Category: New! Now!

Hard-to-find, Kraut-y, Live!, New! Now!

Can o’ Worms

Craig McAllister

This Record Store Day thing really grates eh? Who’s at fault? The record companies, who see the event as a way to fleece the record buyers out of every last penny they have and set sky-high dealer prices, thus forcing retailers to charge daft prices for (mainly) old records? Or the record buyers themselves, who see the event as a way to fleece less-fortunate record buyers who have neither the means required nor the availability of a local record shop to go to in order to buy what they want and are forced to take to the internet in a desperate attempt to secure the objects of their desire from people who neither know about or care about the records they are punting?

rsd13

Five minutes after the shops opened and eBay’s suddenly full of the things everyone wants, available from twenty five different private sellers at twenty five times the original prices, and the internet is bulging at the virtual seams with sob stories from seething, seasoned record buyers unable to get their sticky fingers on the records they so desired.  They’ve scanned the lists in March and written and re-written their wishlist into 3 columns; ‘Ideally…’, ‘Hopefully…’ and ‘I cannot leave without this…’ but still ended up only with the last sticker from the acoustic act playing in the corner and a crumbly cup cake from the beardy guy behind the counter who’s job it is to say, “Sorry mate, that’s sold out too,” over and over and over and over until the end of the day. They’ve even emptied the kids’ piggy banks and forced them to eat beans on toast for a month, but that counts for nothing. Come April and the Day itself, they got up half an hour after going to bed in an effort to get as close to the front of the snaking line outside Shady Dave’s Second-Hand Sounds as they possibly could, to no avail. It’s a long line, but the ‘good-time vibe’ in the queue (“Aye, I’m after the Elliott Smith 7″ and the Pulp 12″ and the Big Star outtakes LP too, pal…”) is such that standing hunched up in the rain and the cold with Angry Birds and a quickly-decreasing battery charge on the phone for company are just about tolerable, as hopeful prayers of over-priced, limited edition bits of plastic are messaged to the great vinyl god above.

By the time the doors are unlocked by Shady Dave himself (who knows that only today, this one day of the year, is the make-or-break that might allow him to trade until next year’s big day), wads of money are jumping out the pockets of middle aged men and being flung towards the counter in exchange for a one-off Flaming Lips LP or a White Stripes coloured vinyl or an old Paul McCartney track re-pressed in glorious retro fashion. It’s ridiculous. Especially as that guy in the expensive puffa jacket and beige chinos (not yer average Wedding Present fan, you muse), who happened to be at the front of the queue was royally loaded and bought every copy of the German language 10″ And whatever else he thought he could off-load for a profit. “How many Bowie did you get? I’ll take them all.” It’s the new model for the spineless, the shallow and the touts who already rake it in from selling high-demand concert tickets. Have you checked those eBay sellers addresses? Sorry for the sweeping generalisation, but are they all in Merseyside? Call the cops…

can malkmus

Anyway, for what it’s worth, I’d have quite liked the live Stephen Malkmus does Can thingy. And the Elliott Smith 7″ and the Pulp 12″ and the Big Star outtakes LP too, pal, but I was nowhere near a decent record shop and was being Dad for the day while the missus went off for a belated birthday afternoon with her pal. Plus I don’t have the spare £40 or so that would’ve been necessary to procure them, had I been game enough to try and buy them. A quick scroll through eBay tonight and the Elliott Smith 7″ is selling for £15, as is the Pulp 12″ . The Big Star LP? That’s currently around the  £40 mark, but given that almost 20 folk are after it, it’ll probably take a bid of around £100 to secure the bloody thing. That Malkmus/Can album has attracted a dozen or so bids and is already pushing £40 itself. The vinyl would be nice, but I’m just as happy for the moment with the illicit mp3s I found whilst poking around the darker corners of the internet. It’s not ‘real’. It’s not holdable. It’s not warm and friendly analogue. But it was cheaper than cheap. I’ve always preferred Can at their grooviest and Malkmus does a good job. Contrast and compare…

Can  – I’m So Green

Stephen Malkmus – I’m So Green

Can – Vitamin C

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Stephen Malkmus – Vitamin C

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

Skeletal Family

Craig McAllister

Vini Reilly is the public face of The Durutti Column, the first signing to Tony Wilson’s nascent Factory Records way back in 1978. Forever pasty-faced and ill-looking, he’s as wiry and fragile as the high ‘e’ string on his guitar, and on the rare occasion when this Wythenshaw will o’ the wisp pops his head out in public, he’s quietly spoken and totally intense. Clearly, he prefers his music to do the talking.

