Category: Hard-to-find

Get This!, Hard-to-find, New! Now!

Shake Appeal

Craig McAllister

Jack White‘s Blunderbuss hit the racks this week and while it’s not much of a departure from the old routine, it’s still a terrific bluesy, funky and at times shouty affair, with plenty o’ whoopin’ and a-hollerin’ and those trademark scorching guitar breaks that we’ve come to expect. Giving him a run for his money in the retro stakes are Alabama Shakes, who, by the time you’ve read this are probably the number 1 selling artist in the country. Or is it still Adele?

Alabama Shakes are fairly talented and very young. Annoyingly so. They have a combined age about half that of Keith Richards and sound as if they’ve eaten the Stones back catalogue for breakfast. They are guaranteed to be the act at all this year’s major festivals and come August I will be sick fed up of them. I first heard them via a free Soundcloud ep, long-since unavailable for download. At the time I found myself Googling images of them as I couldn’t believe it was a girl that sang. But don’t let that put you off, she’s good! They may look like the Magic Numbers (remember them?) but they sound totally different. Rootsy. Organic. Raw. Their first EP was released at the tail end of the summer last year and features 4 tracks that also appear on the album. No doubt the hipper amongst you will already be saying, “Meh. I saw them at SXSW last year, but they totally lost it before the first album, man.” More fool you. By the time of the 2nd album, of course, when they’ve learned to play that wee bit better and the guitarist wants to sneak in the odd solo here and there and the record company have decided that Brittany the singer could go it alone, they will, by then, have lost it. Right now, Alabama Shakes are smokin’ hot. Get on board. Those four tracks from the ep are here:

Aye, every borrowed riff and stolen chord change is predictable and the whole thing has a slight whiff of a record company who believe they may have found the new White Stripes/Kings of Leon/authentic  blues-based female vocalist that, unlike Amy/Adele/Duffy has her own authentic bar-room band. There are enough ‘ooh my souls‘, ‘ sweet baby babies‘ and ‘dontcha worries‘ to keep all you cliche kleptomaniacs happy for a long, long time. Donald, if you’re reading, you would have loved ripping this album to pieces. But then, Alabama Shakes aren’t for you. They are for every 18 year old who missed out first time round on Kings Of Leon. For 28 year olds who missed out first time round on the Black Crowes. For 38 year olds who missed out first time round on Creedence. For 48 year olds and anyone who has never heard The Faces, Exile On Main Street, Otis on Stax or the blues of Etta James, they may well change your life. For the rest of us, they may well just be a bit ho-hum. For what it’s worth, I like them and they do sound brilliant live…..

*Bonus Track!

Here‘s Heavy Chevy, the iTunes ‘exclusive’. The Chuck Berry solos have started creeping in…(maybe they have lost it, man).

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.

Get This!, Hard-to-find

Aural Sex

Craig McAllister

Bryan Adams was nine years old in the Summer of ’69. He wouldn’t reach the ripe old age of 10 until November that year. While that makes him a decade older than me, unless he was some sort of child prodigy, it certainly doesn’t make him old enough to have been playing in bands where Jimmy quit and Jody got married and they were young and restless, needin’ to unwind. When I was 9 I was usually found halfway up a tree or on the gravelly garage site ground after grazing my knees in a failed attempt at a wheelie on my racing bike. I’m sure Bryan was no different. The nostalgic notion amongst the romantics of the world is that Summer Of ’69 is about exactly that – the year when Bryan and his pals formed a band, chopped and changed the line-up and set off on their quest for worldwide fame and attention. The more savvy amongst us will have cottoned onto the fact that Summer Of ’69 is exactly about this. Indeed, Bryan has since said that the song referred to the best summer of his life, being a young buck and enjoying everything that came his way.

The relationship between sex and music is nothing new.  You knew this already, but the actual term ‘rock and roll‘ refers to the act of gettin’ it on, and ever since we’ve had the ability to magnetise songs and transfer them to vinyl,  artists have used the platform to brag, boast and bum (steady on!) about their bedroom (or otherwise) escapades. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road? You Shook Me All Night Long. Suck On My Big Ten Inch. Betty Boo Just Doin’ The Do. Here’s a good holiday game for you, especially if you’re stuck freezing somewhere in a caravan wearing last week’s flimsy summer clothes for warmth and comfort – give everyone a pen and piece of paper, set the clock to 2 minutes, say “Go!” and write down as many songs as you can think of that refer to sex, directly or otherwise. Regardless of genre or vintage, there’s hunners o’ them!

