Six Of The Best

Six Of The Best – Cian Ciaran

Craig McAllister

Six Of The Best is a semi-regular feature that pokes, prods and persuades your favourite bands, bards and barometers of hip opinion to tell us six of the best tracks they’ve ever heard. The tracks could be mainstream million-sellers or they could be obfuscatingly obscure, it doesn’t matter. The only criteria set is that, aye, they must be Six of the Best. Think of it like a mini, groovier version of Desert Island Discs…

Number 11 in a series:

2012 looks like it’s the year of the side project. Just as Gerry Love‘s excellent Lightships LP has raised his status from bass playing, songwriting member of Teenage Fanclub into bona fide artist in his own right, so to will Outside In by Cian Ciaran.

Cian is the keyboard player with the Super Furry Animals. He’s the man who put the tech in their technicolour surround sound and is the Super Furries’ secret weapon, the main reason they remain a massive cut above yer average indie rock band. With Cian at the helm, the Super Furry sound can go from Beach Boys balladery to bangin’ nosebleed techno to 12-bar boogie and back again, often before the first chorus. Sure, it’s Gruff out front and it’s Gruff who appears most active when the SFA are in downtime, so who knew that the wee guy at the back who sings occasional harmonies was such an integral part of the band’s sound?

Well, wait till you hear Outside In.  Drawing another parallel with Gerry Love’s Lightships, it’s nothing really like the music of Cian’s day job, it’s not what you might expect to hear, yet it’s somehow exactly right. Cian’s record is all about the arrangements. And I’m talkin’ a Surfs Up level of sophistication here, a level of greatness few would’ve presumed a keyboard boffin with a side project releasing anonymous techno records was ever capable of (sorry, Cian). Written entirely on keyboard, though played on a smörgåsbord of Super Furry-friendly instruments, Outside In is bathed in pathos, with melancholy dripping from every minor key and sustained harmony. As I previously wrote about lead track You & Me:

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.

That should give you some idea of where the album’s heading. Second track ‘Till I Die is a real heart-breaker.  Tinkling grand pianos accompany Cian as he pours his heart and soul into it. Woman. What have you done to me? Why leave me? My life began the day that I found you. Jesus. By the time the string section swells into the middle eight there’s not a dry eye in the house. This is immense. Proper grown-up adult music, whatever that is. Elsewhere on Outside In you’ll find the Super Furry bossa nova of Martina Franca, the falsetto a-capella of 1st Time and the sunny doo-wop of What Will Be. There’s enough wonky waltzes and trippy time signatures, fuzzy psychedelia and unconventional weirdness to satisfy your inner Wilson fetish. Indeed, every track sounds like it’s been poked, prodded and tweaked by ol’ hang dog Brian himself whilst lounging in his L.A. sandpit. Which, if you need to ask, is no bad thing at all.

Cian’s choices (and accompanying You Tube links) for Six of the Best are perhaps the most eclectic and interesting we’ve had yet, a perfect reflection of someone who often turned up at festivals blaring ear-splitting techno from a customised army tank and, who, in his day job plays in one of the most eclectic, interesting and unconventional bands on (?) the planet, unrestricted by fad, fashion or expectation. From crescendo-peaking opera and string-swelling soundtrack via wigged-out indie rock and under-appreciated songwriters living in the enormous shadow of their brothers to 20 minute long squelchy 303 acid house, Cian’s picks truly are Six of the Best…

In no particular order…….. it’s like choosing between ones children…..

Ennio Moriconne – Once Upon A Time In The West

I only chose this particular track because I had to choose one. But it did bring a tear to my eye  when I heard it live. Anything by him has been eye-opening for me and something to aspire to. I’ve seen him 4 times in various locations, the best was in Rome where he played less of the hits. I love the power of a live orchestra. Awe inspiring.

Stone Roses – I Am The Resurrection

The band that made me want to be in a band. Before I heard the Stone Roses, the only gtr music I really knew was the Beatles and Stones. They made music contemporary for me. At the time I picked up a pair of drumstix and practised and realised soon enough that I had a long way to go, and still do. I went to see them last month and it was a trip down memory lane. I used to listen to the album on my Walkman every night in bed and sang every word, guitar part, solo, every drum beat and bass line – fuck me, it was my musical education that I still cherish to this day.

Bizet – The Pearl Fishers

I first heard this when I was 4 apparently, so says my mum when I walked into the kitchen having played it and then reported back to her saying “It’s a special piece , isn’t it Mam?”

