The (English) Beat Perform “Mirror in the Bathroom”

Here’s a clip of British ska revivalists The Beat performing their 1980 track “Mirror in the Bathroom” from their album I Just Can’t Stop It.

The Beat were a major part of the British ska revivalist scene in the late 70s and early 80s, centred in Birmingham and Coventry. Along with The Specials, Selecter, and Madness (a London band), The Beat took many of its musical cues from Caribbean music, most notably the Jamaican ska of Desmond Dekker, Prince Buster, and others and infused it with the tense political edge that was common to the times.

The band was comprised of both black and white members, some being immigrants from the islands, a large number of whom had emigrated to Britain at the beginning of the 60s. Their saxophonist, aptly named “Saxa”, had played with both Dekker and Prince Buster in the 1960s, adding a certain level of authenticity to the band. The group mixed the spikiness of punk with the jubilant energy of ska, and created a sound that was both aggressive and celebratory in equal measure. The band’s sound and the thrust of the whole scene came off as a sort of musical fist in the air to Thatcherism and to the racial intolerance that existed particularly violently in urban centres of the country at the time. The band covered Prince Buster’s “Whine and Grind” and fused it to their own song, “Stand Down Margaret” which was a not-so-subtle commentary on the current Prime Minister.

The scene as a whole was short-lived, but The Beat would make the biggest impact overseas of all of the bands that were a part of it, championed mainly by anglophile fans, alternative rock radio, and supporting appearances with the Police and the Pretenders, among others. Of course, they’d have to change their name to “The English Beat” Stateside, as there was already a band called the Beat as led by Paul Collins, formerly of power pop lost legends the Nerves. But as soon as they had begun to crack the States, internal tensions led the band to split in two. Lead vocalists Dave Wakeling and Ranking Roger left to form their own group, General Public who would have a smash hit in their lead single “Tenderness” as taken from their 1984 album All the Rage. Bassist David Steele and guitarist Andy Cox formed Fine Young Cannibals with vocalist Roland Gift. FYC would have hits in ” Johnny Come Home”, a version of “Suspicious Minds” in 1985, and later their ubiquitous single “She Drives Me Crazy” in 1989.

The Beat would reform as an ongoing live act in 2005, without many of its original members, and is currently led by Ranking Roger and original Beat drummer Everett Morton. They remain to be a popular live band in Britain. Meanwhile, Dave Wakeling tours in his own “The English Beat”, based in the States, and also known to be an energetic live act.

“Mirror in the Bathroom” is one of my favourite songs by anyone, with an insistent bassline, and a sort of speed-fueled edge to it thanks to the prickly rhythm guitars and Wakeling’s rapid-fire vocal. And a saxophone has never sounded so menacing. The song is eminently danceable, defying you to stand still in fact. In essence, this song is the template of the band’s whole sound - the joyousness of Jamaican ska, with the anger and darkness of punk fused to it. It gives me the same rush now to hear it as it did when it came out!

Enjoy!

Eli ‘Paperboy’ Reed & the True Loves

2008 appears to the be the year of the funk-soul revival, with momentum gained perhaps by the Dap-Kings-abetted Amy Winehouse smash Back to Black last year. It seems that there is an audience for sweaty, down-to-earth soul music after all. And one of my recent discoveries is Eli ‘Paperboy’ Reed and his band the True Loves. Reed is a 24-year old Boston resident who appears to be borrowing James Brown’s muse, and cheating on her with the muse of Wilson Pickett while he’s at it.

On a recent compilation from MOJO magazine, I was introduced to the closing track on Eli’s album, Roll with You, the track in question being “(Do the) Boom Boom”, a song after the tradition of Wilson Pickett’s “Land of 1000 Dances” and Slim Harpo’s “Shake Your Hips”. The tradition of course has a double entendre at its core; the “dance that’s goin’ around from the old folks down” sure as shit ain’t square dancing, good people. It’s been a while since I’ve heard new music so full of energy, enthusiasm, and downright verve. The only things I can hope for is that more artists of this calibre emerge in the mainstream and make this revival more than just a passing fad.

You can hear “(Do the) Boom Boom” on Eli ‘Paperboy” Reed’s MySpace page, among other tracks that betray a love for classic soul music.

And for good measure, here’s an interview with Eli “Paperboy” Reed, explaining his background and his curious nickname too.

