Category: Gone but not forgotten

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

Weller, Weller, Weller, Ooft!

Craig McAllister

Tell me more, tell me more….

This is old news to those in the know, but to cut a long (and a bit boring) story short, it appears that the grumpy old pipe ‘n slippers Dadrocker turned re-energised spiky-riffed angry old man with greying Limahl haircut has gone and fallen out with Simon Dine, the sonic architect-in-chief on his recent trilogy of back to form albums. Simon Dine made a name for himself a few years back under the guise of Noonday Underground, a cut ‘n paste sampler’s wet dream of a ‘band’ who made modern-sounding records from obscure skittering 60s drum breaks, forgotten horn riffs, many fluffy needle drops and found sounds. His/their best, Surface Noise is a really good album. I think you’d like it. Paul Weller liked it so much he got Simon in to work his magic on 22 Dreams, Wake Up The Nation and Sonik Kicks.

The Thieving Magpie

You know all this already, but after falling out with Brendan Lynch, his 90s producer of choice who turned bog standard album tracks into works of spaced-out magic, Weller treaded water with a fairly uninspired run of late noughties albums. I suppose when you’ve released as many LPs as Weller has (648 at the last count, if you include The Style Council) you can be let off for letting the standards slip now and again. But until fairly recently, PW was trading on his reputation and not the music. All that changed after he hooked up with Simon. Those last 3 albums are great. (The middle one shades it for me). Those filmic bits you can hear. The Moog bits. The static crackles and bursts. The Bruce Foxton bass riff. They were all down to Simon. Without him in the controller’s chair, Weller would once again have been treading water. Instead, he’s reinvented himself (or rather, Simon reinvented him) and everything’s groovy in the garden once more. Until the ugly subject of money reared its head. Knowing much of this recent success was down to him, Simon wanted a fair slice of the pie. Paul was unwilling to give him that fair slice and, well, that’s that. Weller’s loss is our gain however, as Simon is at this very moment working his magic with that most under-rated, under-appreciated and under-sold of bands, the Trashcan Sinatras. Given that vocalist Frank contributed two beautiful (man) vocals to Surface Noise, I for one can’t wait to hear the results…

But back to Mr Weller. From French cut crop on top to desert booted toe below, Weller has always modelled himself from the inside out on Steve Marriott. The cut of the cloth and the length of the hems. Those square sunglassess he wore on his first solo tour. Even the dirty old man Mac he digs out when the Summer fades and the Autumn leaves start blowing up the Thames. Cut him open and you’ll find the word ‘Marriott‘ stamped into his bones like the lettering on a stick of Blackpool rock. Watch how Weller holds his guitar. The angle it hangs. The way he attacks the chords. The way he slashes at the solos. That’s pure Steve Marriott (with a tiny bit of Wilko Johnson if you look closely). Close your eyes and listen to Weller’s white man sings with soul on Out Of The Sinking. Now go and listen to Song Of A Baker. That’s pure Steve Marriott too. He’s easy to poke fun at, Weller. He’s responsible for Ocean Colour Scene and for that alone he needs a good talking to. But he has made some life-changing, life-affirming records. But you knew that already. Here’s hoping he makes many more. Methinks It’ll be a few more years in the wilderness before he finds another Brendan Lynch or Simon Dine until he’s back on top of his game.

Tunes:

Small Faces – Get Yoursef Together

The Jam – Get Yourself Together

Noonday Underground (feat Francis Reader) – Barcelona

Noonday Underground (feat Francis Reader) – Windmills

Cover Versions, demo, Get This!, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find

Dennis, Dennis! Oh, With Your Eyes So Blue.

Craig McAllister

Poor old Brian Wilson, with his baffled, befuddled thousand yard stare, slack-jawed appearance and hang-dog melancholy, he’s rightfully earned his place atop the ‘genius‘ pedestal. Of that there can be no argument. Spare a thought, though, for wee brother Dennis. The underdog in a family full of musical prodigies, it was the Wilson boys’ mum Audree who made the other brothers find a place for him in their vocal group. Like many naturally ungifted musicians before and since, he was tasked with bashing the drums, giving The Beach Boys’ music a much-needed rock and roll backbeat that had been hitherto unplanned.

