Sunday Morning Coming Down

It comes to something when people consider you old fashioned because you prefer your iPod to streaming music via your phone.

But having dabbled with three of the major streaming services when they’ve offered me a month or two free, that’s exactly where I am.

Not that anyone has said anything to me, but I see people’s puzzled or concerned or sneering looks when they see me using an iPod, and know what they’re thinking: ‘Come on Grandad, get with the times!’ or perhaps something less polite.

I have my reasons for sticking with my iPod, which I’m going to tell you whether you like it or not:

1. How many times has one of those streaming services actually recommended a song to you, based on your listening history, that you liked, but was unaware of before it nudged you in its direction? Not many, I would imagine. I don’t need my phone to tell me what tunes are excellent any more than I need it to tell me how to spell disestablishmentarianism. One once recommended an obscure little-known track called Bohemian Rhapsody to me. That’s six minutes of my life I’m never getting back. Turns out I’d heard it before;
2. Whenever I’ve had a free trial with one of them, all I’ve done is stream songs I already own and have (mostly) paid for. I’m tight. Why would I want to pay somebody for the privilege of listening to a song I already own?;*
3. They cut out when the signal is weak, my iPod doesn’t. When using The Streamers, I lost count of the amount of time I would suddenly find I could hear the in-store playlist of my local supermarket rather than the groovy tunes I was listening to;
4. I’ve got 256GB of storage on my iPod. That’s a lot of songs, plenty to keep me going for the small amount I travel. And each of those songs I already know and like enough to have bought and to have downloaded onto my iPod, so its (generally) a pleasure to hear them.

Although in the plus column there’s this:

1. I’m socking it to ‘The Man’.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Luddite. I’m not about to start lobbing clogs at people streaming music on their phones. I have no issue with technological progress. I’m not suggesting we all go back to Sony Walkmen, or portable CD players (that you had to carry carefully, flat, walking slowly for fear of making the CD jump) or MiniDisc players, surely the Betamax video of the music-on-the-go generation.

Also in the plus column is the utter joy of the serendipitous moments which I’ve only ever experienced when I have my iPod on shuffle; when it throws up a song which I need to hear, or is perfectly suited to my surroundings. Like the time I was on The Strand in London and my iPod decided to play me Roxy Music’s Do The Strand, which was fantastic, not just because of the appropriateness of the setting, but because of the brilliance of that line about rhododendrons being nice flowers.

I’ve convinced myself that sometimes – just sometimes – my iPod knows what I need to hear, whilst The Streamers are busy working out what I’d like to hear based on what I’ve listened to before by way of some fancy algorithm.

I had one of these serendipitous moments this week. (See, I am going somewhere with this.) I had to go into the office on Thursday, a real ball-ache of a journey, if I’m honest, where I have to leave my house no later than 6:30am to get to the office by 9:00am, and don’t get home until almost 8:00pm. But work have been kind enough to say I can continue working from home as long as I come into the office when required, usually no more than a couple of times each month, so I can’t really complain.

Anyway, without wishing to get all Tommy Train Timetable on you, I have to change trains at Stevenage on the commute in and back; there’s usually a ten minute or so wait for my connecting train, but this week my train home was late, and so I sat on the platform shivering and getting more and more annoyed until it finally arrived.

Midway through this torturous wait, as I watched the Expected At time tick another minute into the future, my iPod (on shuffle, mind) went into serendipity mode and selected this song, her break-through single from her 1988 Short Sharp Shocked album:

Michelle Shocked – Anchorage

Needless to say, by the time the song had ended, the word Anchorage had been supplemented in my mind by the word Stevenage, and suddenly I felt a whole lot better about the situation.

I even considered writing a pastiche version where her friend in the song is called Steven, but decided against it. I don’t think the world is ready for a song which goes Steven’s stuck in Stevenage...

More soon.

*This is the main reason, obviously.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Last time I posted something from this album, it got quite a good reaction, so I figured it was about time to give another track an airing.

Michelle Shocked – Secret to a Long Life

The secret to a long life is…well, I won’t spoil it for you, but I think I’m in agreement. Wise words, mate! This is another little cracker from Shocked’s back catalogue which, if you’ve never investigated, I can heartily recommend.

