Category: Hard-to-find

demo, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, studio outtakes

King Curtis (part 1)

Craig McAllister

If such a thing as a Definitive List of Legends In Music existed you can bet your life the usual suspects of DylanLennonMcCartneyJagger’nthat would be on it. Some may argue for the inclusion of WonderBowieMarley(insertyerown) too, but I doubt that many people would immediately add Curtis Mayfield to the list.

Poor Curtis hasn’t had it easy in the ‘legend‘ stakes. You want socio-political commentary? You’ve got Stevie Wonder. You want a string-swept soul? You’ve got Marvin Gaye. You want the funk? You’ve got James Brown. Curtis Mayfield did all this and more. With The Impressions he was there at the birth of soul music. He’s written for others. He’s produced others. He had his own publishing compnay. He had his own record companies. Yeah, that’s companies, plural. He was the complete package, yet in the grand scheme of things he rarely gets spoken about in the same reverential tones as those contemporaries mentioned above. Plain and simply, the genius of Curtis Mayfield has been too often overlooked.

Genius is a word banded about willy-nilly these days. If you must, listen to Fearne Cotton or Dermot O’ Leary or any of those radio presenters and I can guarantee that within 5 minutes you’ll hear them attribute the word ‘genius‘ to whatever is currently the pick of the pops. Go on, I dare you. The dictionary defines genius as, “A person of extraordinary intellect and talent.” So, Fearne ‘n Dermot, you’re wrong about Plan B and Kasabian and Beyonce (although, Kasabian excepted surely, they might have their moments.) Use the word wisely, or not at all, that’s all I’m saying. 

“One is not born a genius, one becomes a genius.” Simone de Beauvoir said that. But you knew that already. Over time, Curtis most certainly did become genius. From doo-wop, gospel inflected beginnings, via straight ahead soul, he arrived at this, 8 minutes of bona fide soul genius (yes!) It’s called (Don’t Worry) If There’s Hell Below We’re all Gonna Go, it is extraordinary and it is the first track on the album pictured above. Seek it out, you’ll like it. With Curtis, you’re never too far from a wocka-wocka-wocka wah-wah guitar and he’s seen no reason to change that winning formula here. Taking his cue from the Book Of Revelations and underpinned by the sleaziest, meanest fuzz bass you’ll ever hear, strings sweep and brass blows as Curtis adds his heavily echoed sweet falsetto to the mix. It’s a fantastic arrangement. Brian Wilson always gets the ‘Legend‘ status when it comes to arranging, but (Don’t Worry)… proves that Mayfield is right up there with him. He must’ve known too when he was recording it that he was making such a monumental track. Listen to this, takes 1 and 2 of the backing tracks. No vocals, just the music in all it’s glory. You can imagine everyone gathered round the speakers in the control room as it plays, Curtis nodding his head in quiet satisfaction. Dig it, Brothers and Sisters!

Bonus Track

As you well know, Curtis Mayfield did the soundtrack to Superfly. Here‘s the demo of opening track, Little Child Runnin’ Wild, known as Ghetto Child at the demo stage.

…and here’s Curtis doing the Snoop Dogg-sampling Give me Your Love, live somewhere, sometime in ’72.

(Listen to the Bathtub intro section on Doggystyle)

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

The Tie’s The Limit

Craig McAllister

Listening to the radio whilst driving up combinations of the M5, M6 and M74 yesterday on a gruelling 9 hour trip from the sunny South of England I was reminded hourly of the sad death of Alex ‘Hurricane’ Higgins. As I drove home I wrote in my head the words here that fire forth from my fingers.

The Hurricane

Like many people in the 80s, I was gripped by the TV spectacle that was the snooker. Not snooker. That was something else. No, ‘the’ snooker. That’s how we referred to it. A game brought back from the dead-end of the working man’s club and the seedier side of life was arguably as big then as the English Premiership is nowadays. Instead of your Rooneys and John Terrrys, it was your Reardons and Terry Griffiths that were the household names in those days. Alex Higgins was different to his contemporaries in every way. Rough, ready and rakish, he brought punk attitude to the tables. He refused to wear a bow tie (de rigeur in those days) as he claimed it itched his neck. He  head butted a judge when asked to provide a urine sample. He took drugs. He smoked at the side of the tables. He drank like the ubiquitous fish and he played fast. Very fast. Hence the ‘Hurricane’ nickname.