Enjoy!

Song rendition showdown: “Around and Around” by Chuck Berry, The Animals vs David Bowie

This week’s showdown is between Tyneside bluesmeisters the Animals and rock n’ roll messiah Ziggy Stardust, as played by David Bowie. The song? Chuck Berry’s 1958 hit “Around and Around”.

Like a lot of Chuck Berry songs, this one is an ode not only to rock n’ roll, but also to the culture it created. This is a song about good times and police intervention. In 1958, rock n’ roll was considered by many to be a cultural threat, and in many ways they were right. Communities which had been apart were drawn together because of the popularity of the music, and the peace was often disturbed.

Where the song here focuses mostly on how the music affects people, causing them to rise out of their seats with the feeling that they “just had to dance”, the underlying themes here are undeniable too. When the police knocked, those doors flew back. Rock n’ roll here is both joyous and fraught with danger at the same time. For this alone, it’s a classic. And as the cover versions which came about proved, it was a very interpretable classic too.

The Animals

The Animals had credibility among their peers as R&B experts during the British blues-boom in the 1960s. The group boasted the authentic blues voice of lead singer Eric Burdon as well as the gospel-infused organ of Alan Price, who arranged the band’s most famous recording; their version of ‘House of the Rising Sun”. The group’s love of the Chess Records catalogue was obvious too of course, and their debt to Chess artists is even more obvious. They scored hits with two John Lee Hooker songs - “Dimples” and “Boom Boom” - and this tune by Berry as well which appeared on their debut album The Animals in 1964.

Berry’s influence is felt all over the rise of British R&B. But what is most striking about this version is the sense of menace in Burdon’s delivery. You really get the feeling that there is impending violence in the events that unfold in the song. That’s my favourite part about this version; Burdon’s voice is so compelling, so believable, you know that he’s not just talking about a night out. He’s talking about confrontation. The Animals’ take on Berry’s song seems to allude to impending change, proving the song to be something of a prophecy, whether they intended it or not.

The ensuing years would prove that the British establishment feared rock n’ roll as a means of stirring things up, just as it had been feared in America as well. Jail sentences and drugs charges plagued rock royalty by the end of the decade in an effort by the police to make examples of them. Members of the Rolling Stones, and the Beatles were raided, and some were even put up on criminal charges. Jagger and Richards even went to jail before they were exonerated in late 1967. The seeming effort to suppress social change ultimately failed, and although the social changes of the time are difficult to accredit to rock musicians, the music they made did seem to create an environment where it was possible to break out of cultural doldrums by embracing new experiences and new cultures. And what is this song by Berry talking about if not crossing the tracks to the other side in some fashion? In many ways, it’s the perfect countercultural anthem.

David Bowie

If anyone was aware of cultural shifts and changing times, it was Bowie who first made a splash on national TV when he debuted his song “Starman” on Top of the Pops in 1972, dressed like a glittery androgyne from outer space. The performance was a shock to some, and a delightful wake-up call to others, as Bowie knew it would be. By this time in his career, he had Mick Ronson aiding Bowie’s glam-rock sound on guitar, which is effectively a sound fueled by 50s American rock n’ roll. This of course makes the choice of this cover version a pretty obvious one. Yet another aspect of this of course is the tension in the song - the crowded club, and the arrival of the police who mean to knock the doors down and do who-knows-what after they do.

His take on the Berry song, found on the boxset Sound + Vision (called “Round and Round”) is along the same lines as the Animals, in that this is more than just a story of an overcrowded night club. This is about fear and supresssion on the part of the authorities. Bowie’s delivery is not as menacing as Burdon’s, but there is a heightening sense of tension in his voice, something almost maniacal when he reaches the line “those doors flew back!”. And Ronson’s haphazzard guitar solo makes this sound like a riot is breaking out, which is perfect for the material. Like a lot their work together, Ronson’s guitar is the wave on which Bowie’s voice rides. And the “Around and Around” on this version is about disorientation, more than it is about dancing. Bowie would cover this ground on his own of course with his song “Changes”. But on this track, we’re not getting a patient explanation that the generation coming out of the time is “immune to the consultations” of police and government. This is anarchy. This is revolution.

