Category: Hard-to-find

Cover Versions, demo, Double Nugget, elliott smith, Get This!, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Kraut-y, Most downloaded tracks, Peel Sessions, Sampled, Studio master tapes, studio outtakes

Four Play

Craig McAllister

Amazingly or not, ye olde Plain Or Pan is now 4 years young. This year saw the double-whammy milestones of reaching one million visitors and, on a personal level, having my writing recognised to the extent that I was invited to interview Sandie Shaw in advance of her appearing at the summer’s Vintage At Goodwood festival. My interview was subsequently published in the hardback Annual that festival goers could buy at the event. Which was nice.

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As has been something of a tradition at the start of a year, I’ve put together a compilation of the most downloaded tracks over the past year – 2 CDs worth of covers, curios and hard-to-find classics. I like to think of it as a potted representation of what Plain Or Pan is about.

Tracklist Disc 1:

Jackson 5 I Want You Back acapella

Dean Carter Jailhouse Rock

Frankie Valli Queen Jane Approximately

Chris Bell I Am The Cosmos

Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson I Am The Cosmos

Scott Walker Black Sheep Boy

Tim Buckley Dolphins

Sandie Shaw I Don’t Owe You Anything

Big Maybelle 96 Tears

Patti Jo Make Me Believe In You

Curtis Mayfield (Don’t Worry) If There’s Hell Below We’re all Gonna Go (takes 1& 2)

Brinkley & Parker.  Don’t Get Fooled By The Pander Man

Sly Stone Time For Livin’ (early version)

Maggie Thrett Soupy

Sheila and B. Devotion Spacer

Happy Mondays Staying Alive

Aretha Franklin / Duane Allman The Weight

Funkadelic Maggot Brain (alt mix)

 

 

Tracklist Disc 2:

Spiritualized Can’t Help Falling In Love

Serge Gainsbourg Melody

Stone Roses Something’s Burning (demo)

Can I’m So Green

Alex Chilton My Baby Just Cares For Me

Elliott Smith I’ll Be Back

The Czars Where the Boys Are

Peter Fonda November Night

Beach Boys Never Learn Not To Love

Charles Manson Cease To Exist

Wedding Present Happy Birthday (Peel Session)

Penny Peeps Model Village

The Stairs Woman Gone And Say Goodbye

Kinks Sittin’ On My Sofa

Ramones Judy Is A Punk (1975 demo)

Capsula Run Run Run

White Stripes Party Of Special Things To Do

13th Floor Elevators Slip Inside This House

Jake Holmes Dazed & Confused

White Antelope Silver Dagger

Arcade Fire Poupee de Cire, Poupee de Son

The Velvelettes Needle In A Haystack acapella

Each disc comes packaged as one big downloadable .rar file, complete with artwork.

If you’re new here, welcome and happy downloading! If you’re a regular here, you may have some or all of these tracks already, so why not download anyway and burn a CD for someone who might appreciate it?

Hard-to-find

It’s the last great day of the year

Craig McAllister

I don’t know much at all about the band Cousteau, but this track is really, really good. So good, in fact, I bought the album, which later pissed me off when all the free CDs that the music mags gave away at the end of 1999 featured it.

cousteau.jpg

‘The Last Good Day Of The Year’ was written by one Davey Ray Moor and occupies the musical space between Tindersticks and The Divine Comedy. The fore-mentioned singer clearly has a Scott Walker obsession, and there’s enough clipped guitar, brass refrains and general top-notch production that it wouldn’t sound out of place being sung by Dusty Springfield in 1968. Look at the picture of the band – you know what they sound like. Suffice to say,  ‘The Last Good Day Of The Year’ is the perfect downbeat, melancholy soundtrack for the end of 2010 (as it was at the end of 2007 when I first featured it!).