Some artists take the direct route – “If It Don’t Fit (Don’t Force It) cos you make your mama mad”, hollered Barrelhouse Annie on her pre-war 1937 blues record of the same name.  “Squeeze my lemon till the juice runs down my leg,” moans Robert Plant on Led Zep‘s downright funky re-write of Robert Johnson‘s Travelling Riverside Blues. “I wonder if you know what I’m talking about,” he ad-libs. We do, Robert, we do! Let’s Get It On, crooned Marvin. Push It (Push it real good!) rapped Salt ‘n Pepa. “There are explosive kegs between my legs, Dear God, please help me!” mentioned Morrissey, one eyebrow raised suggestively while the rest of him conveniently forgot that he was supposed to be celibate. “I got pictures of naked ladies, lying on their beds, da-da, da-da, da-dada, starts a swelling in my head.” Sorry, I can’t remember all the words. You could Google them if you like. That was shock metal rockers Wasp‘s mid-80s granny-frightener Animal (Fuck Like  a Beast). We could go on for ever, really. How’s that list of yours coming on anyway? If you’re stuck, think metal bands. They are considerable repeat offenders. Bon Jovi‘s Slippery When Wet? It’s not a concept album about the industrial cleaning of factory floors, that’s for sure. And Prince. Don’t forget him, the little genius that he is. His back catalogue is a right smut-filled funk-fest of fornication and frolics.

Some artists are more subtle and incorporate a certain amount of dubiety to the lyrics. Millie‘s mid 60s skanking My Boy Lollipop is supposedly not about licking lollipops at all, but rather some sexual act or other. I can’t for the life of me think what it might refer to.  The Vapors‘ Turning Japanese? Every schoolboy knows what that’s about. Soft rock balladeers Heart‘s innuendo-filled All I Wanna Do included a line about I am the flower, you are the seed, we walked in the garden and planted a tree. I don’t think Titchmarsh or that Charlie lassie who doesn’t wear a bra were much in the band’s thoughts at this time. The Naked Gardeners, maybe. I’ve blogged this before, but Grace Jones‘ Pull Up To The Bumper is perhaps the most sexually innuendo-filled lyric in the history of sexually-explicit records. Pull up to my bumper baby, in your long black limousine….drive it inbetween……..I’ve got to blow your horn………shiny, sleek machine…...grease it, spray it, lubricate it.……” Here‘s the full-length (!) uncut (!) 12″ (!) mix.

Some artists even go so far as to literally get into the groove and incorporate the actual act itself to audio tape. Axl Rose employed the services of one such obliging young lady while recording Rocket Queen on Appetite For Destruction, overturning strategically placed microphones in the process. Gads. It’s rumoured that saucy old Serge Gainsbourg did likewise whilst recording Je T’Aime with Jane Birkin, although Serge himself disputed this as if they had, he said, the record would’ve been a long-player. Ooft! Two such tracks that employ more than a touch of heavy breathing are L’il Louis‘ groundbreaking house classic French Kiss and Donna Summer‘s libido-filled Love To Love You Baby. Here‘s the original 12″ of French Kiss, taken straight from vinyl and complete with some reassuring crackle ‘n fluff underneath all that moaning and groaning. And here‘s the complete, full length (!) throbbing (!) 12″ (!) version of Love To Love You Baby. 16+ minutes of pure aural sex.

I’m off for a cold shower.

Get This!, Hard-to-find, Kraut-y, Sampled

Vorsprung Durch Technik

Craig McAllister

Vor 30 Jahren Kraftwerk schafften es auf Platz 1 mit ‘Das Modell’, möglicherweise der unwahrscheinlichste Rekord, solche hohen Status zu erreichen, und eine, die immer dem Aufzeigen würden die vier Düsseldorfians fest in der ‘One Hit Wonder ” listen. Natürlich können Sie und ich wissen es besser.