Dennis rarely sang on those early Beach Boys tracks, preferring to goof it up on stage and grow into his role as band heart throb. Image-wise, The Beach Boys were undeniably the squarest of the square, exuding about as much sexiness as a bucket of wet sand. But Dennis, with his surfer boy good looks and toned, tanned physique was the one bit of crowd-pleasing eye candy. Or so the ladies tell me. At early Beach Boys concerts, girls would scream themselves into a knicker-wetting frenzy and Dennis would reciprocate by winking at them and dazzling them with a pearly-white flash of Californian smile before pointing the hottest ones out to the roadies who would be dispatched to usher them backstage. Round round get around, he got around, you might say. As you can imagine, young Dennis had to quickly develop pugilistic tendencies as he would often find himself face-to-face with a pissed-off boyfriend or two, keen to land a punch square in the middle of those pretty boy good looks.

Somewhere towards the end of the 60s, Dennis found his feet as a songwriter. He regularly contributed terrific songs (and vocals) that deserved more recognition than they were given. By now he had somehow become a prolific multi-instrumentalist and could present fully-formed songs to his bandmates. A Dennis song would usually be found tucked in some obscure corner of the album, never  given the honour of being released as a single in its own right. If he was really lucky, he might find one of his songs stuck on the b-side of the last single to be released from the album. So, while Dennis never wrote a Heroes & Villains or a California Girls or a Don’t Worry Baby or a Good Vibrations or a (insert your favourite here), to these ears at least, some of Dennis’s songs are just as thrilling as his big brother’s million-sellers.

A selection of Dennis Wilson nuggets:

Forever (from Sunflower) If every word I said could make you laugh I’d talk forever…….If the song I sing to you could fill your heart with joy I’d sing forever. This is The Beach Boys at their most introspective and melancholic. On the day that my coffin slowly slips behind those velvet curtains, this is the song that’ll be playing. So I’m goin’ away…….but not forever. S’a heartbreaker and no mistake.

Slip On Through (from Sunflower) The opening track on the best Beach Boys LP that isn’t Pet Sounds. Slip On Through bursts in waves of technicolour Wilson harmonies and frugging Fender bass and sounds like a proper Beach Boys record for it. You’d like the Sunflower LP, you really would.

Only With You (from Holland) Another introspective cracker. Piano ‘n plaintive vocals declaring undying love. If you’re getting married in the near future you could do worse than choose this as your first dance. And if you think this is good, you should hear Norman Blake’s heaven-sent cover. Oh man! Soaring Teenage Fanclub harmonies, chiming McGuinn-esque 12 string and tasteful string section.

Steamboat (from Holland) Downbeat piano tinkler with some spot on doo-wop vocals and atmospheric spooky slide guitar. On first listen, this might not grab you (possibly why the Wilson clan relegated it to LP fodder) but repeated listens reveal previously unheard depths.

Little Bird (from Friends) This is a superb mini potted history of The Beach Boys on record – various ‘sections’ jigsawed together by Fender bass, parping brass, see-sawing cello and the odd banjo. Features a key-changing na-na-na singalong and brilliant coo-ing backing vocals near the end. Much loved by that barometer of hip opinion Paul Weller, trivia fans.

Make It Good (from Carl & The Passions) Minor key piano and cracked little-boy-lost vocal that pre-dates the minor key and melodrama of Dennis’s ‘lost’ classic Pacific Ocean Blue LP by a good 5 years. A perfect closing track to a right mixed bag of a Beach Boys LP.

Never Learn Not To Love (from 20/20) Following his skewed friendship with Charles Manson, Dennis presented The Beach Boys with a new song that bore more than a passing resemblance to Manson’s own Cease to Exist. Manson was least pleased, to say the least, when the 20/20 LP came out featuring this track with some sugar coated lyrics in place of the original‘s dark subject matter, with nary a writing credit in sight. Possibly not the smartest move Dennis ever made. Having said that, The Beach Boys track is a thing of beauty, all stop/start sections with sleigh bells and flutes and clip-clopping rhythms, soaked in a gallon of reverb.

Lady (b-side from 1970’s Sound Of Free solo single) Much-loved obscurity (if that isn’t an oxymoron) in the Dennis Wilson songbook. All reverb-heavy acoustic guitars and minor key strings, it was rejected from the final running orders of both Sunflower and Surf’s Up and has been fairly heavily bootlegged since.

*Bonus Tracks!