The Hurricane came out the traps like a bolt of electricity. You know those short, short gaps between the songs in a Ramones live set?  He could muster up a double figure break in roughly the same time. Remember too, that this was the era of table bores like Steve Davis. A Rick Wakeman keyboard solo could’ve passed in the time it took Davis to consider all possibilities and all angles before lining up one of his defensive shots. Higgins was all about death or glory. If he was a rock star, he’d have been like Keith Richards or The Clash or Them the New York Dolls or any of those bands who meant it 100%. His life was snooker and snooker was his life. He earned and spent an estimated £4 million in his liftetime. Spent the lot. Drugs, drink, gambling, you name it. This time last week he was living in sheltered housing, penniless, toothless and 6 stones in weight, snooker cue-thin. A tragic waste of a life. Look at the picture above and remember him like that, eh?

The Music Bit

Here‘s Neil Young doing a live verson of Like A Hurricane. Taken from the excellent Rock ‘n Roll Cowboy 4 Cd bootleg, I’m not sure where it was recorded, but it’s a cracker. Neil Young, Crazy Horse and a million amps turned up to 11.

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

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

Craig McAllister

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

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

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

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

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

Bonus Track!

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

 

demo, Hard-to-find, Kraut-y, Sampled, studio outtakes

Meaty, Beaty, Big & Bouncy

Craig McAllister

Here’s a thing. Ask people to describe the music of the Stone Roses and most will wax lyrical about melody, tunes, 60s influenced pop and all that. Maybe they’ll drop in a hip reference to The Theme from Shaft by way of Electric Ladyland, or if they’re super-hip they’ll point out just how similar Fools Gold is to Can‘s I’m So Green – all skittering drums, whispered vocals and taught elastic bassline over a one-chord groove. Listen for yourself here.

But anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Today, I want you to reappraise what, to me, is the jewel in the Stone Roses particularly shiny crown. It’s not the saccahrine rush of She Bangs The Drums or the euphoric highs of Made Of Stone or the total groove lockdown of Fools Gold. Nope. The Stone Roses record that does it for me everytime is Something’s Burning, little-played and little-loved b-side of One Love.

Ever since the album and accompanying b-sides were re-released last year, this track has taken on a new lease of life for me. If the original album was the sound of a band gliding effortlessly over and beyond all musical competition, the remastered album was the sound of a jet plane landing in your back garden – terrifyingly loud and absolutely thrilling. Weedy, thin-sounding tracks suddenly came alive. Full of depth, muscle and bite, Something’s Burning now had a jungle pulse bassline that sounded as if it came from the heart of Africa itself. This track isn’t an ‘instant’ track. On first listen 20 years ago it sounded rather one dimensional and uninspiring, but I’m glad I’ve rediscovered it.

Unlike the instant hit you get with all other Stone Roses material, repeated plays of Something’s Burning reveal new things. Amongst the skittering drums, whispered vocals and taught elastic bassline over a one-chord groove…HEY! hang on a minute!….listen closely and you’ll hear some jazzy vibraphone, bongos and some fine understated John Squire guitar riffing. The track ebbs and flows, rises and falls, and on my original vinyl copy the dynamics of this are lost somewhat amongst the snaps and crackles in the grooves. Not so the new-improved version.  

*Bonus Tracks

Something’s Burning demo – Well dontchaknowit – it begins with the same looped and sampled Funky Drummer break that accompanied Fools Gold!

Something’s Burning (jam and chat)  – hidden track (yeah!) on Disc 2 of the Stone Roses remastered album. 

And just so you know….

But you knew that already.

Cover Versions, demo, Hard-to-find, studio outtakes

Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Craig McAllister

Quadruple whammmy of sorts of The Velvet Underground‘s hypnotic and practically one-chord feedback-fest, Run Run Run.

First up, an original rare as could be 1966 acetate version by Warhol’s lapdogs themsleves. Recorded by Norman Dolph at Scepter Studios in NYC this rough demo version (complete with snaps, crackles and all manner of pops) was long-forgotten about until a passerby with a keen nose for musical history sniffed out the one and only acetate of the session (above) on a Chelsea (not London) street vendor’s record stall. The lucky so-and-so paid just 75 cents for it and ended up selling it for $25,000 on eBay. The definitive full account of finding the acetate can be read here. Do yourself a favour and click. It’s well worth taking the time to read. Then start pondering. Why don’t people sell stuff like this on the streets where I live?

