’d have been immortal. Instead, he’ll be remembered, perhaps unfairly, in the same way as all those other casualties – the promising start before succumbing to ego, drugs and fame and the inevitable  law of diminishing returns. Put yer prejudices aside and listen to this – one of the sweetest tracks Hendrix recorded (in true Plain Or Pan tradition, it’s the demo, not the final mixed version), and only released after his death in 1971. Angel was so good, Rod Stewart recorded a version of it that even them Faces would’ve been proud of. Aye!

*Bonus Track!

In 1968, this track appeared. So Much In Love by McGough & McGear (produced anonymously by one P. McCartney) was never likely to trouble the hit parade, but the guitar playing, the tone, the way those notes are bent……rumours are that’s Jimi at the helm steering the group (including Mitch ‘n Noel of the Experience plus Graham Nash amongst others) straight towards the section marked ‘phazed phreakout psychedelia’. S’acracker!

FYI, McGough was Roger McGough, ex of Scaffold and these days better known as a witty Scouse poet. His son Nathan managed Happy Mondays, if indeed they were at all manageable. McGear is better known as Michael McCartney, brother of Paul. But you knew that already.

Cover Versions, Football, Hard-to-find, Most downloaded tracks

Ramble On

Craig McAllister

One of the greatest pleasures in this blogger’s life is the daily digestion of blog stats. At any given time I can see who’s visited here, where they’re from and what the most popular posts and downloads are (currently the Jake Holmes/Led Zeppelin one). I can also see who’s Googled what and arrived at Plain Or Pan either by sheer good luck or misfortunate malapropos. Current visitors include those looking for What Brand Of Cigarettes Does Keith Richards Smoke?, Pain or Fantasy and my favourite, African Jungle Horse Sex. I can just about understand why trouser arouser browsers looking for Teenage Fanny are directed here. I just hope the sad old bastards leave with a new-found appreciation of the Bellshill Beach Boys chiming guitars and honey-coated harmonies. But don’t stand anywhere near me at the next TFC gig, or you might just get a punch in the face. OK? I wrote something about the Stone Roses a wee while ago that said the bassline on Something’s Burning sounded like it came from the heart of Africa itself. And a long while ago I wrote about Johnny Wakelin’s In Zaire being total jungle funk, but how Google pointed a slevvering sexual deviant looking for quirky equestrian delights towards this mighty fine site four times in one day is beyond me.

Off course, there’s an underlying seriousness to all this. Clearly, people are using the internet for purposes other than tracking down obscure records by musicians only a handful of people have heard of. Whodathunkit, eh?

On a lighter note, the football transfer window closed at midnight on Tuesday night. This is a nerve-wracking time for fans of any club, but especially for fans of the less-fashionable, poorer clubs. As a Kilmarnock fan I’ve had to endure the pain of seeing our star players being snatched away from us at the stroke of midnight by ‘Sir’ Walter Smith and his satanic promises of first team football and the chance to wear the badge of the team they’ve “always supported since I was a wee boy“. To be fair to my club, the last time this happened they held out spectacularly for a decent sum (£2 million I think) for Steven Naismith. But this was only after failing miserably to command a fee any greater than £400,000 (to be paid in instalements, not even in the one go) for the services of Kris Boyd the season previously, a player who went on to score about 17 gazillion goals over the next few seasons (many against us), helped his team to a European final and cemented his place in the Scotland team, before getting his dream move to a bigger club. That’s Middlesborough, if you didn’t know.

The internet was buzzing on Tuesday night. Fans forums were in meltdown as everyone logged on trying to find the truth amongst the rumours, the rubbish and the rest. This year’s big worry was whether or not our star midfielder and captain, Craig Bryson, would be off to join up with recently departed Killie boss Jim Jefferies at Hearts. The rumour mills were in over-drive. At various points leading up to midnight he was at Tynecastle undergoing a medical, he was being sold for £400,000, he was being sold for £200,000 plus a player in return. At one point he was even off to Ipswich. Truth is, none of this was correct. By midnight, Hearts had had a couple of cheeky bids knocked back and Bryson remained with us.