Elegant gekleidete junge Männer und Pioniere der elektronischen Musik in einer Zeit, die westliche Welt ging ga-ga für lange Haare, Leder und Les Pauls, sie waren für viele der Ying zu den Beatles Yang. Einige können sogar so weit gehen zu sagen, sie waren die einflussreichste Band aller Zeiten. Nicht ich, aber dann habe ich immer eine Strat zu einem Synth bevorzugt. Pionier der Elektro Hip-Hop-Haus (ist, dass selbst ein Genre?) Afrika Bambaataa würde wahrscheinlich mit mir nicht einverstanden. Er wurde sicher von minimalistischen Techno Kraftwerks inflenced, Kneifen große Teile des Trans Europ Express für seine eigene höchst einflussreiche und bahnbrechende Planet Rock. Ohne Bambaataa keine Detroit House-Szene und alles andere, dass inspirierte (Happy Mondays für ein, wenn Du sitzt dort denken: “Ach. Wer über Tanzmusik cares?” Joy Division, mit ihrer eisigen Soul-Rhythmen und weniger repetitive Riffs waren klar große Fans. und ohne Joy Division, New Order und nicht alles, was von ihnen folgten. Bowie war so beeindruckt von Kraftwerk (und die deutsche Szene im Allgemeinen), die er nach Berlin ging und nahm seine berühmte Berlin-Trilogie von LPs als Hommage verliebt. Aber dann, so tat U2. Und armen Mannes U2, (C**dplay), abgetastet großen Teilen der Computer Liebe für diesen “, wenn Sie ein Bild zu machen” Lied von ihnen. also, Kraftwerk. Einflussreiche in allen möglichen Weisen. der Musik toll. Robotic, sich wiederholende und reif für eine Neubewertung …

Das Modell

Autobahn

Die Roboter

Computer Liebe

All above tracks are in German, if you haven’t guessed already. I selfishly included Die Roboter as my kids think it’s great. “We are stinky robots!” they happily sing along. It fits too! Have a listen!

Having trouble reading my attempt at Google Translate-enhanced schoolboy German? Click here and copy ‘n paste the above text.

Tschüs!

*Useless Trivia…

Daniel Miller, head honcho at Mute Records (and therefore someone who owes Kraftwerk a huge debt) owns the vocoder that produced the wonderful vocals on Autobahn, amongst many others in the early career of Kraftwerk. “It’s like owning Hendrix’s guitar,” he mused on BBC4’s ‘Synth Britannia‘ a year or so back.

Get This!, Hard-to-find, Live!

Flesh Of My Flesh Of My Flesh Of My Flesh

Craig McAllister

Not the most well-known Orange Juice track, although it is on the self-same Rip It Up album as The Hit. And was released as the follow-up to that self-same number 8 smash hit, peaking at a slightly less chart-troubling number 41. Fame fame fickle fame, to paraphrase one of our other pop treasures. And not the coolest Orange Juice track either. That would be Blue Boy if you were wondering. And certainly not the best Orange Juice track, although there’s something about Flesh Of My Flesh that brings me back time and time again.

Maybe it’s the acid-tongued Collins’ bittersweet vocal, “Here’s a penny for your thoughts (incidentally you may keep the change)“. It’s a good one, but, nah. Most of the time the lyrics are incidental (there’s that word again). It’s the overall sound that reels me in. Always has been, even with Dylan. Orange Juice knew their onions, as they say, and the reference points, however fashionable or otherwise they may have been in 1982, are there for anyone with even half a scholarly outlook on pop music to spot. Maybe it’s the Chic-esque rinky-dink guitars and I Want Your Love descending chimes. Talent borrows and genius steals, after all. Maybe it’s the wee burst of ba-ba-ba-Bacharaque brass every now and again, recalling Dionne Warwick at her easiest of easy listening. Or maybe it’s just the sting of distorted vintage guitar riffing in and out whenever Edwyn thinks the track veers too close to pipe ‘n slippers pastiche. Maybe even it’s the Philly soul guitar break that pops up here and there on both single versions (it is a belter of a riff, if you want to know). Or maybe (though less likely) it’s the none-more-80s-sounding 12″ version, with it’s extended breaks, congas and bongos, ting-a-ling percussion and of-it’s-time super-slick st-st-st-stoodio production.  Whichever way you look at it, Flesh Of My Flesh by Orange Juice is a perfect wee record.

Jesus! Sandals! With Socks!

I’d love to tell you that after buying this in Rough Trade I ran up the road to play this to death in 1983, but I’m just not that cool. I would’ve been running up the road to play records to death by this point in my life, but in 1983 I was most probably running up the road with Electric Avenue or Down Under (look them up if you need to) swinging in the wind, John Menzies poly bag tearing into my newly teenaged wrists while I sprinted at full lung bursting pelt to get home tout de suite in order to perform the spiritual ritual of placing needle on vinyl. Eddy Grant and Men At Work. That was my 1983. It would be a few more years before Orange Juice made themselves known to me, but I’m glad they eventually found me.

