Answer: a weekend that has a Bank Holiday Monday right after it.
Question: what’s better than a weekend that has a Bank Holiday Monday right after it?
Answer: a weekend that has a Bank Holiday Monday right after it, where I’m going to see The Wedding Present play live at the start of it.
Well, whaddya know, that’s what we have here, for as this is getting published, I’ll be singing along with Gedge and the gang, with my old mate Richie by my side.
So, I’ll keep things brief: this week’s mix contains some Britpop-era belters, some super 60s songs, a particularly fine mash-up (and regular readers will recall I’m not generally a fan of the genre), a Morrissey song performed in the best way a Morrissey song can be performed (that is: not by Morrissey, but in a foreign language (to me) with a mariachi band parping along behind it), one of the finest guitar riffs in the last *checks notes* twenty-five years (blimey, I feel old), a guitar cover of a dance tune from 2002 which is perhaps most *ahem* fondly remembered for having a video featured a bevy of scantily-clad ladies using power tools, before, in case you were wondering why Dancing Darth has made a reappearance at the top of this post, we wrap things up with a couple of space-related tunes, given that tomorrow (May 4th) is Star Wars Day (as in “May the 4th be with you”, but you knew that, right?).
Oh, and that dance tune cover contains a bit of what Simon Bates, whilst pervily licking his lips, used to refer to as “sexual swear words” as he killed the vibe/heightened the excitement (delete as applicable) at the start of movies released on video in the 80s, so we’d better get the old Effin’ & Jeffin’ warning out again:
Well done on succesfully navigating another week! Yay, it’s Friday! And you know what that means, right?
Right!
Another 60 minute (or so) mix of utter tunes, put together for your delectation by Yours Truly.
And this week, since I had a bit of time on my hands (as you may have noticed by the appearance of mid-week posts), I’ve even bothered to do sleeve notes for you. I know, I know, I’m too kind.
Which means I don’t need to waffle on with this introduction any more, let’s get going!
I don’t write about him as much these days, limiting my mentions of him to the anniversary of his passing and of his birthday, not because the memory of him has faded – it hasn’t, I still think of him every day – but on the night that Channel 4 are doing their annual Stand Up To Cancer fundraiser, it seemed appropriate to include a couple of songs which remind me of my dear, departed buddy Llŷr in tonight’s mix.
This song makes me think of when we first met. Introduced by a mutual acquantaince (who then omitted to invite either of us to his wedding, the bastard), I knew instantly we were going to hit it off, although I had no idea that it would be to the extent it turned out.
2. Super Furry Animals – Slow Life
You’ll have noticed that pretty much every mix I do has either something by the Super Furries or The Wedding Present, because I adore them both. But SFA were very much mine and Llŷr’s band; we saw them countless times together. and, when he passed back in 2019, I wrote this about our relationship with this particular tune:
“Never again will we go to a Super Furry Animals gig together, as we did countless times, and laugh with each other as we basked in our self-perceived glory when we air-drummed the fill after the bridge on this tune, which we did every time, without fail, much to the bemusement and confusement of anyone who was with us.”
(Should you wish to, you can read the whole post here)
(But come back when you’ve read it, ok?)
I still do that, by the way. Every time, without fail. Actually, on the rare occasion I miss it, I’ll go back to the start and listen to it again, and make damned sure I remember this time, tipping a wink in Llŷr’s direction (or at least, where I imagine him to be, which needless to say is up rather than down). I got some very strange looks when I listened to it, and performed the air-drum fill and wink on the train on the way to work earlier this week. Miss you, dude.
3. Razorlight – Stumble & Fall
When I lived in Cardiff, some friends (Llŷr, his sister Hel and her flat-mate Jo, the two Matts, probably Dum-Dum too) and I went to see Foo Fighters play. The odd thing was that, although internationally succesful and famous, they were the support act to some band called Oasis, whoever they might be. Also on the bill: Razorlight, and when lead singer Johnny Borell took his shirt off to reveal his pasty. boney torso mid-set, I will forever remember Jo, unironically, shouting “Phwooooooaaaaaaarrrrr!”, to disbelieving looks from all of our group, and quite a few people we didn’t know in our vicinity.
Anyway, I appreciate they blotted their indie-credentials with the utterly turgid America, but I do still rather like their debut album, Up All Night (the rebels! I’m reminded of The Young Ones and Cliff Richard’s Comic Relief single Livin’ Doll, where Rik says: “”Hey kids, stop snogging and pay attention to me. ‘Cause if you’re a wild-eyed loner standing at the gates of Oblivion, hitch a ride with us. ‘Cause we’re on the last freedom moped out of Nowhere City, and we haven’t even told our parents what time we’ll be back!”) from which this is lifted.