Amongst all the Bryson rumours was a rumour about another player joining Hearts. Every team has fans’ favourites. Maybe not the most technically gifted set of legs in the team, but the one with the biggest heart, worn on the sleeve with pride. The player who’s first to question the referee’s authority whenever he feels a sense of injustice. The player who’ll give away the ‘clever’ foul and take the ‘clever’ booking for the team. The player who kisses the badge unironically cos he means it (maaaan), the player who, when a goal is scored, is the first to run to the crowd and not his teammates to celebrate, a player who can whip up a frenzy of excitement on the terracing by the sheer mention of his name.

At Killie, Manuel Pascali is that player. A tough, no-nonsene pro he breaks down attacks with a crunching tackle before distributing the ball wisely to a team mate. Not wisely distributing. That would infer that he’s incapable of anything other than giving the ball to a teammate to do the hard bit. No. I mean distributing the ball wisely, whereby at lightning speed he assesses the situation and from all his options picks out the best pass that’ll put his team on the offensive. He’s a bit like one of those Dutch or Spanish holding midfielders that slugged it out in that tetchy World Cup final a couple of months ago. Only not as good, or he’d be at a bigger club. Which takes me back to transfer deadline day and stupid rumours. Not only was Bryson going to Hearts, Pascali was off too! In fact, he was currently undergoing a medical and was about to put pen to paper. Noooooo! This was a disaster! While we were getting all hot under the collar about our star midfielder, our old manager had only gone and thrown a cat amongst the pigeons by pinching Pascali from right under our blue and white noses. Manu! How could you? Except, of course, he hadn’t. As all this drama was unfolding on the football part of the internet, over on the social networking section my close personal Facebook friend Manu Pascali was exclusively revealing we were  not to worry, that he was sitting “at home watching a DVD” and that he was “Killie Til I Die!” Heroes, eh? Dontcha just love ’em?

Also over on Facebook, another friend had posted a video of lost Talking Heads‘ classic This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody). I’ve got Arcade Fire doing that I said. What, with their quirky nature and choice of instrumentation, it’s a song that suits them perfectly. So, for you, Mr Big Stuff and any other Arcade Fire fans (and there must be a fair few, given that they’re currently (ahem, cough) burning up the charts, here’s some rare Arcade Fire.

This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) (taken from a 2004 CBC Radio 3 Studio Session)

Cold Wind (from the Six Feet Under TV series soundtrack)

No Cars Go (from the 2003 and re-released in 2005 Arcade Fire ep)

Poupee de Cire, Poupee de Son (Serge Gainsbourg cover, released on one side of a joint tour 7″ single with LCD Soundsystem. Sung in French. Or is that French Canadian?)

And if you haven’t done so already, you need to try this. Arcade Fire video +  Google earth images of your address + some animated birds = pretty fantastic viewing experience. Warning – takes a wee bit to load. But it’s worth the wait.


Cover Versions, demo, Gone but not forgotten

Black Sheep Boy Triple Whammy

Craig McAllister

Or Meet The Folkers (Slight Return). Coming hot on the slippery flippers of the folkie Dolphins post a week or so ago, I’m about to wax lyrical about Tim Hardin‘s Black Sheep Boy. Released in ’67 on Tim Hardin’s 2nd LP (Tim Hardin 2), Black Sheep Boy is a gentle finger-picked acoustic track, melancholic, downbeat and, thanks to the Atlantic Gulf Stream, perfect for this Indian summer we’re currently experiencing on the West Coast of Scotland.

Joe Strummer called Tim Hardin a ‘lost genius of music‘ and he was right. A songwriter’s songwriter, he penned one stone cold classic that would be oft covered by others (Reason To Believe), provided Nico with Eulogy For Lenny Bruce for her Chelsea Girls album and more recently has given Mark Lanegan the perfect track for his gargling sand ‘n gravel growl (Shiloh Town).  Black Sheep Boy is a melancholic rumination of a life gone awry. Basically it says, “I can’t do right for doing wrong, my family don’t love me and no-one understands me ‘cept for the girls who dig my golden curls of hair.”

