Six Of The Best

Six Of The Best – John Robb

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…

Who better to begin with than someone who fills every above criteria of bands, bards and barometers. Most people here will be familiar with the name of John Robb. Favourite bands? That’ll be The Membranes. The Three Johns. Goldblade. Bard? That’ll be his bylines in a variety of broadsheets and music publications as well as his definitive account of The Stone Roses and the Resurrection of British Pop. Buy it here. (Better late than never, eh?) Barometer of hip opinion? The one thing you can guarantee when you read anything written by John is that it will be passionate, opinionated, heartfelt and thrilling – in short, he means it, maaaaaaan. John has the words DIY PUNK ROCK written through his bones like a stick of Blackpool rock and this is reflected in both the subject matter and take-no-prisoners approach of his writing. Take this piece he’s recently written about Flats for example (more on them in a bit). In fact, take the time to visit his website Louder Than War. It’s choc-full of rants, raves and right-on the money reviews. I drop by from time to time. It’s a right good read and I think you’d like it too.

I got in touch with John and asked if he’d like to contribute to this feature. Quicker than you can say “A-Wop-bop-a-loo-bop a-wop-bam-boo“, he’d sent this briliant reply………

I listen to so much music that I find 6 tracks hard to pin down but here goes.

The Stranglers ‘Down in the Sewer’
Funny, dark, sardonic and plain weird…the zig zag Beefheart bass riff in the midddle, the Ventures on acid guitar break and Hugh Cornwall at his oily best, that ass sound and those keyboards at the end- magical. Punk was everything to me, saved my life and even if The Stranglers were not conventional punk their lack of convention made them even more fascinating- from here we discovered Killing Joke,The Fall, Joy Division- the world!

The Beatles ‘Strawberry Fields’
Yearning, nostalgic and disturbing, like the darkest Lewis Carroll story. Tripped-out but also very northern, with the dank, musty air of fifties post war Liverpool of childhood memory warped through LSD and the super hip summer of love – how could that be a pop single?

Crass ‘Shaved Women’
Incessant drums, mangled rhythms and a powerful message from one of the most imaginative British groups of all time- whose music was far ahead of its time and is sat there waiting for a new generation to explore and get inspiration from- and we haven’t even touched the politics yet.

Shellac ‘My Black Ass’
The best recorded rock record of all time. The perfect sound. This is what we were aiming at in The Membranes in the early eighties but just didn’t have the know how. Somehow Albini took that noise and made it into a science and on this track utterly perfected it. When the bass hits it sounds like an avalanche of raw power.

Hariprasad Chaurasia
Indian flute player…Spotify his name – so many great tunes- the Indian flute is so atmospheric it floats me away. I’ve been to India lots of times and its a full-on overload of good and bad coming at you fast. It’s an amazing place and will be the superpower of the 21st century- it has an amazing tradition and a whole rush of stunning music like this that evokes moods and atmospheres that you didn’t know existed- I also love Kirtan- the Indian harmonium religious music.

Included on the compilation is Manzh Khamaz Teental

Flats ‘Let It Slide’*
Pure noise. Indie kids who discovered Crass, Discharge and Rudimentary Peni and made it there own. Seen them live- brilliant- they haven’t connected to their audience yet but they will do- they do this stuff really, really well and when they twist it with their love of Wu Tang Clan and slow dirge noise they could make something totally genius. They are also an example of the endless rush of great young bands out there of differing styles…here’s a few more: Deadbeat Echoes, The Temps, Rats On Rafts, Obsessive Compulsive, Young Fathers, Folks, Charli xvx …

*Sadly I’ve been unable to locate ‘Let It Slide‘ for John’s compilation. Instead I’ve included Flats Waltz, the lead track from their debut EP from August 2010.

John Robb http://www.louderthanwar.com/

Flats

Every Six Of the Best compilation will come in a handy RAR download file. Get John Robb’s here.

*Bonus Track!