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Back at the end of the 1980s/start of the 1990s, Michelle Shocked went on a run of releasing four really great albums: The Texas Campfire Tapes, Short Sharp Shocked, Captain Swing and Arkansas Traveller.

I lost track of her after that, and since she seems to have developed some political and religious views that I’m definitely not onboard with, I’m in no great hurry to see if any of the albums she has released since then are any good.

Every now and then, though, one of hers pops up on shuffle, and I’m reminded of just how good she was back then.

This is one of those songs, taken from 1992’s Arkansas Traveller:

Michelle Shocked – Come A Long Way

More soon.

A Mix-Tape Maker’s Best Friend

Been a while since I wrote one of these, but the news this week that there will no longer be a print version of the NME has spurred me into life.

I can’t really shed a tear for the NME moving to an online presence only; I haven’t read it for fifteen years or so, certainly haven’t bought it since Emo was a thing, and have never managed to pick up a free copy outside a tube station in London.

I did, however, purchase it semi-religiously from the late 1980s until the very late 1990s. Just like everyone has a Dr Who that is “theirs”, who resonates with their youth, so it is with the NME. I wish I could say that I bought it when Danny Baker et al were the scribes in residence, but my time involved the likes of Andrew Collins, Stuart Maconie, Stephen Dalton, Tom Hibbert, David Quantick, Barbara Ellen, Mary Anne Hobbs and Steve Lamacq. Looking at that list explains why I listen to BBC 6Music so much these days.

The NME was renowned for attaching the occasional cassette to the front cover; regrettably I was too late to grab a copy of the seminal C86 tape at the time, however I did go and purchase today’s selection, which was released in 1988 in conjunction with, and to raise funds for, Childline, a free 24-hour counselling service for children.

The Sgt. Pepper Knew My Father was released to mark the 21st anniversary of the original release of The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band, and as I’m typing this, it seems just unbelievable that another thirty years have passed since then.

The idea was this: get current bands to record cover versions of every track on the album. And so it was that the tribute album was born.

As with many albums of this sort, it’s patchy to say the least. But here’s the tracks I like the most from it. And that one by Wet Wet Wet, which I include purely because it was released as a double ‘A’ side with Billy Bragg’s cover on the other side, which led to Simon Bates having to say on Top of the Pops, after the Wetx3s had mimed their smiley asses off, the following words: “That’s number one, and the other side is number one as well. Here’s Billy Bragg.”

Billy Bragg at #1 in the UK Charts. The stuff that dreams are made of.

Wet Wet Wet – With A Little Help From My Friends

The Wedding Present with Amelia Fletcher – Getting Better

Billy Bragg with Cara Tivey – She’s Leaving Home

Frank Sidebottom – Being For Benefit Of Mr. Kite

Sonic Youth – Within You Without You

Michelle Shocked – Lovely Rita

The Triffids – Good Morning Good Morning

The Fall – A Day In The Life

A few years later, I was travelling somewhere (I forget where) with a friend who was a massive Beatles fan. He had asked me to put together a mix-tape for the journey, which for reasons that escape me now, I gave to him in advance of our trip to listen to. I included The Fall track, which he took exception to.

“Who the hell is that murdering A Day In The Life?”, he asked before I had clicked the seatbelt into place.

I looked at him, baffled, bemused.

“It’s The Fall. Obviously. It’s obviously The Fall. And they’ve not murdered it. They’ve Fall’ed it.”

I wonder if, after Mark E Smith’s death in January, he is claiming to have listened to The Fall since the late 80s. I know he occasionally reads this, so I’ll report back.

More soon.

A Mix-Tape Maker’s Best Friend #4

I’ve not written one of these for a while, and a couple of things prompted me to dig out today’s compilation CD.

Firstly, on this week’s edition of The Chain, Alex G suggested a track by All About Eve, which reminded me that I had bought a compilation album entitled CD88 back in 1988 that had a track by them on it.

Secondly, I found that the ever wonderful Cherry Red Records have released a triple CD of Indie tracks from 1988, entitled C88, which, looking at the track-listing has just entered my list of must-get albums at number one.

CD88 was one of a long series of Indie Top 20 albums released by Beechwood Music Ltd which started back in 1987 and ran into the mid-1990s. There’s a pretty wonderful and comprehensive blog which focuses on these albums here.