Pour me a Johnnie Walker red and start the countdown to the bells………

Cover Versions, Dylanish, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Studio master tapes

Walk Away Renee Quadruple Whammy

Craig McAllister

Walk Away Renee is unarguably one of those songs that has passed into that category marked ‘timeless‘. It has been recorded by artists as diverse as Linda Ronstadt, T’Pau, David Cassidy, Frankie Valli and even Japanese pop duo Pink Lady (no, me neither), in turn being given the country treatment, the overblown 80s synth rock treatment (gads) and all manner of disco/pop/soul treatments. What I love about Walk Away Renee is that, no matter how many times I’ve heard it, when I hear it again I’m always tricked into thinking I’ve just joined the song half-way through.

And when I see the sign that points one way

The lot we used to pass by every day

Just walk away Renee

You won’t see me follow you back home

Maybe it’s the use of the word ‘And‘ as the very first word, maybe it’s the short short verse, but either way it gets me every time. It’s often assumed that it was written by Motown staff writers for the Four Tops, but that’s not true.

The lyric of Walk Away Renee is the slightly-stalkerish product of a love struck 16 year old (16!!) called Michael Brown, keyboard player in cult 60s sunshine pop group The Left Banke. The Renee in question was Renee Fladen-Kamm, a leggy free-spirited blonde who happened, in proper Spinal Tap tradition, to be the girlfriend of the band’s bass player. So infatuated by her was Brown that when the Left Banke recorded the song, he was unable to play his part of the song as she was watching from the studio’s control room.

“My hands were shaking when I tried to play, because she was right there in the control room,” he says. “There was no way I could do it with her around, so I came back and did it later.”

Wow! When I was 16 I think I was still playing with my Action Man, certainly I wasn’t writing proper adult love songs, let alone recording them in a proper recording studio and having hits with them (#5 on the Billboard Hot 100, July 1966, Pop Pickers). With it‘s chamber orchestra intro, harpsichord backing and flute solo (nicked from California Dreaming), Walk Away Renee is pure baroque ‘n roll, a fantastically perfect arrangement and execution that is hard to match.

Hard to match, yes, but not impossible. The Four Tops‘ 1968 version takes out the Left Banke’s chamber pop elements and replaces them with a huge dollop of soul and those instantly recognisable Motown calling cards of drum beat, sweeping strings and stabbing brass. Produced by Holland-Dozier-Holland, the vocal performance is magnificent –  uplifting yet melancholic, Levi Stubbs giving the equivalent vocal performance to what young Michael was feeling in his poor wee love struck heart the day he wrote it. Fact – Rod Stewart loves this song. Want to hear those vocals in all their isolated glory? Of course you do. I’ve posted them before, but hear ’em here. No stabbing brass, sweeping strings or drum breaks to obscure the most perfect soul vocal you’ll hear this week.

I’ve never been that big a fan of Billy Bragg (I know, I know, shoot me…) but I do love his version of Walk Away Renee from the aptly-named Levi Stubbs’ Tears EP. Less Motown, more a homage to the talking blues of Woody Guthrie or early Bob Dylan, but done in those dulcet Essex tones (Bard of Barking? More like the Bark of Barding ho ho) he tells his own story of unrequited love (“I couldn’t stop thinking about her and every time I switched on the radio there was somebody else singing about the two of us………she began going out with Mr Potato Head…. I went home and thought about the two of them together until the bath water went cold around me….“) whilst Johnny Marr picks out the familiar melody in the background. S’a beautiful version, man!

Postscript

Renee seemingly moved on from the Left Banke’s bass player and onto the drummer before Walking Away for good. It seems that young Michael was never to receive her attentions. Nae luck Michael….

Yer actual Renee Fladen-Kamm. She walked away.

Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find

I’m Dreaming Of A Brown Christmas*

Craig McAllister

That’s Brown. James Brown. I think I may just have found a rival to Phil Spector’s Christmas Gift For You in the Best Christmas album In The World….Ever! stakes. James Brown’s Funky Christmas does exactly what it says on the tin and a whole lot more. Whether it’s a-whoopin’ and a-hollerin’ call-and-response gospel frenzy, or down-on-its-knees testifyin’ doo-wop soul, or the sort of on-the-one dance music that led to JB being re-christened Mr Dynamite, James Brown’s Funky Christmas is one hell of a soulful shout-out to Santa Claus; a right proper lookin’ to the skies for forgiveness frenzy of festive funk.