It stands to reason that such a song would become so important to many with regard to changing one’s views on authoritarianism. And where I don’t think that records alone can change the world, I think that singing them and hearing them sung tends to be an indicator of what are on people’s minds. In the 1960s and 1970s in Britain after the war, rationing, classism, and a mass amount of immigration from places which had formerly been a part of the Empire, change was in the air just as it was in America in the late 1950s. The doors were about to “fly back” as it were.

But the question today is this, good people. Which version is best? British R&B disciples the Animals? Or meta-performer Ziggy Stardust?

As always, you decide!

The Go-Gos Perform “Head Over Heels”

Before The Bangles, Kenickie, The Donnas, or Le Tigre, there were the Go-Gos. Here’s a clip of the Go-Gos performing their 1984 hit “Head Over Heels” taken from their album Talk Show.

Of their hits, this one is my favourite. It’s got everything - a great lead vocal from Belinda Carlisle, a memorable piano riff, pure sugar-rush “ah-ah” girl backing vocals (I’m a sucker for that). And I love the bass guitar break with the whip-crack drums in the instrumental section. Fantastic. It’s one of the best pop songs of the decade. During their initial introduction with their first record, they were known as “America’s Sweethearts” by Rolling Stone Magazine. I know I had a crush on them!

The band were signed to Miles Copeland’s IRS label after being on the California punk scene at the end of the 1970s when they were still in their teens. Having signed with Copeland who was based in England, the group moved to the UK briefly and toured first with Madness, and then later with the Police , a band for which Miles’ brother Stewart was drummer. While together, the group would make solid pop records while also paving the way for similar bands to do the same before breaking up by the mid-80s. Lead singer Belinda Carlisle would become a polished solo pop singer by the end of the decade , and guitarist Jane Wiedlin would have hits of her own (”Rush Hour” being my favourite), along with collaborations with Sparks, and with Terry Hall, formerly of the Specials.

I recently picked up a Go-Gos compilation album which is actually a VH1 Behind the Music tie-in: VH1 Behind the Music: Go-Go’s Collection. I generally try and steer clear of compilations which have the word “collection” in the title. But it’s actually a great little compilation, with 17 tracks taken from the band’s first three albums. I was surprised at how raw their sound was, since I grew up hearing the hits like “Our Lips Are Sealed” and “Vacation” which were more pop records than rock records. But, the Go-Gos were a product of punk, small little scenes on the West Coast when anyone could get up on stage and be a band. Their sound when taken in as a whole is not unlike 60s girl-group the Angels (”My Boyfriend’s Back”) meets Mancunian punk founding fathers Buzzcocks. Like the best pop-punk bands, they made compact little songs with simple and effective riffs and hooks. And Gina Schock is a great drummer.

The group reconvened more recently for a new record God Bless The Go-Go’s.

Here’s the Go-Gos MySpace page for more information and more music.

Enjoy!

10 Beatles Cover Songs Which May Be Better Than The Original

The Beatles as a favourite band may be an unoriginal choice. But, there it is. Sometimes, a band chooses you, not the other way around. If you’re a regular reader of the Delete Bin, you’ll know that the Fabs tend to come up a lot, despite my own fairly wide tastes. My own preferences aside, I think one of the things which can be said of the Beatles is that their songs have a quality that go beyond individual performances, even their own. They are great songs, no matter who is performing them. This is a handy thing since they’ve been covered so much by so many artists from different backgrounds, genres, and (let’s face it) levels of competence. But, here are 10 notable cover versions. Some of these are so good, they threaten the originals for the number one spot . Others are unique statements of their own just by being in existence, so much so that they simply deserve a mention for their temerity.

Beatles image above courtesy of Pixelfixer.

Hey Jude - Wilson Pickett

The Wicked Pickett covered this song in 1969, the year after the original Beatles single which had stayed on the number one spot for 9 weeks, despite it being over 7 minutes long. Pickett included it on his album named after this cover version, Hey Jude. The arrangement dials up the gospel overtones of the original, while also bringing in the truly supernatural guitar chops of Duane Allman. Wilson Pickett made a career of singing soul music as if fighting for his life, and this is a great example of Pickett’s approach - a rough and ready tone that belts out the lines of encouragement in a way that Paul McCartney would have done it, had he been born a Southern Baptist preacher. The soulful evocations of “It’s gonna be alright!” in the famous coda section, along with the heavenly horn section and Allman’s fiery guitar make this a contender for best version ever.