Much like Reason To Believe, Black Sheep Boy has been covered by numerous hipsters, all eager to worship at the altar of Hardin. Front of the queue was Scott Walker who took Hardin’s introspective strumalong and turned it into a lush Spectorish wall of sound production, all sweeping strings, plucked nylon acoustics and bathed in pathos. Sitting quite happily amongst a mixture of originals, contemporary covers and the odd Jacques Brel song of decadance and decay, it is quite splendid and appears on ’68s Scott 2 (sleeve notes by ‘his friend‘ Jonathan King, fact fans).

Not as rich but no less fantastic to these ears is Paul Weller‘s frantic knee-trembler of a version, released on the now-obscure Volume series of CDs (the hip and happening of the day compiled on a CD with an accompanying fanzine-style glossy book.) At less than 2 minutes long it cuts to the chase, managing to pack in tasteful pedal steel, some subtle organ, occasional double-tracked vocals and Weller’s signature white man trying to sing like Otis on the last couple of lines. PW’s version was recorded in 1994, around the time of Wild Wood. You could suggest that Tim Hardin was something of an influence on the Wild Wood LP, given that album’s rootsy acoustic feel. You might even suggest that Weller has been a fan of Tim Hardin for a number of years. On Side 2 of Tim Hardin 2 you’ll find a song called Speak Like A Child. Now. Where have I heard that before?

Bonus Tracks!

Tim Hardin Speak Like a Child

The Style Council Speak Like A Child

(2 totally different songs, in case you were wondering)

Cover Versions, Dylanish, Hard-to-find

Meet The Folkers

Craig McAllister

A quick history lesson. Sit still at the back!

The Marymass Festival in Irvine is an annual event that dates back to the Middle Ages, although the Marymass festival that Irvinites are familiar with has been going in its current guise since only 1920. The Festival celebrates the time when Mary Queen of Scots stopped off briefly with her entourage of maids-in-waiting at Seagate Castle in (what is now) the town centre. In the lead up to Marymass, a group of voted-in dignitaries go around the local schools and select a 15 year old Queen and four Marys who’s job it is to sit in a couple of wee carriages and get drawn around the corners of the town as the centre piece of a parade. It’s all very serious stuff to those involved.

The parade appears to get smaller every year but always features a dazzling array of dancers, drunks and dandies. Horse-drawn floats dressed up in the themes du jour (this year will no doubt feature a Toy Story float) follow pipe bands who follow twirling majorettes who follow somersaulting seven year olds in leotards trying hopelessly to avoid the horse shit on the road.

The crowds love it. Sunburnt, tattooed and dressed in their Old Firm finery (and that’s just the women), they follow the parade as it progresses out towards The Moor on what was once the outskirts of the town. Ever since a drunk councillor pissed on the sacred, crumbling walls of Seagate Castle a few years ago, public drinking has been banned at Marymass. The pubs open ridiculously long hours on Marymass Saturday, but if you’re caught drinking outwith the walls of The Turf or The Porthead or any local hostelry, you can expect a clip roon the ear from the polis.

Glugging Buckfast from craftily disguised Cola bottles, the throng make their way to the greasy pole to watch as teams of young men (usually from the same family) make a human ladder up the pole to get to the top and remove a giant ham that awaits them. There can be only winner – it’s generally accepted that the ham is always won by the baddest boys from school’s big brothers and that all other teams are there merely to add to the spectacle. And it really is a spectacle. Horse racing, the shows (that’s a funfair, if you’re reading daan sarf) and any number of attractions, the whole of Irvine will be out on the streets this Saturday. Dontcha dare miss it now.

The music bit.

As part of Marymass, there’s an annual folk festival. Held over 5 days around Marymass, I think I’m right in saying it’s the oldest surviving folk festival in the world. This year is its 43rd year. It’s healthy, self-sustaining and plays to a small but fanatical crowd. When Billy Connolly plonked his big banana feet onto the bottom rung of showbusiness, he played the festival. Nowadays, there’s a hardy mix of locals, Irish, American, Scandinavian and Antipodeans who get together to swap stories and song.