Carry Me Home was written for possible inclusion on Holland before, aye, it was rejected. Primal Scream did a decent downbeat Fender Rhodes ‘n pedal steel version on their Dixie Narco EP, when Screamadelica and all that jazz was just around the corner. Bobby G’s always had an eye for a good cover, even if he cannae sing it.

Everyone knows by now that Pacific Ocean Blue is the accepted Classic Album that Dennis made as he coke’d and screwed his way through the 70s. Just to fling my tuppence worth into the middle, I think it would’ve made a great bookend to this era with Rumours, even if Dennis’s sales didn’t quite match those of Fleetwood Mac. As a follow-up to Pacific Ocean Blue, Dennis recorded the Bambu (or Bamboo) LP, depending on where you read it.  Of course, it never saw the proper light of day until 2008. How very Dennis. Here‘s All Of My Love, an outtake that didn’t quite make the final cut. How very Dennis again.

That should keep you busy. An excellent wee compilation! Happy listening!

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

Ferry Similar

Craig McAllister

“Didn’t this used to be a rock song?” Out in the car yesterday and Miss Plain Or Pan had pricked up her ears, for once, at what was shuffling on the iPod. Normally she can’t stand my music (see Rod Stewart post below). When she’s out with me in the car, she usually asks for West FM or Clyde 1 or any of those terrible, repetitive chart-orientated stations playing the the usual conveyor belt of pop-dance fodder introduced by thick 20-somethings with mid-Atlantic twangs belying their West Coast roots. She is 10, after all. That’s why her statement caught me off guard.  “That‘s Mother Of Pearl by Roxy Music,” I reply. She’d been jokingly head banging to the first couple of minutes, where Phil Manzanera’s electric guitar gamely leads an Eno-free Roxy through a series of mumbled, muttering voices, “Woo-hoos” and “Yaaawees” before giving way to Bryan Ferry’s louch, laconic, lounge lizard drawl. “It’s kinda like Bohemian Rhaposdy in reverse, with the rock bit at the start and the piano bit at the end, isn’t it?” she reasoned. I couldn’t have put it better myself. Except that Mother Of Pearl isn’t the overplayed piece of ham that the Queen classic has since become.

Very much under the influence of the Eno-era Roxy Music were World Of Twist. Their star briefly shone at the tail end of whatever constituted ‘baggy’ and they very nearly threatened the charts on a couple of occasions, once with a cover of the Rolling Stones ‘She’s A Rainbow‘ and once with Sons Of The Stage. Sons Of The Stage is a monster of a record. Full of whooshing, bubbling synths and squealing guitars, it‘s almost Krautrock in delivery – motorik, repetitive and reasonably long. It was the second track on the bands ‘Quality Street‘ LP, long-since deleted but worth 5 minutes of anyone’s time tracking down an illegal copy online. Or a real one on eBay, I might add.

The more fashion-conscious of the monobrowed Mancs along with his band of Beady Eyed magpies recently covered Sons Of The Stage with all the craft and soul of a plank of wood. I won’t sully the blog by featuring it, but I’m sure you know where to look, etc etc, blah blah blah.

Gone but not forgotten

Do Me A Wee Favour, Eh?

Craig McAllister

If you haven’t done so already, could you take 20 seconds of your time to ‘like’ Plain Or Pan on Facebook? Shallower than the wee end at the Magnum, I know, but it would make me happy. Click the logo or see down at the bottom of the sidebar.

Thank You

If you only know Led Zeppelin for bombast and pomp, listen to this.  (70s Rod Stewart could’ve done a great version of it if someone had pointed him in the right direction at the time.)

Cover Versions, Get This!, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Kraut-y, Sampled, studio outtakes

Spacemen mp3

Craig McAllister

If Pete Frame were to do one of his Rock Family Trees on fuzzed-up druggy drone rock he’d inevitably land up (*by way of Spiritualized, Spectrum and even (The) Verve)) at Spacemen 3. Long before Bobby Gillespie had grown tired of his Byrds LPs, Spacemen 3 were the ultimate ‘record collection’ band. Spouting a seemingly never-ending list of achingly cool records by artists I had barely heard of, let alone heard in their music press interviews (Stooges!? Sun Ra!? Electric Prunes!? Silver Apples!?) they totally blew me away with their track Revolution. Being an impressionable 19 year old at the time, into guitars in a big way and with an obsession for cheap fuzz boxes,  Revolution hit me between the eyes with all the subtleness of a Sonny Liston left hook.

