Friday Night Music Club Vol 29

And we’re back in the room.

So after (almost) a week off, I was going to do a mix of stuff I saw (on TV) at Glastonbury last weekend, but I figured there’s probably more who didn’t attend the Mother of All Festivals may read this than did, and you’re probably as sick of hearing how amazing it was from those who were lucky enough to be there as I am, so instead I looked around to see what was happening in the world, and realised that next week it’s 4th July, a day of great signifigance to our special relationship (but not when striking up trade deals – can’t say we weren’t warned, eh?) buddies over the Atlantic.

So, I figured I’d do a mix to celebrate all things American. Well, almost all things. I mean, I’m not about to celebrate the emboldening of the far right, or the next/latest mass shooting. Nosireebob, as our Yankee friends say (possibly). Rather, tonight we’ll be celebrating (almost) all things American and musical.

Unfortunately the old Gregorian calendar hasn’t seen fit to let this fall on a Friday this year, preferring to plop it down on Tuesday, right in the middle between Fridays. The question is: Friday before, or Friday after?

There’s only one way to find out:

No, of course not. The answer is obviously the Friday before, or it will seem like an afterthought and, moreover, can’t be played by either person who wants to listen to it on the big day.

And don’t worry: I’m not going to resort to lazy stereotypes by making cheap jokes about Americans being stupid and obese, because that simply isn’t true (obese means fat, by the way), in the same way that all French folk aren’t cheese easting surrender-monkeys who wear berets, stripey jumpers nor do they have onions permanently draped around their necks; English folks don’t all wear bowler hats, speak like they have a plum in their mouth and are definitely not sexually repressed (I wear a titfer, don’t you know); Germans don’t…ah, let’s not, eh?

So no jokes of that nature here. This is a celebration.

So here you go, America. I hope you enjoy this:

Friday Night Music Club Vol 29

And here’s your tracklisting and yes, I’ve actually bothered with sleevenotes this week:

  1. John Mellencamp – R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A.

“Hello? Is that Trading Standards? I’d like to report a rock star purporting to be a camp melon, and he is clearly neither.”

I love this record. Genuinely, I do. It tells how musicians in the 50s and 60s rose up to create modern music as we know it now. It also contains a roll-call of American artists (“There was Frankie Lyman, Bobby Fuller, Mitch Ryder (They were rockin’)/Jackie Wilson-Shangra-Las-Young Rascals (They were rockin’)/Spotlight on Martha Reeves, Let’s don’t forget James Brown”) and this simplified narrowing down my extremely long list of acts who should be in this mix, as all those named are now immediately precluded from appearing later in this playlist, because as any mix-tape/playlist maker worth their salt knows, the same artist cannot appear twice in the same mix/playlist. So, cheers Mr Camp-Melons, you just made this a whole lot easier!

2. Bangles – Hazy Shade of Winter

The easiest way to include as many American artists as possible in this just-shy-of-an-hour mix, in which it is of course impossible to include everything, was to include a few US acts covering other US acts. And so here we are with the Bangles frankly breath-taking romp through Simon & Garfunkel’s tune.

Oh, and as is compulsory round these parts: *sighs* oh, Susanna! Still looking great in her *checks notes* sixties (!). I’m 53. Perhaps she’d enjoy a younger man, even if it is one riddled with a skin complaint and arthritis. Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it. Ready and waiting if required Susanna!

3. The Black Crowes – Hard to Handle

More cover version shenanigans with this Otis Redding tune given the Southern Rock work out. They never sounded as good as they do here again.

4. The Long Ryders – Looking For Lewis And Clark

Before I knew anything much about American history, I’d always assumed this was about the DC Comics alter-ego of Superman and his sort-of girlfriend, deliberately mis-spelt to avoid copyright issues. I was wrong, of course. The titular Lewis & Clark are in fact Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, best known for the Corps of Discovery, an expedition from the Mississippi River to the West Coast and back, between May 1804 and September 1806. Look it up yourself if you want to know more, what am I, your teacher?

5. The Georgia Satellites – Battleship Chains

Tune. That is all.

6. The Hooters – Satellite

An excellent satirical swipe at the evangelical right and all they promise in return for as large a donation as you can possibly afford. And if you can’t afford, send it anyway. God will love you more. As will their pockets.

Incidentally, despite much research, I’ve not been able to establish if this lot are called The Hooters because they all have big noses, or comical car horns, or all used to work in a bar where tight-fitting t-shirts are the uniform (so I’m told). Probably none of the above, if I’m honest.