Stakker- Humanoid (Snowman mix) 

I think this was the first record I knowingly bought, after Ghostbusters from WHSmiths on Bangor High Street.  Acid House was my first love and this track is one of my all time greats. There are so many versions but this one, along with the original is my favourite. It was my first step into what would shape my musical exploits through my teens. I don’t know where I’d be now without acid and techno. Long may it continue and develop. Electronic music always pushes barriers for me and shapes things to come, musically and in production, ever since synths and technology found their way into popular music. I fuckin’ loves it!

System7 – Alpha Wave (Plastikman rmx) –

A classic, I never get tired of this one. I played it in Liquid Rooms, Tokyo back in the day. There’s an almighty drop down, and a build up that lasts forever. It’s one of the best (along with Hardfloor’s monster builds, that would be another choice, Hardtrance Acperience, here), in which the crowd proceeded to do the Ayatollah to the record as conducted by Guto and Bunf. It still works on the dancefloor to this day.

Dennis Wilson – Lady (Fallin’ In Love)

Again, I could’ve chosen anything by the Beach Boys but plumped for this solo effort to represent them. A beautiful song, what more can I say?

As Cian perfectly summarised in Rocksucker recently:

I don’t want to be held down to one style of music because I like listening to all sorts, and I like writing in all styles as well. I don’t think you should be pigeon-holed into one style because you can learn from other styles and incorporate what you learn in other stuff, weave it in however you want. It’s like an artist – why should an artist stick to his paintbrush when he can do pottery or film or photography? I just look at it like that.

Every Six Of the Best compilation comes in a handy RAR download file. Get Cian Ciaran’s here. New link HERE! (Thanks, Andy!) Now get yourself over pronto to your favourite record shop, if you’re lucky enough to have one you can frequent, or your usual online retailer and pick up a copy of Cian Ciaran‘s Outside In. Or, in keeping with the Super Furry mood, why not buy it here, via Spillers in Cardiff, The Oldest Record Shop In The World. Go! Go! Go

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

Kings, Queens & Other Chess Pieces

Craig McAllister

I meant to mark this occasion and put something up last week, but the RJ Ellory post (below) took over slightly. A week later, it would be churlish of me not to give a nod and a wink to that creaky old juggernaut that keeps limping on, like your smelly old dog with 3 good legs that’s deaf in one ear and blind in the only eye it has left. Aye,The Rolling Stones as a rock and roll group have now been in the game for no less than 50 years. That surely makes them one of the oldest musical acts still going strong. The Four Tops still do the odd show here and there (mainly ‘there’, in Vegas), and from 1953 until the death of Lawrence Payton in 1997 managed to keep the original line-up intact. The Drifters started in the 50s, but most (or all?) of the originals have, cough, drifted off. They probably played 5 shows last night anywhere between Blackpool Butlins and the Bermuda Triangle, so you can’t really count them. The Stones survive with 3 original members (Mick, Keith and Charlie, who actually joined after their first gig, see image at the bottom) and with Ronnie Wood having been in the band longer than The Fall have been a going concern. And how many members have they gone through in that time, eh? (Answer: about 66, at the last count).

Nowadays, they’re a bit more creased around the edges and a bit more expensive of cloth (though evidently, unlike most men of their age (and 10, 20, 30 years younger), no more expansive of waist). Sure, they’re a whole lot less vital than they once were, their live shows still trade on their Golden Era (early 60s – mid 70s, if you need to ask) and nowadays they’re a brand not a band – you can buy their merchandise in Primark if you fancy! But, as you already know, the Stones were totally, absolutely, dynamite in their heyday.

Chess Studios, 1964.

There’s a famous story (not an urban myth, as Keith goes at great lengths to point out in his autobiography) that when they turned up midway through their first US tour to record at the famous old Chess Studios, band hero Muddy Waters (he wrote I’m A Rollin’ Stone) was painting the outside of the building, whitewash streaming down his face, only stopping to help Bill Wyman in with his amplifier from car to studio. It didn’t matter that Muddy was a legend to the Stones and all those other Thames Delta blues bands, in his homeland he had yet to make that leap from unfashionable unknown to undeniable blues great. As Keith astutely notes, “If you want to stay on the payroll, get to work.”