The Durutti Column’s first album, The Return of the Durutti Column was produced by Factory in-house knob-twiddling hedonist Martin Hannett on clear instruction from Reilly that he didn’t want ‘the usual, horrible distorted guitar sound.‘ What followed was a heady mix of chiming beauty, pastoral fragility and neo-classical intensity. All instrumental, and almost all featuring only layers of Reilly guitar, with the odd rudimentary skittering drum machine or piano part, the music is almost as revolutionary as the Spanish Situationists from whence Tony Wilson christened Vini’s band’s name. The music isn’t ‘rock’ or ‘post-punk’ or ‘jazz’ or any other obvious genre. It would be a huge disservice to lump it as (gads) ‘chill-out music’, but to these ears, in the same way that you could categorise someone like the Cocteau Twins, that is essentially what the music of The Durutti Column is. In later years, Tony Wilson would tell anyone who listened that at the end of a night at the Hacienda, he’d spark up a large one and mellow the wee hours away with The Durutti Column playing in the background. Vini’s music is perfect for this.

In one of the first great Factory marketing moments, The Return of the Durutti Column came packaged in a sandpaper-covered outer sleeve, intentionally designed to destroy any record sleeves you might have been careless enough to file besides it. If you happen to have one of those original LPs you may be interested to know that it was the four members of Joy Division who stuck the sandpaper onto each and every cardboard sleeve. I’m sure any decent policeman worth his salt could do some sort of DNA test to it if you asked- you might be sitting on a Curtis there! Or a Hook. (No luck).

Reilly was asked to produce Happy Mondays’ Freaky Dancing single, a choice that may have made sense musically, but personality-wise was a disaster. As Shaun Ryder says in his autobiography, “We initially tried recording with Vini Reilly but that only lasted about two hours before he decided he couldn’t handle us. I like Vini, and he’s a great guitarist, but he’s a bit of a weird one and everyone knows he’s a bit fragile. He once told everyone that I’d spiked him at the Hacienda, and the next morning I got phone calls from Wilson and other people at Factory having a go at me, saying stuff like, ‘Why did you do that to poor Vini? You know what he’s like,’ when I hadn’t even fucking done anything. It was all in his mind.”

To quote Reilly – “I simply couldn’t work with them.”

A real musicians’ musician, he’s perhaps best-known for filling the substantial (desert) boots of Johnny Marr when The Smiths imploded. For the briefest of very brief moments, The Smiths looked like carrying on, until Morrissey decided otherwise. He instead roped Reilly in to play guitar on Viva Hate and, by chanelling his inner Marr, helped Morrissey’s solo career off to a flying start. But that’s a story for another day.

Durutti Column – Sketch For Summer

Durutti Column – Sketch For Winter

Morrissey – Margaret on the Guillotine

This post was all ready to go and then…

…my old pal DW put me onto Land Observations. “You’ll like them,” he said. “It’s just one guy and his guitar. No singing. It’s a bit motorik, a bit Krauty, with that sort of Michael Rother feel to it.” I quick listen on iTunes and I bought it….and I never buy anything from iTunes. But I had to have it there and then. And for the past week or so it’s been something of a constant on  the iPod. Motorik, krauty and sort of Michael Rother-ish, just as I was told. (A Soundcloud player should appear below. Please let me know if it doesn’t. It’s been a major headache trying to install it for some reason.)

It’s a concept album of sorts (hippies! prog-rock!), but stick with it. Loosely based on the journeys made along the Roman Roads of Britain, it’s the companion piece to an EP released last year. Unbelievably, given my instant love of the LP, I’ve still to buy the EP, but I will. The album, Roman Roads IV – XI, reminds me greatly of The Durutti Column – one guy who lets his guitar do the talking, no fancy pants widdly solos, just layered, textured, skeletal music that you can listen to, that makes you want to listen to it. And it sounds great through headphones. It’s currently at Number 3 in my ‘Favourite LPs of the Year’ list and climbing. Land Observations, folks. You’ll like them.