Allman’s work on this track gained the attention of Eric Clapton, who would work with Allman on the Derek & The Dominos album, Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs in 1970. Wilson Pickett would continue to have an impact on the rock world by covering “Fire and Water” as written and recorded by (the very underrated) British blues-rock band Free, who had written and the song recorded themselves all the while with Pickett’s voice in mind.

With A Little Help From My Friends - Joe Cocker

Joe Cocker recorded his first album With a Little Help from My Friends named after this cover version , in 1969. On doing so, he employed several musical luminaries which include Jimmy Page on lead guitar, Merry Clayton on vocals, Carole Kaye on bass, Henry McCulloch on guitar, and Steve Winwood on organ, among many others. The record is aptly named, then. And Cocker is a powerhouse vocalist, probably one of the most gifted blue-eyed soul vocalist Britain had yet produced. His delivery here is muscular-yet-vulnerable, backed by an imaginative arrangement, some fine playing from Page, and a great interplay between Cocker’s lead, and the back-up vocalists. Like the Pickett version of “Hey Jude”, this cover of “With A Little Help From My Friends” seriously threatens to overshadow the Beatles original from Sgt. Pepper.

Cocker would of course go on to record two other famous Beatles cover songs in “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window” and “Something” on his second album Joe Cocker!, which again ratchets up the bluesiness of the songs in question. Having reached the heights with these covers, and those covers of songs by Traffic, Bob Dylan, and Leonard Cohen, Cocker would find greater fame in his recording of “You Are So Beautiful” and “Up Where We Belong” in the late 70s and early 80s respectively. But this first single and his first two albums remain to be his best work.

Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds - William Shatner

This is a legendary recording, possibly for different reasons than were originally intended. William Shatner of course is no singer - he’s an actor of stage and screen, possibly most famous for his role as James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the starship Enterprise from the original Star Trek series. Here, the Beatles’ “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” becomes less the lysergic anthem from Sgt. Pepper, and more of a (very) dramatic reading of the song’s lyrics (which actually turns out to be pretty trippy too…). Where this version of the song may not rival the original as some of the others in this list, it remains to be something of a bold approach, if unintentionally humourous at the same time. And to me, this is why it warrants inclusion. And because it throws a wrench in the works as far as what you were expecting of this list - right?

The version was a part of Shatner’s album The Transformed Man, released in 1968 at the height of his tenure as the Captain of the Enterprise, while also pulling from his stage acting background. Shatner would make more of these types of recordings through out his career, even into the present day with his spoken word album Has Been, made with songwriter Ben Folds in 2007.

We Can Work It Out - Stevie Wonder

“We Can Work It Out” is a pretty dark tune in the end. It’s about a struggling relationship, possibly on its last legs. The narrator of the tale is becoming pretty tyrannical in his approach to making his relationship better - “why’d you see it your way?”, “think of what I’m saying…”. In his 1970 cover version of the song found on his Signed, Sealed and Delivered, Stevie Wonder infuses this love-gone-wrong tune with an effervescence that draws a striking contrast to the darkness and desperation in the lyrics. You find yourself smiling at this tale of a man trying to push all of the blame on his partner. Who knew that narrow-mindedness and trivializing the opinion of a lover to get your own way in a relationship could sound so joyous?

Stevie Wonder would go from here to create some of his own pop classics, and of course make a contribution to a song which talks about relationships of another kind in duet with the author of “We Can Work it Out” - Paul McCartney. That tune of course is the immortal “Ebony and Ivory”, taken from McCartney’s excellent 1982 Tug of War album. Now, that song is annoying beyond belief, of course. But, at least the two voices behind each version “We Can Work It Out” were expressing the value in respecting different perspectives in a relationship, side by side on the piano keyboard as they are.

Eleanor Rigby - Aretha Franklin

In keeping with the trend of a dark theme against a celebratory arrangement, Aretha Franklin’s “Eleanor Rigby” is downright chirpy. The original song, found on The Beatles 1966 album Revolver, is about a lonely old spinster - the titular Eleanor Rigby - who “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been”. This is a person who has missed the happiness in life enjoyed by others, left behind to live only off the remnants of what others have enjoyed, lonely, isolated, and ultimately doomed. Yet, Aretha’s Eleanor has the funk, pushed along by pulsing basslines, push-me-pull-you vocal exchanges, bold hornshots, and a tempo that just won’t quit.

