7 inch single collection: Ringo Starr - Wrack My Brain

It's everybody's favourite Beatle, it's...


RINGO STARR


A: Wrack My Brain
B; Drumming is My Madness
(RCA 1981)


So, Ringo...hmmmm. I'm not sure how to start this one. I like Ringo, I'm sure many people do, he actually seems like the most personable member of The Beatles, but he seems to be the butt of so many jokes, and the popular perception is that he's not as good (musically) as the other three. Although this is not not uncommon perception with drummers. I reckon it's a bit unfair - I know that I couldn't do what Ringo does, and I've never heard a track on which he's performing and thought it sounded wrong, or too basic. In fact if his work is complementing and supporting melody, then actual he's doing his job and doing it well. Also he's not one of these jazz or rock drummers that think they's God's gift to percussion, and exercises it with lengthy, often interminable drum solos - nope - his work work is tight, and on the beat - just what is needed. Of course then he has to and go and sing...

Ringo Starr is unlikely to grace anyone's list of top 100 pop and rock vocalists - that's fine when making those kinds of lists many perfectly adequate and acceptable singers get left off, and Ringo is a perfectly adequate singer. This sounds like damning with faint praise, but there's plenty of mediocre singers out there who are more highly rated because the slack is taken up by the skill of their band, the orchestration and arrangement of their songs.

Wrack My Brain* is bright and breezy slice of pop. Honestly not much can be said, it's light, it's actually quite catchy. The guitar solo comes slightly from left field as it's a little (but not too much) country inflected. This goes for the little snatches of honky tonk sounding piano that pepper the arrangement. I quite like it, except just at they end when it ends in some very odd synthesised backing vocals - but that's a minor quibble.

Flipping the platter over we find Drumming is My Madness - which is good to know, that Ringo has a passion for his day job! Although the drumming here is doing nothing that particularly stands out - instead it's got a quirky groove, lead by a guitar, it's quite bassy, with some fun horns filling in. There's a couple of small drum breakouts, but actual there's a flute solo that stands out more. Ringo's singing is lesser than on the a-side of this disc. He alternately sounds either bored or amused at doing this, it's like this is just a fun piece that he's knocking off for himself, without ever anticipating that it'll see the light of day.

This record is light-hearted fun - never likely to trouble either the charts or serious musos, but as a snack between heavier bits of music it cleanses the palette, without filling you up.

*OK - so research is going against the ethos of this blog, but Wrack or Rack? I have a Yardbirds single called Rack My Mind (due on this blog one day!) - so surely one of these is wrong and I can get on my high horse about it! No - turns out that either are acceptable spellings, Wrack maybe slightly more old-fashioned, but it's just as acceptable.

Next Time some proper grunge...

7 inch single collection: Sandie Shaw - Puppet on a String

It's winner of the 1967 Eurovision Song Contest, it's...


SANDIE SHAW

A: Puppet on a String
B: Tell the Boys
(Pye 1967)


In England, at least, the Eurovision Song Contest seems to have become a bit of a joke. Public perception of it seems to have come round to the view that it's a slightly overlong camp-fest not worth taking seriously. Many people believe that it's only worth watching for the scores, and seeing how politically inclined they are. It's probably sour grapes - surely the nation that gave the world The Beatles, The Stones, Bowie, Queen and The Spice Girls should have no problems winning a song contest. Well, we do have problems, and we have done for a while, but it's not always been so - we've won it on a few occasions, and come second many more, and the shebang used to get taken relatively seriously.*

Puppet on a String was the winner in 1967, and was performed by popular singer Sandie Shaw - she'd had many hits before this time including a couple of number ones, and so was yer actual proper bona fide star. Popular myth is that Sandie hated this song (or maybe it's legacy and effect upon her career) - although she may have come to something of a rapprochement with it in the more recently. Back in those days a singer was chosen, and they were given a number of songs and the one that was the most popular was the chosen entry - so if you were the singer you could get landed with a right stinker of a song. Puppet on a String is not a right stinker, it's a pleasant upbeat number, that has a persistent oompah-oompah beat (just exactly how every Eurovision sceptic thinks every Eurovision song sounds!) I can imagine if this followed you round for years, it would stop being so pleasant, and could haunt your nightmares - so it's easy to forgive Sandie Shaw of any antipathy towards this song. Also I have to point out a bit of lyrically befuddlement - she sings about winning and losing on swings and roundabouts - both of these I've always held to be non-competitive activities. Surely winning on either of these is not ending up at your nearest spinal injuries unit.

On the flip-side Tell The Boys has a bit more to it. It's still up-beat and cheery lyrically, and makes full use of the brass section of the orchestra, but it has more nuance and shade to it - it's not so relentless. The verses have an accompaniment that feels almost minor key, this gives and edge to the optimistic lyrics. Also Sandie Shaw sounds invested in the emotion of this song. I think it's a little beauty, which is why (in a change from tradition) I've added a youtube link to this track too!

So a record of two halves, one half a bit of entertaining frippery, but the second a minor classic that should be me more widely celebrated.

* I don't mind the Eurovision - (I don't go out of my way to watch these days, though) - I quite enjoy hearing what other cultures think is the perfect distillation of a pop song.

Next time a solo Beatle, but probably not the one you're hoping for...

7 inch single collection: Duane Eddy - Cannonball

Twangy guitars echoing from the mists of time...