7. The Rainmakers – Let My People Go-Go

More (anti) biblical stuff here. My love of this record is well-documented (on these pages), so I’ll not wang on about how great it is this time out. (It is though.)

8. Rick Springfield – Jessie’s Girl

For my money, one of the finest forbidden/unrequited rock songs ever. So there.

9. The Strokes – New York City Cops

This isn’t on the US version of 2001’s debut album Is This It?,  replaced with the far-inferior track When It Started on the American CD edition following the September 11 attacks due to its lyrics regarding the New York City Police Department. Attacking heroes does not lead to a long career.

10. Nirvana – On A Plain

This lot should be massive, and will be as long as the lead singer and songwriter doesn’t do anything stupid, like shoot his own face off after releasing the band’s Difficult Third Album.

Seriously though, were it not for this band then Dave Grohl wouldn’t have had as much fun at Glastonbury as he clearly did, so…y’know….little victories….

11. R.E.M. – Little America

You didn’t really think I’d get through a playlist of America’s finest without featuring this lot, did you? As with many of Stipe’s early lyrics, I’ve no idea what he’s singing about, but I assume from the title it’s a swipe at some of his fellow countryfolk.

12. The B-52s – Roam

The follow-up to the absolutely massive world-wide smasheroo Love Shack, and nowhere near as massive commercially, is still much loved around Dubious Towers. Suck it up.

13. Bruce Springsteen – Thunder Road

Mr Blue Collar himself, included because a) is there an act more representative of the average American? and b) to please long-term reader George, who *coughs* is a massive fan of Brooce’s work….

14. Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood – Summer Wine

Had I not done an emergency post last weekend about Lana Del Rey, then she would have featured here. Instead, something by the woman who has clearly been a massive influence (she’s even covered this one).

15. Pearl Jam – Daughter

Pearl Jam in not-posted-immedately-after-Nirvana-tune shocker!

Forgive me, something about posting a song which contains the words “Don’t call me daughter” immediately after a song by the daughter of one of the most famous Americans ever tickled me somehow.

16. The Go-Go’s – Our Lips Are Sealed

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this record, co-penned by Go-Go Jane Weidlin and Special Terry Hall, is one of the greatest pop singles ever. Period.

17. Aretha Franklin – I Say A Little Prayer

Speaking of The Greatest: Aretha is the greatest singer ever to grace this world. Right? (Right!)

That’s yer lot. More soon.

How To Do A Cover Version

And so the fug continues, lifting gradually.

I can’t be bothered with having a rant today, not even about the pitiful 1% pay rise given NHS workers in the budget this week, the same week as it was found that close to £37 billion has been wasted on the Track & Trace program, run by Tory peer Dido Harding (surely a coincidence, that) and it was also revealed that the Government had elected to settle the Priti Patel bullying case out of court, to the tune of £340,000.00 plus legal costs, all of which tells you everything you need to know about where governmental priorities lie.

Not that you’d know any of this from reading much of the press this week, who have been far more interested in trying to prove that Meghan Markle is a wrong ‘un. And it may well be the case that she is, in which case she married into the right family. I mean, it’s not like the Saxe-Coburg and Gothas Windsors are short of a few wrong ‘uns themselves, is it? Forgotten about Prince Andrew, have we?

But I’m not writing about any of that. For as the apathetic fug continues to refuse to completely leave me alone, I’ve had an appropriate song in my brain all week, a cover version, which I figured I’d post here this morning.

And then I realised I’d already written about it, albeit five years ago.

To simply repost what I wrote last time seems entirely in keeping with my lethargic state of mind, so, with absolutely no apologies whatsoever, here you go (and in case it’s clear from this, which it isn’t, this is a record I bought on 7″ single back in 1987):

*****

Some would argue that if you’re going to do a cover version, you need to do radically rework it, so that to the untrained ear it sounds like something you wrote yourself.

Substitute the acoustic guitar on the original for an electric one on your track.

Upgrade the soft folky lilt of the original for a rip-roaring rollicking rock riff.

Maybe even shorten the title by, say, one vowel.

Trim out some of those rather unnecessary verses.

And then get Rick Rubin to produce it and pop it out on the uber-cool Def Jam label:

Now, here’s the original, performed by the evil ones from The Detectorists (Yes, I am going to keep making that reference until someone gets it).

I’ll leave you to decide which you prefer:

More soon. And maybe it’ll be something vaguely original.