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Lightning Bolts ‘n Jessicarennis ‘n Andy Murray wins at Tennis

Craig McAllister

I’ll admit it. The Olympics have got me hook, line and sinker. From the opening ceremony onwards, via Wiggins’ magical time trial ride and the Scottish fella Jamieson who very nearly gubbed them all in the 200m breast stroke, until this weekend when Team GB have been picking up gold medals with all the carefree ease of Gladys and Agnes on a Tuesday morning at the pick ‘m mix in Woolies, I’ve sat, shouting sweary words of encouragement from the comfort of my sofa to people I had no idea existed a week ago. I was as cynical as many up here. Greatest Show On Earth? I don’t think so, pal. The Greatest Show On Earth is the World Cup. Everyone knows that. In no small part, my cynicism was due to Stuart Pearce’s (cough) Team GB football squad selection. A squad made up of numerous young Englishmen and a smattering of token Welshmen, with nary a Scot or Northern Irishman in sight. But more about them later. Yesterday was the opening game of the season for my team, Kilmarnock. It was a decent enough game, end-to-end, even, even if the BBC reported otherwise (their usual reporters have probably been deployed around the East End of London, I’d wager, and they’d been using some junior hack or other, not yet acquainted with the football normally played in the top league) yet I found my mind drifting back to events down south and couldn’t wait until half time in order to check the @TeamGB Twitter feed to see what I’d been missing. Good! My girl Jessicarennis was still burning the competition in the Women’s heptathlon.

It wasn’t long until I was home and catching up properly. Saturday night’s telly was sensational. But you knew that already. If you were watching ITV, silly you. If you were out, silly you. If, like me you whooped, hollered and punched the couch and the air and your wife with joyful abandon, you’ll know just how thrilling it was. When Jessicarennis lead from the front and came back strong and determined around that final bend; When the far-too-full-of-himself long jumper who’s name I’ve forgotten already messed up his last jump and bowed theatrically to the stadium; When Mo Farah, looking like someone Bob Geldof might be inclined to start an appeal for kicked his heels and dug out the strength to carry himself to victory; It was clear – that most dreaded of things, a feel good factor was suddenly everywhere. A ginger, a Muslim and a women of mixed race go into a pub. Everyone buys them a drink. I stole that from Richard Bacon. It’s a good one, eh?

Here in Scotland, following the manner in which oor ain Andy Murray casually disposed of Roger ‘The Greatest Ever‘ Federer, that feel good factor was multiplied ten-fold. Down south, people had a problem with Andy. He didn’t smile. He was dour in interviews. He battered his racquet around the court when things weren’t going his way. Good old stiff upper lip Tiger Tim Henman would never have displayed such vulgarities. Then, a month ago, the boy Murray blubbered like a big baby on the Centre Court and, well, some kind of thaw took place. It seems the public at large took him to heart. Today, when he climbed down from the Players’ Guests box and onto the scoreboard that declared his greatest ever victory, the wee boy who pushed his way to the front and shouted Andy back for a hug showed just how that feel good factor affects us all. That hug, as well as physical, was a metaphorical hug from all of Britain (but especially Scotland) to our own man.

 

The coverage on the BBC has been exceptional. This is what you pay your licence fee for. Handball over breakfast? Don’t mind if I do! Beach Volley ball at 10 in the morning? Oh aye! Easy on the eye! Beach Volleyball at 10 in the evening? Oh aye! Easy on the…but..hang on…they’re all wrapped up in, like, long lycra and jumpers and stuff. Damn that cold wind and British ‘summer’. Every sport is catered for and it’s all wrapped up and repeated if you happen to miss it first time round. One wee gripe? The commentators. Excellent and knowledgeable they undoubtedly are, they can also display an ignorance that cuts deep. It was that jumped up kids presenter Jake Humphries who did it first, during Team GB’s first women’s football match. “England this…England that….England the next thing“, and that’s a team that did have players from nations other than England in the starting 11. He said it about a dozen times. Then the normally reliable, likeable Lineker last night, “Well. So often before. And we’ve done it again. Out on penalties.” We, Gary? We? This is the first time we’ve ever entered a Team GB into any competition. We? You couldn’t possibly be referring to England, could we? The England who’s bottle crashes spectacularly at the merest whiff of a penalty shoot out? Did you not notice token Welshman and over-age player Ryan Giggs scoring there? Tut tut tut.  I’ll admit it, that’s why I took a tiny wee bit of satisfaction in seeing (cough) Team GB crash out of the football.