Found on her Live at the Filmore West album released in 1971, the live version is my absolute favourite take on the song just because it’s so incongruous. When listening to it, I often wonder what she was thinking when she arranged it. Maybe, she wanted to reveal that Eleanor Rigby had a richer inner life that no one knew about, and that when she was “wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door”, it was the face of someone who was not lonely, but content in being alone.

Come Together - Ike & Tina Turner

John Lennon allegedly wrote “Come Together” initially for a political campaign anthem for LSD guru Timothy Leary. While nothing came of Lennon’s involvement in the campaign, or indeed of Leary’s political career, the song was the lead track off of the Beatles final album Abbey Road. What doesn’t come off quite as clearly in that version is the double entendre in the phrase come together, which it surely does in Ike & Tina’s version. This 1971 cover version is simply dripping with coital sweat, a fully loaded sexual explosion of throaty vocals, stabbing guitar lines, and a rhythm section that goes like a train. As such, this version makes the song into something entirely new, less a series of absurdist images, and more about sheer physicality which makes the words secondary to what lies underneath.

Ike and Tina’s version of the song can be found on for their Proud Mary compilation. They would make a number of cover versions of popular rock songs, which in many ways brought them full circle having inspired many of the artists who would write those songs, including the Rolling Stones and Rod Stewart, both of which Tina Turner would tour with in the ensuing years after her partnership with Ike ended.

For No One - Emmylou Harris

This version of the song from Emmylou’s 1975 album Pieces of the Sky endures because I think this tune was always meant to be a country song, specifically a hurtin’ song. Everything about the way it’s arranged here - the spare instrumentation, the slow tempo, and Emmylou’s own plaintive delivery - is entirely true to the material, which is documents the feelings of sadness that go along with one person of two who has fallen out of love. Where Aretha re-invents Eleanor Rigby, Emmylou drills to the emotional centre of a song that is ultimately about helplessness. The clip here is a later take on the tune, yet the approach remains the same.

It is amazing to me that the same guy who wrote the patronizing lyrics to “We Can Work It Out”, also wrote this tune, with lyrics that are about respecting someone’s space, about letting go. McCartney was 24 when this song was recorded, which probably worked against him. Yet, the song he came up with works across the board, particularly as a country song sung by the best in her field.

Anytime At All - Nils Lofgren

By the early 80s, the era of a possible Beatles reunion was crushed. Yet, it was also a time when the songs the group recorded were being looked at again as being examples of great songwriting beyond the era to which they had been attached. In 1981 on his Night Fades Away album, Nils Lofgren took an unassuming album track (found on the Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night), and made it into a stadium anthem. The pure joie de vive of his version reveals it to be a mark of the time in which it was written. But, it also captures the feeling that the innocence of young love is ultimately pretty timeless.

After you’ve worked with Neil Young and Bruce Springsteen which Lofgren had, I guess the next logical step is to try the Beatles out. This song would remain to be a concert favourite. What I love about it is that Lofgren’s fondness for the Beatles, for Lennon, and for this song, just burns through. It’s infectious.

Blackbird - Dionne Farris

Paul McCartney’s “Blackbird”, orginally recorded for the band’s self-titled album (otherwise known as “The White Album”) has been interpreted in a political way before of course. Nina Simone recorded it, and the implications are pretty undeniable as a statement about equality and dignity for the black community in America. I have no idea whether or not Dionne Farris meant this to be a political statement or not when she recorded it for her Wild Seed — Wild Flower album in 1994 (I suspect she did, given other political content on the album). But for my money, this is a shining jewel of a version which made me wonder whatever happened to Dionne Farris, frankly, until I found the Dionne Farris MySpace page.

Where very few takes on this song (if any) can touch the original, I marvel at this, a solid R&B version with a bit of an acoustic blues flavour that keeps this from being the overproduced mess that has plagued (and plagues even today) other examples of the genre. The clip here is a live version which turns the song into a bit of a singalong. But the album version is a stark voice and guitar arrangement that is entirely different from McCartney’s own similar building blocks for his original recording.