Last night saw the annual ‘Open stage’ event and I was there. Judges from Living Tradition magazine put on their  Simon Cowell masks and select an appropriate winner, judging performers on choice of song, musicianship, vocal ability, you know the sort of stuff. The act that won it were head and shoulders above all others, and I say that not because 2 of  the trio were my parents, but because they really were the best. Pause. Pause again. Aye. You read that correctly. My parents. Way back before I was born, they were regulars on the folk scene, playing on the same bill as Billy Connolly, railing against the government with a handful of protest songs and a couple of cheap guitars. All this fell by the wayside when 3 children arrived, but they’ve picked it all up again and with a fanatacism that’s hard to beat.

Lou Reed? Joe Strummer? Him from Glasvegas?

One of the acts last night did a song that sounded like Greenwich Village folkie Fred Neil‘s The Dolphins. But it wasn’t. However, it gives me a good excuse to stick up some versions of The Dolphins, a spot-on brilliant song that’s been covered countless times by countless artists.

Tim Buckley‘s version

Beth Orton‘s version. Features Terry Callier on backing vocals.

A youthful sounding Trashcan Sinatras version.

Taken from a hissy radio session in February 1991.

Cover Versions, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find

King Curtis (part 2)

Craig McAllister

Everybody listen up! Everybody! All you laydees an’ Gen’lmen! All you foxes an’ fellas! All you fellas wishin’ they was foxes an’ all you foxes wishin’ they was fellas! Tonight’s contest sees some of the greatest soul records ever made* slug it out in this here ring for the crown of Best Version Of a Curtis Mayfield Song….Ever! In the black corner we have our tag-team challengers, the mysterious and little-heard of 16 year old wonder, Miss Patti Jo and, fresh from touring the World and beyond with The Jackson 5, the delicious Sisters Love. And in the black corner we have the Undisputed! Genius! Of Soul! Funk! R&B! Gospel! And stack-heeled boots! Thee Heavyweight Champion of the World, Mr Cuurrttiiss Maayyffiieelldd!

Seconds out, Round1!

By 1973, Curtis Mayfield had penned an astounding 44 Top 50 US R&B chart hits for other artists. His version of the sublime Make Me Believe In You appeared on 74s Sweet Exorcist album, but by then it had been recorded by Patti Jo. Little is known of Patti Jo. I do know she was only 16 when she recorded her version. No amount of GoogleWiki sheds any light on her at all. I don’t know what else she recorded, what she looked like, where she lived. I don’t know anything about her at all. But I do know that her version of Make Me Believe In You is a reliable standard in Pete Wiggs’ (St Etienne) DJ box whenever he gets the chance to spin the wheels of steel. Vinyl pops ‘n crackles ‘n all, this is the harder-to-find full length version, not the edited one that usually crops up on yer more trainspottery soul compilations. Flute solo included, it knocks Curtis’ original into submission by the first minute, if you ask me.

Seconds out, Round 2!

Curtis put his version of Give Me Your Love on the soundtrack to Superfly. Scroll down a wee bit from here and you’ll find a live YouTube video of it. It is Blaxploitation personified. Lush, sweeping strings, hypnotic 4 note bass riff, stabbing brass, the ubiquitous wah-wah, by the time the vocals come in I find myself struttin’ the room like a velvet-adorned Harlem pimp. A look that doesn’t go down particularly well in this exclusive part of Ayrshire, even at Halloween. Snoop Dogg liked it so much he knicked it for the opening track of Doggystyle. But you knew that already. Or maybe you didn’t? Hear here.

In contrast, 73’s version by Sisters Love turns the original’s man-coming-on-to-woman on it’s sweet soul head, giving it an empowering pro-feminist love ’em and leave em twist. Or something like that. Either way, it‘s a bona fide, stone-cold underground funk/disco classic. Does that genre even exist? It does now, brothers and sisters. Punch for punch and pound for pound, Curtis takes this one for me.

That’s one round each. Patti Jo takes the first. Curtis batters Sisters Love in the second. Who wins? It’ll go to points. Listen, score them and post your winners in the comments section below. Ciao, soul brothers and sisters!

*mid 70s only

Cover Versions, Hard-to-find, Live!