The Music:

Flesh Of My Flesh (album version)

Flesh Of My Flesh (7″ version)

Flesh Of My Flesh (12″ version)

Flesh Of My Flesh (from a bootleg, live in London 83, probably the Lyceum in March)

All tracks are very different. The album version is, for want of a better word, smooth. The two single versions are spikier, more abbrasive, rawer, whatever you want to call them, and are better for it. The 12″ version features all of the production gimmickery mentioned before. Perhaps a slightly dated affair, I love it, for what that’s worth. The live version manages to be both punkish and funkish, with cringe-inducing out of tune keyboards replicating the brass parts. Haircut 100 this is not. Take from that what you will.

Cover Versions, Get This!, Hard-to-find

Third Degree Burnin’

Craig McAllister

Here’s a thing. In the post-Winehouse search for gin-u-wine authentic blue eyed soul, any pretty young thing with a gritty voice and a decent set of breasts found themselves in a dusty, analogue recording studio listening carefully to whatever it was that the svengali their record company had plucked from indieland’s dole queue was telling them to do. Leader of the pack was Duffy; 60’s-steeped, Dusty-voiced (kinda) and produced by former hip young gunslinger Bernard Butler. Mercy, with its snapping snare and northern soul Perry boys in the video was, I’m not ashamed to say, a real favourite of mine way back in ’08.

It isn’t to hard to imagine that the Duffy track, with its wonky Stand By Me bassline and cooi-ing ‘yeah yeah yeah’ backing vocals was actually a cover of an obscure soul nugget from the late 60s. Which is exactly what some enterprising group did. The Third Degree add proper soul boy black vocals, a smokin’ pistol crack of clipped guitar and a horn section from heaven, making Mercy their own, straightouttanineteensixtyeight. Aye, it has the ever-so-slightly desperate whiff of cynical record company product placement and marketing (from the hip in ’93 Acid Jazz label), and was probably produced with the aid of a demographic spreadsheet, but drop yer snobbery for a minute and listen! Craig Charles played this on his show at the weekend and it’s terrific.

This was released in 2009! Why wasn’t I made aware of this until  now, eh? Tsk.

Listening to that cover of Mercy reminds me of The Seed by The Roots. It has a similar live-in-the-studio, retro-coated, vintage production which belies it’s relative modernity. And before you start thinking ‘Lenny Kravitz’, think again. The Seed is ace. A monster hybrid of live drums, clipped funk guitar and a duet of hip-hop stylee “1! 2! 1! 2’s” and properly sung vocals, I think you’ll like it. Released in 2002 (10 years ago! Ouch!) it is that rare thing – a hip-hop record made by a hip-hop group who play their instruments rather than simply sample and loop old Curtis Mayfield b sides. No doubt about it, The Roots can play. If you cannae shake yer bootee to this, there’s nothing I can help you with here. Dig it, soul brothers and sisters.

Useless Fact: Paul Weller loves The Seed.

*Bonus Track!

What’s that y’say? Old tracks re-done in the soul stylee? I’ve blogged this before, but here‘s Eli ‘Paperboy’ Reed & The Trueloves making Ace Of Spades sound like Otis Redding with ants in his pants. Lemmy cannae like this. I think you might.

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

What does Snoop Dogg use to dye his hair?

Craig McAllister

Bleeeeeeaaaaaach.

I’m from Ayrshire. I can’t pretend to understand the gangsta leanings of Cribs ‘n Bloods ‘n West Coast v’s East Coast. Not that that stopped every two-bit Burberry ned who ever stole from the music shop I once worked in. The 2 Pac posters were just about the most shoplifted items there. Them and the M People CDs, bizarrely enough. “Goat oaney Floyd, man?” someone would ponder in your general direction. And as you did your best to be civil towards them, his pal would be lining the sleeves of his puffa jacket with select pre-ordered images from the poster stand. Ask Marvin from The Scheme and he’ll confirm it. The hash leaf poster of 2 Pac with his pecs ‘n guns ‘n bling bling chains must’ve been on half the walls of Kilmarnock. The ‘Take Me To Your Dealer‘ one with the day-glo alien was no doubt on the other half. But anyway.

2 Pac. Made one terrific record. California Love. It was his comeback single after being released from jail in 1995, after poppin’ a cap in yo’ ass (or something). Packed full of vocodered vocals, sampled ‘n looped trumpets, 80s analogue synths and thumping bass, it is, in short, Dr Dre’s G Funk personified. As is nearly always the way with such tracks, it arrived fully formed and was jigsawed together by the rather clever Dre from an assortment of obscure and under-appreciated funk and soul gems. By no means an exhaustive list, if you listen to the tracks below, you might get a better idea of how the good Dr mixed the given ingredients into the California Love cake.