Revolution was recorded on some rare vintage Vox guitar or other, replete with switches that fuzzed the guitar at source without the need for effects pedals. No doubt though Spacemen 3 further fuzzed the sound of the Vox by adding fuzz pedals to the guitar’s signal as it made it’s way to the amp. It was overloaded and it was incessant; Repetitive. Relentless. Remarkable! Riff upon riff after riff upon riff – the sort of simple stuff I could play on that plank of wood I called a guitar when I plugged it into my Rocktek distortion pedal – buzzed away in the foreground while a studiously bored-sounding Sonic Boom (Peter to his Mum) with an impossible-to-place accent (Rugby, middle England! Really?) ranted and raved on top, trying to sound as cool as the heroes he name-checked in those interviews I had been reading. I got the feeling copious amounts of drugs were involved and, later on when I was a bit more wordly-wise and able to decode their interviews, I realised there certainly had been.

Later on I also realised that Revolution was perhaps not as original as I had first believed. The riff could’ve come from any old garage rock nugget, but that’s not the problem. Every band does that when they’re new (and not so new) to the game. I brazenly stole the Revolution riff for one of my band’s greatest hits, if truth be told. But that’s another story for another time. And there’s plenty of tracks out there with the word ‘Revolution‘ in the title. But only one seemed to steal and appropriate bits of the lyrics from Iggy Pop’s I’m Bored (shitty mp3 here);

“I’m bored. I’m the chairman of the bored………..I’m sick. I’m sick of all my kicks,” drawls the Ig. “I’m sick, I’m sooooo sick………and I’m tired, I’m sooooo tired”, parrots Sonic Boom.

And only one Revolution seemed to borrow large chunks of John Sinclair’s rabble-rousing and indeed revolutionary rhetoric at the start of the MC5’s Kick Out The Jams;

“Brothers and sisters! I wanna see a sea of hands out there…let me see a sea of hands…I want everybody to kick up some noise…I wanna hear some revolution out there brothers…I wanna hear a little revolution…Brothers and sisters…the time has come for each and every one of you to decide, whether you are going to be the problem or whether you are going to be the solution…You must choose brothers…you must choose…It takes five seconds . . . five seconds of decision . . . five seconds to realise your purpose here on the planet…it takes five seconds to realise that it’s time to move, it’s time to get down with it…brothers, it’s time to testify and I want to know…are you ready to testify?…Are you ready? I give you a testimonial – the MC5!”

“I’m having that!” thought a sticky-fingered Sonic, and putting pen to paper came up with the following –  “And I suggest to you that it takes just five seconds…just five seconds of decision…to realise…that the time is right… to start thinkin’ about a little…Revolution!”

I suggest to you, Sonic, that it took just five seconds….just five seconds to rip that off. OK, so it’s hardly Visions of Johanna and, aye, most of the lyrics are lifted from other records, but 24 or so years later (ooft!) Revolution still does it for me. It’s been playing on repeat as I’ve typed this up and it still sounds as angry as a jar of wasps on a windowsill in July.

For added listening pleasure, here‘s Mudhoney‘s straight-up cover (with added swearing and methadone-referencing lyrics). And, here‘s that 10 mins + outake?/outfake? of The Beatles‘ Revolution that surfaced a few years ago and forced Plain Or Pan into temporary meltdown for a coupla days. Go, go, go, tout de suite, before The Man notices…

*When Spacemen 3 disbanded in the usual drug-fuelled ego-fest fashion, Jason Pierce formed Spiritualized and Sonic Boom formed Spectrum. Jason’s girlfriend and sometime band mate Kate left him for lanky, manky old Richard Ashcroft and his Hush Puppies and went to live in a house, a very big house in the country.