Chess Studios, 1964

The stuff that the band recorded at Chess in 1964 was brilliant – Keith says 14 tracks in 2 days, my bootleg has 27, including their version of Bobby Womack’s It’s All Over Now that gave them their first number 1. Organic and rootsy, deep-rooted in the blues, the music has a big, booming, beefy sound, all reverb and twang and feral snap. Most of the recordings they made there for a potential album remain unreleased to this day (Google 2120 Michigan Avenue. Go on!) and it knocks spots off of anything that their sha-la-la, she-loves-me-and-I-love-her contemporaries were tossing off into the Hit Parade. But you knew that already…

The Tunes:

The Rolling Stones – It’s All Over Now

The Rolling Stones – 2120 South Michigan Avenue

The Rolling Stones – Time Is On My Side (version 2)

The Rolling Stones – Don’t You Lie To Me

The Rolling Stones – Stewed & Keefed

The Rolling Stones – The Under-Assistant West Coast Promotion Man

The Originals:

Bobby Womack – It’s All Over Now

Irma Thomas – Time Is On My Side

Six Of The Best

Six Of The Best – R.J. Ellory

Craig McAllister

Six Of The Best is a semi-regular feature that pokes, prods and persuades your favourite bands, bards and barometers of hip opinion to tell us six of the best tracks they’ve ever heard. The tracks could be mainstream million-sellers or they could be obfuscatingly obscure, it doesn’t matter. The only criteria set is that, aye, they must be Six of the Best. Think of it like a mini, groovier version of Desert Island Discs…

Number 10 in a series:

By now, 10 novels in, Roger Jon Ellory should be a household name in the same way Stephen King or Dean Koontz or Ian Rankin are household names. A multi-award winner (Steel Dagger, CWA Dagger, a Barry Award, Crime Novel of the Year, to name just some), he writes crime thrillers like no-one else at the moment, and in a just world Roger’s books would be making the jackpot-winning leap from print to celluloid. His stories can be brutal, violent, uncomfortable and unsettling, but turn the page and it’s just as likely you’ll be reading some life-affirming, uplifting, faith-in-humankind passage – the welcome daylight to the novel’s relentless darkness. Always gripping, Roger’s books are simply unputdownable and feature more twists than a copy of Chubby Checker’s Greatest Hits. Just when you think you have a handle on the story and how it’s panning out, he has the knack of hitting you between the eyes with an unforeseen left turn. Page turners. That’s what they call them.

I chanced upon Roger’s novels after a trip to New York. With Big Apple dirt still under my fingernails and the smell of stale pretzels lingering in my hair, I went to Kilwinning library looking for something to read that might help me cope with the unwelcome NYC withdrawal symptoms I couldn’t shake. From the row of anonymous books on the ‘E’ shelf, Saints Of New York made its way into my line of vision, its title dancing seductively before my eyes (think Tales of the Unexpected), and after flicking randomly through a couple of pages I knew this was the one for me. I read it in 2 days flat, visualising the landmarks and streets that had been my home a few days previously, adding my own imagined soundtrack of honking taxis, skronking Central Park saxophones and loud-mouthed street vendors. “Hat cwoffee! Hat cwoffee!” With the last paragraph still ringing in my ears I hot-footed it back to the library, making a bee-line for the ‘E’ section. Loads of Ellorys! Ghostheart. City Of Lies. A Simple Act Of Violence.  A Quiet Belief In Angels (set not in NYC, but even more gripping (if that was possible) than what I’d read so far). In The Anniversary Man, the story even climaxed on a bench in Union Square, the same bench, I convinced myself, where I had eaten my lunch on the day I left.

Roger really captures the feel of the places he writes about. You can tell every word, every measured nuance has been carefully considered, agonised over even, before being committed to print. His chosen prose transports you slap bang in the middle of the time and place in which the story’s set. You can smell the deep south of New Orleans in A Quiet Vendetta. You can hear the open roads and taste the Texas dustbowls of Bad Signs. It was most surprising, then, to find out that Roger lived not in New York or in New Orleans but in Birmingham. And not Birmingham, Alabama, but Birmingham, UK. How can he write so knowingly, so honestly about places half-way across the world? Research, yes. An awful lot of research, I’d imagine. And no doubt the odd field trip or two, but clearly, RJ Ellory has a gift for story writing. My favourite? That’s hard (I’m half way through A Dark And Broken Heart, his latest), but for the moment it would have to be A Quiet Belief In Angels. You should read it, you’d like it a lot. Surely it’s only a matter of time before some enterprising movie maker or other adapts it for the silver screen? Tarantino at the helm. William H Macy as Sheriff Dearing. Scarlett Johansson as Miss Webber. That would be great…

Fresh from publishing his Chicagoland eBook trilogy (above, 99p a book!), playing and singing in his own band, The Whiskey Poets and hanging backstage with Bruce Springsteen in Paris, Roger somehow found the time to contribute his ‘Six Of The Best‘ to Plain Or Pan…

I have to say that being asked to write something about six songs is outrageously unfair!  How can you choose six songs?  I have hundreds of LPs, thousands of tapes and CDs, and I have just started loading this library of music onto an iPod.  I have crossed the 10,000 tracks mark, and I have a long, long, long way to go yet.  The only way I could do this was to choose six tracks that I have listened to in the last couple of days that stood out for me.  I have excluded Tom Waits, The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Paul Butterfield Blues Band (with Mike Bloomfield, one of my true guitar idols), and so, so, so many other wonderful artistes.

