The M M & M 1000 – part 34

Here’s the latest batch of Music Musings and Miscellany’s unapologetically subjective selection of the twentieth century’s best 1000 singles. Another Load of Ms.

GLADYS KNIGHT & THE PIPS – Midnight Train to Georgia / Window Raising Granny (Buddah 383 1973)
“I’d rather live in his world than without him in mine“. This is a song about a culture clash. She’s a sophisticated northern city bred girl. He’s from the rural south. Finding it impossible to adjust to the different pace of life, he yearns to return to his roots, and she has to decide whether she’s more attached to hers or to him. I remember seeing a skit on the Richard Pryor TV show some years back where he was convinced that they could save money having the Pips perform without Gladys. It was very funny seeing them do the backing vocals and dance routines without her lead, but it also highlighted how brilliantly tight they were both in terms of their singing and choreography.

HELEN HUMES – Million Dollar Secret / I’m Gonna Let Him Ride (Modern 779 1950)
Helen Humes was typical of the sassy female R&B singers of the forties and fifties who oozed sexuality, but in a funny, take-no-bullshit way. “Million Dollar Secret” was recorded live, and you can hear the audience cheering her on as she imparts her tale of shameless gold-digging. “Now I’ve got a man who’s seventy-eight / And I’m just thirty-three / Everybody thinks I’m crazy / But his will’s made out to me!”.

DELTA FIVE – Mind Your Own Business / Now That You’re Gone (Rough Trade 31 1979)
Part Gang of Four, part Raincoats, the Delta Five were typical of the wave of post-punk gobby feminist groups that seemed to cluster around Rough Trade. Both the singing and the production were flat and glamourless, but they had a rough-edged funk to them that talked to the feet. And if the choruses had a bit of the protest march sloganeering about them, they stuck in the head. It’s kind of depressing that thirty years on, women in pop are back to being manufactured teen puppets. Even self-proclaimed feminists like the Gossip are more image and packaging than content.

CAB CALLOWAY & HIS ORCHESTRA – Minnie the Moocher / Doin’ the Rhumba (Brunswick 6074 1931)
I’m sure virtually everybody knows this classic from the dawn of the Swing era, largely due to the “hi-de-hi” nonsense chorus. It almost sounds like it’s played for laughs, but away from that chorus it tells a sad tale of a girl who dreams of a fantasy life of untold riches, but who’s stuck with a no-good cokehead who “showed her how to kick the gong around“, or in other words, got her into opium smoking.

DICK DALE – Misirlou / Eight Till Midnight (Del-Tone 5019 1962)
This is a song with a long history that has crossed continents, styles and cultures since it was first penned in Greece as a rebetiko tune back in 1927 by a Greek exile from Turkey called Michalis Patrinos. It became a standard in both Greek and Arab cultures in the years before World War Two. In 1941, a Greek-American called Nick Roubanis did a commercial jazz version, and noticing that the tune had never been published in the US, credited himself as composer. It was soon given English lyrics which bore no relation whatsoever to the originals. Dick Dale, being of Lebanese-American stock, knew the tune in the form that had evolved in the Arab world. He picked out the basic melody on guitar, increased it to warp-speed, and a legendary surf tune was born. Thanks to Tarantino, it’s by far the best-known version in the west today, and a staple in any surf-garage band’s repertoire.

EVERYTHING BUT THE GIRL – Missing / mixes (Blanco Y Negro NEG84T 1995)
Ben Watt and Tracey Thorn were contemporaries of mine at Hull University. But I was never much of a fan of their music, although I really liked the Marine Girls and a few other early tracks like “Plain Sailing” and their cover of “Night and Day”. Massive Attack brought Tracey on board for the Protection album, and she absolutely shone in that setting. The duo obviously thought so too, as they made a complete change in their sound for “Missing” in 1994. The Todd Terry remix that came out the following year is the one that everyone knows. It plays to the strengths of her voice, by giving the tune a late night, chilled tempo dripping with melancholy, and yet with enough oomph for the dancefloor.