Anyway. This is supposed to be a music blog. The aptly-named Usain Bolt was pretty terrific in the 100m semi-final. The fastest man on Earth practically jogged over the line once he knew he’d qualified. Then the BBC ramped it up somewhat, with clocks counting down until the final itself. Re-runs of races from all angles. Slo-mo shots of Bolt goofing off to camera. And a 2 minute mini movie of the Best of Bolt for the majority of viewers who somehow knew that Bolt was The Man, yet were oblivious to his achievements to date. All sound-tracked by this. Lightning Bolt by Jake Bugg. One of my favourite singles of the year, it sounds like Bringing It All Back Home-era Dylan rattling his way through Bad Moon Rising, all nasal vocals and cow punk skiffle guitar. Like Bolt in the 100m final, it’s supremely self-assured, a blur, over before it’s begun, leaving the rest in its wake. Get it quick – I’ve a feeling the internet police won’t like it. But you will.

Beach bum.

Get This!, New! Now!

Blur(t) It Out

Craig McAllister

New track from Blur STOP Wonky guitars STOP

Catchy la-la-la chorus STOP

A bit of a grower STOP

(Crappy radio rip STOP Zane Lowe nearly makes an appearance on it STOP But will do until proper release, eh? STOP)

Breaking News! STOP Breaking News! STOP Breaking News! STOP

Under The Westway & The Puritan now available on iTunes for £1.49

(Crappy mp3s STOP Will do until promo CD makes appearance online STOP

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

Super Furry Side Salad

Craig McAllister

Those of us looking for any sort of Super Furry Fix have had slim pickings recently. Gruff Rhys‘ Shark Ridden Waters was out nearly a year ago, and he’s still essentially touring it, if you can call 1 gig in that there London a ‘tour’. Amongst the hullabaloo of Record Store Day the other week, he quietly slipped out a split single with Cate Le Bon. So quiet I didn’t even know about it at the time, but then, I wasn’t looking. Gold Medal Winner is a terrific slice of what some folks might call ’21st century sunshine pop’; all pitter-pattering drum machines, vibes, tinkles and Gruff’s super warm, super furry harmonies. It remains to be seen whether or not any Olympics officials will pick up on its lyrical theme in time for the Summer games, but it hasn’t stopped those enterprising online sharks going for gold and selling highly inflated copies on eBay.

Super Furries’ keyboard player (and, it’s said, doo-wop  nut), Cian Ciaran, very briefly gave away a free download of a track from his forthcoming Outside In LP. Yesterday was International Workers’ Day (nope, me neither) and to celebrate, You & Me was downloadable from Soundcloud, for one day only. Cian’s true to his word too, because it’s no longer downloadable from there. (Try here instead.) He may ‘only’ be the keyboard player in one of the most consistently innovative bands for the last 15 or so years, but on the evidence of You & Me, Cian Ciaran’s LP may just be the surprise album of the year.

Lennonesque is the word that straightaway springs to mind. The double-tracked vocals, the Double Fantasy piano part, the double dose of sweary words. There’s even a George Harrison slide section playing just behind the best 3-part woo-woo-wooing harmonies the Wilson brothers never recorded. Who knew the keyboard player was capable?!? It’s melancholic man, and I love it.

Roll on the next Super Furry material.

 

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!, New! Now!

Summer Love-in

Craig McAllister

(Had me a blast). It’s been a good old week, all things considered. I’m still basking in the afterglow of my team beating one of the great unwashed in a national cup final at the national stadium, the frantic pace of work is slowing down in preparation for the Easter holidays, I’ve got a new bike that I plan to cycle for miles and miles and the sun has been shining as if March thinks it’s July. I drove home today, window down to the sounds of Lee Perry and his dubby Jah-maica-ca-ca-ca riddims, convinced I was stopping tomorrow for yer actual summer holidays. Mad March, eh?