I Love Led Zeppelin But…

Craig McAllister

..they didn’t half present themselves as the Artful Dodgers of rock music throughout their tenure as global-shagging rock gods. With a cheeky grin, a sly wink and mutterings of “public domain“, Jimmy Page was something of a sticky-fingered riff lifter. I’ve written about this before and I’m sure you know anyway, but any old blues tune that happened to catch his ear would be lifted in whole before being coated in volume, augmented by a slick bit of frettery and re-packaged as the big new thing. “I got those West Bromwich blues“, as Robert Plant moaned on one of those fantastic BBC sessions. Not that Robert Plant is entirely innocent in the whole thing either…

Jake Holmes. Not exactly a household name, but in the late 60s he was a regular of the Greenwich Village folk scene. In fact, in 1967  The Yardbirds caught him at the Village Theater where they watched him play the tracks that made up his debut album, ‘The Above Ground Sound Of Jake Holmes’. As Holmes put it in 2001,

“and that was the infamous moment of my life when ‘Dazed & Confused’ fell into the loving arms and hands of Jimmy Page.”

If you were being kind you could say that a keen-eared Page took the paranoid scratchy folk of the original and transformed it into a much bigger, more frightening rock song. If you were being honest though, you’d have to say that Page lifted it all, from those wee pinged harmonics at the start, to the descending riff and the whole sense of impending doom. Even Robert Plant got in on the act. His quietly sung vocals at the start are a carbon copy of the original’s. Did Holmes get credited when the track surfaced on Led Zeppelin I? Nope! Just like Howlin Wolf, Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Albert King et al before him, he was conveniently un-acknowledged and forced to watch from the sides as his tune made someone else lots and lots of money.

The one thing Page did add to the original was the bowed guitar section, where he scraped a violin bow across the top of his heavily-echoed strings. But even this trick wasn’t original! Mod pop outfit The Creation had been doing this in their stage show since the mid 60s. Watch 1966’s Painter Man for proof….

This is a hot topic right now. 5 weeks ago, Jake Holmes began legal proceedings against Jimmy Page, claiming original copyright on the song. It’ll be interesting to see how this pans out. Poor Jake certainly neeeds to see things set to right. Sadly for him though, legalities mean that, if successful, he’ll be allowed to claim back just 3 years of royalties. That should be a decent sum, but peanuts compared to what his rightful share should be.  

Go Compare dot com:

Dazed & Confused (Jake Holmes)

Dazed & Confused (Led Zeppelin)

Dazed & Confused (Led Zeppelin, live Paris Theatre, London, April Fool’s day 1971. 18+ minutes. Can you handle it?)

*Footnote

When writing this piece, I was checking my facts and figures online when I stumbled across this fantastic site. All of the above, bar the quote from Jake Holmes is my work, out of my own head and arranged accordingly by me me me, but credit where it’s due and all that. I don’t want Perfect Sound Forever chasing me for royalties in 40 years time.

Rubber Plant

Cover Versions, demo, Hard-to-find, Sampled

Stone Soul Picnic

Craig McAllister

There was a brilliant piece in Mojo a few months back where a Dutch writer tracked down Sly Stone and managed to get him to ruminate on his life and music. Currently living between low-rent hotels and a minibus, Sly is crippled financially by the double whammy of huge medical bills and the ongoing saga of not receiving royalties from any of his Family Stone material. It seems that the Michael Jackson Estate holds all his copyright and since Jackson’s unexpected death Sly has been trying somewhat unsuccessfully to have his songs (and royalties) returned to him. All this won’t matter though, if the new album he has ready to go puts him back in the big time. Hmmmm.

Sly Stone 2009. Do not adjust your set.

Sly took a lot of drugs in the 70s. But you knew that already. He famously invited girls back to his studio, offering them the chance to sing on his records if they in return took care of his more immediate needs. Deed duly done, he would simply wipe their vocals from the session, ready to be replaced by the next naive hopeful the following day. Listen to There’s A Riot Goin’ On. Fantastically dark, druggy album, yeah? But a bit muddy sounding? That’s due to all the tape wiping that went on. By the time the record was finished the mastertape was almost unusable. I don’t know if he could get away with that today in the era of ProTools, but I’m sure if there’s a will there’s a way. He ain’t called Sly for nuthin’.