Oh go on then, here you go:
4. Duran Duran – Notorious
I wasn’t particularly fond of this when it came out. I mean, it’s no Planet Earth, Girls on Film or Hungry Like the Wolf, is it? But it popped up on shuffle the other day, and I’ve re-evaluated it. It’s not that bad, is it? Sure, it’s from when their popularity was perhaps on the wane a little, but at least it’s not one of those bloody awful cover versions they released a whole album of.
5. The Power Station – Some Like It Hot
Or double Duran, Duran Duran Duran Duran if you prefer. For whilst Duran took a hiatus in the mid-80s, and Simon le Bon and Nick Rhodes went off to release some not very memorable stuff under the name Arcadia, John Taylor and Andy Taylor went off and formed a supergroup with singer Robert Palmer and former Chic drummer Tony Thompson. And this was the result, and rather good it is too in my opinion.
Dedicated to Llŷr’s older sister and my former flat-mate and bezzy mate (who I’m appalled to realise I’ve not seen for a year, mostly due to my heath issues preventing me from getting out and about), and whose birthday it was a couple of weeks ago. She used to refer to herself as “The Future Mrs John Taylor”; I’m not sure how her current husband feels about that. Unthreatened, I’d imagine.
6. Franz Ferdinand – This Fire
Don’t worry, I’m not about to go off on a “things that are hot” theme.
7. The Rakes – 22 Grand Job
See? Nothing to do with hot things, fire, or burning, unless you happen to be one of The KLF, which you’re probably not.
8. Let’s Wrestle – We Are the Men You’ll Grow To Love Soon
This has featured on these pages before, but it’s worth a revist, because it’s truly great. How can you not love a song which contains the line: “We are the most reliable guys in the world/But we’ve got enough money to buy some G&T’s for the girls”? You can’t can you, go on admit it.
9. Supergrass – Moving
Many years ago, back in Cardiff, one night after clubbing and seeking…er…’refuge’ in The Flat of Filty, Dum-Dum asked me, apropos of nothing it seemed, who sang this. It was an unusual question, as indie pop wasn’t really his bag, but it transpired that he was doing a DJ/mixing course, and he wanted to do a dance mix of this. I furnished him with the necessary information, can’t remember if I lent or even offered to lend him my copy or not (probably not) and have no idea if he ever did the mix or what it sounded like. Dum-Dum, if you’re reading this, let me know? I’m intrigued.
10. E-Zee Posse Feat MC Kinky – Everything Starts With An ‘E’
Well, yes it does, doesn’t it? Some people would have it that this song is about drugs. Nonsense. They’ll be saying Ebeneezer Goode is about drugs next too, rather than being a perfectly innocent song about a Victorian gentleman cursed with looking like Jerry Sadowitz, as we all know it to be.
11. Basement Jaxx – Red Alert
This song will forever be etched in my brain when it made an appearance at a friend’s wedding many years ago. For entertainment, they had booked a karaoke, and I remember Hel and our friend Vicky bouncing about the tiny stage performing this.
Actually, thinking about it, maybe it was Rendez-vous. I don’t know, my memory….It’s almost like I’d had a few drinks that night (not enough to get up and sing, mind).
The wedded couple divorced a rather short time later. Nothing to do with Hel and Vicky’s performance, I’m (fairly) sure.
12. Timo Maas (featuring MC Chickaboo) – Shifter
The one that isn’t Get Down, or that jaw-dropping Muse remix he did once (I’ll dig it out sometime). Still ruddy brilliant though.
13. Billie Ray Martin – Your Loving Arms
Not to be confused with old line-dancing mullet chops Billy Ray Cyrus. This, from the former Electribe 101 frontwoman, is pure class.
14. Moby – We Are All Made Of Stars (DJ Tiesto’s Full Vocal Remix)
I’ve never been a massive fan of Moby – sure, I own a copy of Play, but it was practically against the law not to back in the late 1990s/early 2000s, when Moby and The Lightning Seeds battled it out to see who’s music could feature in the most adverts for the latest model of the Renault Espace. And perhaps he should be cancelled because of his “very disturbing” account of his relationship with Natalie Portman a few years ago (he claimed in his memoir that the two had dated, she described as being “…a much older man being creepy with me“).. But I bloody love this utterly trance-trousers banger. It contains a breakdown that is sooooooo trance, and so wonderful, it should rightly feature in my series about exactly that sort of thing, a series the total number of posts currrently stands at *checks notes* one. Ahh.
15. Faithless – We Come 1
Let’s be honest, the world seems an utterly nasty place right now. And whilst I don’t wish to get into commenting on the whole situation (C’mon Keir. How hard can it be to say you want a ceasefire?), I’ll leave it to the much missed pacifist Faithless frontman Maxi Jazz to comment from beyond the grave thus: “Would it not be madness to fight?”