DEL THA FUNKEE HOMOSAPIEN – Mistadobalina / Burnt (Elektra 142 1991)
It’s just one of those records that you hear once and can’t forget. As everyone probably knows, Del is Ice Cube’s cousin, and cuz produces here. It’s good time vibe really couldn’t be further away from NWA, and it still sounds fresh.

FRANÇOISE HARDY – Mon Amie la Rose / Je n’Attends plus Personne (Vogue 1252 1964)
Funny, I’ve just checked the history of this song and discovered that this was the original version. I’d always thought that it was already a standard when Françoise Hardy recorded it. It sounds timeless, with a sad and vulnerable but sultry feel that somehow only seems genuine when sung in French. Hardy’s voice is an aural aphrodisiac, as far as I’m concerned. Natacha Atlas’s version is brilliant too.

BO DIDDLEY – Mona / Hey Bo Diddley (Checker 860 1957)
For me, this is the song that encapsulates everything that was great about Bo Diddley. The riff and the groove never sounded better than on “Mona”.

CLYDE McPHATTER & THE DRIFTERS – Money Honey / The Way I Feel (Atlantic 1006 1953)
“Money Honey” is just one of a long tradition of songs that place the green folding stuff above love, life and happiness. Especially when you’ve got none. The 1953 original model Drifters shared no members with the 1958 Ben E King version, let alone the groups that continue to this day. But they’ve become an institution, and will probably still be around long after I’m worm food.

VALENTINE BROTHERS – Money’s Too Tight To Mention / instrumental (Bridge 1982 1982)
Forget Simply Red’s version if you can. John and William Valentine were one-hit wonders who didn’t even have a proper hit, if that makes sense. But this song (written by the pair) was an absolute belter. It sounded out of time in 1982 when soul music had split into post-disco electro stuff, and glossy bedroom crooners. This was a record that harked back to classic pre-disco seventies soul, but with elements of smooth jazz to it too. The only thing that pins it down to the early eighties is the mention of Reaganomics. They did an album called First Take which I’ve never seen, let alone heard.

PIXIES – Monkey Gone to Heaven / Manta Ray (4AD 904 1989)
I haven’t the foggiest idea what it’s about. It’s probably still a staple of indie discos – not that I go to indie discos. I think the bands of that era – Pixies, Throwing Muses, Sonic Youth, Hüsker Dü, Dinosaur Jr etc were the last generation of rock bands that took the simple guitar / bass / drums format and made something both original and exciting. All of the interesting bands since have fused rock with other stuff. OK, a massive generalisation, but I can’t think of anyone in the last 20 years who has taken the basic form further forward.

DAVE BARTHOLOMEW – The Monkey / Shufflin’ Time (Imperial 5438 1957)
New Orleans legend Dave Bartholomew provided an interesting twist to the theory of evolution with this witty little song. Two monkeys debate Darwin’s theory, but come to the conclusion that it’s flawed because they can’t believe that their ancestors evolved into something as crass and stupid as human beings.

COLOURBOX – The Moon is Blue / You Keep Me Hanging On (4AD 507 1985)
It must be one of the strangest disappearing acts ever. Colourbox blazed a trail that took elements of pop history and mixed them with contemporary electropop and ahead of their time sampling. The Young brothers then went on to have a massive worldwide hit as part of M/A/R/R/S and then promptly vanished. “The Moon is Blue” is a 1980s take on doowop, with Lorita Grahame’s powerful voice swinging through a ballad that sounds like it comes from a parallel universe’s version of a fifties Harlem street corner.

BOSTON – More Than a Feeling / Smokin’ (Epic 50266 1976)
Guilty pleasure time. Airbrushed harmonies and produced to within an inch of its life, there’s something extraordinarily uplifting about this track. It’s got guitar solos that it’s impossible to resist getting out the air guitar for. And of course, it’s got that bassline – the one that Kurt Cobain nicked wholesale for a certain tune that proved quite popular fifteen years later.

TIM BUCKLEY – Morning Glory / Once I Was (Elektra 45623 1967)
I know you’re supposed to prefer the more freeform, jazz-influenced albums that came later, but Goodbye and Hello is the Tim Buckley album I always return to. Its combination of psychedelic folk, baroque pop and grandiose suites seldom put a foot wrong. “Morning Glory” is an unassuming little ballad of exquisite beauty and one of the record’s many highlights.