The albums were released two or three times a year, with the occasional Best of the Year editions thrown in every now and then for good measure. CD88 was one such volume, sort of. For it’s important not to be misled by the title: it’s not a Best of the Indie tracks which were released in 1988, it’s a Best of Indie tracks which was released in 1988. Confused? Let me put it another way: it covers the first five volumes of the Indie Top 20 compilations, which were released in 1987 and 1988.

Here’s what it says on the booklet that accompanies the CD (which, I have found when writing this, also got a vinyl release):

“CD88 is a testament to the vital role played by the independent chart. Many of these hit singles have never been and might never be available on CD elsewhere.

CD88 is a collection of outstanding singles that have since become indie classics, and for many, subsequently served as the springboard from their Independent roots to major label and Gallup chart status.

Each track is chosen from the successful Indie Top 20 compilations, plus four classic tracks previously not included in the series. Indie Top 20 is released every three months to highlight the best of the new singles which have made a high impact on the National Independent Chart.”

It’s funny when you find yourself getting all wistful and nostalgic at the mere mention of the Gallup charts, isn’t it?

Anyway, I was going to just post the songs that I love from this compilation – a Best of the Best, if you will – but, on reflection, have them all, along with their original artwork. Perversely, for an album celebrating the Indie Top 20, there are only nineteen songs on it:

All About Eve – Our Summer

I’m not a massive fan of All About Eve (the band, not the film, or The Wedding Present track), but this is okay enough, and definitely fits the “before they were famous” mould that defines many of the acts/songs here, for this record reached the giddy heights of #87 in the UK charts in 1987.

Cardiacs – Is This The Life

If you’ve ever wondered where Chain Gang regular The Robster got the inspiration for the title of his excellent blog, then look no further.

As well as making me think of Rob, this record always reminds me of my first year at college, when me and my buddies would traipse along to the Student’s Union every other Tuesday to attend “Funk Off”, the Indie Night, and it was here that I first heard this tune.

This was before I started DJing there myself – I wrote about how I started DJ’ing at college, and how the chap who taught me to DJ had introduced me to quite a few records (here) and this is one of them – and one of the resident DJs, Jolly Jim, had played it; generally someone in our gang would be able to tell you what a record was if you didn’t know, but this one drew blank looks from everyone. I couldn’t not know, so I nervously shuffled up to the DJ booth which would soon become practically my second home.

“‘Scuse me mate,” I called to Jim. “What’s this record?”

Jim looked at me with some mixture of surprise and joy; surprise because admitting you didn’t know a record was definitely not considered a cool thing to do at Funk Off, and joy because he was able to impart some wisdom.

So the Cardiacs track was probably the one most responsible for me buying this album in the first place. If you’ve never heard this one before, I urge you to give it a listen (Part 1 of 2).

Fields of the Nephilim – Preacher Man

Goths, but Goths By Numbers. Wannabe Eldritches. That’s all I got.

Danielle Dax – Cat-House

This, on the other hand, is another absolute belter of a forgotten track. Although, having said that, a few years ago, Hel and I DJ’d a couple of times at the now defunct Mucky Pup bar in Islington. I happened to be there on a night when we weren’t playing, and was staggered when the DJ played this, partly because I was annoyed that I hadn’t played it the week before, but mostly because I genuinely didn’t think anyone else remembered it, much less did I expect to meet anyone else who did. As it played, I spoke to the DJ, commending him on his choice. He looked at me with an air of bafflement. “You know this record??” he asked. Oh yes. If you’ve never heard this one before, I urge you to give it a listen (Part 2 of 2).

Crazyhead – Baby Turpentine

This lot cropped up on my Replenishing the Vinyl series a couple of weeks ago, and The Robster left a comment about how this was his favourite track by them. Mine too, mate, mine too.

The Wedding Present – Nobody’s Twisting Your Arm

In the late 1980s, no Indie compilation worth it’s salt was without a track by The Wedding Present, a band who I still love to this day, as I have mentioned many, many times on these pages. This is one of their greatest (early) singles. Take it away, Grapper!

The Soup Dragons – Hang Ten!

Ditto: The Soup Dragons, whilst they were still in their playful pop mode, as they were here. Many happy memories of pogoing around the Students Union dancefloor to this one.

The Rose of Avalanche – Velveteen

Not really my cup of tea, this one, though it’s one of my brother’s favourites, so at least he’ll get chance to hear it again.