Across The Universe - Fiona Apple

Fiona Apple’s take on this song originally found on 1970’s Let It Be was featured in the closing credits of the film Pleasantville, the story of two modern-day teens who are thrust into the black & white world (in all senses of the term) of a 1950s TV show universe. The teens introduce new ideas into the minds of those who live in that world, revealing new possibilities to them. And the inhabitants cease to be characters in a TV show, and are transformed into real people. Fiona Apple’s take on Lennon’s song (written in India in 1968 while studying TM) about the complexities of love and the mystical nature of universal connection is the perfect, perfect, addition to the themes of the movie. This is not even mentioning Apple’s languid, dreamy delivery, which fits the song like a velvet glove.

The lines which are repeated in the song are all the more powerful given their cinematic context - “Nothing’s gonna change my world”. Apple’s version reveals that one’s world is changing all the time, that we’re all dependent on each other, moving as we are from one moment to the next. As a result, this song is given new life for me.

***

When people tell me they don’t like the Beatles, I just don’t believe them. To me it’s like saying “I don’t like kissing”. The very statement is preposterous, to the point where I think that there must be something wrong with someone who would say something like that. I have perspective of course. I know that those are just my perceptions. Yet one thing remains which is hard to deny, whether you like the Beatles or not. Beatles songs are universal, and wonderfully open to interpretation. They’re like Shakespeare that way.

Here you’ve seen 10 examples. I could have talked about a number of others, including Earth Wind and Fire’s joyous “Got To Get You Into My Life”, or the Breeders’ ferocious “Happiness is a Warm Gun”, or even Elton John’s Lennon-abetted version of Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. All different, all wonderful. Saying the Beatles is your favourite band may be unoriginal. But the choice is pretty clear, leading as it does to great music of all kinds.

Josh Rouse Performs “Love Vibration” from his album 1972

Here’s a clip of Josh Rouse singing a highlight track from a very good album 1972, the song in question being “Love Vibration”. The album was actually released in 2003, being named after singer-songwriter Rouse’s birth year, the year when Carole King’s Tapestry ruled the airwaves, and the last of embers of 60s idealism were still aglow. The release of this record around the time the war in Iraq began seemed like the subtlest form of protest, as an entire culture was dragged into a less-than-ideal 21st century.

The record is self-consciously retro, and this song holds to that approach, complete with a bit of jazz flute, celebratory horns, and burbling basslines. And the outlook here is rosy indeed, coming from a pure pop perspective which is a tip of the hat to AM radio hits of the time to which it harkens back. The underlying feel to this song, and the manifesto of the rest of the album is that pop records used to be about idealism and innocence. And what could embody that more than ’spreading the love vibration’?

This is not to say that the songs are frothy to the point of being forgettable. But one of the things that makes it great is its sense of fun, with a hint or two of gray to contrast some of its sunnier skies. I think the reason it works so well is that it pits its willful optimism against the times as a means of showing us just how far into our modern, jaded outlooks we’ve slid. Maybe its simple irony being played here. But, it sounds to me that the sentiments in this tune may also remind us that being afraid of the future isn’t much of a life, as easy as it is a trap to fall into in this age of terrorism in which we live.

1972 wasn’t exactly a Garden of Eden either of course. By then, political assassinations, student protest casualties, and the continuing escalation of the Vietnam war among other social ills were harsh and unavoidable realities. But, at least they had great pop records to prove as an antidote to despair. Josh Rouse captures the spirit of this in this song, with what I perceive as the underlying hope that others will follow his example.

Enjoy!

Song Rendition Showdown: “Tupelo Honey”, Van Morrison vs. Dusty Springfield

Which version is better? The Van Morrison original, or Dusty Spingfield’s cover version?

“Tupelo Honey” is one of my favourite love songs. It’s sentimental, idealistic, mushy-as-hell. Yet, I love it. It reduces me to a quivering mess, if I’m caught unawares. It is hard to imagine that a song so eloquent, poetic, wonderful could have come from the grouchiest man in rock, yet so it did. Morrison melds soul and gospel into a tune that must have been inspired by the Solomon Burke school of plaintive-and-passionate delivery. This is a love song which scales the heights, seeming to reach the loftiness of its subject matter in an effortless manner. Love in this song is of the old sort - “knights in armor/intent on chivalry” indeed. And the figure at the centre of it is “an angel of the first degree”, making this love the stuff of high-spirituality as well as that of legend and myth.