Next, a  faithful, fantastically feedback soaked version by Argentine garage band Capsula. Clearly influenced by yer Velvets, Stooges, and all manner of tub-thumping garage rockers, they’ve been staple features of SXSW for the past couple of years. This version is taken from a low-key 2007 Velvet Underground tribute album. Look at the picture above. You know how its going to sound.

You probably have the next version already. Taken from Beck‘s excellent Record Club series where he and some pals play and record a classic album in it’s entirety, this version replaces the original’s guitar maelstrom with analoguey synth bleeps and bloops. A bit like Stereolab. In fact, a big bit like Stereolab. But you knew that already.

Lastly, we have the Strange Boys. This track isn’t actually a cover of Run Run Run, but it might as well be. Wearing their influences proudly on their skinny-fit sleeves, the Texans are unashamedly retro to the core. If you’re a fan of Nuggetsy garage band stuff or Television or The Strokes (and isn’t it all the same thing anyway?), their Strange Boys..and Girls album from a year or so ago is well worth seeking out. Probation Blues, the Run Run Run-alike is taken from the self-same LP. You’d probably like their latest offering, Be Brave, as well.

In ironic fashion I was also going to put up LCD Soundsystem’s ‘Drunk Girls’ . But you know what that sounds like anyway, probably got it too. If so, you’ll be well aware of the debt it owes not to the VU track featured above, but to the Velvet’s White Light, White Heat. I love the track, I really do, but come on man! Blatant rip off. Or just plain theft. Ach! What goes around comes around ‘n all that jazz. And we won’t even mention Jason Pierce or Spiritualised. No. We won’t. But we will direct you to this unbelievable slab of faux-stoned vinyl copyism…

Whisper it – I love this track too. And John Cale got a writing credit anyway. What’s the big deal?

Cover Versions, Dylanish, Hard-to-find, Kraut-y

Tunng In Cheek

Craig McAllister

Here’s a thing. Actually, you might be aware of this already, so if that’s the case bear with me. If not, prepare yourself for some startling music trivia.

I was listening to one of Dylan‘s Bootleg Series CDs while doing stuff around the house. It was the ’64 Philharmonic Hall one, where Joan Baez ruins everything by guesting on 4 or 5 tracks. Normally I tend to skip her. I cannae stand her voice or the way she calls him “Bobby Dylan” or the way she ruins a great song like ‘Mama You Been On My Mind’ with her high pitched harmonies, poor phrasing and wrong words.

I. Just. Cannae. Stand. Her.

And by all accounts, most of the time, Bobby couldn’t either.

dylan baez 1

(Caption Competition: ______________)

Because I was pottering roon the hoose yesterday, she managed to get past my Baez Detector and suddenly came bursting into earshot. And this is what I noticed….

She sang a version of old folk traditional Silver Dagger. No vocals by Dylan, though he plays along with some rudimentary, scrubbed acoustic guitar and wheezy harmonica. Other than that it’s Joan Alone and it stinks. But the melody was familiar. Very familiar. And then it dawned on me.

Saint Etienne have nicked it, note for note for their ‘own’ no. 47 in ’94 smash hit Like A Motorway.

A quick bit of googling proved me correct. The motorik thunk of Like a Motorway is indeed based on the melody of ancient 19th Century traditional song Silver Dagger. Not only that, but on parent album Tiger Bay, Saint Etienne seemingly based many of the songs around old folk melodies, beating forward-thinking modernist laptop folkies such as Tunng and Psapp by a good few years. I suppose that explains Tiger Bay‘s olde worlde ‘Welcome Bonny Boat’-inspired cover. But whodathunkit, eh?

bonny boat

Original

Cover version

Silver Dagger is currently doing the rounds in the form of a version by White Antelope. White Antelope is the side project of Fleet Fox Robin Pecknold. But you knew that already. His version is dynamite. One man, his delicately skipping guitar and a perfectly in tune reverb-soaked vocal.

Unlike Moany Joany, this boy can really sing. If you’re desperate to hear a Baez version you’ll have to look elsewhere I’m afraid. I’m not sullying this fine site with rubbish like that.

*Bonus Track!

Here’s Robin Pecknold/White Antelope giving Dylan’s It Ain’t Me Babe the full-on Fleet Foxes treatment. Stunning.