Here‘s One of the Best from John – Goldblade‘s Hairstyle. All tch-tch-tch hairspray hi-hats, Blaxploitation brass and Superstition-esque clavinet runs. With a great ‘nah-nah-nah-nah-nah‘ refrain in the middle. Punk/funk? Funk/punk? Who cares!

Coming next in this series – Six Of the Best from David Quantick.

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

Well, everybody’s heard about the bird!

Craig McAllister

Bird, bird, bird, b-bird’s the word. Ah well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird’s the word….

Everybody loves Surfin Bird, right? My 9 year old daughter does. My 4 year old son does. I’d love to tell you that, thanks to their Dad’s rockin’ record collection, they too had developed an ear for the finer things in life and were uber-hip connoisseurs of 60s garage rock. But that would clearly be not true. No, they developed a liking for Surfin Bird’s gibberish nonsense thanks to a game for the Nintendo Wii. I like a game on the old Wii as much as the next person (I have an unhealthy obsession with playing Mario Kart online) and I had no time for those singin’ and dancin’ interactive games that go down well at New Year parties and the likes until Mrs Pan brought home Just Dance, a game (if you don’t know already) where 2 or more people have a dance-off, by following a sequence of steps demonstrated on-screen by a cavorting character in the corner. And there, sitting happily inbetween Who Let The Dogs Out? and Womaniser was The Trashmen’s Surfin Bird replete with dance steps provided by a pork-pie wearing Blues Brothers sillhouette. Mental. It’s probably its inclusion on this game that helped propel Surfin Bird to Number 3 on yer actual Top 40 charts last Christmas, helped on its way by one of those anti-X Factor Facebook campaigns.

Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa!

Cue Dvorak’s New World Symphony (the Hovis advert music, ya philistine) but when I were a lad I didn’t have X Factor or Facebook or fancy computer games to stimulate my musical tastes. Like most of you on here I had LPs. My going out song of choice was always Surfin Bird. Not The Trashmen‘s original verison (I’d love to tell you differently, but I had no idea who The Trashmen were at this point).  Nah, I loved The Ramones ridiculously thrashed out version on It’s Alive – the first Ramones LP I owned and quite obviously The. Best. Live. Album. Ever. (even if on CD it sounds fragile-flat and as spidery-thin as one of Joey Ramone’s limbs). From that Ramones live version I progressed to their studio version from ’77s undeniably essential Rocket To Russia LP.

From The Ramones, it was but a small crepe-footed step to The Cramps, and their cheesegrater-thin hootin’ and a-hollerin’ gutter-punk version from Off The Bone (where I first read the words ‘Alex Chilton‘). A few years later and I’m watching Full Metal Jacket and up pops Surfin Bird once again, this time in the original (aha! or so I thought!) version by garage-surf punks The Trashmen.  Clearly, I came to Surfin Bird back to front.

A young, pre-1980′ s SAW-era Rick Astley, 2nd right. Who knew?

Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-
Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow!

Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow!
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow!

So it was a bit of a surprise to realise some time later that Surfin Bird as I knew it had actually began life as 2 separate doo-wop tracks, recorded in the early 60s by The Rivingtons, a black r ‘n b quartet who could effortlessly churn out the sort of 4-part harmonies that Brian Wilson was trying to replicate in studio sessions with The Beach Boys. Surfin Bird as I knew it was made by welding together The Bird’s The Word (aye!) and Papa Oom-Mow-Mow (oh aye!), 2 slabs of primo-cool duh-duh-duh-duh………woo-oooh! American doo-wop. Everbody loves a bit of doo-wop, eh? If you only listen to 2 doo-wop tracks this year……etc etc blah bla blah….

*BONUS TRACK!

Possibly in a bid to please those right-on 60s bra-burning feminists, The Rivingtons also recorded Mama Oom-Mow-Mow. It sounds just like you’d expect it to.

Cover Versions, Get This!, Gone but not forgotten

Groove Me, Baby!