Half Man Half Biscuit – Dickie Davies Eyes

Any excuse to blow the dust of this one.

Michelle Shocked – Fog Town

Thankfully, the version lifted from The Texas Campfire Tapes, rather than the (nowhere near as good) rock version which crops up as a bonus track on Short Sharp Shocked.

The Chesterfields – Ask Johnny Dee

My old mate Rich got in touch after I last posted a track by this lot to tell me that this tune reminded him of when we were kids listening to records in my bedroom. I’m not sure there’s a finer definition of late 80s jangly indie pop than that.

Wire – Kidney Bingos

I’d never heard of Wire before I picked this CD up, but this is great. Not as great as similar period Eardrum Buzz and nowhere near as good as their earlier stuff, but a bad Wire record is still a pretty good Wire record in my book.

Bradford – Skin Storm

This lot were, not least because of the blessing they received from one Steven Patrick Morrissey, once tipped to be the next big thing, but it never happened for them. Mostly because every other record of there’s seemed to sound almost exactly like this, but not as good.

Sweet Honey In The Rock – Chile Your Waters Run Red Through Soweto

Perhaps the surprise inclusion on this compilation. Nowadays, this would doubtless attract sneery comments about diversity targets being met, but that would detract from the fact that this is a brave and beautiful political record, latterly covered by Billy Bragg.

A Certain Ratio – Mickey Way (The Candy Bar)

Manchester legends, who I’ve never really got into for some reason. My loss, I’d imagine. And having just listened to that for the first time in god knows how many years, it is pretty ace.

Ciccone Youth – Into The Groovy

A side project of the Sonic Youth gang, plus Firehose and Minutemen member Mike Watt and J Mascis from Dinosaur Jr, taken from a tongue in cheek tribute to Madonna which I’m not going to name as I have a sneaky feeling that if I did, it might crop up again on these pages quite soon….

The Beloved – Forever Dancing

From before they became successful, one listen to this will tell you why commercial success eluded them for another year or so.

The Shamen – Jesus Loves Amerika

The sound of another band, soon to be quite large indeed, still honing their musical sound. The deliberate mis-spelling of America is, I suspect, making a point still relevant today.

Pop Will Eat Itself – There Is No Love Between Us Anymore

Taken from Box Frenzy, their first album where they stepped away from their grebo sound and started using samplers.

One last thing before I go: this compilation holds a special place in my heart, for it was the first record of many that I ever bought in the oldest record shop in the world, Cardiff’s “Spillers Records”, a store which became a regular haunt for me over the following twenty years. It’s moved premises since I last lived in Cardiff, but this is how I remember it:

Now that’s a proper record shop. And now I’m getting all wistful and nostalgic again.

You can read about it here, or, better still, go here and spend a few quid to keep them going.

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Yesterday, I posted a song by Tracey and Melissa Beehive, a cover of a Johnny Cash song, which was lifted from an album called “‘Til Things Are Brighter – A Tribute to Johnny Cash” which I described as being “one of those typically patchy tribute albums that were all the rage once upon a time.”

This description seems to have been a little misconstrued; what I meant was that typically those tribute albums, which were all the rage once upon a time, could be a little on the patchy side. I was not describing “‘Til Things Are Brighter” as patchy, though I see why it might be thought that was what I meant.

And to prove it, here’s another tune from the same album:

Michelle Shocked – One Piece At A Time

Hope that clarifies!

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

A few posts ago, I mentioned Spillers Records in Cardiff, and this morning’s selection comes from an album I picked up there when I was at college, I think one of the first CDs that I ever purchased there. Definitely not the first, for that honour went to a compilation CD I bought which included a song by today’s artiste, and which prompted me to buy what I thought was the source album.

I went through a phase in my late teens/early twenties where I would buy compilation albums that contained a couple of tracks by bands I liked, figuring that the remainder of the songs would be of a similar ilk, I’d maybe unearth a new band and could start to investigate more of their stuff. Method in my madness, see?

So, one day I strode from Spillers, the proud owner of a compilation CD called “CD88”, in a blatant call-back to the NME C86 cassette released two years earlier. I’d bought it because it had songs by The Wedding Present, The Soup Dragons and Half Man Half Biscuit on it, and bar a couple of exceptions, all were cut from roughly the same Indie cloth.