On Wednesday, working from home, I stopped for lunch, put the TV on. Bargain Hunt. The reds and the blues merrily competed over some old tat in the background as I munched a sandwich and checked out my various social media feeds.
And then I heard a voice, a Welsh accent I recognised. The show was from Nottingham, and clearly filmed during lockdown, so these dulcet tones were most unexpected. I looked up from my phone to see an old buddy of mine being interviewed about the ancient trees in Sherwood Forest. Someone I had been close to many years ago, but had lost touch with. Someone I knew I was ‘friends’ with on Facebook.
Ian Major.
It was lovely to see him. He looked so well, happy, cheeky, gregarious. Just as I remembered him from twenty-odd years ago.
I found myself bursting with happiness at seeing my old mate, and vowed to get back in touch with him. To that end, this morning I logged onto Facebook, where we last had contact, but couldn’t find his name in my list of ‘friends’. Odd. I figured he’d probably closed his account, and began to ponder what other avenue I could explore to reconnect with him.
Facebook had the answer. Noting my search for him, I received an email suggesting Sherwood Forest Trust as a possible friend. Ordinarily I would ignore such news – I detest the stealth capitalism that is the algorithms and subsequent suggestions of what I might want to look at or buy based on what I’ve clicked on – but sensing it might lead me back to him, I clicked the link.
And found that he had died, in his sleep, unexpectedly, a little over a year ago.
Ah, fuck.
I was, once again, reminded that, cliched as it might sound, life’s too short.
At the risk of sounding all My Name Is Earl, you should always stay in touch with your friends, because one day it will be too late to rebuild that bridge.
My friendship with Maj in the mid-90s was an important point in my life. We drank and danced together often. We skipped around an otherwise empty dancefloor in a Cardiff club to the sound of Underworld, laughing as we passed each other. I laughed when he told me he had heckled Julian Cope at a gig with the words: “Is it true you’re from Beddau?” He guided me when I first decided to shave my head (“No, you can probably take it down another notch and shave it a bit closer if you like. It’ll look fine. Want another beer?”). He introduced me to Father Ted by making me watch this episode that he had recorded on a VHS tape:
How can you not love someone who brings that into your life?
Thinking about it, in many ways, Maj was my prototype Llŷr, but without the illness that took Llŷr from us.
I left this message on Sherwood Forest Trust’s time-line:
I knew Maj back in his Cardiff days, the loveliest bloke one could ever hope to meet, always happy, funny and bouncy, up for everything and anything.. Saw him on (a repeat) of Bargain Hunt the other day, thought how well and happy he looked, and thought I’d reconnect with him here…only to find this devastatingly sad news. Proud to have called him a friend, gutted we lost touch. There’s a moral there, my friends. Love you Maj xx
It would be very easy to post a certain Morrissey song right now, but Maj would not appreciate being connected with his extreme views. So instead, here’s something from an album he bought me for my birthday one year. We never really did presents and birthdays, so for him to give me this was an unexpected and welcome bolt from the blue:
Tonight’s mix is not the one I had planned to post.
The one I had prepared was a little too upbeat for such a momentous weekend; whilst I personally won’t be joining in the nation’s mouring, I didn’t want to disrespect those that are.
And so I decided to create a mix “on the fly”; I decided what the first and last track would be, and then started recording as I journeyed from one to the other.
I tell you this instead of offering sleeve notes, as there will doubtless be those who think some of my selections are….disrespectful. That wasn’t the intention. The intention was simply to pick tunes which sounded good next to each other – any which may seem to have been chosen as some sort of comment on any recent high profile passings are entirely coincidental.
Honest.
So let’s crack on, shall we?
(By the way, because this mix is just shy of 2 hours, Google Drive can’t cope and won’t let me upload it, so the link below takes you to my old Soundcloud account. Hope it works ok!)
The other morning, I went into work early. It was still dark as I got on the bus, and as it rolled into town, this came on my iPod, and it jolted me from my state of not-quite-awake-yet-and-I’ve-just-read-The-Metro-which-has-really-depressed-me stumble, into a confident, striding, smiling behemoth.
Hopefully it will work for you too. Listen to it really, really loud. Turn it up to 11.
Or just laugh at the title being slang for a big poo, if you prefer,
Without wishing to get all Embarassing Bodies on you all, if I’m to talk about my time in hospital, as I very much want to, then you need to know how I ended up there. And to do that, I need to give you a little bit of background/context.
Around fifteen years ago, I was diagnosed with psoriasis. Here’s what the NHS has to say about the condition:
“Psoriasis is a skin condition that causes red, flaky, crusty patches of skin covered with silvery scales.
These patches normally appear on your elbows, knees, scalp and lower back, but can appear anywhere on your body. Most people are only affected with small patches. In some cases, the patches can be itchy or sore.