Even better than all of the above was the discovery of one of those wee bubble-wrapped envelopes on my door mat when I got in. I don’t buy that much new music, but inbetween the obscure soul stuff from 1971 and the Brazilian garage punk from 1964 (and the new Weller album, still unconvinced t’be honest), there’ll always be a place for Teenage Fanclub and anything related. Bass player Gerard Love has been working on his solo album for, ooooh, ages, if you believe some sources. Anyway, he’s finally got around to releasing it and ‘Electric Cables‘ by Lightships is now out (or in 4 days time if you didn’t pre-order it). But you knew that already.

First impressions? Well, this is the best Teenage Fanclub album they’ll never release. If you’re a fan of the Gerry tracks of old, especially the more recent Shadows-y stuff, you’ll like it. Everyone’s out right now, so I have the pleasure of listening to it not on my PC or in the car or through my crappy iPod headphones, but extra-loud via my big old Denon seperates. The way music was intended to be heard. It sounds analogue. Old, but in a good way. Everything about it is warm, woozy, wistful; Mellow. Guitars chime, basslines frug, pastoral flutes flitter their way in and out of the melodies like butterflies in high summer.  I’m sure you get the idea….

Perhaps at first you’ll think it’s missing some of those close-knit harmonies we’ve come to expect from his day-job band, but by the second and third listen, wee nuggets of golden sound start sticking their head up from the background and weave their magic. Lead track Two Lines is a thing of beauty, all understated guitars and organ that goes on and on, riding a wave of melancholy. First single Sweetness In Her Spark is much the same, with its great cooing vocals in the background and perfect lyric.  Some of the video was filmed just down the road from me, at Troon Harbour, fact fans. Elsewhere, vocals soar, delayed guitar riffs fade in and out and those Fanclubesque harmonies begin to appear. I have to admit, I’ve always been a Norman kinda guy, but between Shadows and Electric Cables, I’m fast turning into Gerry’s number one fan. This album is already my Sound of the Summer and it’s not yet April.

Duh. When ordering the album I shoulda ordered the 7″ of Sweetness In Her Spark. It’s backed by a cover of Moondog‘s 1978 ‘Do Your Thing‘. Moondog’s original is half way down here.

Lightships’ version is here:

Good, eh? I’m now off here.

If you haven’t already done so, get yourself over here pronto and find out what Gerry’s favourite records are. S’a good read, even if The Man* deleted all the files that go with it.

*not yer man Gerry, but the actual Big, Bad internet Man.

Breaking News!        Breaking News!        Breaking News!

The words ‘remix‘ and ‘Teenage Fanclub’ aren’t something you usually read in the same line, but you can get yourself a free download of the Raf Daddy remix of album opener Two Lines over here at Soundcloud. Not a patch on the album version (it’s the aural equivalent of drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa) but, hey, if you’re a geeky completist you’ll need it.

 

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

I Got 5 Years Stuck On My Eyes

Craig McAllister

I got 5 years, what a surprise! ‘Five Years‘, Bowie’s opening track on the Ziggy album ends with that afore-mentioned refrain. But you knew that already. You might also know that Plain Or Pan has now been going for 5 years. Or you might not. Either way, thanks for visiting time and time again. Whether you’re one of the few who choose to ‘follow this blog’ or you’re one of those misguided creeps who ended up here via Google after searching for ‘Teenage Fanny‘ and got the Bellshill Beach Boys instead, those visits (and the numbers they register behind the scenes in the Plain Or Pan office) are what keeps me a-writin’ and researchin’. Not as often as I’d like to, but as someone commented some time ago, “One good post a week is better than 7 posts of shite.” I might be paraphrasing there, but you get the idea.

As is now customary at this time of year, my team of office monkeys gather up all statistical information made available to them and compile a couple of CDs worth of the year’s most popular downloaded tracks and painstakingly create a groovy cover that goes with it. This is not a quick process. Hours are spent refining and re-refining running orders. At least 14 different covers are produced before a carefully-selected random sample of Plain Or Pan’s target audience (that’s you, that is) choose the cover that speaks most to them. This year is slightly different. The office monkeys have gone on strike (they mumbled something about pensions) and time is at a premium (ie, I don’t have any). The tracks, 2 CDs worth are here. The artwork, not your normal CD cover, more of an image that you can use as cover art in iTunes or however you listen to music on your computer, is there, above this paragraph (right click, save as etc etc). The tracklist? I don’t have one. This year you can choose your own running order from the following:

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John Barry – Midnight Cowboy

King Creosote – Home In A Sentence

The Smiths – How Soon Is Now? (Rare Italian pressing)

Gruff Rhys – Shark Ridden Waters, which samples….