SLOWDIVE – Morningrise / She Calls / Losing Today (Creation 98 1991)
Has there ever been a band so derided by the mainstream rock press and yet so influential? I was an early convert. Their albums (bar the swansong Pygmalion) always seemed a bit uneven, but the EPs showed them at their best. “Morningrise” has a couple of moments when the guitars go to places that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s impossible to describe how some music has a genuinely physical effect like that. One has to admire Neil Halstead for following his muse and plugging away at his countryish singer-songwriter stuff to a disinterested world when a reformed Slowdive could probably rake it in. They’d miss Rachel Goswell, though. I think she suffers from some ear condition that would make it impossible for her to return to playing stuff at Slowdive’s volume.

GUIDED BY VOICES – Motor Away / Color of My Blade (Matador 148 1995)
Guided By Voices at their most polished, most basic and least wayward. Simply an exciting and uplifting piece of punk-pop.

HANK WILLIAMS – Move It On Over / I Heard You Cryin’ In Your Sleep (MGM 1003 1947)
Hank’s in his missus’ bad books and has to share the kennel with the dog for the night. A witty piece of whimsy that is a rock ‘n’ roll tune in all but name.

CURTIS MAYFIELD – Move On Up / Give It Up (Buddah 2011080 1971)
For some odd reason, his American record company didn’t see this as a single. In Britain they knew better. If you want positive, life-affirming, spiritual soul music that makes you want to bounce around in unfettered joy, there can’t be many tunes better than this. Possibly the most irresistable horn riff in pop, too.

More soon.

The M M & M 1000 – part 25

Here’s the latest batch of Music Musings and Miscellany’s unapologetically subjective selection of the twentieth century’s best 1000 singles. Yet more I’s.

YVONNE ELLIMAN – If I Can’t Have You / Good Sign (RSO 884 1978)
The Bee Gees jumped on the disco bandwagon with Saturday Night Fever, and in their wake, virtually every desperate pop star did a disco record. It’s little wonder, then, that the genre provoked such hostility when there was so much pap being released. Despite loathing pretty much everything to do with the film and its soundtrack, I’ve always had a soft spot for this song. Perhaps it’s because it’s got a heart. It isn’t cheesy and shiny and plastic. Elliman sings it like she means it – with soul.

GLADYS KNIGHT & THE PIPS – If I Were Your Woman / The Tracks of My Tears (Soul 35078 1970)
MILLIE JACKSON – If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don’t Want to Be Right / The Rap (Spring 155 1975)
In popular love song, the woman’s point of view tended to be either doe-eyed worshipper or wronged victim. Often both. Deeper, more complex emotions were rarely aired. That simplified view of the world began to change rapidly as the sixties became the seventies. “If I Were Your Woman” sees Gladys Knight yearning for a man who’s unobtainable. Millie Jackson has got him anyway, despite the fact that he’s married. Neither is apologetic about their situation, although both recognise that it’s far from ideal.

CURTIS MAYFIELD – If There’s a Hell Below (We’re All Gonna Go) / The Makings of You (Curtom 1955 1970)
Amidst an uneasy hubbub, Curtis spits the opening lines of a song that is a frustrated reaction to racial polarisation, political inaction and corruption, social breakdown and the general descent of society into violence – a long way from the ideals of the Civil Rights movement. There is a deep anger about the general complacency of everyone. The repeated refrain of “Don’t Worry” is sarcastic, not reassuring. Coming from a natural optimist, the despair that oozes from every word is shocking. It remains one of Curtis Mayfield’s darkest, but greatest songs, with an arrangement of uneasy funk that builds a fragile surface of joy over a dark turmoil underneath.