Anyway, here are six songs, though tomorrow there would be another six, and the day after another six again…

Johnny Cash

If You Could Read My Mind

I only recently discovered this song on Cash’s last album.  I love the original by Gordon Lightfoot, and have listened to it for years, but there is something so desperately emotive about this version.  Cash is tired.  You can just feel it in every line, every breath.  He knows he’s reaching the end of his life, and he has taken a number of classic songs and covered them.  I listen to this and it breaks my heart.  It is not just the words, it’s the arrangement, the fact that the key has been dropped into Cash’s vocal range…just everything about it.  I was playing the CD in the car, and this track came on and I just had to pull over to the side of the road and wait for it to finish.  Once it was done, I played it again.

Antony & The Johnsons

Hope There’s Someone

I saw this performed on a television show, and it stopped me dead in my tracks.  He’s an Englishman, from Kent I believe, and he wound up in New York where he was supported and patronised by Lou Reed.  Oddly enough, I saw him in a cameo role in a recent film called ‘Animal Factory’ with Willem Defoe, where he played an inmate singing on a talent show evening.  There is something so utterly arresting about his voice, his delivery, his presence.  This song is truly sad.  This song is all about loneliness, that desperate feeling of hope that your life will have meant something, and that there will be someone to take care of you when you die.  I think this says a lot about what Anthony suffered – for his sexuality, his appearance, the personal crosses he has had to bear.  I listen to this and I shudder…

Derek Trucks Band

Sahib Teri Band/Maki Madni

I have put this on the list for two reasons – first and foremost, it’s a wonderful track, and secondly, because of the Allman Brothers connection.  Derek’s father was Butch Trucks, drummer for the Allmans, and Derek stands head and shoulders above the vast majority of contemporary blues players.  He does something fresh, new and interesting with every album.  He collaborates with a huge gang of great players, and with his wife, Susan Tedeschi, he has formed the Tedeschi/Trucks Band.  I am a little exhausted with the endless wave of SRV-wannabe blues guitarists, and though I can appreciate great technique in a player, I am not a fan of rendition as an ‘art’ for its own sake.  Art is communication.  Great art is not judged by the artist, but by the public and history.  Fretboard pyrotechnics appeal to guitarists, not girls!  Enough said!  I am all about the emotion in music, and the way in which the sound and the rhythm get under your skin and change the way you feel.  Trucks is a master, and I love what he’s doing.

Dr. John

I Walk on Gilded Splinters

What can I say about Dr. John?  This album – of which I have a vinyl first pressing – is a stand-out, timeless, monster classic.  Breathtaking, scary, unsettling, uncomfortable, familiar even on the first listen…and it appeals to so many aspects of my musical and other interests – jazz, blues, African rhythms, voodoo enchantments, curses, hexes, gris-gris gumbo ya-ya, and the rest.  The hiss as the needle goes down, that first intonation of sound, and you are gone – lost in the deep, dark, dreadful swamps of Louisiana, surrounded by shrunken heads, ouanga charms, Papa Legba, mandragore and grimoires.  Just the most wonderful concoction of sounds and emotions and rhythms.  As an additional aside, there’s a great live version of this from Humble Pie, and there we have a way of getting Steve Marriott into the mix, one of the finest singers Britain has ever produced!  Marriott, another tragic loss to the world of great music, lived too few years and recorded too few songs.

The Gun Club

Eternally Is Here

For me, Kurt Cobain holds a place that should have been reserved for Jeffrey Lee Pierce.  Pierce was a phenomenon, a wizard, a genius.  Pierce was a paradox, a contradiction, a genius, a drunk, a guitar master, a songwriting legend.  I love the first albums – ‘Fire of Love’, ‘Miami’…in fact, I love them all, but there is something about the raw power of some of the tracks on ‘The Las Vegas Story’ that just blows me away.  I think JLP was more familiar with the technical aspects of studio recording.  I think he’d worked with these musicians for a while and felt comfortable with them, and he produced an album that possessed as much ‘thump’ and energy as anything I have ever listened to.  This song really hits me in the chest and the heart.  Maybe there is a rawness missing from this album that was there in spades in the early work, but I don’t care.  The songs are wonderful.  I saw The Gun Club only once, back in 1982 at The Hacienda in Manchester.  Eight or ten of us hired a van and drove from Birmingham to see them.  I was so very drunk, so completely drunk, but from the moment he appeared on stage it was as if I had suddenly received three pints of intravenous espresso.  He just blew me away.  I will never forget that gig.  A life-changing experience, literally.