Ronnie Hudson‘s West Coast Poplock is old school funk. Vintage 1982 to be exact. So not that old school, really, but it‘s the sort of old school funk that once could make Prince strive to make decent records. I bloody love it. It’s the basis of the lyrical content of 2 Pac’s track and is itself fairly redolent of Booker T and the MGs Boot-Leg.

Joe Cocker‘s Woman To Woman features the rolling, staccato piano riff and horn riff that plays throughout the 2 Pac record. It has, I should point out, also been sampled by Moby and Ultramagnetic MCs amongst others. You’d think there’d be enough sampleable tracks out there without everyone using the same bits, eh?

Zapp and Roger Troutman‘s (also sometimes known as Zapp and Roger, or the Zapp Band or just plain old Zapp) Dance Floor provides the authentic electro backing and Chic-esque rinky-dink guitar riff. And the vocodered vocals. And the groove. Once again, it‘s exactly the sort of record that Prince was carefully taking notes from whilst building his 80s back catalogue.

See? That Dr Dre’s no’ that guid really. A couple of heart-attack inducing bass bins, a decent record collection and a good ear for glueing the right bits together in the right places. Ker-ching. It’s dead easy when you think about it. Now. Where did I put that Fat Larry’s Band 12″?

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

Song To The Siren Triple Whammy

Craig McAllister

Song To The Siren was originally released on Tim Buckley‘s near-mythical Starsailor album. Long-since unavailable on CD, if you don’t have it you can buy it these days on iTunes. I think a re-issued vinyl made a fleeting re-appearance a couple of years ago before burying its head once again in the sands of time. Or you can read to the bottom and see what turns up…

There are two schools of thought surrounding the Starsailor LP. On one hand it’s considered a bit out-there and genius-like. On the other hand, it could just as easily be described as unlistenable, noodling avant-jazz-folk-funk. You’ll have your own thoughts on the matter I’m sure.  Song To The Siren cuts through all of this by virtue of it being an old song by the time Buckley got around to cutting Starsailor. It’s moody and melancholic and features the trampoline-voiced Buckley switching back and forwards from baritone bass to fabulous falsetto, much like Buckley Jr (proving, I suppose, that young Jeff was merely a more angelic chip off the old block). Not avant-anything at all, it’s got some terrific atmospheric guitar going on just below those stellar vocals. If you haven’t heard it you’re in for a treat.

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Back in the 80s, standing proudly alone and not at all drowning amongst the flotsam and jetsom of the pop fodder du jour was This Mortal Coil‘s version. Essentially a Cocteau Twins’ track (Liz ‘n Robin ‘n nobody else played on it) their version of Song To The Siren took the Buckley blueprint, added some distinctive Cocteau’s swirling effect-laden guitar and topped it off with the weirdest, wonkiest and most crystal-clear vocals this teenager had ever heard. It took me about 14 years to like it, in all honesty. The cloth-eared fool that I am.

Ivo Watts-Russell, 4AD co-founder and brains behind the This Mortal Coil projects recalled the recording of Song To The Siren in a recent issue of Mojo.

I asked Liz if she’d sing Song To The Siren a cappella. Liz never went anywhere without Robin, so he came along. I couldn’t think what to do between the verses, so Robin, reluctantly, put on his guitar, found a sound, lent against a wall, bored as anything, and played it once. Three hours later, it was finished. I still tried to think of how to remove the guitar, but I couldn’t get away from that swimming atmosphere, which is a tribute to Robin’s genius.

Interestingly, Liz Fraser hated her vocal and Robin Guthrie is mightily peeved that no royalties have ever been forthcoming. In a flash of serendipity, Fraser would later go on to have a relationship with Buckley Jr, but that’s mere tittle-tattle and has no place in a family-friendly blog such as Plain Or Pan…

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Before he was releasing critic-unifying Albums of the Year, John Grant was the singer with The Czars. I’ve written about him before, in a told-you-so sort of piece, just before his Queen of Denmark LP stole everyone’s thunder in the music inkies round-up of what was hot and not last year. The Czars released half a dozen LPs to general indifference throughout the mid 90s and early 00s. I was a total fan. Possibly their only one. In another weird twist of serendipity, they were encouraged to magnetise their version of Song To The Siren by their A&R man, former Cocteau Simon Raymonde. Their’s is an almost 8-minute long blissed-out version, understated slide guitar, tinkling piano, gently beaten toms and John ‘s perfect vocals occupying the space left in the sky between Buckley’s soaring mood piece and Fraser’s cooing angel breath. Or something like that. I think you’ll like it…

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Tim Buckley‘s fabled Starsailor LP, anyone? Click the cover….

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