Psoriasis affects around 2% of people in the UK. It can start at any age but most often develops in adults under 35 years old, and affects men and women equally.
The severity of psoriasis varies greatly from person to person. For some it’s just a minor irritation but, for others, it can majorly affect their quality of life.
Psoriasis is a long-lasting (chronic) disease that usually involves periods when you have no symptoms or mild symptoms, followed by periods when symptoms are more severe.”
Sounds yummy, doesn’t it?
And boy, does my heart swell with pride to learn that I’m one of the lucky 2% in the country to be afflicted.
Unfortunately, there is no cure for psoriasis, but a range of treatments can improve symptoms and the appearance of skin patches. My symptoms were limited to my knees, shins and elbows, so could be covered up whenever I was out and about. I was prescribed various ointments which seemed to prevent the affected areas from spreading.
Then, around June this year, suddenly it went nuclear, spreading to pretty much every part of my body below the neck line. (‘Little Jez’ remained unaffected, not that anybody would know.)
I went to my GP, who referred me to a consultant dermatologist. I waited for contact.
A few weeks later, I’d not heard anything so I returned to my GP. By now there was an extra factor which I wanted to let him know about; during his previous examination, he had asked if I was getting any aches anywhere, which at the time, I wasn’t. But now, I had developed pain in my legs and feet, my arms felt like I had been punched and given a dead-arm, and I had a loss of grip and function in both of my hands. In short, walking had become difficult and painful, and I was unable to do the simplest of task, such as holding a pen, or opening jars and packaging.
It turns out there’s a complication of psoriasis called psoriatic arthritis, and my GP suspected I had developed this too. A quick call to the consultant, and I had an appointment a week later.
And so it was that I found myself sitting behind a curtain in my underwear, being examined by a seemingly unending line of consultants and medical students.
A week later, I returned to the dermatology clinic, for a further round of poking, prodding and blood tests.
That evening, my phone rang. The call showed up as being “No Caller ID”, so I ignored it, assuming it was a sales call. A voicemail was left, which I also ignored; we’ve all received those calls, where you listen to the voicemail and it’s an automated message asking you to contact somebody about the accident you’ve (not) been involved in, or the PPI you really should reclaim before it’s too late.
By this time, as my loss of function had worsened, I’d signed off work for seven days. I was now due to either return to work, or get officially signed off by my GP. I planned to go to see my GP the next day, which meant getting up early to try and get an appointment, so I went to bed early.
I woke the next morning to find a further ten missed calls. This seemed a particularly aggressive cold call sales campaign. As I went to listen to my voicemalis, the phone rang again. I answered, and found myself talking to one of the dermatological consultants I had met the previous day. She explained that they had reviewed my blood tests, which showed a very high probability – around 80% – that I had a blood infection. A serious one. She instructed me to get myself to A&E as soon as possible.
Ask anyone to describe Supergrass’ records, and I’d wager that most of them would mention their cheeky, upbeat singles, such as “Alright”, “Caught By The Fuzz” and “Pumping on the Stereo”.
What they’re unlikely to mention is some of their quieter, more reflective songs.
Songs like this, the closing track on their third, eponymous album:
We ended up last week with me inviting suggestions for songs which link to The Jimi Hendrix Experience’s “Voodoo Chile [Slight Return]”, which is lifted from their “Electric Ladyland” album, whilst also making a rather bold prediction:
“I’m willing to bet I know which artist Charity Chic will suggest.”
So over to you, CC:
“If you are thinking Wall of Voodoo, they only had one decent song which I suggested last week which could be winner if it didn’t take you back to the radio theme.”
Errrr, no. That wasn’t who I was thinking of. However, that did prompt Dirk from Sexyloser to suggest the following:
“Wall Of Voodoo’s “Dance You F***ers*” was okay as well, if I remember correctly”
“Chile used to be ruled by a tin-pot fascist dictator called General Pinochet. When he took I’ll he came to the UK where our very own tin-pot fascist dictator Margaret Thatcher gave him bed and board at the countries expense. Thereafter the normally spineless Jack Straw the then Home Secretary deported him. I wrote to congratulate him but never got the courtesy of a reply.
So “(We Don’t Need This) Fascist Groove Thang” by Heaven 17 please.”
You see, the other week, having successfully suggested a link to a Kirsty MacColl record for the second week running, and aware of our mutual adoration of her work, CC announced that he would attempt to link to something by her at every opportunity.
I’m reminded of QI, and the number of times Alan Davies has proffered “a blue whale” as an answer, and got it wrong, but then when it is the answer, manages to miss it. Like this:
Now. Before we go any further, I need to just clear a little something up. And having popped the tissues away, now I need to clarify something.