Craig McAllister

I’m often torn between the two hemispheres of soul. Some days I’m all for the Northern variety, dripping in elitism, dusted in talc, and rattling away through the speakers like an AM radio being beamed in from Brazil at 100mph, the tinnier the better. Other days I’m a sucker for its Southern sister, with its killer guitar riffs, songs-as-stories and basslines boiled in the deep South, Great God almighty gargantuan and gumbo-like.

I had planned tonight to post a few Southern Soul tracks, but while deciding on the tracks to post I got kinda sidetracked and set sail down crazy river with a headful of disco and no paddle to get me back to southern soul central. So instead, here’s two versions of Groove Me.


Groove Me is a belter of a southern soul track. With its juddering, stuttering groove, it’s like a laid back James Brown backing track, almost bluebeat reggae in feel thanks to its off-rhythm keyboard riff and hi-hat action. It was initially recorded in December 1970 by King Floyd who at the time was working for the post office. As is so often the way, it was actually a b-side before tuned-in DJs spotted its potential and turned it into a million-seller for Atlantic Records, when it reached #6 on the Billboard Hot 100. Unsurprisingly, Floyd quit his day job and settled into a career of touring his one hit,  management fallouts, ever-decreasing returns and relative obscurity. Sadly, he died 5 years ago.

Groove Me is also a belter of a disco track, but you probably knew that already. You also probably knew that I am unashamedly disco, so I have no qualms about posting this, the 9 minute disco workout cover by Fern Kinney. Fern is yer classic one hit wonder, though not with this track. Together We Are Beautiful reached the very toppermost of the poppermost here in the UK in 1980 and while I have always been aware of her version of Groove Me, I was unaware that it did diddleysquat in terms of chart placings here in the UK (according to my Guiness Book Of British Hit Singles at any rate). Shame, as I think its magic. Have a listen, wait till the groove kicks in then think, “Wouldn’t Happy Mondays have done a brilliant version of this?”

Fact! Fern actually sang backing vocals on the original King Floyd version.

Cover Versions, demo, Hard-to-find

Gott Mott?

Craig McAllister

Of all the music biographies I’ve got, the one I go back to time and again is Ian Hunter’s Diary Of A Rock ‘n Roll Star. Hunter was/is/was the lead singer of Mott The Hoople, and his book charts Mott’s 1972 trek across the USA, with all the squalid poverty and crappy hotels it entails, not to mention the non-stop merry-go-round of city-hopping aeroplanes, record company limousines and the band’s endeavours to spend any penny they earn on ridiculously cheap classic guitars. It’s a totally unpretentious read and blows apart any theory I ever had that touring America with a  rock and roll band in the 70s would be the most glamorous job on the planet. If you haven’t already, I’d recommend you read it. I actually first read it without knowing any of Mott’s material beyond the most obvious (ie. All the Young Dudes), but that didn’t matter. After reading it, I borrowed a Greatest Hits compilation from the library and got myself acquainted.

Mott filled the void between the end of the 60s and the first discordant clangs of punk in the mid 70s. Unfairly lumped in with the novelty Glam Rock scene (what they lacked in make-up, they more than made up for in tunes), in time all yer cool (and not so cool) musicians referenced them, as if associating themselves with the Hoople somehow made their music all the more valid. In his pre-Clash days, Mick Jones was a huge fan;

“I followed Mott the Hoople up and down the country. I’d go to Liverpool or Newcastle or somewhere – sleep on the Town Hall steps, bunk the fares on the trains, hide in the toilet when the ticket inspector came around. I’d jump off just before the train got to the station and climb over the fence. It was great times, and I always knew I wanted to be in a band and play guitar. That was it for me.”

Bobby Gillespie (of course!);

“I was into Mott The Hoople, and then The Clash came and I got into them … because one’s prepared you for the other.”

Well, we can take that quote with a big old pinch of salt, Bob. Whatever you say, but you’re only 7 years older than me. There’s no way on earth you were into Mott the Hoople before the Clash came along. You’d have been 8 or 9 years old. Maybe 11 or 12 at a push, depending on which Mott era you’re referring to. At that age, you’d still have been playing in a sand pit with yer Action Man. But it’s OK! We can’t be first to every party. Don’t kid yerself on that you were.