HAROLD MELVIN & THE BLUE NOTES – If You Don’t Know Me By Now / Let Me Into Your World (Philadelphia International 3520 1972)
One of the finest soul ballads of the seventies, “If You Don’t Know Me By Now” is lush and sad, but at the same time somehow uplifting. Teddy Pendergrass gives one of his finest vocal performances as a frustrated man who can see that the suspicion and jealousy of his partner is threatening their relationship. He’s beginning to wonder if it can ever change, and whether it would be for the best to end it. It’s another example of how soul music had moved from simple boy meets girl, boy loses girl (or vice versa) stuff towards a reflection of the emotional complexities of real relationships.

SPINNERS – I’ll Be Around / How Could I Let You Get Away? (Atlantic 2904 1972)
JACKSON FIVE – I’ll Be There / One More Chance (Motown 1171 1970)
I wrote about the Spinners’ masterpiece here. Both songs cover similar ground – the noble dumpee selflessly reassuring his ex that he’ll always be there for emotional support. Whether she finds that touching or creepily akin to stalking is not recorded. What both also share is an air of steadfast melancholy that is really touching. I don’t think the Jacksons’ ever bettered “I’ll Be There”, even though the sentiments are a little odd coming from a boy yet to reach his teens.

NEW YORK CITY – I’m Doing Fine Now / Ain’t It So (Chelsea 113 1973)
It’s just the way things fell, but here is yet another seventies soul classic. Pretty much one hit wonders, New York City gave a Big Apple take on the Philadelphia sound. Indeed, it sounds more Philly than a lot of Philly records. Despite the suspicions of bandwagon jumping, “I’m Doing Fine Now” is a great song that does the ‘I’m alright even though you’ve gone’ thing refreshingly straight, without the undercurrent of pretence that someone like Smokey Robinson would thread through the subject. They really do sound like they’re doing absolutely fine.

TAMI LYNN – I’m Gonna Run Away From You / The Boy Next Door (Atco 6342 1966)
A Northern Soul favourite, this was reissued in the UK in the seventies and became a hit half a dozen or so years after it was recorded. It’s not difficult to see why it beguiled them at the Casino and the Twisted Wheel. The rhythm is urgent, and there is repeated hook by the backing singers that ensnares the listener immediately.

BLIND WILLIE JOHNSON – I’m Gonna Run to the City of Refuge / Jesus Is Coming Soon (Columbia 14391 1928)
Nick Cave used the song as the basis for his “City Of Refuge” on Tender Prey. It’s not hard to see why he was so drawn to Blind Willie Johnson. Johnson was, on the surface, a bluesman. He sang blues-like tunes accompanied by guitar. But his subject matter was exclusively religious, and he came across like a true apocalyptic fire-and-brimstone type. His earthy growl served only to give him added gravitas. His God was the Old Testament one of judgement and vengeance, not some fluffy happy-clappy type.

FOUR TOPS – I’m In a Different World / Remember When (Motown 1132 1968)
Not generally considered an A list Tops’ song, “I’m in a Different World” ticks all the same boxes for me that their better known songs do. Levi Stubbs sounds emotionally distraught as usual, even if the subject matter is ostensibly upbeat!

PASSIONS – I’m In Love With a German Film Star / Don’t Talk To Me I’m Shy (Polydor 222 1981)
Largely forgotten now, the Passions were a band who never fulfilled their promise. The dreamy, reverb-heavy “German Film Star” is one of the cornerstones of so-called dream-pop (a genre name that I’ve always loathed), with a debt owed by acts as diverse as the Cocteau Twins and Galaxie 500. “Don’t Talk to Me I’m Shy” is faster, more Lush-like.

SKIP JAMES – I’m So Glad / Special Rider Blues (Paramount 13098 1931)
The song’s best known these days through the cover by Cream. Skip James’ original has an atmosphere all of its own that serves the song much better than the over-excited pseudo-metal of Clapton’s group. Country blues fans will attest that he was one of the finest and most original practitioners of the form, but he was stymied by appearing on the scene just as the music industry (and everything else) was disappearing down the black hole of the Depression.

HANK WILLIAMS – I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry / My Bucket’s Got a Hole In It (MGM 10560 1949)
Hear the lonesome whiperwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry

I’ve never seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry

Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry

The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry

Has ever a more perfect paean to loneliness been written? I don’t think so.