The Cyrkle – It Doesn’t Matter Anymore

Midlake – Branches

Elliott Smith – Alameda

Peter Salett – Sunshine

Mott The Hoople – Walking With A Mountain

Primal Scream – Jailbird (Kris Needs’ Toxic Trio Stay free mix)

Primal Scream & PP Arnold – Understanding (Small Faces cover)

Ride – Like A Daydream

The Wildebeests – That Man (Small Faces cover)

Dion – The Dolphins (Tim Buckley cover)

Darondo – Didn’t I

Edwin Starr – Movin’ On Up (Primal Scream cover)

Shellac – My Black Ass

The Rivingtons – Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow (the building blocks of Surfin Bird)

The Survivors – Pamela Jean (Brian Wilson recording)

The Heavy – How You Like Me Now? which heavily ‘borrows’ from…

Dyke & The Blazers – Let A Woman Be A Woman (Let A Man Be A Man)

The La’s – Come In Come Out (John Leckie mix)

The Girlfriends – My One And Only Jimmy Boy

The Whyte Boots – Nightmare

James Brown & the Famous Flames –I’ll Go Crazy

The Jim Jones Revue – Hey Hey Hey Hey, cover of….

Little Richard – Hey Hey Hey Hey (false start take)

Suede – The Wild Ones (unedited version)

Lee Dorsey – Holy Cow

Fern Kinney – Groove Me

Aretha Franklin – Rock Steady (alt mix)

Jackson 5 –  I Want You Back (Michael’s isolated vocal – dynamite!!!)

Reparta & the Delrons – Shoes (the inspiration for The Smiths’ A Rush And A Push…)

Dusty Springfield – Spooky

She & Him – Please Please Please, Let Me Get What I Want (Smiths cover)

John Barry – The Girl With The Sun In Her Hair

A fairly representative selection of what Plain Or Pan is all about, you might agree. In other words, a right rum bag of forgotten classics and demos and cover versions and alternative takes and studio outtakes and the rest of it. Outdated Music For Outdated People right enough.

Missed any of these legendary compilations?

Here‘s the first 2 years, 2007 & 2008

Here‘s 2009’s

Here‘s 2010’s

Download ’til yer heart’s content!

Hard-to-find, New! Now!, Sampled

Cult Heroes

Craig McAllister

It’s midway through the year and round about now the movers, shakers and self-appointed hipsters in the music press like to sort out the wheat from the chaff in an early attempt to predict what will become the all important ‘Album of the Year‘, just so they can say “told you so!” in December. It’s ridiculous to even try and suggest such a  thing – one man’s meat is another’s poison and all that, and who really cares anyway?, but for what it’s worth,  if you were to ask me, an early contender for such a title would surely go to solo Super Furry Gruff Rhys for his Hotel Shampoo LP.

Had it been released under the Super Furry Animals banner it would have been frothed over by superlative-filled foaming-mouthed sychophants falling over themselves in praise of yet another Super Furry masterpiece, but I can’t help thinking that it somewhat crept under the radar. Investigate it now – here‘s the opening track Shark Ridden Waters. Seagull noises and bursts of foreign TV shows doused with a liberal sprinkling of Gruff Rhys melody, all underpinned by the most fruggable bassline since Peter, Bjorn & John’s Young Folks.  Good, eh? And that wee fade out at the end, the ‘there’s no use cryin’, no use tellin’ me how much you’ve changed‘  part gets me every time. Sounds like it’s been sampled from something too, but I can’t place it. Any ideas? Oh, and talking of samples…….