Mott The Hoople released 4 albums for Island between 1969 and 1971. Four albums! In three years!  Their first LP, Mott The Hoople, was recorded in a week and was heavily reliant on hip covers (Dog Sahm, Sonny Bono), with the odd self-penned original added on for good measure. Much of the band’s original material at this point was clearly under the heavyweight influence of Bob Dylan – the rasping already 30 year-old Ian Hunter singing of ‘kings‘, ‘rogues‘, ‘pawns‘, ‘the minds of fools’ and every other Bob cliche you care to mention. Have a listen to Road To Birmingham (listen too how Hunter pronounces Birmingham!) and Backsliding Fearlessly (The Times They are A-Changin’ by any other name). Critically well-received, it was the first release in what was a series of ever-diminishing returns sales wise, for Island Records. On the brink of break-up, Mott fan David Bowie came to their rescue. Offering them Suffragette City from his yet-to-be released Ziggy Stardust… album, Mott said “No Thanks….but we like the sound of that All The Young Dudes song you’ve written.” And the rest is history, but you knew that already.

Here’s a few more Mott the Hoople tracks that would soundtrack Diary Of a Rock ‘n Roll Star quite nicely.

Walking With a Mountain (from 2nd album Mad Shadows. with it’s frantic twin guitar attack, Jerry Lee Lewis rattling piano in the background and ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash it’s a gas‘ refrain, it sounds more Ziggy than anything Bowie did, a full 2 years before Bowie did it!)

Trudi’s Song (Hunter’s love song to his wide. Bobby Gillespie included this on a compilation tape he made for Select magazine in 1992, trivia fans!)

Roll Away The Stone (Number 8 in 1973, possibly the only other Mott track you may have heard until now.)

Angel of Eighth Avenue (lighters in the air stadium balld. Weeping pedal steel all over it.)

Ballad of Mott The Hoople (self-referencing ‘how we made it’ ballad. A cracker.)

Golden Age of Rock ‘n Roll (misty eyed doo-wop and piano paen to days gone by.)

 

*Bonus Track!

David Bowie‘s version of All The Young Dudes. But of course!


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

Manic Depression Triple Whammy (kinda)

Craig McAllister

Maybe it’s the fact they’re a power trio. (Eugh). Maybe it’s the fact a lot of their music is rooted in the blues. Maybe it’s the fact that their records have the whiff of cosmic psychedelicness around them. Maybe it’s just the fact that Jimi Hendrix’s Manic Depression was such a great riff they felt the need to lift it hook, line and sinker, I don’t know but anyway you look at it, Tame Impala have recorded a terrific Rutlesesque pastiche of one of Hendrix’s finest moments. Only they added their own lyrics and called it Island Walking. As if no-one would notice…

It’s all there; the weird time signature, the rolling drum breaks, the measured tone of the wailing guitar solo. Jeez, it even starts with a wee pseudo Hendrix harmonic tune-up. For good measure – get this!!! – they’ve made it sound like Manic Depression as played by a rocking Revolver-era Beatles, trippy Lennon vocals ‘n all. Extra points too for the outro, all Flaming Lips/Pink Floyd flotation tank otherworldness. “Bootiful!” as Bernard Matthews might’ve said. If I was 17 and had never heard the originals, I’d go mad for this band. Hey, I might still go mad for them anyway – talent borrows, genius steals ‘n all that jazz.

Talking of genius…

Jimi Hendrix. But you knew that already. Maybe it’s the fact they were a power trio. (Eugh). Maybe it’s the fact a lot of their music was rooted in the blues. Maybe it’s the fact that their records have the whiff of cosmic psychedelicness around them. Hey, hang on….The Jimi Hendrix Experience loooked and sounded like nothing on Earth. Manic Depression, with it‘s weird time signature, rolling drum breaks and controlled guitar tone was released on Are You Experienced?, the album that made a thousand guitarists simultaneously weep in envy, throw away their tired old Merseybeat jangling guitars and start growing white ‘fro’s in desperation. As if your haircut (or lack of) could make you play da blues like a tripping cosmic space adventurer. Not that it stopped Eric Clapton, mind.