It’s real soul, man, not the sort of artifice with a catchy chorus and a couple of sleigh bells that normally gets chucked about this time of year. Despite titles such as Let’s Unite The Whole World At Christmas and Santa Claus, Santa Claus, I could quite happily listen to this album round the barbeque in July. I couldn’t say the same for Mariah Carey’s (albeit terrific – aye!) Christmas effort.

Get on the good foot and get down(loadin’)

Then go and buy the whole album. You won’t regret it.

Go Power At Christmas Time

Santa Claus Go Straight To The Ghetto

Merry Christmas Baby

Let’s Make Christmas Mean Something This Year

Soulful Christmas


*Token Christmas post. Normal service resumed next week with Plain Or Pan’s annual end-of-year compilation and other such delights. Hope Santa’s good to y’all.

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

The Don Chorus

Craig McAllister

It would appear that ol’ Don Van Vliet, Captain Beefheart himself shuffled off this mortal coil tonight and has gone onto the next life where he will undoubtedly entertain, confound and enlighten those who are willing and able to tune into whatever frequency he broadcasts from beyond the grave.

Uncompromising, difficult and a right proper tuneless racket – that’s how I’d describe much of what I’ve heard of Captain Beefheart & the Magic Band’s work. And anyone who tells you anything else has at least a slight whiff of pretentiousness around him. Not her. Him. Definitely him. Captain Beefheart doesn’t really strike me as ladies music. Sorry, PJ Harvey and anyone else I’ve offended, but it’s true! I don’t claim to be a super-fan by any stretch of the imagination, but I do have a fond place in my record collection for the Clear Spot and Safe As Milk albums – 2 of his more accessible, bluesy and, yes, tuneful albums. As big a music fan as I am it’s almost embarassing of me to admit this, but I’ve never heard Trout Mask Replica, an album that always appears  (and now will always appear) on those 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die publications.  I first heard the Captain on a Melody Maker mail order CD round about 1990 – Beatle Bones & Smokin’ Stones failed at the time to live up to it’s way-out title. These days, with ears opened wider by all sorts of stuff I never knew about 20 years ago, it sounds pretty good, but it wasn’t until the Nuggets compilation and Diddy Wah Diddy that he made any real sense to these narrow-minded ears. Diddy Wah Diddy sounds fantastic – a growling bassline matched only by Beefheart’s growling vocal, carried along by a garage band stomp that David Bowie must’ve, must’ve played ad infinitum while he was writing Jean Genie. I only found out about 2 years ago that the Captain’s version was actually a fairly straight-ahead cover of an old Bo Diddley track, which, given that riff is perfectly obvious when you think about it. Bo Diddley’s version has better maracas on it, mind.


The young Jack White, careful scholar of all things authentic and retro, as well as being something of a thieving magpie of the blues was a keen admirer of Captain Beefheart, so much so that the nascent White Stripes recorded a 3 track ep of Beefheart covers. On Sub Pop, it’s rarer than a White Stripes bass player so if you can find anyone daft enough to want to sell you a copy, you’ll need seriously silly money if you want to get yer sweaty little mitts on it. But fear not. If you don’t have the money honey, that’s OK…

Part Of Special Things To Do

China Pig

Ashtray Heart

…and the mp3s come complete with original vinyl snaps, crackles and pops. Party Of Special Things To Do sounds exactly like the White Stripes doing Diddy Wah Diddy. The rest is lo-fi in the extreme; exactly the sort of retro tub-thumping blues that had John Peel all in a lather over Jack ‘n Meg way back when. Enjoy!

My favourite Captain Beefheart track? That would be Big-Eyed Beans From Venus from side 2 of Clear Spot. Mr Zoothorn Rollo plays a mean slide guitar riff. It used to be the ringtone on my phone dontchaknow. The later Beefheart/Magic Band stuff I’ve tried hard to like. I really have. Grow Fins. Ice Cream For Crow. But I just don’t get it. I always listen with the idea that, much like Tom Waits (‘though I love love love Tom Waits), Captain Beefheart is the aural equivalent of whisky – difficult to swallow, but once you’ve got the taste for it you’re keen to try out new blends. Maybe I need to try again. Perhaps even that unplayed copy of Trout Mask Replica will make it’s debut round here any day now. Better late to the party than never at all, eh?