More soon

The M M & M 1000 – part 23

Here’s the latest batch of Music Musings and Miscellany’s unapologetically subjective selection of the twentieth century’s best 1000 singles. There are a lot beginning with I. Here’s the first batch.

EMRY ARTHUR – I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow / Down in the Tennessee Valley (Vocalion 5208 1928)
The song is probably best known these days from the soundtrack of the Coen brothers’ film Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? Emry Arthur’s version is my favourite. He was a Kentuckyian bluegrass singer, songwriter and guitarist who lost a finger in a hunting accident. Like many musicians of the era, he faded into obscurity during the Depression and made his last recordings for Decca in 1935.

SIMON & GARFUNKEL – I Am a Rock / Flowers Never Bend With the Rainfall (Columbia 43617 1966)
“I Am a Rock” is a great song about emotional self-containment. “I have my books and my poetry to protect me; / I am shielded in my armour, / Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. / I touch no one and no one touches me”. Of course, it is merely the delusional self-protection of a man hurt in love, and now recoiling to a place of emotional safety. How tempting, though, to avoid the pain that love can bring.

GUIDED BY VOICES – I Am a Scientist / The Curse of the Black Ass Buffalo (Scat 38 1994)
I think most people agree that Bee Thousand was Robert Pollard’s masterpiece. “I Am a Scientist” is one of the album’s stand-out songs. It’s a ditty that uses the metaphors of scientist, journalist and pharmacist to explore Pollard’s need to communicate his feelings through the medium of music: “I am a pharmacist / Prescriptions I will fill you / Potions, pills and medicines / To ease your painful lives / I am a lost soul / I shoot myself with rock & roll / The hole I dig is bottomless / But nothing else can set me free”

SHANGRI-LAS – I Can Never Go Home Anymore / Bull Dog (Red Bird 43 1965)
Girl falls for boy. Mum disapproves. Girl runs away from home. Mum dies of a broken heart. Girl is distraught. Nobody could articulate teenage heartbreak quite as crushingly as the Shangri-las. Listen to this with dry eyes, and you’ve got no heart.

THE WHO – I Can See For Miles / Someone’s Coming (Track 604011 1967)
Townshend’s predilection for song cycles, rock operas and the like never convinced me (Quadrophenia aside). When he concentrated his craft into standalone songs, the results could be quite magnificent. “I Can See For Miles” is an acid rock masterpiece, albeit with slightly messianic overtones (the seeds for Tommy, perhaps). Keith Moon never sounded better, either.

THE MISUNDERSTOOD – I Can Take You To The Sun / Who Do You Love? (Fontana 777 1966)
The Misunderstood’s recorded legacy is tiny. It’s a pity, because “I Can Take You to the Sun” is probably the greatest advocation of mind expansion from an era full of coded references to hallucinogens. Running from soaring, highly amplified slide guitar to a gentle flamenco-like coda, the song crams a lot into three minutes. The final stanza is full of pity and disappointment felt by the acid prosletyzer aimed at those who mock the creed. “Well I speak of love but you do not see / cause words are words and they mean nothing more / with half a mind you laugh at me / cause I speak of colours you’ve never seen before / You’ve existed in a lie, that will some day show / I can take you to the Sun, to the Sun, / but you don’t want to go”. The last two lines fade into echo, as if the singer is disappearing into his own consciousness. It’s a song that is boldly effervescent, but also psychologically fragile. Very much like the acid experience.

TEMPTATIONS – I Can’t Get Next To You / Running Away (Gordy 7093 1969)
Between 1968 and 1973, the Temptations couldn’t put a foot wrong. “I Can’t Get Next To You” is a typically brazen and funky Norman Whitfield production. The protagonist boasts of his superhuman prowess, whilst lamenting the one thing he can’t do – win the woman he loves’ affection. It’s a brilliantly executed conceit, and uses all five voices of the band like a Greek chorus.

FOUR TOPS – I Can’t Help Myself / Sad Souvenirs (Motown 1076 1965)
Even when he was upbeat and relatively lucky in love, Levi Stubbs couldn’t help sounding like heartbreak was just a heartbeat away. Classic Motown from the Four Tops’ golden era.