One of those exceptions was the track by today’s artist, and her track stuck out, not quite like the proverbial sore thumb, for that would imply something unpleasant. The song in question was “Fog Town” by Michelle Shocked, which turned out to be lifted from her recorded-on-a-Sony-Walkman debut album (I had no idea you could record stuff on a Walkman. Did anyone else have one you could record stuff on?), “Texas Campfire Tapes”.

So the next thing I purchased from Spillers Records was her sophomore album (that’s what music journalists call a second album, right?) “Short Sharp Shocked”, which contained an altogether rockier version of “Fog Town” as a bonus track (hence my confusion at the time), but more importantly it contained this little beauty:

Michelle Shocked – Anchorage

‘Anchorage’ tells the bitter-sweet tale of Michelle exchanging letters with her old friend for the first time in a couple of years, finding that she’s moved from Texas to Alaska, that their circumstances have changed, that they have very little in common anymore bar shared memories. You come away from it feeling that both are a little jealous of the other’s lifestyle; Michelle of her friend’s family life and domesticity, her friend of Michelle’s free spiritedness (is that a word?). You also get the feeling that this will be the last contact between them (this is pre-Facebook days, pre-Friends Reunited, even, when staying in touch with old friends was such a hassle. I know, I’ve lost plenty of them.)

Whilst I was at college, my Dad got made redundant from the job he’d been in for twenty-plus years. He retrained as a driving instructor and, since I’d managed to fail my test first time around (when he hadn’t taught me), whenever I was home from college he would give me lessons. We looked on it as a reciprocal deal, I think (and an opportunity to have a sneaky cigarette): he was teaching me, and at the same time he was learning how to teach someone. Luckily, our hourly rates cancelled each other out.

Once, he suggested that I drive part of the leg from our family home in Cambridgeshire, down to South Wales, where I was at college. I agreed on the proviso that his rule that the driver chooses the music still applied. I could tell he didn’t look keen, worried about what horrors I might unleash, but he reluctantly agreed.

When it got to my turn to drive, I slipped a cassette of “Short Sharp Shocked” into the cassette player, and watched as Dad’s body tensed up, not at the standard of my driving (I was still in neutral, quite the feat as you approach the toll booths on the Severn Bridge), but in anticipation as to what I was going to subject him to.

Two songs in and he’d relaxed.

“What is this we’re listening to?” he finally enquired.

“Surprised you don’t recognise it”, I replied, “I gave you a copy of this album a few months ago.”

“He won’t have listened to that unless you told him it sounded like this,” my Mum sagely advised from the back seat.

Nowadays, we have a system: if I post something he’d like anywhere other than in this thread, I have to send him a text to tell him there’s a song he’d probably like. It saves there being a repeat incident of him “accidentally” attempting to watch the uncensored “Girls on Film” video I posted the other week.

Anyway, safe ground here Dad. You’ll like this one. That’s if you don’t remember it, of course.

More soon.

Friday Night Music Club

Evening all. Hope you’ve all had a decent week since I last graced these pages with anything new for you to chow down on. It’s Friday Night and that can only mean one thing: it’s time for the latest additions to the Music Club canon.

And this week, we’re going a bit country. Well actually, quite a lot country.

No wait, come back!

It’s not all ten gallon hats and Republican rednecks, I promise! That’s Country and Western, and we are most definitely not going Western tonight.

So saddle up (doh!), stick around, and you never know, you might learn – or even like – something.

First up, and to carry on where I left it last week, a song by The Fall. Well, almost. A song which The Fall released as an extra track on the UK CD version of their 1991 album “Shift-Work”.

The song was written by J.P. Richardson, who is perhaps better known as The Big Bopper, and perhaps even better known for having died in the same plane crash as claimed the lives of Buddy Holly and Richie Valens – the infamous “day the music died” Don McLean wrote about in “American Pie”.

Alas, Richardson didn’t have chance to record it before his untimely death, leaving the late great George Jones to record this rollickingly definitive version:

97. George Jones – White Lightning

George of course is renowned for two things: being married to Queen of Country Tammy Wynette, and having a drink problem that makes it a minor miracle he lasted until he reached the grand old age of 81. The latter makes his choice to cover this record – a tale of family-produced moonshine – rather unsurprising.