Fleetwood Mac

Need Your Love So Bad

Peter Green.  What can I say?  BB King says that Green was the only guitarist who made him sweat.  Sure, he’s a brilliant guitarist, no question about it, but he’s an extraordinary singer, songwriter, arranger, recording artiste, and it saddens me no end when I think about what was done to him.  That aside, I saw him recently, here in my home city.  He was supporting BB King, ironically.  The lights were out, you couldn’t see a thing, and he hit one note.  Instantly, you knew it was Green, and he wasn’t even playing a Les Paul!  The name ‘Fleetwood Mac’ should have been retired when the original line-up with Jeremy Spencer was terminated.  Now you say ‘Fleetwood Mac’ and people think of Stevie Nicks, ‘Rumours’, and all manner of hideously safe middle-of-the-road AOR nonsense.  Fleetwood Mac was a kick-ass blues band, a real British R&B band that took the world by storm.  They sold more records than the Stones and The Beatles combined at one point.  Albatross, Oh Well, Green Manalishi, Man of the World…the list goes on.  I have a great photo of the young Green in my study, along with photos of Roy Buchanan, Mike Bloomfield, Muddy Waters, Kelly Joe Phelps, Alvin Youngblood Hart and a host of others.  See what I did there?  Still trying to get a whole lot more than six tracks mentioned here!

Steven Van Zandt – Silvio from The Sopranos and Fender-totin’ Springsteen foil. He has good tatse in music too – click on the Little Steven’s Underground Garage link, over there on the ‘Blogroll’ on the right.

A great selection….and I’m quite surprised. I kinda thought, given the nature of his books, that Roger would pick wall-to-wall Americana. Nothing wrong with that of course, but to read him wax lyrical about The Gun Club, Johnny Cash and Dr John while bigging up Mike Bloomfield and Steve Marriott, and bemoan the fact that he hasn’t any space left for Tom Waits or The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, well, this is music right up Plain Or Pan’s metaphorical street.

Every Six Of the Best compilation comes in a handy RAR download file. Get R.J. Ellory’s here.

Now! Get yourself over to your local library or even your favourite local bookshop, if you’re lucky enough to live in a town where such things still exist. Or, if it’s raining, just pop on Roger’s Six Of the Best while you get yourself over to your favourite online book retailer. Try here. Or here. Pick an Ellory. You could start at the beginning with Candlemoth, or you could go straight to A Dark And Broken Heart and work your way backwards. It doesn’t matter. Just read one. Then another. And another. And tell a pal. Tell two pals. Tell everyone. Go on! Whatchawaitin’ for?

RJ Ellory online

RJ Ellory on Facebook

RJ Ellory on Twitter

You can listen to The Whiskey Poets here, with Roger on guitar and vocals.

Cover Versions, demo, Gone but not forgotten, Kraut-y

Riff Trade #2

Craig McAllister

Or, There’s Always Been A Dance Element To Our Music. Post Stone Roses, everyone in 1990 had sacked their rock drummer, got themselves a loose-limbed octopus who could replicate Clyde Stubblefield‘s funkier moments from James Brown’s Greatest Hits and began making records that folk in outdated quiffs could sorta shuffle around to in a faux-druggy state. I know, because I was one of those shuffling folk with outdated quiff. Two months later and it had been fashioned into a Paul McCartney ’65 classic, but when the first strains of the Paris Angels or Northside or Flowered Up began to appear in the gaps between The Cramps and Smiths records at The Attic in Irvine, it was quiffs everywhere for as far as the eye could see. You’ll know this already, but Northside et al weren’t the first bands to shout accusingly at the drummer, “Less thunk, more funk!” There are plenty of examples of when ‘rock’ bands go ‘dance’.

Back when Joy Division were unsigned and known as Warsaw, RCA gave them some money to record a demo. Celebrated local Northern Soul DJ Richard Searling convinced the band they should record a version of Nolan Porter‘s Keep On Keepin’ On. Porter’s record was a staple of the northern soul scene, a gigantic record with a jagged, juddering riff that could’ve come straight off The Stooges first LP. It still sounds urgent, fresh and NOW!, even more so today. Jessie J and David Guetta at T In The Park?!? Fuck right off! Sorry. I digress. Warsaw, keen to impress RCA and gain a record deal went so far as to record a version of Keep On Keepin’ On, but as Bernard Sumner ruefully reflected, “they tried to make Ian Curtis sound like James Brown.” Given that this wasn’t quite the sound these intense young men were looking for, their recording was aborted, never to see the light of day. However…

Click the image for full effect!