The song was first released in 1971 on Van Morrison’s album of the same name, Tupelo Honey, soon to be covered by artists ranging from Irish folk singer Brian Kennedy to contemporary jazz vocalist Cassandra Wilson. But, a notable version was by British pop-soul singer Dusty Springfield. The question is: which one does it for you, good people?

Van Morrison

Morrison’s love of soul music shines through on this track, one of a number of tunes on the album which bares its name. Morrison was living in Woodstock at the time, and had marital and domestic bliss on his mind when writing the album. His then-wife Janet inspired this idealistic vision of love to such a degree that Morrison sounds downright overwhelmed on this track, with an almost epic poem approach springing out of him on this one.

The old meets the new here, with legendary knights and the evocation of the birthplace of the King rolling forth on equal ground. And his voice starts as a whisper, and grows into a soulful outpouring in probably one of the most passionate performances of his career, which is certainly saying something.

Dusty Springfield

Springfield knew a thing or two about soulful delivery herself, and her version of the tune follows pretty closely to the original, but for a few minor differences - a new verse, and a gender shift - “he’s as sweet as Tupelo Honey”. The song was featured on her 1973 album Cameo, which borrows from some of the lessons taken from her earlier album Dusty in Memphis, recorded at Muscle Shoals. Springfield’s voice is light as air, yet funky too.

Where Morrison’s fiery delivery makes the song a proclamation to the heavens, Springfield’s is a forthright sermon to the earthbound. And the horn arrangements on this version seem to have been magicked by the spirit of Otis Redding.

So, good people. Which is your preferred brand of Tupelo Honey? That of the Belfast Cowboy? Or is it soulful chanteuse Springfield?

Vote now!

Bluesman John Lee Hooker Performs “Boom Boom”

Here’s a clip of the immortal John Lee Hooker performing his hit “Boom Boom”

The blues is easily parodied - 12 bars, 3 chords, 3lines of lyrics for each verse, with subject matter about feeling bad. Yet, to reduce the blues to these cliches, as easy as it may be for some, is to forget how primal the blues really is as a form. And this isn’t just about how many genres of music it’s given birth to and fed. It’s about the basic human need to express something physical, something (for want of a better word) base. These expressions are as true to the human experience as anything to be found in any sacred text or scientific journal. For these purposes, singing the blues has few rivals. And Hooker’s tune is all about physicality, a celebration of arousal - “I love the way you walk/I love the way you talk/when you walk that walk/and talk that talk”. Grrr, baby! This is one of the songs about lust for the ages, and certainly one that has caused a ripple effect through into rock n’ roll.

“Boom Boom” was released by Hooker in 1961, marked by its unique guitar riff and Hooker’s own lustful growl. It was a staple song in the set of many blues and R&B acts on both sides of the Atlantic soon after. It became a single for the Animals, who were admirers of Hooker, a few years later along with another Hooker hit, “Dimples”. The “twelve bars-3chords-3 lines of lyrics” model for which the blues is known is entirely discarded here. What we get instead is a call-and-response drone, with Hooker’s guitar used more as a rhythm instrument, almost a percussion instrument, rather than the now-expected guitar histrionics with which electric blues is often associated. This song is much akin to Hooker’s earlier side “Boogie Chillun” which is a single riff on one chord, with only Hooker’s boot on the studio floor as a secondary instrument. It’s here that the world of the blues is taken out of the clubs of Chicago, and Hooker’s adopted hometown of Detroit, and is transported back to Africa.

Malian musician and innovator, the late Ali Farka Toure was always annoyed when he was compared to John Lee Hooker. “When I hear John Lee Hooker,” said Toure, “I hear African music”.

Thanks to www.allaboutjazz.com for use of John Lee Hooker’s image.

Tales of Brit-Pop - Blur perform “Parklife”

Here’s a clip of Blur doing their song “Parklife” from the 1994 album of the same name, Parklife .

This song is one of my favourites by a band I consider to be a great singles band. Phil Daniels, most famous for his portrayal as Jimmy in 1979’s Quadrophenia, is the perfect choice as the narrator of an Eastend wideboy’s tale of simple pleasures in a narrow world of his own. And guitarist Graham Coxon’s opening guitar figure is genius in its simplicity. In short, a memorable pop song.