The weirdy, twisted, off-kilter Throwing Muses do a pretty rockin’ version of Manic Depression. Bereft of any squealing Kristen Hersh vocal gymnastics, it’s a no-nonsense heads-down instrumental rock out. Perfect for the encore you might think. Except the weirdy, twisted, off-kilter Throwing Muses used to start gigs with it. Straight out at the end of the intro music, a quick “How are you?” then bam! and into it. S’a cracker, cosmic space traveller guitar solo ‘n all!

Cover Versions, Double Nugget, Hard-to-find

Double Nugget

Craig McAllister

If you’re looking for musical hereos that are a wee bit more left field than your average common or garden Lennon or McCartney, you could do worse than become obsessed with the music and ideals of XTC and their resident genius Andy Partridge. One such obsessed fan is Irishman Thomas Walsh who recently found minor fame recording a concept album about cricket as one half of the Duckworth Lewis Method (along wth fellow countryman Neil ‘Divine Comedy‘ Hannon). Look them up via Mojo or Word. Both magazines fell over themselves in a race to see who could bestow the more ridiculous superlatives upon this unlikely duo and, while the music is pleasant enough, the underlying smugness of Neil Hannon gets in the way of a good listen for me.

Sweat Sweat Sweat

I much prefer Walsh’s other group, Pugwash. Inspired by stories of Andy Partridge’s refusal to tour with XTC and hearing how Partridge was happiest when recording in his shed,  Walsh used the compensation money he received from a childhood  accident to build a shed/recording studio in his back garden. The music that followed was a heady mix of melodic sunshine garage pop (think Beach Boys, Zombies, early Bee Gees) and through a combination of patience and luck the songs found their way to Andy Partridge, who released them on his own Ape House label. Now there’s a happy ending! In 2008, Pugwash released At The Sea, a single that despite being co-written by Andy Partridge and utilising his talents on guitar, mellotron and anything else lying around the studio, failed (not unsurprisingly) to set the heather on fire. On the b-side was this, a faithful cover of the Idle Race‘s ‘On With The Show‘.

Brummies The Idle Race often pop up on Nuggets’y compilations (Imposters of Life’s Magazine? Days of the Broken Arrows? Ring any bells?) and are famous as the band where Jeff Lynne (ELO, future Threatles-not-Beatles producer) learned his big hairy-faced chops in the late 60s. ‘On With the Show‘ appeared on their debut album (Birthday Party, above) and is very derivative of its time -a descending piano chord sequence, harmonies a-gogo, some light phasing (all the rage in 1968) and enough melody and craft packed in to two minutes and twenty two seconds. You’ll like it.

Fact: Mark E Smith is a big Idle Race fan. According to Wikipedia at any rate.

*Bonus Track!

I’ll wager you’ve heard of Wild Beasts. They’ve been on Later with Jools Holland a few times. Lake District indie rock group with a neat line in guitar riffs ‘n textures and an irritating habit of singing everything in ridiculous falsetto. I kinda like them, even though a) they want so badly to be Orange Juice and b) that singer is fucking annoying. I’ll wager you’ve not heard of The Wildebeests. I know next to nothing about them. If you can fill in the blanks, get in touch.  I heard a track on a Shindig magazine compilation and was taken aback with it’s totally blatant Who-isms. Won’t Get Fooled Again keyboard riff? Aye! Crashing, windmilling Townshend power chords? Oh aye! Moonesque thumps ‘n bumps? Oh aye aye! Layered Goods Gone vocals? Aye ‘n aye again!, That Man is the sort of record Noel Gallagher would shave his eyebrow off to be able to make. Which makes it good, obviously.

Update!