Sumner turned the riff inside out, played it 10 times faster than Nolan Porter and presented his band with a new tune. Using the RCA money, they cut Interzone. Listen to both tunes then spot the similarities. They’re all there. Warsaw’s take on the gigantic, jagged, juddering riff is even more Stooges-like, the perfect foil for the Ian Curtis body pop. Nothing at all like the Nolan Porter record, it was unsurprising that RCA didn’t like it. Which as it turned out, was good news for Tony Wilson, Factory Records and for all of us.

*Bonus Tracks!

Joy Divison – Interzone (Unknown Pleasures LP version)

David Bowie – Warszawa (the glacial track that in 1977 christened Ian Curtis’ band with no name)

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

Riff Trade

Craig McAllister

Di’-di’-di’-di’    (pause)      duh-di’-di’-di’   (half pause)    di’-di’

“I’ll name that tune in 4, Lionel!”

“Go on then, Name That Tune!”

“Obviously, it’s Hitch-Hike, the number 30 in ’63 hit for Marvin Gaye, released on the Tamla Motown label…”

Indeed it is. (Show off). Hitch-Hike was one of Marvin’s early hits and, in best Motown tradition was a family affair, featuring the singing secretaries, Martha Reeves and her Vandellas, on backing vocals. A practically perfect 2 minutes-odd ode to finding his runaway girlfriend, it‘s signature stuttering guitar riff briefly lead to a short-lived but groovy (baby) Hitch-Hike dance craze, where participants looked like demented second prize winners in a Paul McCartney impressions contest….

I like the fact that the girl at the end is dancing in her pants on live telly. Nowadays she’d probably just whip them off for shock value and hardly anyone would bat an eyelid.

A couple of short years later, The Rolling Stones put out their version of Hitch-Hike on Out Of Our Heads.  The current issue of Mojo magazine has a good feature on early Stones and listening to it made a good accompaniment to reading the article. Out Of Our Heads is the Stones as garage band; rough, feral, fast and frantic. The guitar interplay between Keith and Brian is brilliant. Who plays what at any given time is hard to work out. Riffs, power chords and super-distorted slashing freak-out leads are all in the mix. Never heard it? It’s never too late…

High on industrial strength drugs (possibly) in his Chelsea loft appartment (maybe) and with a mono copy of Out Of Our Heads spinning on the old Dansette (very likely), Lou Reed suddenly had a thought. An inspiration. A bloody cheek. “A-ha!” he shouted, Archimedes-like, and right there and then pinched the Hitch-Hike riff lock, stock and barrel for his and the Velvet Underground‘s own There She Goes Again.

Di’-di’-di’-di’    (pause)      duh-di’-di’-di’   (half pause)    di’-di’

Can you tell what it is yet?

Fast forward 18 years and we find Johnny Marr in his Kensington flat (probably), mono copy of Out Of Our Heads spinning on the old Dansette (certainly). The Hitch-Hike riff kicks in and Johnny, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, takes the feel of it and applies it to the set of chords he’s been fiddling around with. A bit more subtle than Lou Reed, but listen to the start of There Is A Light That Never Goes Out. Ah! D’you see what he did there? Johnny was hoping he could fool the know-it-all journalists who’d no doubt point out that he nicked the riff from The Velvet Underground, the band that anyone who was anyone in a mid 80s guitar band could pilfer and steal their image or an idea or two from. That’ll be you I’m looking at, William and Jim Reid. And Ian McCulloch. And the rest of you. You know who you are.

As Johnny himself said in 1993, “There’s a little in-joke in there just to illustrate how intellectual I was getting. At the time everyone was into the Velvet Underground and they stole the intro to ‘There She Goes Again’ – da da da-da, da da-da-da, Dah Dah! – from the Rolling Stones version of ‘Hitch-Hike,’ the Marvin Gaye song. I just wanted to put that in to see whether the press would say, Oh it’s the Velvet Underground! Cos I knew that I was smarter than that. I was listening to what The Velvet Underground was listening to.”

“If we needed some songs fast, then Morrissey would come round to my place and I’d sit there with an acoustic guitar and a cassette recorder. ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’ was done that way.”

“Morrissey was sat on a coffee table, perched on the edge. I was sat with my guitar on a chair directly in front of him. He had A Sony Walkman recording, waiting to hear what I was gonna pull out. So I said, ‘Well, I’ve got this one’ and I started playing these chords. He just looked at me as I was playing. It was as if he daren’t speak, in case the spell was broke.”