Double Nugget, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find

Keep It In The Family

Craig McAllister

Brother brother brother sang Marvin Gaye on What’s Going On, to all like-minded fellow men and women everywhere. Gathering the clans, uniting everyone, making us (and Marvin) feel part of a bigger thing. Spiritual if not actual family. Family is a big thing in music. Whether it’s monobrowed Mancs or hard-rockin’ hairy Aussies with Scottish roots, there’s plenty of instances where brothers, sisters, cousins, husbands and wives have managed to work harmoniously (or otherwise) in a band. Happy Mondays featured the Ryder brothers. Radiohead the Greenwoods. The Kinks the Davies. The Stooges the Ashetons. Kim and Kelly Deal were half of The Breeders. Karen and Richard Carpenter were able to leave any sibling rivalries at the door and, as The Carpenters create some of the finest easy listening you could ever want to hear.  The Arcade Fire count the matrimonial duo of Win and Regine Butler amongst their ranks. The Beach Boys were a heady mix of brothers, cousins and close friends. The White Stripes? Well, depending on what you read were either some, none or or all of the above. Brother and sister? Husband and wife? 3rd cousins twice removed?  Who knows?

Some bands like to show unity and strength through their familial ties. We are family sang the four sisters in Sister Sledge. Sly & the Family Stone were really Sylvester and the family Stewart. Sly, his brother Freddie, his sister Rose plus assorted cousins…a true family band (with added token honkies, if you hadn’t noticed). Here‘s the little-known Jane Is A Groupee, an (assumingly) biographical tale, given Sly’s penchant for the fairer sex. Sample lyric –

She’s got a thing for guys in the band.

Every musicians’ biggest fan

Claps her hands, but without a doubt, has no idea what the song’s about,

She’s too busy trying to figure out the shortest route to take the drummer home

Fuzz bass, fuzz guitars and drum rolls that sound like they’re playing at the bottom of a deep, deep well, what’s not to like?

Not so prog rockers Family. They were no more related than me to Tina Turner. Spare a thought though for the artists who chose to go it alone in defiant acts of pride/stupidity regardless of the fact that their sibling achieved massive success. Chris Jagger. Mike McCartney. I’m thinking of you. The lesser-known Jagger’s stubbornness to continue his well-worn path of 12 bar blues in ‘intimate’ venues while his more well-known, internationally super-famous brother struts around the larger stadiums of the planet should be commended. The 0ther McCartney is a tad more interesting. Changing his name to Mike McGear and teaming up with poet Roger McGough, (father of Happy Mondays manager Nathan), in 1968 he released a terrific slice of Hendrixian psych rock that (it’s alleged) features Our Paul on production duties and yer actual Jimi on 6 string duties. I’ve blogged So Much In Love before, but have a listen here.

Ronnie Wood’s big brother Arthur formed The Artwoods (gettit?) in the mid 60s and for a few short years carved out a decent career as an in-demand R&B/mod/freakbeat group. Art Wood had that standard gritty white-man-sings-soul voice, and coupled with the much-favoured guitar plus Hammond line-up might have expected his band to have been as popular as The Small Faces in another world. Fate saw that that wouldn’t be the case, which is disappointing as amongst the assortment of standards and expected covers du jour they cut Goodbye Sisters, a terrific piece of mid 60s psych, replete with descending bassline, swirly Hammond and some decent cooing backing vocals. I think you’d like it.

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

Mighty Lemon Drops

Craig McAllister

I expect a bit of a kicking here, or at the very least, a couple of sniggers from some of you lot at the back. But I make no apologies for featuring Over The Rainbow on Plain Or Pan. Why should I? For some it’s perhaps considered sentimental, syrupy, sepia-tinted old tosh, forever associated with a film that seemed to be on eternally every Christmas. For the rest of us it’s rightly been placed as the classic amongst classics. The Recording Industry Association of America have it at Number 1 on their Songs Of The Century list. Granted, this list is compiled from a very parochial view of what is considered ‘classic‘ and anyone of us here could easily go through the list and argue its merits or otherwise (No Elvis! No Beatles! No Dylan!) but that would be churlish. Over The Rainbow is there for a reason, that reason being it is an undeniably brilliant song.

It’s most well-known for having been sung by Judy Garland in The Wizard Of Oz. Famously, it was nearly cut from the film, depriving the audience (and Judy) of a bona fide signature tune. Judy’s version is all little girl lost vocals and sweeping strings, pathos pouring out of it like tears from a glass eye. But you knew all that already. What you might not know is that there are even better versions than Judy Garland’s…

In 1959, Sweet Gene Vincent, when he wasn’t recording rockabilly classics tackled Over The Rainbow with a subtlety and touch you might not’ve expected from a recognised rock ‘n roll bawler. All shoop-shoop-shoop brushed drums and understated end-of-the-prom guitar playing, C’Mon Everybody this is most definitely not. I like Gene’s version for his almost-crooned vocals (“skies are bluu-uue!”), but especially for the tinkling keys that play behind it all. It reminds me of the ice cream van on Saltcoats beach. Which is a good thing, obviously.