By The Way..

In recent years, it was painting and not music that occupied all of Captain Beefheart’s time. But you knew that already. Below is the none-more Beefheartian Ten Thousand Pistols, No Bumblebees oil on canvas from 1995.

Slight Update

Captain Beefheart’s 10 Commandments of Guitar Playing are here. Random samples:

4. Walk with the devil
Old Delta blues players referred to guitar amplifiers as the “devil box.” And they were right. You have to be an equal opportunity employer in terms of who you’re bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts devils and demons. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub.

8. Don’t wipe the sweat off your instrument
You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music.

Well worth 10 minutes of anyone’s time!

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

The Bare-Faced Chic Of It!

Craig McAllister

Ask anyone to name the great double-act song writers and they’ll give you any number of Lennons & McCartneys, Liebers & Stollers, Goffins & Kings, Morrisseys & Marrs, (insert your choice here ______). I’d wager that few amongst you would automatically add the names of Edwards & Rodgers to that esteemed list, yet in my world they’d be one of the first double acts I’d think of.

Edwards & who?,  you might ask. Well, you wouldn’t. You are, after all, men (& women) of wealth and taste. Jagger & Richards, there’s another! But plenty people are familiar with the music of Edwards & Rodgers, yet few would know them by name. They’ve been sampled a gazillion times (Grandmaster Flash‘s Adventures on the Wheels of Steel – but you knew that already), helping give birth to hip-hop. They’ve been ripped off by the obvious (Queen‘s Another One Bites The Dust) and the not-so-obvious (The Smiths – listen to the second verse of The Boy With The Thorn In His Side. Hear that rinky-dink guitar riff in the background? That’s Johnny Marr’s homage to Nile Rodgers so it is. JM is such a fan of the Chic guitarist, he named his son after him). But I bet even the most ardent of music fans you know from work would be hard-pushed to tell you who they were. Go on! Ask someone tomorrow!

Seasoned New York sessioneers-for-hire Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers formed Chic in 1976.  Once they’d added vocalist Norma Jean Wright to their studio line-up, Atlantic Records signed them on the strength of their demo tape. That same tape made up the bulk of their first album, Chic, in 1977 and had dance floors from Studio 54 and beyond getting all hot under the collar to their unique blend of bass-heavy/guitar-lite/whispered female vocals. I love ’em. I am after all unashamedly disco, but to me, Chic are more than mere disco. Top players making top records. If they were, like, a proper rock band (ugh!), they’d be revered everywhere from Irvine, California to Irvine,  Ayrshire.

Listen to this. I Want Your Love, from ’78s C’est Chic LP. Following the bass-heavy/guitar-lite/whispered female vocals template, it oozes quality. Remember that this was the era when disco was dead, when technique-based musicianship was sneered at with a curled lip and ball of phlegm. Chic didn’t care. They stuck church bells, church bells! on top, added the grooviest of trumpet ‘n string refrains and played it out for 6 and a half minutes. The bare-faced Chic of it, by not conforming to the norm surely that’s more punk than punk?! Elsewhere, chord progressions may have been getting simpler and ‘proper’ musicians were dumbing down. Like a modernised version of an old Stax or Motown Revue, Chic were a guitar-based rock group playing dance music, for the pure sophisticated thrill of it. I Want Your Love never sounds tired, or dated. C’est Chic indeed.

Like that? Try this. I found it a while back on this magical world wide web we are a-surfin’ together. It’s a fan remix, the Dream Time Mix, not official in any sense of the word, but it is simply sensational – over 13 minutes long and quite superb.

Like that? Now try this. Edwards & Rodgers were accomplished producers. One artist to benefit from their talents was French singer Sheila B. In 1979, under the name Sheila and B. Devotion she had a massive hit with Spacer. The Chic hallmarks are all there – the instantly hummable bass riff, the instantly recognisable clipped guitar, the breathy female vocals. Spacer sounds a bit like Nico in places, more Germanic than French. But I doubt Nico would’ve ever allowed herself to be discofied in quite such a glorious manner.