Robin Pecknold/White Antelope 

 

Hard-to-find

Nee Naw Nee Naw

Craig McAllister

Just a quick note to say that t’internet polis are on my back again. A few mp3’s I’ve posted recently (and not so recently) have suddenly become unavailable. You’ll know which ones they are if you click a link and it says ‘file deleted‘ or ‘file invalid’ or whatever. Not nearly as bad as having the entire blog deleted as has been happening to many bloggers worldwide, but a major P in the A nonetheless. I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to myself by re-posting the mp3’s that have been taken down. I’m sure you’ll understand. Just try and catch ’em while you can. Ta!

demo, entire show, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, studio outtakes

You Need A Mess Of Help To Stand Alone

Craig McAllister

Poor Brian Wilson. Deaf in his right ear after his dad Murry had uncharitably clouted him, he suffered more than his siblings at the hands of this hard-to-please man. A somewhat failed song writer (doo-wop songs his ‘speciality’) Murry Wilson was the Beach Boys manager/co-producer/arranger in those heady surf-filled, drag-racing days.

Much like those dads of today who coach frantically from the side of the pitch while their 13 year old chases a ball around, he lived the dream through his sons. He constantly obsessed over every facet of the Beach Boys, from their appearance and stage presentation to the lyrics and songs themselves. A traditionalist, he undoubtedly gave Brian an ear (only one, mind) for a melody, by playing him Gershwin non-stop from an early age. He had him take accordion lessons. He forced him to sing solo in the church. He certainly pushed him in the right direction, as Brian became as obsessive about the power of music as Murry.

Brian was prodigious. He studied vocal group The Four Freshmen, replicated their individual vocal parts on the piano and worked out how to make a group of voices sing in 4 part harmony. From this, The Beach Boys were born and the rest, as you already know, is history. Have a listen to this, but be prepared to sit down and listen closely. You won’t regret it. It’s a complete reel (40 mins) of The Beach Boys recording Help Me, Rhonda. Hot on the heels of I Get Around it would go on to become the group’s second US Number 1, but not before three painstaking recording sessions. The Help Me, Rhonda session available here was recorded probably on the 8th or 19th January 1965, depending on the sources you read, and is famous in Beach Boys circles because the session is constantly interrupted by a menacing Murry, breaking in on the studio microphone and berating the individual members of the group for their sub-standard performances. For the most part he’s right too!

“Brian. Fellas. I have 3000 words to say. Quit screamin’, start singin’ from your hearts, huh? You’re doing fine now, watch your ‘ooohs’, come in on the low notes Mike. Carl -‘oooh’ – you’re ‘eugh!’ Come on! Dennis – you’re flatting. OK Mike. You’re flatting on your high notes. Let’s go. Let’s roll. So you’re big stars. Let’s fight, huh? Let’s fight for success. OK. Let’s go. Now loosen up. Be happy. Forget the people in here……..turn the lights out in this room. Turn the lights out in this room… they see so many people…OK fellas. You got any guts? Let’s hear ’em!”

Brian (from across the room) “Dad. only 82 words.”

Murry “I said 3000. Come on Brian. Knock it off! You guys think you’re good? Let’s go! Let’s go! Fellas. As a team we’re unbeatable. You’re doing wonderful Al. I’ll leave, Brian, if you’re gonna give me a bad time…..”

Brian “I got one ear left and your big mouthed voice is killin’ me!”

Murry “I’m sorry I’m yelling. Loosen up Al, watch your flatting…….”

And on and on and on it goes, between a zillion perfect and not-so perfect short burts of Help Me, Rhonda. Mike is flatting those high notes. Al is flatting those low notes.

“Al. Al! Come in to it. About an inch and three quarters. Or two inches closer. Either sing out louder or come in closer. And e-nun-ci-ate! When you sing ‘Rhonda’ make it sexy and soft. “Rhonda you look so fiiiine!” OK?” At this point you hear an unconvinced  “hmmmm” from someone at the microphone.

And still it goes on.

“Brian. Your voice is shrilling through everybody. Carl. We can’t hear Carl. We can hear Dennis but we can’t hear Mike. And we can hardly hear Al.”

At one point Murry points out that “I’m a genius too, Brian!” Incredible! This is history in the making and we’re party to it. Incredible! Something recorded 45 years ago exists in the quality it does. What strikes me most about listening to the tape is that although Murry clearly likes the sound of his own voice and isn’t shy of pointing out the group’s failures, the group themselves know when a take has been a bad take. They don’t need Murry to tell them. You can hear them berate one another for being flat, quiet, missing their intro, whatever.