Two examples to illustrate how much George liked a tipple: when he turned up at the studio to record White Lightning, he was so bladdered he needed around 80 attempts to get it right. The bass player, Buddy Killen was rumoured to have so many blisters on his fingers from playing it so many times, he not only threatened to quit the recording session, but also threatened George with a bit of ABH. When the session producer ultimately chose the first cut they had done that day to release, I’m sure he saw the funny side though.

The second example is one that has gone down in country music folklore. Here, then, from his aptly-titled autobiography “I Lived To Tell It All”, in his own words:

“Once, when I had been drunk for several days, Shirley [his second wife] decided she would make it physically impossible for me to buy liquor. I lived about eight miles from Beaumont and the nearest liquor store. She knew I wouldn’t walk that far to get booze, so she hid the keys to every car we owned and left.

But she forgot about the lawn mower. I can vaguely remember my anger at not being able to find keys to anything that moved and looking longingly out a window at a light that shone over our property. There, gleaming in the glow, was that ten-horsepower rotary engine under a seat; a key glistening in the ignition.

I imagine the top speed for that old mower was five miles per hour. It might have taken an hour and a half or more for me to get to the liquor store, but get there I did.”

You will notice that booze plays quite a part in a few of tonight’s choice. Before we go any further though, I owe you one Fall song, so here’s their version (and unofficial video):

Moving on, another country legend who I’ve waxed lyrical about on these pages before, and another artist who, I think it’s fair to say has battled a few of his own demons in his time:

98. Kris Kristofferson – Out of Mind, Out of Sight

“Let’s keep drinking ’til we’re blind”, indeed.

As I’ve mentioned before, I was brought up listening to Kristofferson, and whilst he has continued recording, railing against the authorities and touring right up to the present day (I was gutted to be too slow to manage to grab a ticket for his recent gig at the Union Chapel in Islington, but did manage to catch about half of one of his gigs in Bristol a few years back – I’ll explain why some other time), for me his real purple patch was from 1970 – 1972. If you’re curious to dig a little deeper (though they will be featured at some point in these pages if you want to stick around), or if you like the kind of alt-country that folks like Wilco or Ryan Adams produce, then I can heartily recommend 1970’s “Kristofferson” (which was re-released in 1971 under the title “Me and Bobby McGee” after Janis Joplin had released her simply stunning version of said song), 1971’s “The Silver Tongued Devil and I” and 1972’s “Jesus Was A Capricorn”, each displaying his flawless ear for a tune.

Now, just to prove that country music ain’t just about boys and their booze, here’s Michelle Shocked from her sophomore album “Short Sharp Shocked”, with a tale about Saturday night drinking and the rush to get to the local liquor store before it closed (presumably not on a lawn-mower):

99. Michelle Shocked – (Making the Run to) Gladewater

As I mentioned last time Michelle’s name came up on the pages, she seems to have developed some rather questionable views on gay and lesbian issues which I’m not going to give time to here, partly because I don’t think I agree with her views which seem rather unclear at best, but partly because if I do I’d have to mention Piers Morgan, and we all know the only thing worse than having questionable views on gay and lesbian issues is being Piers Morgan, so I’ll leave it there. If you’d like to read more though, you can do here.

So, having established booze is playing a large part in tonight’s Yee-Hawing, we may as well expand that to include the other thing on your bona fide country star’s list of forbidden fruits. So here, for the none-more-country-named Broken Family Band:

100. The Broken Family Band – The Booze And The Drugs

It seems apt that a song about booze and drugs, two things which will feature fairly large in my A History of Dubious Taste thread, should be the 100th record here.

Surprisingly, The Broken Family Band are not, as you might assume from their name and their sound, from some sleepy southern state backwater; rather they actually hail from that most un-country-music-esque of towns: Cambridge, England. It’s not just their country credentials which are exemplary: they recorded two sessions for Peel, did a cover version of Neutral Milk Hotel’s “The King Of Carrot Flowers Part 2” on their mini-album “Jesus Songs”, and in 2007 their “Welcome Home Loser” album was included in The Guardian newspaper’s ‘1000 Albums To Hear Before You Die’.