Useless Spacer fact: Edwyn Collins always has a copy of Spacer on hand whenever he’s booked to DJ somewhere.

Now go and listen to all those brilliant Orange Juice records and ponder – that hummable bassline? Hmmm. That clipped guitar? Uhhh huhhh. Y’see…Edwyn knows the score! Chic-meets-the-Velvets I think was his phrase, wasn’t it?

Hard-to-find, Sampled

Virgin Records

Craig McAllister

Far, far away, in a galaxy long ago, long before Jarvis Cocker and his friends were reminising about their first time…

Ch-ch-ch-ch-check it out!

“This is the story of out first teacher,” crooned those Caledonian Casanovas The Proclaimers. “Shetland made her jumpers and the devil made her features.” This Is The Story was The Proclaimers first album, released way back in 1987 and taken from it, the solidly swinging Over And Done With was a broad Scots’ celebration of all things conjugal, backed by an Iggy Pop Passenger riff and rough-roon-the-edges Everly Brothers 2-part harmonies.

“This is the story of losing my virginity.

I held my breath and the bed held a trinity.

People I’m making no claims to no mystery,

but sometimes it feels like my sex life’s all history.

It’s over and done with, it’s over and done with….”

For this particular pair of Celtic balladeers who were more geek than chic, it really was over and done with, in every sense of the phrase. I saw The Proclaimers around the time of their first album when they sauntered onto the stage at the Motherwell Music Festival as support to Deacon Blue; no dry ice, no fanfares, no strobes, just the pair of them, one with guitar, the other with an orange Adidas kit bag from where he produced an assortment of bongo drums, tambourines and other things that made a primary school racket when beaten, bashed and bumped. They were quite terrific if I remember, far superior to the headliners who took it all far too seriously, and despite them being the brunt of a million jokes, with a gazillion+ sales of 500 Miles they’re having the last laugh. They’ve probably moved onto a nicer class of teacher too.

The Proclaimers may have got it over and done with with the help of an anonymous eager Shetlander, but De La Soul were a bit more open about things on ‘88’s Jenifa (Taught Me). Built almost entirely from samples using the finest cut ‘n paste methods for the time, Jenifa is funkier than a mosquito’s tweeter, it kicks like a mule (thanks to the Steve Miller Band’s skitteryTake the Money And Run drum break) and, no beating about the bush, gets straight to the point.

“The downstairs, where we met
I brought records, she cassettes
Lost the break, found her shape
Jenifa, oh Jenny

Transcripts showed more than flirt
’I love daisies’ read her shirt
Grabbed my jeans, Jimmy screamed
Jenifa, oh Jenny

Marvellous
Shaped like a vase
No one can live their life for Pos
Found a house, aroused my joust
Jenifa, oh Jenny

Her clothes, I did shuck
Just like Dan I strictly stuck
To the punt, she cried ’kick it’
Posdnuos was in”

And on and on it goes, samples of Maggie Thrett’s fantastically funky’ Soupy’ and Lynn Collins ‘Think’ tumbling in and out of the mix as the 3 De La’s take turns on the mic. You’ll like it. If you’re familiar with the 3 Feet High and Rising album version, make way for the rowdier original 12” mix.

Yowsa! Thrett. No threat.

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

Putting On The Weight

Craig McAllister

Take a load off fanny, take a load for free. Or is it Take a load of fanny, take a load for free? Either way, The Weight by The Band often causes me to let out a wee schoolboy snigger every time I hear it. And in this part of the world I’m quite sure I’m not alone, eh? With typical American insularity (I know! I know! 4 out the 5 were Canadian), his world-weary lyric appears totally unaware of our quirky West of Scotland localisms. Funny that.