The reason we are linking to The Jimi Hendrix Experience’s “Voodoo Chile [Slight Return]” is that it was the next record in the official BBC Chain, following on from Joni Mitchell’s “You Turn Me On I’m a Radio”, and the official link between the two was given as “…Mitch Mitchell played bass in the Jimi Hendrix Experience…”. Needless to say this raised a few eyebrows, by The Swede (“That’ll be news to Noel Redding’s estate”) and Alex G (“What a disappointing official connection. I expect better than that for £145.50 a year.”)
So let’s just check with the bible of all accurate data: Wikipedia, which lists Mitch Mitchell’s credits as ‘backing vocals, drums (except on “Rainy Day Dream Away” and “Still Raining, Still Dreaming”), percussion, lead vocals on “Little Miss Strange”‘ and Noel Redding’s as ‘backing vocals, bass on “Crosstown Traffic”, “Little Miss Strange”, “Come On (Let the Good Times Roll)”, “Burning of the Midnight Lamp”, and “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)”, acoustic guitar and lead vocals on “Little Miss Strange”‘
So perhaps we should have a couple of Noel Redding related tunes before we go any further.
There is a town just outside London which hosts an annual music festival over the August Bank Holiday Weekend. That town is Reading, but it’s pronounced the same way as Noel’s surname. The other way to pronounce it is, of course, in the same way as in the phrase “Reading, Writing And Arithmetic”, which just so happens to be the title of the debut album by The Sundays. Here’s the opening track:
Similarly, here’s George, with both of his suggestions linking to the unappreciated multi-instrumentalist:
“Noel Redding the bass player/drummer, could also play the mandolin, and so could Ira Lonnie Loudermilk, better known as Ira Louvin, one half the toptastic Louvin Brothers. (He was also the heavy drinking much married and alleged wife-beater who was once shot by one of wives). And one of the Louvin Brothers’ song is The Angels Rejoiced Last Night, which has one of the finest examples of lyrics in country music you’ll ever hear.”
I have two things to say about that. Firstly, I always thought Roy Orbison was ‘The Big O’? Secondly, George adds: “I played this to some of my classes when I was working.” So what on earth was your teaching style like if you had to play the pupils a record imploring them not leave?
“I also played them the occasional track by Gong,” George adds, like that makes it perfectly acceptable. Although maybe in an alternative to classroom bell context, a “That Gong’s not for you, it’s for me” kinda way, I guess it might work.
But I digress. Where were we. Oh yes, Chile. CC was not the only person to go down the “Chile” route. Here’s The Robster from Is This The Life?
“I also couldn’t get Chile out of my head, in this case the country – ‘Chile Your Waters Run Red Through Soweto’. While the Billy Bragg version is best known, for me you can’t beat Sweet Honey In The Rock’s take which is just wonderful.”
And in similar territory, literally, here’s The Great Gog:
“Back in my mid-80s student radio days, I had a stand-in co-presenter for the mammoth 4-hour Saturday Sportswatch (not my choice of title). I set the Hendrix track off and as it finished I was busy scribbling info off Ceefax for an upcoming link. Said co-presenter then back-announced the track, pronouncing Chile as one would the South American country which is spelt that way. Cue much mirth around the studio where music snobbery was positively encouraged.
Anyway…I’m obviously now in South American county mode, so I offer ‘Ecuador’ by Sash!…”
Before we move on to the most popular links, one which received two nominations this week, firstly from Rol (“The other obvious suggestion is ‘Slight Return’, the Bluetones’ biggest hit. But you can have that one for free.”) – CC: did you notice that’s the second time he’s said “obvious choice”? He may as well have said blue whale – but also from The Beard (“Alternatively, ‘Slight Return’ by The Bluetones”), which, to be fair, looks a little bit odd when taken out of context i.e. immediately after his other suggestions, which we’ll come to in a bit.
Now, a Public Service Announcement. I have had to disqualify three suggestions this week, because I don’t think the suggested link is correct. I’m talking about these:
“Jimi’s guitar solo from, oh I forget but not Voodoo Chile, was recycled in BAD’s C’mon Every Beat Box and then later Right Said Fred (Deeply Dippy I think). Which was then covered on the Heavenly Fred EP by the Rockingbirds. One of whom plays guitar for Edwyn Collins.”
I had the BAD track all lined up and ready to go, listened to it to make sure it sounded okay, and realised after it finished that I hadn’t noticed any Hendrix-guitar in there. So I listened again. And again. And again. And again. Nope. So I had a little look on-line, and stumbled across this page which explains all of the samples, source materials and references on BAD’s “No 10 Upping Street” album, from which “C’mon Every Beat Box” is lifted. No mention of Mr Hendrix at all there, nor on several other places I checked.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I would love to post all of them, not least The Rockingbirds version of Deeply Dippy, but as far as I can see, these suggestions fall at the first hurdle. So sorry, but in the absence of any link, I can’t play any of those tunes.