Super Furry Animals’ The Man Don’t Give A Fuck takes the sweary part from Steely Dan‘s Showbiz Kids, loops it over 50 times and creates a fantastic record full of fuzz guitars, sleigh bells, Beach Boys-style doo-wop backing vocals and Glitter Band stomping drums that builds and builds and builds until it falls spectacularly in on itself. But you knew that already. You may also know that it was recorded at the same sessions that produced the bulk of debut LP Fuzzy Logic and was earmarked as a b-side (only a b-side!!) to If You Don’t Want Me To Destroy You. Failing to get sample clearance in time put the kybosh on that idea, however, but thankfully the SFA persevered until Steely Dan gave them the OK to release it as a standalone single – in return for 95% of the track’s royalties, an arrangement Gruff Rhys was more than happy with, given that a record featuring such nonchalant use of the ‘f-word would hardly trouble the playlists of the nation’s radio stations. And just in case it did somehow set the charts alight, the band deleted the single one week after its release, making it instantly collectable to those (like me) who care about such trivialities.

The sleeve of The Man Don’t Give A Fuck featured a picture of Cardiff City’s Robin Friday flicking the V’s to the Luton Town goalie of the day (see full picture below). Friday seems to have been cut from the same cloth as George Best – at his peak in the mid ’70s Friday was a free-scoring player both on and off the pitch, and was just as famous for his smoking, drinking and drugging exploits as he was for his womanising. A bit like any number of modern day players really, but without the kiss-and-tells in the News Of The World. Or, in Rio Ferdinand’s case, the free-scoring on the pitch part. Allegedly.

As Paolo Hewitt and Guigsy (from Oasis) wrote in the single’s  sleevenotes…

Robin Friday was a nonconformist and lived every second of his life with an intensity that burned for all to see. Friday not only flicked V signs at goalies who stood no chance against his prowess but he flicked V signs at anyone who tried to tame him. He was the superstar of the suburbs, the one who made George Best look like a lightweight.

Indeed. He once kicked Mark Lawrenson in the face, something that many of you here would no doubt jump at the chance of doing too. Perhaps that’s why Lawrenson now speaks in that ridiculous singsong school girly voice? Who knows, but surely after reading the sleevenotes above, the question on everyone’s minds is now, “How much of that did Guigsy write?”

*Bonus Track!

No bonus tracks as such. The 2 additional remixes on the MDGAF single were rather lacklustre beats ‘n bangs ‘n clatters mixes that just about survived one whole play before being filed away for 15 years. I’ve just played them for the 2nd time ever whilst writing this and honestly, you never need to hear them. But I’ve featured loads of Super Furry Animals before –  I’m particularly proud of the hidden tracks article I wrote a couple of years ago. For anything else, use the ‘Search‘ facility!

Gone but not forgotten, New! Now!

Happy Birthday Rabbie!

Craig McAllister

252 years young the day!

That reminds me. Prince Charles was on a visit to Crosshouse Hospital, just outside Kilmarnock a couple of years ago. One of the Hospital big wigs was accompanying him round the wards, steering old Charlie clear of the wasters, winos and swine flu sufferers that were using up valuable bed space. Walking into one ward, The Prince stopped at one of the first beds and asked the young man how he was feeling. The bedridden patient replied;

“Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murdering pattle.”

Charles mumbled something under his breath, smiled at the distressed patient and walked on. He stopped at another bed and asked the next patient how he too was fareing. The patient looked up and shouted out,

“My curse upon your venom’d stang,
That shoots my tortur’d gooms alang,
An’ thro’ my lug gies monie a twang
Wh’ gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
Like racking engines!”

Somewhat shaken, Charles walked on. Stopping at the last bed  he looked at the patient. Being the future King and all, it was only polite of him to ask this patient how he too was progressing. With a froth of the mouth patient number three barked out,

“When Chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
An’ folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
An’ getting fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and styles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like a gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam O Shanter,
As he frae Ayr ae nicht did canter:
(Auld Ayr, wham ne’er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses.)”

A visibly bemused and perturbed Charles turned to his guide and inquired, “Where are we man? Is this some sort of mental ward?”

“No Sir,” came the reply. “This is the severe Burns Unit.”

You can have that one for free….

Here‘s lo-fi acoustic folk Scottish supergroup-of-sorts The Burns Unit doing a brand new song called Tupperware Pieces for last week’s Marc Riley show on BBC 6 Music. S’a cracker. (I stole the mp3 from Peenko – ta!)