Classic Sly. Waiting for a backing singer.

You will all be familiar with Sly’s greatest hits ‘n bits of music. The focus for now is on those little-heard gems from his extraordinary back catalogue. One of his least-praised albums is 1974’s Small Talk. The last Sly album to feature the original Family Stone, it was released just after Sly married Kathleen Silva on the stage at Madison Square Garden. A mellower and downbeat affair (surprisingly given he’d just been wed), Small Talk relied heavily on pitter-pattering drum machines for the back beat. You won’t find anything approaching Dance To The Music-style hysterics on here, but you will find Time For Livin’. Have a listen to Time For Livin’ early version. Now go and compare it with The Charlatans‘ excellent wah wah and beat-heavy cover, taken from 1995’s charity ‘Help‘ compilation. I like the way Tim Burgess sings ‘fook‘. I had been unaware Sly swore on his version until hearing the cover and backtracking, ears ablaze and eyes a-popppin’. You probably know that the Beastie Boys do a thrash skate punk version on Check Your Head, but you’ll also know how far removed it is from Sly’s original that it’s almost impossible to count it as a cover version.

“I do!”

Although one or two band members appeared on it, Sly dropped the Family Stone moniker for his next outing, ’75’s High On You. None of its singles managed to crack the US Top 40, something Sly wasn’t used to at all. One of the better tracks is Crossword Puzzle. You might recognise the trumpet break from it. De La Soul sampled it to good effect on Say No Go. Here’s the harder-to-find Say No Go (Dope Mix). I’ve posted some stuff about De La Soul before, the records they sampled to make The Magic Number and suchlike. I don’t think the mp3 links will still work, but you can read about it if you’d like. Listen too to this, a trumpet-free take of Crossword Puzzle (early version). Demoed, sampled, looped and covered. That should be enough to keep you going for a few days.

Sly at Woodstock. That frantic, scratching sound you can hear in the background is the sound of Prince and Lenny Kravitz and (insert your own) scribbling down notes as they try to keep up with the master.

 

Cover Versions, Hard-to-find

Roky III

Craig McAllister

I must admit, I was very late to the party. I first heard of the 13th Floor Elevators when Primal Scream covered Slip Inside This House on the epoch-defining Screamadelica. A couple of years later I first heard what they sounded like via the original Nuggets album. You’re Gonna Miss Me sounded like The Who’s Can’t Explain sung half in menace, half in mayhem by a singer clearly over the moon and under the influence (the more canny amongst you may well spot that reference). The Nuggets albums opened a whole new musical world to me and I’ve soaked up everything from them ever since. So, better late than never, a few short years ago I finally bought The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators.

Roky I (2nd right)

Re. Ve. Lay. Shun! They say there’s two types of music; music you’ve heard and music you haven’t. Where had this band been all my life? What were they up to now? The answer to the first question was obvious – they had always been there, I just hadn’t been looking. What they were up to now was a bit harder to ascertain. Lead singer Roky Erickson had spent large chunks of his time in psychiatric institutions. The 13th Floor Elevators’ music wasn’t psychedelic for nothing y’know. Their name was inspired by the fact that most buildings rarely had a 13th floor – hotel floors typically went 11, 12, 14, 15 and so on. The 13th letter of the alphabet is ‘M’. As in ‘mescaline‘ or ‘marijuana‘. If you wanted to reach both the 13th floor and previously uncharted levels of consciousness, Roky reckoned you had to get high and to listen to his music. Being a champion of LSD, mescaline, marijuana etc etc had turned poor Roky into the lysergically-laced groovy uncle of Julian Cope and he was, quite frankly, off his tits.

Roky II

Roky has since returned to some form of normality and some form of music. Now under the legal custody of his brother, he is being looked after and given the medical care that he needs. In 2007 he played at both Coachella and in London. In 2008 he appeared on Mogwai’s Batcat ep. This year he has released an album, True Love Cast Out All Evil, backed by fellow Texans Okkervil River. What I’ve heard of it is (disappointingly) a million miles away from the Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators, but it’s better this than nothing at all, eh? Aye, I’m looking at you Lee Mavers. And you too Barrett, even if you are dead. You had plenty of time to do something, anything.