Ok, so there were two other means of linking to our source record this week which attracted mucho attentioni (those online Italian lessons weren’t wasted on me, right?), and so I’ll hand you back over to Dirk for a moment:
“Now, there are quite a lot of really good bands called “The Something Something Experience”, such as The Colorblind James Experience, The Iowa City Beef Experience, The Jean Paul Sartre Experience, The Joyce McKinney Experience, The Mr. T Experience, The Tony Head Experience plus, I’m sure, a few others which I can’t think of currently. ‘Lift To Experience’ spring to mind as well, but they don’t count in my Mr. Monk–world.
Also we have The Sid Presley Experience and the B-Side of their 1984 7″ ‘Hup 2-3-4’ is rather splendid, so it shall be my link for this week, please: ‘Public Enemy Number One’.”
And here’s another one of those ‘The Something Something Experience’ bands, suggested by Yours Truly, although strictly speaking they’re a the ‘Something Something Something Experience’ band: a band with a truly magnificent name, but who’s music sadly doesn’t quite fulfill expectations, unless you’re expecting some fey C86-esque indie jingly-jangly guitars, in which case, fill your boots:
But by far and away the most popular link this week was to Voodoo. There was a great song by Vic and Bob from their “The Smell of Reeves & Mortimer” series called, I think, “Do You Do Voodoo?” which I was hoping to link to now, but can I find it? Can I heck as like.
So, let’s start off with a welcome return for Marie, who suggests this:
“As soon as I saw the word “Voodoo” (with Halloween being just around the corner an’ all), I knew that I had to suggest this song: Charles Sheffield’s ‘It’s Your Voodoo Working'”
I wish I could say I’d planned this week’s post to land a couple of days before Halloween, but honestly, I never look at what the next link in the Chain is until I come to write this, so I can’t claim to be that organised.
“‘Voodoo Chile’ was part of the Hendrix medley released as a free record with Soft Cell’s most accomplished album, The Art of Falling Apart. The other side of that record was a song based on George A Romero’s film about a boy who believes himself to be a vampire. So I’m suggesting that one, ‘Martin’, by Soft Cell.”
It’s not long before babylotti’s back though, with a second suggestion:
“Jeez, how did I not take that chance to link to Tom Robinson Band’s Martin? I think I just did…;-)”
Don’t think you can get round me with a cheeky winking emoji, old chap. That’s the sort of thing likely to make me not post your choice. But since it’s a rather fine choice, here you go:
It’s not often that we get different versions of the same song suggested here, but that’s exactly what happened this week. I’ll let SWC from When You Can’t Remember Anything explain:
“I have always thought that the greatest song to ever feature the word voodoo was by A Guy Called Gerald and Voodoo Ray….”
“But,” continues SWC, “his version is not the best for that you need to go to Acid Brass version.”
For the uninitiated, “Acid Brass” is an album of acid house choons covered by a brass band. The Williams Fairey Brass Band, to be precise. Don’t let that put you off though, this is, as SWC alludes, brilliant:
I said three versions, right? Right. Here’s Swiss Adam from Bagging Area:
“Voodoo Ray is not only the best record with the word Voodoo in its title, but one of the best records ever made. No arguing. Fact. The Acid Brass version is wonderful too but Gerald’s was proof that British house music was going somewhere else entirely. For an updated version see Optimo’s remix (done with Jeremy Deller).”
Can we have a factoid about the tune before you go Swiss?
“It was supposed to be Voodoo Rage but there weren’t enough spaces in the digital name display so he changed it to Ray.”
Thanks Swiss!
Here’s babylotti again. He’s been thinking.
“Just yesterday I was listening to Philip Boa & The Voodoo Club, they once sang a song about Paul, who was in love with a container…..which is a line from another of their songs, so my next suggestion is Love on Sale by them…”
Now. “Container Love” by Philip Boa & The Voodoo Club is another record I adore, so I’m a bit annoyed you didn’t pick that one. In fact, I very nearly over-ruled you and played that instead. But then I realised we’re a bit light on cheese this week – we love the occasional cheesy record round these parts – and without Love on Sale then you wouldn’t have been able to provide this week’s Dairylea triangle:
“Which leads me to my awful song selection, from Love on Sale to ‘You Gotta Be A Hustler If You Wanna Get On’ by Sue Wilkinson.”
That made it to Number 25 in the UK charts back in 1980. It was her only hit. Maybe she’d have had more if her name hadn’t been so…well, drab. I mean, it’s not exactly the sort of name that conjures up visions of a pop star, is it? To me, Sue Wilkinson sounds like the woman from the office with a fixation on cats, who arranges the collections for people’s birthdays and tries to engage you in conversations about The Great British Bake Off when you’re trying to mind your own business by killing time at the photocopier.