My absolute hands down favourite version of Over The Rainbow is by another old rock ‘n roll bawler. You may be surprised to learn that Jerry Lee Lewis cut his version not in the ’50s, or ’60s, or even ’70s. It wasn’t until the ’80s that the old Killer had a go at it and unlike a gazillion other tracks from this era, you can’t tell. It sounds like it was recorded onto 4 tracks in Sun Studios or somewhere similar, there’s not a sniff of a drum machine or synthesizer or digital production to it. Which is also a good thing. Jerry brings to the table a lifetime of guns, gals and no regrets and his clip-clopping version is just about as sublime as it gets. Jerry’s reverb-drenched phrasing (a bit like Bob Dylan’s more recent vocal approach if you’re interested), his loose, funky, bluesy piano playing, replete with those trademark sweeps up and down the ivories, the James Burton-esque guitar riffing, the pseudo-gospel choir, the just-on-the-right-side-of-soppy string arrangement…..I could listen to this version all day long. And I think I just might.

*Bonus Track!

Shhh! The Trashcan Sinatras sneaked their version onto the end of their Zebra Of The Family compilation LP. Fearing heavyweight publishing bills and more visits from wee men seeking money they didn’t have, they thought it best to leave it uncredited and to limit it to no more than 20 seconds long. Terrific, late night/early morning at Shabby Road feel…

(for all you junior Genes ‘n Jerrys)

Next time on Plain Or Pan. Some Stooges. Or Motorhead. Or Husker Du. Or maybe not.

Gone but not forgotten

Aw Naw……….

Craig McAllister

It appears that my Mediafire account, where all the music on here is hosted, has been suspended. I logged on this morning to this welcoming message:

This account has been locked.
See our page about account suspensions for more information:
http://www.mediafire.com/policy_violation/account_suspension.php

Looks like the internet police are up to their old tricks again. Pop in again in a day or so when I might have something more to tell you.

Gone but not forgotten, Live!

Squeaky Drum Time

Craig McAllister

It’s getting towards the time of year when false promises made by desperate men in expensive jackets look about as likely to come to fruition as The Smiths reforming and playing a gig in my living room. Yes, football managers up and down the country are maybe starting to regret the arrogant boasts of silverware and European adventures made in August when the disappointments of last season had barely been cast aside. New season, same old problems. I’m sure you can apply that phrase to your team. Leagues can be won and lost in an instant, with little room left for catch up. The needless booking leading to the unfortunate suspension. The wrong substitution. The wrong formation. Flat back four or holding mid? Decisions, decisions, decisions! Managers unfamiliar with the giddy heights of the top of the league will look nervously over their shoulder as the teams behind them ramp up the war of psychology and bare their teeth. I know how worked up I get over Fantasy Manager. The real thing must be oh, at least twice as bad. Squeaky bum time, as someone once said.

Squeaky drum time is something else entirely. Led Zeppelin, by the time they were making Led Zeppelin III were formidable. They rocked harder, louder and longer than anyone else, with a blues bluster famously described as ‘tight, but loose‘. They could also swing like Sinatra. This was absolutely down to John Bonham. If you see pictures of him and his drumkit from this era you’d notice how basic it was. Compared to the double bass and cymbal stack flab preferred by many of the rock aristocracy at this time, Bonham’s kit looks like a Fisher Price My First Drumkit. Yet the power generated from it would be enough to keep the National Grid ticking over for a week. On Led Zeppelin III, save for an occassional flashy Jimmy Page overdub, much of the material was recorded live and committed straight to tape. In. Out. Job done. With America waiting to be conquered, there was simply not enough time to re-do each track 20 times and splice together the bass track from Take 3 with the vocals from Take 18. Which meant by the time the album was mixed and released, an annoying noise had found itself being magnetised to tape and recorded for posterity. Bonham’s bass pedal had developed an annoying squeak and it can be heard throughout the album. You may have listened to Led Zep III before and never noticed it, but once it’s pointed out, you’ll never be able to listen to it again without hearing it. It’s particularly prominent on the slow blues of Since I’ve Been Loving You. Thump! Squeak, squeak, squeak. Thump! Squeak, squeak, squeak. Thump! Squeak, squeak, squeak! Like the bedsprings in a  cheap honeymoon hotel it’s right there, squeaking away underneath everything you do.