Long before Phil Collins and his particularly annoying nasal whine made singing drummers about as cool as cabbage, Levon Helm and his spectacular beard were leading The Band’s mellow blended vocals from behind the drum kit. I’ve always loved their (original) version of The Weight, with its rootsy backing and arm-around-the-shoulder, everything’ll-be-alright-in-the-end lyric. It’s only a few short lumberjack-shirted steps on from the fantastic stuff Dylan had them playing down in the basement of Big Pink and for me, it’s about as good a definition of ‘Americana’ as you could get. So it’s great when someone else can see beyond the boundaries of whatever Americana is and is able to re-interpret the song in their own unique way.

Aretha Franklin hooked up with Duane Allman and recorded this version at Muscle Shoals. Loose, funky and full of those soaraway Aretha vocal moments you know so well, it sounds insistent, urgent and right-on wholly holy gospel. Allman plays bottle guitar throughout like a maniac, while what sounds like the Stax house riff freely on the horns. Nice Chain Of Fools kick drum in the chorus too. Have a listen. Majestic is the word you’re looking for.

Poor Travis. They’ve always been one step out of fashion, betwixt and between the next big thing. Arriving just as the Cava was getting flat at the Britpop party and too soon for an unappreciative public not yet ready for angsty melodic serious indie like Coldplay, who then came along and stole what brief thunder they may have had, they’ve been given a hard time of it. Which is a bit unfair, as they undoubtedly know their onions. The Travis version is straightforward, melodic and clearly heart-felt. No Staxy horns. No slide guitar. But plenty of Scottish soul. Whatever that is.

Talking of soul, and that’s ess oh you ell , brothers and sisters, with a capital ‘S’, The Supremes got together with The Temptations and nailed a version of The Weight for their joint 1969 LP Together that falls somewhere between Aretha ‘n Duane’s free ‘n funky version and the Heavyweight Championship of the World. Two vocal giants of soul slugging it out over 3 minutes of sitar-like guitar riffs, pitch-perfect harmonies (as you might expect) and sock it to ’em male/female call and response vocals. Knockout!

The Weight Trivia

Hairy old 70s rock bores Nazareth took their name from the song’s first line.

The track appears on the movie soundtrack for Easy Rider. In the movie, you hear The Band’s version, but on the soundtrack, due to legal bits ‘n pieces, the version you get is by the band Smith. No, me neither.

The Weight sits at No. 41 in Rolling Stone‘s 500 Greatest Songs Of All Time List.  That makes it better than Waterloo Sunset, but not quite as good as Dancing In the Street.

Bonus Track!

And hot off the press to boot! The Black Crowes played New York a couple of weeks ago and played their version of The Weight then.

Cover Versions, Hard-to-find, Peel Sessions

That’s When I Softly Sigh

Craig McAllister

Good evening children. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

White Horses was a late 60s/early 70s TV show that readers here of a certain vintage will remember. I don’t, but I am more than familiar with the show’s theme tune, thanks in no small part to the Trashcan Sinatras and the lost art of the b-side. The original, sung by Jacky (real name Jackie Lee) is a light ‘n breezy affair, all mellow parping brass, plucked strings and perfectly e-nun-ci-ated vocals. Twee doesn’t even begin to describe it. Belle & Sebastian fans (d’you see what I did there?) probably rate it as crucial a record as there could possibly be. Tuck it just so under the sleeve of your duffle coat and pop on down to the University Cafe why don’t you?

Image stolen from Five Hungry Joes

The Trashcans take the original and give it the full-blown Cocteau Twins treatment – chiming 12 string guitars, a reverb-soaked vocal that has Frank Reader harmonising with himself throughout and a drum beat that is a sonic metaphor for those white horses that run wild and free in the Camargue in the south of France. The slide guitar that pops up in the middle is sublime – that’s when I softly sigh – sonic cathedrals of sound, man! Sonic cathedrals of sound. And they stuck it away on a b-side (see advert above). Criminal!

An unfamiliar-looking Wedding Present ground out a version for a late-era Peel session (July 2004) that has Gedge and co. twisting Jacky’s pop-lite original into something quite creepy and menacing that wouldn’t sound out of place on Twin Peaks. Adopting the standard indie blueprint of quiet-loud-quiet-louder, this is the sonic equivalent of a gnarly piece of wood – on first glance it looks ugly and out of place, but on closer inspection reveals itself to be a thing of rare beauty. Or something like that.