Now, we can’t really do a post referencing records linked to Voodoo without mentioning The Robster’s next suggestion:
“Screamin’ Jay Hawkins looked like a witch doctor who practiced voodoo. He’s best known, of course, for his classic I Put A Spell On You, but in 1974, he released a single called Voodoo, which was backed by You Put The Spell On Me. So you can have any one of those three.”
Suddenly, this has become like a version of Michael Barrymore’s “Strike It Lucky”: I can have top, middle or bottom, you say? Middle! (See, I can resist making the obvious joke sometimes)
“Working on the basis of ‘first thought, best thought’, the song that immediately popped into my head to follow ‘Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)’ was ‘(The Ballad Of) The Voodoo Ranger’ by Multicoloured Shades.”
Chain Gang, count yourself very lucky, for that song made me think of one very cheesy one which, had I had the time, would have got posted right now. I’ll save it for another time…
Here’s Swiss Adam, back for a second, third and fourth bite at the cherry:
“Voodoo always makes me think of The Gun Club’s debut album Fire of Love (the cover art). Sex Beat is a peak on an album of peaky peaks. They were never that good again.”
I’m not sure we’ve ever had someone link via the medium of cover art before. I suppose, given the cover art I used for “Electric Ladyland” last week – which Hendrix himself disapproved of, by the way – I should be grateful. Anyway: a first!
Anyone who regularly visits his excellent Bagging Area blog will not be surprised by the manner in which Swiss continues: “…which gives me two Andrew Weatherall links- Two Lone Swordsmen did a spirited cover version of Sex Beat…”
I always thought that was about popular chicken-in-a-basket entertainer Gary Wilmot. Apparently not.
A couple of weeks ago, one of the songs posted here was Carly Simon’s “Nobody Does It Better”, and I happened to comment that it was my favourite Bond theme ever, although occasionally it might be the next record. Here’s Alyson from What’s It All About, Alfie?:
It seems Rol has been trying to think of something clever:
“I was going to try and be deep and obscure this week, but then I remembered one of my favourite tracks from my favourite album of last year: ‘Voodoo Doll’ by John Grant”.
Regular readers will know I share Rol’s love of all things John Grant related, so here you go:
Time to welcome back (I think – you have posted here before, haven’t you…?) Brian from Linear Tracking Lives:
“Like The Robster, my first thought was Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. Then I recalled quite a few albums with voodoo in the name, such as the Dirty Dozen Band’s Voodoo and Paul Carrack’s Suburban Voodoo, but there isn’t that one song that hits on the theme. Then I smiled when I thought of Harvey Korman as Hedley Lamarr in ‘Blazing Saddles’ telling his band of bad guys “Now go do that voodoo that you do so well.” Yes, I’m that highbrow. Well, that’s liberally lifted from Cole Porter’s ‘You Do Something to Me’. Francis Albert sings that song with gusto, but it’s not my favourite. So, finally, my pick is a close cousin to voodoo…. Witchcraft, sung by Sinatra”
Here’s Alex G, fresh from expressing his disappointment at last week’s link, which given the amount of research he’s done into his own link is a bit rich:
“Talking Heads did a song called Papa Legba, which is named after some sort of spirit in Haitian Voodoo.”
(Papa Legba is the loa who serves as the intermediary between the loa and humanity. He stands at a spiritual crossroads and gives (or denies) permission to speak with the spirits of Guinee, and is believed to speak all human languages. Either that or an over-priced midfielder currently arousing the curiosity of Manchester United’s scouting team. You decide.)
Alyson’s back, to expand on her earlier “Live and Let Die” nomination:
“Thinking about it a bit more, the fictitious island where much of the Voodoo action in the film took place was called San Monique but of course it is highly likely that this fictitious island was supposed to be Haiti where, apparently, the majority of the population hold Voodoo beliefs. This of course got me thinking of the song ‘Haitian Divorce’ by Steely Dan.”
Time now for a big warm Chain Gang welcome to Kuttowski, who unless I’m very much mistaken, is Walter from the excellent A few good times in my life blog. Welcome aboard, Kuttowski/Walter, what have you got for us?
“I think it is time to join the chain gang. Thinking about the word voodoo Screaming Jay Hawkins and Voodoo Ray came to my mind. But it all said by the ones before. So I would suggest Voodoo by Mano Negra, a French band lead by Manu Chao back in the late 80’s. Starting with a dark mood this song turns into a weird folk chaos.”