Brian actually appears in control of everything, despite his Dad’s close attentions. The session ends with Brian and Murry having a quiet arguement, Brian asking for an atmosphere of calmness, “are you going now?”, Murry commenting that “just because you’ve had a big hit…”. Brian puts up with his dad pretty well. This time. But no wonder it was only a few short months until he’d be watching TV and playing piano in a sandpit in his living room……..

Murry died in 1973. They say the devil has all the best tunes. I believe Murry is rearranging them as you read this.

TRIVIA FACT

Glen Campbell plays on this session. You’ll hear a wee bit of noodling and strumming throughout. That’s him!

Cover Versions, Hard-to-find, Sampled

Unashamedly Disco

Craig McAllister

I’m an unashamed fan of disco. Aye, in it’s heyday it might’ve been the shallowest form of music around, the 70s equivalent, yet better-dressed cousin, of contemporary throwaway nonsense like Lady GaGa or Pink. But sneer not. Listen closely to any of those era-defining records and unlike those (coughs smugly) ‘artists‘ of today, you’ll find a real soul at the heart of it all. Real instruments played by real musicians. 4 real (man). Listen to the guitar playing on anything off the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and tell me that’s not up there with Jeff Beck. Listen to Nile Rodgers’ rinky-dink funk riffs on any Chic record you care to pick at random then listen to the second verse of The Smiths ‘Boy With the Thorn In His Side’ and tell me Johnny Marr doesn’t rate the playing on Chic records. Major copyism going on there! In homage to Chic, Johnny Marr even went so far as naming his son Nile!

So aye. I like disco music. And I’m clearly not alone. Abba (aye, snigger all you want) loved George McCrae’s Rock Your Baby so much they nicked the drum sound from it for Dancing Queen. “So what,” you say? Well, a couple of years later and Elvis Costello was touring somewhere in the American mid-west. He’d been working on a new song but was getting frustrated at the lack of a good melodic hook for the intro. Dancing Queen comes on the radio. He loooks at Steve Nieve and asks him to listen closely to the piano part. Could he replicate it? A wee while later and Oliver’s Army is complete. True story that. What goes around comes around and all that. If you don’t believe me, seek out the 2 tracks in question and play the intros back to back. I’d put them up here, but the internet police would be straight on my back…

A few weeks ago I was at a friend’s house. He hosted a music night where 5 of us took it in turn to play 5 records, each grouped into distinct categories. So far, so Nick Hornby. I can almost hear your muffled laughter from here. The one track that made the biggest impression on me that night was not the long-forgotten Tom Waits album track or the hard-to-find and rare-as… punk 7″ that I’d never heard before or the, well, I’m sure you can imagine exactly the sort of records that were played that night. No. The record that made the biggest impression on me that night was this gem from the early 80s.

DJ Gary Byrd and the GB Experience ‘The Crown’. Over 10 minutes of soul/funk/rap and, most definitely, disco, I hadn’t heard it since it had last troubled the charts (number 6 in July 83, trivia fans). It sounded better than I’d ever remembered. Written by Stevie Wonder to boot. He does a wee rap/verse thing at one point. I’m sure he plays drums on it too (it sure sounds like him), but that might just be me making things up as I can’t find much in the way of info about it online.  It’s a disco classic folks, from the days when D.I.S.C.O. was D.E.A.D. The Fresh Prince was clearly getting jiggy to it as well, but we’ll gloss over that part.

Conversly, in 1974, just before D.I.S.C.O. went B.O.O.M., People’s Choice recorded this, Do It Anyway You Wanna. People’s Choice were from Philly (of course) and had a reasonably successful recording career. Andrew Collins played the original of this on BBC 6 Music the other day and I went and dug out my copy. Sadly, my version is a mildly irritating remixed version featuring snatches of Oops Upside Your Head, Last Night a DJ Saved My Life and stuff like that. Still magic though. And it reminds me of Saddle Up and Ride Your Pony and the Billy Connolly “I’ll walk you home when I empty my underwear‘ sketch that goes with it.

BONUS TRACK!

Happy Mondays do Staying Alive. The producer takes a stanley knife to much of the Pills, Thrills… album, snatches of tracks you know and love weave in and out of the mix, Shaun skanks on top of the unholy soup, Rowetta yodels and wails like a transvestite with his balls caught in a vice. This is the sound of a band on the ropes. The final round with no fight, nothing left to give back. It. Is. A. Mess. Enjoy it! The only good thing is the guitar riff. It sounds like a funky bucket. And I mean that in a good way of course.

Shane MacGowan Shaun Ryder