Remastering the tracks at the start of the 90s, Jimmy Page ruefully remarked,

The only real problem I can remember encountering was when we were putting the first boxed set together. There was an awfully squeaky bass drum pedal on “Since I’ve Been Loving You“. It sounds louder and louder every time I hear it! That was something that was obviously sadly overlooked at the time.

Someone else who overlooked the squeaky drum pedal was James Brown. Given his penchant for strict disciplinary control, it’s amazing that he let Nate Jones (and not Clyde Stubblefield as many think) near his kit without a can of WD40 before recording the one chord groove of Give It up, Turnit Loose. Not as prominent as the John Bonham squeak, it’s nonetheless right there, forming part of the distinctive fluid funk that James Brown was famous for. Jones plays like a particularly funky octopus throughout, all pitter pattering snare and tsk-tsk-tsk hi hats. Fans of yer Stone Roses may not be too surprised to hear traces of Reni’s drum playing style filtering in and out.

*Bonus Track!

Bob Dylan also fell foul to studio gremlins, though this had nothing to do with him, or even his drummer. It was only after his MTV Unplugged album had been released that the Bobcats and Dylanologists of the world noticed a tiny bit of looped audience applause that repeated now and again throughout Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door. Two excited whoops and an elongated whistle are enough to have you reaching for the ‘skip’ button before too long. Later versions of the album were corrected, but if you’re one of the many who bought it straight away, you were left with the whoops ‘n whistles repeated ad nauseum. Not to offend anyone from that side of the Atlantic, but those American audiences sure like ta whoop…

Cover Versions, Double Nugget, Gone but not forgotten

If You Like To Gamble I Tell You I’m Your Man…

Craig McAllister

You win some, lose some (it’s all the same to me)……………I don’t share your greed, the only card I need is the Ace Of Spades the Jack Of Diamonds. Or depending where you are and who you’re listening to, the Jack O’ Diamonds.

Jack O’ Diamonds is a classic of its kind. A song about cards, gambling and losing. Which is one and the same I suppose. It was often sung as a lament on the lost highways, biways and plantations of the southern states whenever one unlucky gambler lost his lot playing Coon Can, an arguably politically incorrectly named version of a card game that we nowadays would call Rummy. Like most songs of its ilk, it has ancient roots, some stretching back to the Highlands of Scotland, others stretching less far back to the American Civil War. In 1926, Blind Lemon Jefferson was the first to cut a recording of it. You may never have heard it before, but you’ll know exactly how it sounds – deep southern blues with a petted lip and rudimentary knife-as-slide guitar, coated in what sounds like a thousand eggs frying outside Aldo’s chip shop on a Friday night. It’s quite possibly the oldest record I’ll ever put on here. It’s amazing that it exists at all, a fact highlighted by the eerie, ghostly state in which it is preserved.

Since 1926, it’s taken on a life of its own. Jack O’ Diamonds has been recorded a gazillion times by every two-bit country bluegrass and blues singer that ever lived. And the rest. Lonnie Donegan, the King Of Skiffle, released his version in 1957. A heady mix of hiccuping vocals, frantically scrubbed acoustic guitars and some fine Scotty Moore a-like electric pickin’, it sows the seeds for all future DIY punk aesthetists everywhere. Old tea chest and string as upright bass guitar. Washboard as rhythm section. School choir harmonies. It’s terrific! Without Lonnie Donegan, The Beatles might never have happened, Western pop music as we know it would be very different and we’d all be listening to Mongolian jazz. Probably. But you knew that already. Anyway, if you have the time, you might want to read this.

The best version of Jack O’ Diamonds is, to these ears, the 1966 version by The Daily Flash. Little-known outside of Seattle, The Daily Flash were a fantastic garage-punk band. All wailing harmonicas, fuzz bass and obligatory ear-bleeding guitar solo, their version sounds nothing like the other two. The rhythm underpinning it all brings to mind the rattle and roll rumble of the coal-laden Hunterston Power Station train as it thunders past my house in the wee small hours most nights. Terrifying, yes. Noisy, yes. And guaranteed to keep you awake just the same as that bloody train.