And so to the last of the Voodoo related tracks, and a very heartfelt welcome back, albeit via the conduit that is SWC, to Badger:
“I spoke to Badger and his suggestion from the sofa is thus. Part of the voodoo ceremony is to slaughter a rooster. (He is basing this solely from the Mickey Rourke/Lisa Bonet film [Angel Heart, I believe – Film Ed] of a few years back.) But that takes us too ‘Mansize Rooster’ by Supergrass.”
Hallelujah, what a great, often overlooked tune. And I think I speak for everyone here when I say it’s great to hear Badger is on his way back to fighting fit.
Four songs to go, and here’s my last choice. This is, I believe, a cover of a Kiss record, performed here by The Lemonheads back in their early days before they had added the The to their name. I’m not going to explain the link: if you don’t get it, then just type the words “Jimi Hendrix” and “Plaster Caster” into Google. But don’t do it at work:
Having given him a bit of a ribbing earlier, I was going to let Charity Chic have the last word this week. But, that honour is being saved for my favourite link of the week.
Earlier on, I mentioned that The Beard had suggested The Bluetones “Slight Return” as his final choice, and here come his first two choices, the reasoning behind which I love:
“From Jimi Hendrix to Hendrik Van Kleefe, the dodgy Dutch diamond dealer from To Hull And Back, the Only Fools and Horses Christmas special from 1985. Two of the world’s greatest cities, Hull and Amsterdam, are featured in the episode. 1985 also saw the release of Flag Day, the debut single by “the fourth best band in Hull” aka The Housemartins.”
Right, can you all line up please? *Does quick head count* Okay, I don’t think I missed anyone out. So let’s have a look at the reason behind the next record in the official Chain:
“Jimi Hendrix’s manager was Chas Chandler, who played bass in The Animals…” …and this was the record of choice:
So, let’s be having your suggestions for records which you can link to The House of the Rising Sun by The Animals, along with a description as to the link between the two records, via the Comments section down below.
Had I posted this a few weeks ago, I could have appeared fairly organised. Topical, even. Vaguely current. Relevant. Lots of other phrases that don’t exactly spring to mind when describing your truly.
I could have linked today’s post to the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth or death, whichever it was. I can’t remember. I just know he was born and died on the same day. With some years in between, obviously.
Or, after his body was found buried under a car park in Leicester, I could have linked it to bloody Leicester winning the Premiership (see, I’m still not bitter. Totally over it.)
But I’m not organised, not topical, neither current nor relevant, so hear I am, better late than never.
Released in March 1997, and the second single to be lifted from the second album “In It For The Money” (the first, “Going Out” had been released over a year earlier), this is Supergrass at their loudest:
The eagle-eared amongst you will have noticed that neither the king nor the Shakespeare play is mentioned in the song – so what the hecking heck is that title about?
As with many other musicians, when writing a song, Supergrass would give it a working title. The most famous example of this is the one that Paul McCartney gave to “Yesterday”: “Scrambled Eggs”. Anyway, Supergrass used to give their songs people’s names as working titles, and this was the third one they had provisionally christened Richard.
That is all.
Oh, no wait a minute, come back. I’ve got some more.
Here’s another song called “Richard” (although to the best of my knowledge, not a famous one); in 2013 it was the 30th Anniversary of the original release of Billy Bragg’s “Life’s a Riot with Spy vs. Spy”, and to celebrate it got the whole remastered and re-released she-bang, including a bonus disc recorded live on 5 June 2013 at the Union Chapel, Islington, “That” London – the same venue I’ll be seeing Billy play later at this year.
The bonus disc starts with this introduction from Billy:
“I’m gonna tell you why we came on a little bit early tonight. There is an early curfew here…at this venue…but with the cameras here and everything, it was suggested that with the 30th anniversary of ‘Life’s a Riot’ coming up, I might do something a bit special for you at the end. Now: other bands, when they want to celebrate a seminal album, hire the Albert Hall and an orchestra and spend an evening playing the album. Fortunately for you and me, especially those of you with expensive babysitters, ‘Life’s a Riot with Spy vs. Spy” is only seventeen minutes long. It fits neatly into a second encore.”
He then does just that – plays the whole album in 17 minutes (or so).
Or you can watch the whole thing here; seems to have been filmed by someone in the audience, but it’s surprisingly good quality, not your standard shaky hand-held footage with sound quality akin to being recorded underwater affair:
I love that he still dedicates the last verse of “A New England”, which wasn’t on his original version, but was on hers, to Kirsty MacColl.
And, just to make this post all nice and circular and tidy, here’s a clip from the glorious “Cunk on Shakespeare”, where Diane Morgan/Charlie Brooker’s genius documentary making character, Philomena Cunk, explores the works of Shakespeare:
If you didn’t see it, try and track the full programme down. I was laughing like a drain (which has always struck me as being an odd simile) for the whole half hour it was on.
A History of Dubious Taste 