As pointed out by regular reader Garwood Pickjon in the comments below, That Man is in fact a cover of a mid 60s Small Faces record (hear here). I’ve got the record in my collection and everything, but it never clicked when listening to The Wildbeests version. The old antennae needs retuning to digital I think – it reaches me in May this year. Any other mistakes/errors, please let me know. I’m off to eat Humble Pie. No pun intended. Unless you get it. In which case, good pun, eh?

Garwood, your prize is in the post…..

Wildbeests. Not Wild Beasts.

Cover Versions, Get This!, Gone but not forgotten

Seductive Barry

Craig McAllister

John Barry died today at the age of 77. Without him, the Sixties wouldn’t have swung quite as bold or nearly as brassy. You don’t need me to tell you of his work on 11 Bond films, or that his musical scores packed full of stabbing brass, sweeping orchestration and exotic leads (dulcimer! vibes!) often conjured up images of carefree playboys at the wheel of a Jaguar, speeding through the Swiss Alps with a Ray Ban-ed and mini-skirted female for company (although that sounds a lot like a spoof scene from Austin Powers, but you know what I mean.)

Barry ‘n Birkin

John Barry was a bit of a real-life Austin. He was married 4 times, once briefly to Jane Birkin until, in 1968, she went off to work with Serge Gainsbourg and, well, I’m sure you know what happens when old Gauloises ‘n garlic Gainsbourg takes a shine to a lady…

In a career that took in amongst others big band jazz, neo-classical orchestration, easy listening croon and off-beat quirky pop instrumentation, his music can be equal parts mesmerising, life-affirming and downright seductive. Indeed, Pulp put a track called Seductive Barry on their under-appreciated This Is Hardcore album. A brooding 8 and a half minute paean to seedy lust, it’d be great to think that Jarvis was singing about an ordinary northern lothario called Barry, or maybe even Barrys White or Manilow, but it must surely be some sort of tribute to John Barry – Jarvis is a gen’d up scholar of music and had Barry play at the 2007 Meltdown he curated. I can remember reading how Jarvis liked to walk around Sheffield with John Barry playing on his Walkman, as the music transformed his city into a magical place.

Here’s some of my favourite John Barry tunes. Play them as you take the journey into work tomorrow and pretend you’re some sort of libidinous Cold War spy. That’s what I’ll be doing.

Into Miami/Alpine Drive/Auric (a suite, if you like, from Goldfinger)

The Girl With The Sun In Her Hair

Midnight Cowboy (my favourite instrumental ever)

*Bonus Track!

Another Barry, Mr Adamson formerly bass player with Magazine, has released a good half dozen records filled with the sort of arrangements and instrumentation that could’ve had John Barry reaching for the nearest copy of Plagiarism Monthly. Adamson’s ska version of the 007 tune is a belter.

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!)

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

Marr’s Barres

Craig McAllister

….or how Johnny cooked up How Soon Is Now?

How Soon Is Now? – don’t forget the question mark! – is the song that people who dislike The Smiths like. Those same people who would lazily decree The Smiths as ‘miserable‘ whilst frantically waving a 12″ of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now right under your nose (“Exhibit A, M’Lud!”) embraced How Soon Is Now? as if it were the returning of The Messiah himself.  It’s true! As well as being a dancefloor filler from Dublin to Dundee and Humberside, it was the song that truly broke The Smiths on the American touring circuit, from out of the colleges and into the (relatively) cavernous venues required to house the hordes who packed in expecting to hear more of the same rockist thunk. Ironically, it was the one song in The Smiths’  impressive arsenal that the band never quite managed to pull off live and in more recent times, Morrissey and his ham-fisted group of plodders have failed miserably to do it justice too. It’s a unique track, made in unique circumstances and although others have tried, no-one, NO-ONE! has managed to get it sounding quite as majestic as the band what wrote it. So how did they do it?