*Bonus Tracks!

The b-side to the Jacky original was another crackly curio called Too Many Chiefs (Not Enough Indians). If you listen carefully, it sounds a wee bit like the long-lost cousin of Tequila by The Champs. But just a wee bit.

In 1970, a guy called Gerald (not A Guy Called Gerald) gave White Horses the full Papa Smurf treatement. Listen to this once then bin the mp3 and go and wash your hands. Eugh!

demo, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Live!

Legs & Co.

Craig McAllister

1! 2! 3! 4! See wee kids in Ramones t-shirts? Or young 20-something lassies wearing them as some sort of hip fashion statement? What’s all that about? I bet it does your head in as well. You knew this already, but looooong before The Ramones were a brand, they were a band. And quite possibly the most spine-tinglingly perfect four piece group there’s ever been. Feral and full-on, they were effortlessly chewin’ out the rhthym on a bubblegum while their contemporaries agonised over such grandiosities as lit-referencing lyrics and guitar solos.

1! 2! 3! 4! Or so we’re led to believe. It wasn’t that effortless, apparently. The stage routine was a strictly choreographed affair more in keeping with a Pans People Top Of The Pops routine. First verse – step forward. Jump. Chorus – head down, guitar up, left leg back. Second verse – walk back towards the drum kit . And so on and so on. Watch them on YouTube if you don’t believe me. And those dumb songs with the dumb chords and the dumb delivery? It’s hard being dumb in music, trust me. If you’ve ever played in bands you’ll know what I mean. Even the crappiest of bands can’t sound dumb. There’s always one flash bastard in the group who wants to be heard that wee bit longer, that wee bit louder than the others – the guitar intro, the guitar solo, the guitar outro. That was me. I couldn’t have played in The Ramones. No-one could. Any guitarist knows their way round a couple of barre chords, but no guitarist is happy churning out barre chords on stage for half an hour. They all want to fling in a teeny tiny wee widdly bit somewhere, even if it’s only them that notices. Or a minor chord. The Ramones were genius. Bass plays this part, guitar plays the same. The exact same. They came at you like a tank. Brutal and unforgiving. For every song. On every album. At every gig.

1! 2! 3! 4! And the lyrics – Who would ever dare write a song where the hook line between the chorus and second verse goes;

“Second verse, same as the first”

That’s genius, that is. In fact, nearly as genius as the next hook;

“Third verse, different from the first”

In any other band, the other members of the group would’ve clobbered the singer if he’d tried to get away with that. In its entire 1 and a half minutes, Judy Is A Punk also references the Berlin Ice Capades and the SLA (70s terrorist organisation dontchaknow), not so much finishing as self-imploding. Live, the songs came at you one after the other after the other after the other, punctuated by the odd “Wunchewfreefo!” and up the road.

1! 2! 3! 4! Oh to have been 17 in 77! I only caught The Ramones live once, at the Barrowlands in either 88 or 89 (I can’t be bothered looking for the ticket to check, but it’s there somewhere). I took my wee brother. It was his first gig and, carried away by the occassion, he managed to crowd surf for about 3 seconds before being manhandled by the bouncers onto (!) the stage, dragged past Joey “Hey! Looks like we got da fanclub in tanight!” and flung down a trapdoor on the stage (!), only to somehow reappear in the bar area downstairs where they sell t-shirts and stuff at gigs. I have a very vivid memory of being as close to the front as possible and looking up at Joey Ramone, a 9 foot high 2-legged giraffe, hanging onto the microphone stand like a hairy angle-poise lamp, legs akimbo and the drummer (Marky? Tommy? Who knows) flailing away in the background, somewhere between Joey’s kneecaps and beneath that ubiquitous Ramones logo. Magic.

1! 2! 3! 4! Da music:

Judy Is A Punk (1975 demo)

Judy Is A Punk (from the first Ramones album)

Judy Is A Punk (from It’s Alive, essential Ramones live anthology)

Pretty cool