“We recorded ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’ in 10 minutes. I went on to add some flute overdub and strings and a couple of extra guitars, but really, the essence and the spirit of it was captured straight away, and that normally means that something’s gone really, really right. I have a version (get it! get it!) of that take with just the three instruments and the voice on it – it absolutely holds up as a beautiful moment in time. The Smiths were all in love with the sound that we were making. We loved it as much as everyone else, but we were lucky enough to be the ones playing it.”

“I didn’t realise that ‘There Is A Light’ was going to be an anthem but when we first played it I thought it was the best song I’d ever heard.”

Andy Rourke also loved There Is A Light That Never Goes Out. He calls it the indie Candle In The Wind. Make of that what you will.

Johnny Marr onstage with The Smiths when they played The Magnum Leisure Centre in my hometown of Irvine, September 1985. It still kills me that I never went. Stupid boy.

*Bonus Track!

Get this – one of those studio outtake thingies that caused Plain Or Pan to go into meltdown a couple of years ago. It’s the vocal-only version of Marvin Gaye‘s Hitch-Hike, every broken high note, breathless fade-out, ‘hmm‘ and ‘yeah‘. Pure soul, man. Pure soul!

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

Cover Versions, Hard-to-find, Live!

White Hot

Craig McAllister

So I managed to find the time to watch all the David Bowie Ziggy Is 40-related stuff that was shown last weekend on BBC4. It’s almost taken for granted nowadays, but it does need re-stating: Bowie is terrific. Not was terrific. Is terrific. He’s slowed down a bit in the past few years (illness, so they say) but how I’d love to have been old enough to have been there at the start and grown with him throughout the years. New album. New direction. New image. Every year. Bands nowadays just wouldn’t (couldn’t?) get away with that. Every last drop of product is marketed to hell and presented as the greatest thing since last week’s next big thing. Bowie ploughs his own furrow, effortlessly going from mime artist to glam star to Euro-influenced electro pioneer to plastic soulboy to art rocker and whatever else takes his fancy along the way. But you knew all that already. Is terrific. Let’s get that clear.

Anyway, Mrs Pan began to get a bit fed up of the non-stop Bowie fest taking place in our living room (and she had a point – if I wasn’t watching the Euros and England being humiliated by the Azzurri or taking in the tennis at Wimbledon, I’d somewhat commandered the big telly for a few good nights), so for light relief she had me watch an old Top Of The Pops 2. The Shamen were on and she asks, “Who does that remind you of?” We both laughed. “Sweenie!”  Her pal went out with this guy who, on the first night we met him, was wearing a baggy Shamen t-shirt and one of those daft wee ethnic beaded hats atop his head. He looked a bit like Student Grant from the Viz comic (above.) Despite this, they’re now happily married, kids, etc blah blah blah. “I’m gonnae text him and ask if he’s still got that hat!” and what followed was a good-humoured to-ing and fro-ing slagging match relating to how we dressed and acted 20-odd years ago. Bemoaning the fact that Saturday nights had changed forever for both of us, he mentioned that he was currently watching Jack White Live via the red button. “You’ll like it,” he said. “Stick it on,” demanded the boss. “I’m fed up watching all this music stuff.”

I smiled smugly to myself as the programme kicked in and she realised that the demented whoopin’ and hollerin’ blooos guitar player Jack White that filled the screen was not in fact Jack Whitehall, the big-haired, well-groomed skinny posh boy in shiny suit that tells sweary jokes, so she retired to bed. I watched ol’ Jack for a wee while, amazed at his intensity and ability to re-invent his back catalogue in any old style. A bit like Bowie, if you stop to think about it. The next morning I dug out an old Raconteurs BBC session and listened again, not in the least surprised it had lost none of it’s potency and power. The White Stripes were pretty special, but when Jack is backed with musicians as talented as himself, the results are pretty spectacular. See the new album, Blunderbuss,  for details. Or The Dead Weather stuff. Or, going a wee bit further back, The Raconteurs. Taken from a BBC session in 2006 (25th March, if you’re a trainspotter), there’s a fantastic take on The Raconteurs‘ first single, Steady, As She Goes, re-imagined as a Kinksy shuffle, all beat group harmonies and garage band looseness. If Lee Mavers could get his finger out, The La’s might begin to sound a bit like this. Though Bowie’s more likely to turn up unannounced in my living room and play all of Hunky Dory track-by-track than that happening. Which reminds me. Also on this BBC session there’s a faithful take of It Ain’t Easy, made famous by David Bowie on the Ziggy Stardust LP. I wrote about it many moons ago, but it’s more than worth drawing your attention to once more.

*Extra Track!