Ingredients:

  • One copy of Hey Bo Diddley. The first track Bo Diddley will do.
  • One copy of Run Through The Jungle. Must be The Gun Club version, NOT the Creedence Clearwater Revival original. If you don’t have an actual version, a crappy lo-fi mp3 will have to do. Sorry.
  • One copy of Can‘s I Want More from 1976’s Flow Motion LP.
  • One copy of Hamilton Bohannon‘s Disco Stomp.
  • One copy of Lovebug Starski‘s pioneering hip-hop single You’ve Gotta Believe from 1982.

Method:

Listen closely to Bo Diddley’s guitar playing. D’you hear that juddering tremeloed effect? File it away for use at a later date. Now take The Gun Club track. Oh! It has almost the same rhythm as Bo Diddley’s! And only one chord by the sounds of it! Keep that in mind for the moment. Now. Think. D’you remember driving back from Wales on a really hot day, sitting in the back of your parents’ car, listening to the radio? Hamilton Bohannon’s disco stomp was all the rage in 1975. Great rhythm guitar playing, I’m sure you’ll agree. You’ll want to use that too – throw it all in.

It’s time to cool it down now. Don’t worry, it can’t ever be too cool. In 1976 as the world went disco, even pioneering German prog-rockers were getting in on the act. Take your copy of I Want More by Can and give it a good listen to. Juddering? Repetitive? Keyboard motifs? Just as I thought! Make a mental note to do something about them later.

Weapons of Marr’s Construction

Now for the tricky part. Take all these wonderful ingredients and splice them together. Make a rough demo, call it ‘Swamp‘ then pop it through Morrissey’s letter box – he’ll sort out the lyrics, just you worry about the tune. Book a studio – Jam Studios in North London will be just fine. Ask John Porter if he’d mind coming along to twiddle a few knobs on the old Fender Twins. Change the light bulbs to red, spark up a generous spliff and start the tapes a-rollin’. Woah! Something’s cookin’ alright!

Cook for about 7 minutes. Take out the oven. Garnish with liberal sprinklings of Lovebug Starski (Morrissey would be horrified at the thought, but don’t worry, he’ll be too busy working up to a whistle later on, he’ll never notice – have a listen around the 3.11 mark – oh aye!) If you can, add some fantastic slide guitar, make it sound like a distressed cat miaowing into infinity ét voila! A masterpiece!

It’s worth noting that the first time you attempt this recipe, you may assume the vocalist is singing about the elements, “the sun and the air” and all that jazz. Listen again. Very clever guy, that singer. A bit too clever for the record company, who failed to spot the potential of How Soon Is Now? and were initially happy for The Smiths to stick it on as the extra track on the 12″ of William, It Was Really Nothing. I suppose it’s a measure of Morrissey and Marr’s confidence and unrivalled song writing skills that they could knock out such high quality songs between albums seemingly at will. For us mere mortals who aren’t blessed with the genius songwriting skills required to make such great records, perhaps this recipe of unlikely (though entirely obvious) influences will serve as some sort of cold comfort.

*BONUS TRACK!

Here‘s the Italian 12″ version of How Soon Is Now? With a different vocal and different mix it’s rarer than a steak pie in Morrissey’s house.

You can also still get my Mojo magazine-inspired Johnny Marr’s Dansette Delights compilation. Words here. Music here. 1000+ downloaders can’t be wrong!

There’s a fantastic Smiths bootleg that recently crept out, around Christmas time, featuring alternative mixes, scrapped demos, the whole shooting match, a Holy Grail for Smiths collectors. You can download it via here. Although, you knew that already, didn’t you?

There’s also a website linked over there on the right called Extra Track And a Tacky Badge. This is a right labour of love for those involved. They’re tweaking the band’s 17 singles to make them sound as magnificent as possible. If you’ve heard the work they did to the Joy Division and New Order catalogues, you’ll know what I mean. if not, get over there sharpish…

Just so you know, Simon Goddard‘s excellently trainspotterish Mozipedia was a constant source of reference for this piece. No fan of The Smiths and/or Morrissey should be without it.

A man of wealth and taste.

demo, Hard-to-find, Live!