The song and the album of course was released during the so-called Brit-pop era, when bands like Blur, along with Suede, Supergrass, Pulp (who had actually been around since 1983) and Oasis were making a splash in their native country. All tried to break America at the time, and all but Oasis failed, although many found select audiences. I think this is because the thing which typified the scene (if there even was one beyond the music press buzz) was an unabashed celebration of all things British - British accents, British cultural references, and British musical influences like the Kinks and the Small Faces, bands from the 60s who carved a similar path, and who had similarly select success Stateside.

The scene was of course short lived, and the respective bands either fizzled out entirely (Elastica, Suede, Echobelly, etc), or transformed themselves into something other than cheeky chappies (Supergrass and Blur). It’s arguable that the bands who are associated with Britpop couldn’t get a foothold in America because they refused to Americanize. But, I don’t think it’s entirely beyond reason that this was the case. I think this ultimately caused most Americans to scratch their heads, wondering if these guys even knew how to speak American.

Hear the Langley Schools Project - McCartney, Bowie, Beach Boys, More

Here’s a link to the MySpace page of the Langley School Project, recordings from 1976-77 of a 60 voice children’s choir doing the hits of the time - McCartney, Bowie, The Beach Boys, the Eagles, and others.

These recordings made a big splash some years ago when they were discovered and subsequently released as an album entitled Innocence & Despair. The recordings were literally a school project, headed up by music teacher Hans Fenger based in Langely B.C (just up the road from where I’m writing this), and incorporating 60 students who sang and played percussion instruments on songs which included David Bowie’s “Space Oddity”, Paul McCartney & Wings’ “Band on the Run”, the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows”, and the Eagles’ “Desperado”. The record polarized opinion. Some said that the takes on the songs create a sort of ghostly, otherworldly effect, while others denounced it as sounding amateurish and very “school assembly” in delivery. Perhaps it’s their origin which makes these recordings so compelling. Fenger had this to say about the project and the kids who created it:

“I knew virtually nothing about conventional music education, and didn’t know how to teach singing. Above all, I knew nothing of what children’s music was supposed to be. But the kids had a grasp of what they liked: emotion, drama, and making music as a group. Whether the results were good, bad, in tune or out was no big deal — they had élan. This was not the way music was traditionally taught. But then I never liked conventional ‘children’s music,’ which is condescending and ignores the reality of children’s lives, which can be dark and scary. These children hated ‘cute.’ They cherished songs that evoked loneliness and sadness.”

I’m not quite sure where I stand on them. I was in school and about the same age as the kids were when they recorded this on a 2-track recorder while in the school gymnasium. Canadian public schools in the mid-70s was going through an experimental stage, trying out a number of modern techniques in teaching, like teaching music by getting kids to sing choral versions of rock songs for instance. In my case, we didn’t do this, but we were allowed more free rein in the “classroom” by way of an open concept floor where we could try out different “centres” during the course of a day instead of traditional lessons. This was the environment out of which these recordings come. And there is a certain nostalgia attached to these recordings, I guess.

If you like children’s choirs, you’ll either love this or hate it since the arrangements are not polished, despite how on-key the voices are. There aren’t too many examples of professionally arranged harmonies for instance. All of the kids, with a few exceptions, sing in unison although they do so very well. Yet a part of the charm is that a lot of the lyrical content is given a twist by virtue of the fact that they’re being sung by children, and not jaded rock stars. And I suppose there is a certain ghostly quality to the songs, although you feel yourself wondering whether this really comes off as something entertaining, or just hearing it as a novelty, a curiosity of something that is of its time, and meant for a narrower audience than it got .

Apparently, the proceeds of the recordings go to the kids who sang on it, and to the Langely school board too. The orginal releases were strictly for the school, but were given a wider release. When they were released, music critics from far and wide praised them to the skies. Like I said, I’m not sure I’m entirely convinced all-around. But many do find these recordings as something of a return to innocence, the sound of a bygone age. And I have to admit that there are moments in the songs where something special bursts through, little instances of greatness that make you wonder if they got the effect deliberately, or whether it just sort of turned out that way.

What do you think, good people? Amateurish or sublime?

To read more about the project, check out the Langley Schools Music Project Wikipedia entry.