Next on to a band who from their album titles (such as Kiss My Grass: A Hillbilly Tribute to Kiss”) you can tell a) love a pun (their very name is a pun on Aussie rockers AC/DC), b) love a cover version, and c) haven’t really grasped the idea of making decent album covers. Yup, from their “Weapons of Grass Destruction” (see??) album, it’s Hayseed Dixie, and no prizes for guessing which of their oh-so-many- covers I’ve plumped for (I’ve not mentioned the folks who recorded the original for absolutely aaaaaaaaages):

101. Hayseed Dixie – Down Down

Relax ladies, they’re married.

No further comment needed, I think we’ll leave that there, shall we?

To more contemporary tuneage, and two songs which are in no way country, other than having the word “Country” in their titles (and the first one featuring a banjo). First, the lead single from their eighth studio album, which I’m slightly surprised to learn, is their highest ever UK chart-placed single. No further introduction required, the magnificent:

102. Primal Scream – Country Girl

A change in pace now. In 1997, fresh(ish) from winning the race to Number One in the UK Singles chart, a Pyhrric victory if ever there was one, given the battering they subsequently took in the album sales, Blur regrouped and came back with an album which was such a departure from their previous “sound” they were almost unrecognisable.

Oasis may have won the day in terms of popularity and record sales, but for my money, with the follow-up to 1995’s “The Great Escape”, Blur demonstrated a musicality and diversity which their rivals could only dream of.

It can’t be underestimated quite what a surprise it was back in January 1997 when Blur released first the lead single (and UK Number One) “Beetlebum”, swiftly followed in April by second single (and UK Number Two, appropriately) “Song 2”, and there, sandwiched in between, was the wonderful, if not wonderfully titled, “Blur” album, from which this next track is lifted:

103. Blur – Country Sad Ballad Man

Bit different to “Country House”, that, innit?

And finally, what better way to round things off for tonight than a truly iconic record from a truly iconic album capturing a truly iconic live performance by a truly iconic country star, perhaps the greatest country star:

104. Johnny Cash – Folsom Prison Blues

You don’t need me to explain this one do you? Thought not.

More soon.

And please remember to drink responsibly.

 

 

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Okay, okay, so I jinxed the weather last week by posting summery songs. I’m sorry. Here’s a more accurate reflection of a British summer:

Madness – The Sun and The Rain

Madness are one of those bands that I have a soft spot for, but who I managed to never buy any records by at the time. I do remember me and some friends ribbing a lad at school (who shall remain anonymous. Let’s call him Phil. Ah no, that’s his actual name…bugger) back in 1982 because he thought “House of Fun” was actually about a funfair, rather than…y’know…*looks shifty and embarrased*…what it’s actually about…is there a male member of staff I can talk to please, Miss?

Mind you, he also thought that Olivia Newton John’s “Physical” was about her desire to get fat blokes thin, so maybe he deserved everything he got.

Anyway, I digress. The Sun and The Rain finds the Nutty Boys in sombre, non-Nutty mode, and I’d probably say it’s my favourite record they ever did.

Morrissey – Everyday is Like Sunday

2nd solo single from the Mozster. Not sure how I’ve managed to get to here in my Sunday Morning selections without picking it, to be honest. I will always remember, as the Moz finished miming on Top of the Pops, Simon Mayo announcing “Okay, I’ll go out on a limb. That’s a Number One.”

“Everyday is Like Sunday” peaked at Number 9 in the UK charts. But what does Mayo know?  I mean, did you see that shirt??

It has just occured to me that perhaps Mayo was offering more of a critique than a prediction.

Michelle Shocked – Come a Long Way

There’s a lot to love about Michelle Shocked’s recorded output, and she will feature on these pages again soon. But there’s a lot less to love about her since she became a born-again Christian. Nuff said.

Manic Street Preachers – Motorcycle Emptiness

I love the Manics, and they will be subject to a CLANG! name-drop moment at some point in these pages. But for now, this, a song which I don’t think they’ve ever bettered. Maybe they should have given up after their first album, as threatened.

I’ve just realised I seem to be on a bit of an ‘M’ trip this morning. Maybe it’s because I saw the trailer for the new Bond film yesterday. In which case, there’s only one song I can end today’s post with, right?

At the risk of sounding all Alan Partridge (whoever did that, is a fricking genius, by the way): the greatest Bond theme ever:

Carly Simon – Nobody Does It Better

Shame she isn’t called Marly Mimon just to make this totally M, but hey we can’t have everything, can we?

NB – Shit. McCartney. I forgot McCartney.

More soon.