WILLIE MABON – I Don’t Know / Worry Blues (Chess 1531 1952)
“She said, ‘You shouldn’t say that’ / I say, ‘What did I say to make you mad this time, baby?‘”. It’s the way Mabon sarcastically puts across that last line that always makes me smile. You can hear him rolling his eyes in frustration at his woman’s irrationality. She may have a point, of course, since he’s threatened to chuck her out or even poison her! But that makes his incredulity all the more funny. And yes, I know that’s wicked, but the song isn’t meant to be taken seriously.

GLADYS KNIGHT & THE PIPS – I Don’t Want to Do Wrong / Is There a Place? (Soul 35083 1971)
One of the universal fears of the soldier away from home has always been the arrival of the dreaded “Dear John” letter. Even though her man’s absence isn’t explicitly explained, this was the era of the Vietnam war and thousands of young wives and girlfriends were left at home, not knowing whether they’d ever see their loved ones again. Inevitably, many yielded to temptation. Gladys Knight articulates this brilliantly. She’s emotionally torn between a new lover, and the guilt of abandoning a man who’s far from home. You can see it from her point of view, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

MARY WELLS – I Don’t Want to Take a Chance / I’m So Sorry (Motown 1011 1961)
Mary Wells was Motown’s first superstar. She was also the first singer to jump ship, a move that proved disastrous for her career. She died of cancer aged just 49. “I Don’t Want to Take A Chance” was one of her first hits for the label, a sweet and slightly coy song about being reluctant to jump into a new love affair, having been burned by the last one.

WILLIAM BELL – I Forgot To Be Your Lover / Bring the Curtain Down (Stax 15 1968)
This is a beautiful and tender love song. In soul, it’s so often the case that the singer only sees the lack of attention he or she gave to their lover when it’s too late and they’ve gone. Things haven’t gone that far yet for Bell, but he realises that he’s been a lot less than perfect and wants to make amends. You can’t help believing that he really is genuinely sorry. It would be a hard hearted woman who couldn’t forgive him.

UNCLE TUPELO – I Got Drunk / Sin City (Rockville 6055 1990)
The first single from Belleville’s finest sons is a song about drinking that is refreshingly free from maudlin self-pity and sentimentally. The town is boring. Life is boring. What else is there to do but sit in a bar all night? “I got drunk and I fell down”. That’s pretty direct and matter-of-fact.

ELECTRIC PRUNES – I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night / Luvin’ (Reprise 532 1966)
Everybody assumed it was about a bad acid trip, of course. But just because of those spooky psych guitars (and one of the most amazing intros ever committed to vinyl), and the obvious hallucinogenic allusions, it’s simply about being haunted by the (imagined) ghost of a former lover. But what a beautiful piece of twisted, mind-squelching music it is.

SUPREMES – I Hear a Symphony / Who Could Ever Doubt My Love (Motown 1083 1965)
This is one of those songs whose key changes keep on taking it up to higher and higher levels of euphoria. It’s pop at its most carefree and joyous.

GLADYS KNIGHT & THE PIPS – I Heard It Through the Grapevine / It’s Time to Go Now (Soul 35039 1967)
MARVIN GAYE – I Heard It Through the Grapevine / You’re What’s Happening (Tamla 54176 1968)
The first version of “Grapevine” was recorded by the Miracles but wasn’t deemed fit for release. Gaye’s was the second, orchestrated and produced by Norman Whitfield. Again, Berry Gordy thought it wasn’t worth issuing. The third version by Gladys Knight and the Pips was issued, and was a big hit in 1967. It’s much more direct and uptempo than Gaye’s reading, almost sounding like a different song. Marvin’s take was finally issued on the 1968 album In the Groove. DJs noticed it, and started playing it to death – much more, in fact, than the album’s first single “You” which barely made the top 40. Eventually, Gordy bowed to the inevitable, and the result was a number one at the end of 1968. Dave Marsh (who provided the inspiration to do this series) rated it as the best single of all time. That’s maybe a little over the top. But there is no question that it was one of Gaye’s finest vocal performances, and the arrangement added a near perfect air of suspicion and fear to proceedings.

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