A portrait of the artist as a young man

Roky also releases albums online via his Roky Erickson CD Club. One of those albums has been that debut 13th Floor Elevators album recast in mono. In mono! Oh yeah! The Monodelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators comes at you like a train, relentless and unforgiving. It sounds fantastic. Here’s 3 tracks for you. If you’ve never heard the 13th Floor Elevators before, this is as good a place to start as any. Remember, it’s never too late.

You’re Gonna Miss Me

Reverberation

Fire Engine

Bonus stuff.

Here‘s Primal Scream‘s Slip Inside This House. Though if you haven’t got it/heard it by now, I’m surprised you’re even reading this. Now compare with the original, from the Elevators’ Easter Everywhere album. I love Primal Scream’s version. Druggy, fuggy and right on the button. With the programmed bassline and rinky dink pianos it sounds contemporary and fresh, but I like that they’ve used the percussion to try and recreate the bonkers jug band blues of the original. Any comments?

Cover Versions, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Live!

Shhh! It’s So Quiet You Could Hear A Name Drop

Craig McAllister

Last week I was contacted out of the blue by an editor asking if I would write him some stuff for the forthcoming Vintage At Goodwood festival – the one where the Faces with Mick Hucknall-as-Rod are playing. To cut a long story short, I interviewed both Martyn Ware (Human Leage/Heaven 17) and Sandie Shaw. Sandie (as I can now call her) phoned me at home and we spoke about her role curating an event at the Vintage Festival.  Amongst the many things we talked about, it transpired that she was unaware that Elvis‘ version of Hound Dog was not the original version, merely a watered-down, revved-up pop version of Big Mama Thornton’s old blues original. 

After Elvis appeared from outta nowhere and hit the music world like a comet from Mars, songwriters from every corner bombarded him with their compositions in the hope that Elvis Himselvis could do what they couldn’t – turn the song into a nationwide hit. This usually came at a price, as Colonel Tom Parker would demand Elvis’ name be added as songwriter and that the song be published by Elvis’ own publishing company. Look in the brackets under the song titles. All those songs – Heartbreak Hotel, Don’t Be Cruel, Love Me Tender, (and there’s more) weren’t actually written or even co-written by Elvis, but that was the pay-off if you wanted him to sing your song. Heavyweights like Leiber and Stoller were established enough not to have to buckle under the force of the Colonel’s muscle, but most others did.

Without insulting your intelligence, you will know that there have been a gazillion versions of Elvis songs over the years.  Off the beaten track and slightly left of centre, here’s another two that you may not be aware of.

Firstly, Dean Carter‘s screamin’ and a hollerin’ garage rockabilly surf version of Jailhouse Rock. Welding together what sounds like primitive morse code, the drums from Wipeout, the piano riff from Let’s Dance (the Hey baby won’t you take a chance version, not the Bowie track of the same name) and the sound of a 7 year old being let loose on an electric guitar with a spanner-as-plectrum, it comes at you at 100 mph breathless, breakneck speed and sounds quite insane. Richard Hawley probably loves this record. You’ll like it too.

Secondly, no less intense is Buddy Love‘s take on Heartbtreak Hotel. More structured perhaps, than Dean Carter’s record above, Love sounds like an amphetamine-crazed matinee idol, barking over the top of skronking sax, freakbeat drum breaks and handclaps. Man! I love handclaps on records! Tarantino could do worse than consider this version for the soundtrack to a pivotal scene in his next movie.   

Bonus Track!

Recorded live a mere 54 years ago at the birth of rock ‘n roll in the New Frontier Hotel, Vegas on May 6th 1956, “He’s a fine young lad and a fine young talent,” it’s young Elvis Himselvis’ version of Heartbreak Hotel.  Of course, Elvis would be back in Vegas 20  years later; bloated, burnt out and bereft of decent ideas, but this is the classic version played by the classic line-up – DJ Fontana on drums, Bill Black on bass and Scotty Moore on guitar. Listen out for the ‘Heartburn Motel’ line he sneaks in near the end.