Gazillion-selling trend-bucker Adele duetted with Jack on a version of Many Shades Of Black, from the Raconteurs 2nd LP. Like some long-forgotten southern soul Stax belter, it‘s a cracker.

Get This!, Sampled

It’s Written In The Stars

Craig McAllister

It’s Written In The Stars was a Simon Dine-orchestrated piece of 21st century mod-pop, all sampled horns, chugging guitars and stuttering Beatles ending that Paul Weller managed to drag into the Top 10, the one shining light on the ironically-titled Illumination album. In the desperate hope that it might be a return to form, Weller fans’ll buy anything he’s done, hence the Top 10 success of the single and the Number 1 achievement of the LP. But that doesn’t mean they’re all good. It’s Written In The Stars should’ve probably been included in the Weller post below, but fell outwith the criteria set by not being on any of the last 3 LPs in the Weller canon.

Anyway. It’s Written In The Stars. A modern idiom, a fancy phrase for ‘fate’. Think of it what you will. Celestial intervention that brings two people together. Unseen influences that affect the supposed outcome of a situation. Cosmic forces that align at just the right moment. I’m thinking 18th March 2012. You’ll have your own ideas, I’m sure.

Born Under A Bad Sign was written by Booker T and William Bell in 1967 and is now something of a (yaaaawn) blues standard. You may be familiar with Albert King‘s stinging Stax original, or Cream‘s rollicking version a couple of years later. Perhaps you know it in mind-melting space-blues style from the posthumous Jimi Hendrix ‘Blues‘ album. Or maybe you grew up listening to your Dad playing Rita Coolidge’s surprisingly soulful 1971 take on events. Her version reminds me a wee bit of the Taggart theme tune. Google it if you’re not from the West of Scotland….

But I digress. I honestly find hoary old blues standards a great big bore. All that widdling about on the guitar, 25 lightning-slick notes when 4’ll do doesn’t really do much for me. Luckily, Born Under A Bad Sign also happens to be a track by everybody’s favourite modern-day retro guitar man, Richard Hawley. My blues-fearing heart skipped a beat when I first read the tracklist of 2006’s Coles Corner, an album that on first play had so much pathos and introspection seeping from every gilt-edged chord change I couldn’t believe Hawley would go and spoil it all by letting rip on something so pub rock. Panic over! As the descending guitar riff and glockenspiels kicked it off, and Hawley began channelling his inner Duane Eddy I could rest easy. Not a blues standard at all, but a brilliantly crooned piece of art. With real depth to the sound of it all, this track and the rest of the Coles Corner album deserves to be heard through good old-fashioned big fuck-off hi-fi speakers. Not yer bog standard iPod excuse for a set of headphones. Not yer in-built laptop speakers. Not even on the speakers I have attached to my PC, and they’re actually pretty decent. Nope. Proper music should be heard on proper speakers. But you knew that already.

The ying to Richard Hawley’s yang, Born Under A Good Sign is a track you can find on Teenage Fanclub‘s Man-Made album. I’ll be honest with you here as well. Teenage Fanclub are just about my favourite band on the planet but I never really ‘got’ Man-Made. Too downbeat. Too introspective. Muddy production. Not enough of those trademark 3 part harmonies and chiming guitars. There are some good moments on it, just not enough great ones. Don’t shoot me – it’s not my fault the band have set their own ludicrously high standards. But one of the great moments, not just on this album, but in the whole TFC ouvre is Born Under A Good Sign. A breathlessly frantic knee-trembler of a record, it was written by Gerry Love long before he mellowed out (Mellow Doubt, hey!) and recorded 2012’s Album Of The Year with his Lightships. All garage fuzz guitars and looping 2 chord verses, it comes across like a fast version of Patti Smith’s Dancin’ Barefoot, until the acid-fried solo kicks in and it begins to sound like something Love might’ve recorded around the time of Da Capo. Truly a 2 minute thing of beauty, it would force a three-way photo-finish along with Sparky’s Dream and Radio in a sprint to the end. Born Under A Good Sign also deserves to be heard through the best speakers you can find. Maybe I should take this approach and try listening to Man-Made again.

While I’m doing so, I might even read Gerry’s ‘6 Of The Best‘ once again. I urge you to do likewise.

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

Weller, Weller, Weller, Ooft!

Craig McAllister

Tell me more, tell me more….

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

The Thieving Magpie

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

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

Tunes:

Small Faces – Get Yoursef Together

The Jam – Get Yourself Together

Noonday Underground (feat Francis Reader) – Barcelona

Noonday Underground (feat Francis Reader) – Windmills

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

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

Craig McAllister

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

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

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

A selection of Dennis Wilson nuggets:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Bonus Tracks!

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

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

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