Viva Glasvegas

Craig McAllister

Troon on a rainy Wednesday night. Not the sort of place you expect to find bona fide uber-hip, pointy-booted, squeezed head-to-toe into super-skinny black leather ‘n denim pop stars. This sleepy seaside town is more au fait with the golf swing rather than the swing of rock ‘n roll, yet 24 hours ago it was shaken from it’s slumber to the cries of “1! 2! 3! 4!” instead of plain old “fore!”

Georgia took the photo. I stole it.

Glasvegas were in town and, having had the carrot of an AAA Guest Pass dangled before my eyes, I made the short 15 minute trip from North Ayrshire into the beautiful South, with it’s posh wheelie bins and faint reek of the good life. Pass in hand and plonked in the rattle-yer-jewellery good seats of the town’s Concert Hall, we had the perfect view to enable us to take in the new sights ‘n sounds of the ‘vegas. New sights #1? That would be James all in white, not black, no longer playing guitar, “cos you didnae see Sinatra janglin’ away oan wan while he crooned.” New sights #2? That would be recently-recruited Swedish drummer Jonna/Joanna (?), who just like Moe T and Bobby G before her, prefers to stand and bash away at the kit. Actually, that’s a complete disservice to her. She’s far more of a drummer than those other 2 hamfisted clobberers combined. She’s added a fresh new dimension to the band’s wall of sound AND she’s quite capable of adjusting her specs mid-beat as they slide off her beautiful, sweaty Swedish face. A multi-talented, multi-tasking vision in auburn hair. And I’m not the only one who thought that, eh birthday boy?

Georgia took the photo. I stole it. Again.

New sounds? That’ll be the 3 new tracks, being played live for only the 3rd or 4th time ahead of this Spring’s 2nd album. Underneath the gazillion effect pedals turned up to 10 there’s the faint echo of John McGeoch in some of the guitar riffs, post-punk and spidery-thin against the Killing Joke slab of bass. Nothing played tonight hints at the major-to-minor melodrama of the Ronettes-do-Dion dying in a car-crash first album material, but then James says later on that he didn’t think the songs played tonight are representative of it at all.

“What’s it like then, the new album?” Back at the hotel, and the seemingly stuck like Superglue Orbison Raybans have been swapped for an over-sized set of blue-tinted Lennon lenses. Yer man sits down next to us and I start firing questions at him. The first one’s a simple enough question which he’s no doubt been asked a fair few times already this week on a tour of Scottish gig backwaters that has taken them to places more used to ceilidhs and beetle drives. “Eh, ah dunno. It’s kinda hard tae describe. D’you know wance ye’ve shaved an’ ye look at yersel’ in the mirror? How dis it look?”

“Smooth,” I deadpan. “Smooth. So the new album’s like Luther Vandross?” He doesn’t get it, I think, and I’m not sure what to say next. Fear not, though, for James is a non-stop anecdotal motormouth. He’s off and running, waxing lyrical about Alan McGee and his Creation Records film, Bono and Noel Gallagher soundchecks, the merits of Phil Spector’s Christmas Album v’s James Brown’s Funky Christmas, playing festivals in Spain, Freddie Mercury’s shoes; you name it, he’ll have a soundbite prepared. On this week’s gigs, there’s lots of talk about ‘the vibe‘ and ‘the feelin” and ‘y’know?’ He’s a walkin’, talkin’ rock ‘n roll cliche and he’s ridiculously hilarious. He just doesn’t know it yet. Paranoid about having to live up to McGee’s proclamation of him as some sort of genius, yet perfectly willing to accept that he is indeed some sort of genius, James Allan could well be the next Bobby Gillespie. Now there’s a thought.

I also took the chance to chastise him for not playing tonight the best song in the Glasvegas catalogue, the wonderful Prettiest Girl On Saltcoats Beach. I’ve written about it before, here. You can fill yer (pointy) boots here:

The Prettiest Girl On Saltcoats Beach (full length version)

The Prettiest Girl On Saltcoats Beach (demo)