Duane Eddy

A: Cannonball
B: Mason Dixon Lion
(London 1958)

I don't know if you ever peruse the lists of greatest ever guitarists that you occasionally find in music magazines (and probably on the internet too these days), but I would have a skim through them. It depends on the publication as to who'd be on the list. A more populist one would probably have the likes of Clapton and May in there - the kind of chaps most people would have heard of. The more guitar specialist ones would end up with people like Vai and Malmsteen heading the lists - the kind of people who can play lots of notes really fast, but are less fussed about actually melody. I'd look for three people on those lists: Hank Marvin (he'd usually be there somewhere), Bert Weedon (often in the British lists), and Duane Eddy (often completely absent). The frequent absence of Duane Eddy is something that still bothers me today. He is someone who played solid guitar rock 'n' roll instrumentals and between about 1958 and 1963 was a constant presence in the charts. Maybe much of tunes were simple, but I reckon that they weren't simplistic. They were certainly catchy and danceable, and therefore I reckon that his contribution to the popularisation of guitar music has been understated.

You'll recognise a Duane Eddy record is you hear it - as with all the true greats, you can tell it's them playing just from a few notes. The booming, bassy, echoing sound, became his trademark. if you need one word to describe Duane Eddy's sound it's TWANG! He (or at least his marketing guys) recognised this because there are many albums that have some variation of this word in them:
Have Twangy Guitar Will Travel, The Twang's The Thang, $1,000,000 Worth of Twang, you get the picture! Look at the record label above - the twangy guitar gets second billing above the rest of the band.

If ever there was a typical Duane Eddy track that you could point to and say, that's what he's all about the Cannonball is that track. A twangy (really no other word for it) upbeat repeated riff, that starts off rocking and builds tempo, adding in finger clips, and claps, then the saxophone and yelps as it builds up momentum. The suddenly the saxophone breaks loose and goes wild for short period, before returning to the steady rocking riff ready to build up that momentum again. This is good stuff.

If you're naming an instrumental one way is to give it an evocative name - something that connects the sounds to a strong feeling of time or place. Alternatively you could use a stupid pun, like Mason Dixon Lion, (both ways are valid, but I do prefer one - no prizes for guessing which). This b-side is very similar in feel to the a-side - maybe a bit slower in tempo - but a bassy looping guitar riff, with less yelping , but some whistling and La-La-ing from the backing singers. Once again heading to a middle bit where the saxophonist goes wild (I'm not really much of a saxophone phone fan, but a wise bear once told me that to appreciate a Duane Eddy record you need to appreciate the saxophone, and this is very true), before settling back down in to the groove of the tune.

So there you go a - both sides equate to a single 4-minute party on one slab of 7 inch vinyl. Nothing here to transcend the nature of being or to make you reach new heights of revelation, just a bit of loose and wild fun something we can all do with in these times.

Next time we're of to the Eurovision Song Contest...

7 inch single collection: Ray Moore - O' My Father had a Rabbit

Some old charity nonsense…

Ray Moore

A: O’ My Father had a Rabbit
B: O’ My Father had a Rabbit (Instrumental Version)
(Play 1986)

There’s a breed of DJ that is lugubrious, self-deprecating, warm and friendly. They were particularly to be found on Radio 2, and Terry Wogan was the king of such. Ken Bruce may well be the last remaining example still in the wild. Ray Moore was one of these – I remember his occasionally catching his radio show, preceding Wogan, if I was up early enough in the morning. It always felt good-humoured and made an easy way to start the day with a smile. Moore, himself died young from cancer, but he has left us with a very silly legacy indeed.

I don’t know where O’ My Father had a Rabbit came from originally – if it was some daft folk rhyme, or specially written for this record. The writing credit on the label is to Conors – and I have reason to believe that this is the legendary ‘Shag’ Conors, who with his group the Carrot Crunchers were a leading light in the Scrumpy & Western genre*. (Indeed the linked YouTube performance from Wogan features Conors, his band and a few bemused looking Radio 2 DJs). This song has a lolloping, oompah of a beat, over which Moore intones the lyrics in a deadpan manner, suddenly going all Scouse as the song shudders to a standstill. Objectively this is neither good, nor particularly challenging music – however it’s not meant to be. It is clearly meant to been seen as something slightly stupid, so that you’ve got an excuse to dip into your pocket and fork out for Children In Need. The fact that it doesn’t pretend to be anything other that what it is, and there’s no over earnest sentiment involved, is, in fact, what lifts this record into being a joyous little moment. When I hear it makes me smile, and then it’s gone, and that’s it – job done! If all charity singles were like this, instead of deeply serious sing-a-longs with multi-millionaires then I’d be very well-disposed to charity records; rather than my usual Grinch-like attitude.

If we flip the record over – we can hear O’ My Father had a Rabbit all over again – only this time without Ray Moore intoning all over the top of it. Fortunately the lyrics are printed on the back of the sleeve, so you can join in, safe in the knowledge that what you sing will be no worse than what is on the a-side. Also on the back of the sleeve are a number of mildly amusing “critical” quotes from Moore’s peers at Radio 2 – enough to raise a wry smile.

In the end it’s a novelty for charity, that doesn’t have pretence to be anything else – so I’m inclined to feel warm and slightly fuzzy towards this record. Also, despite not having listened to this since about 1986, I could still recall the tune and the opening stanza:

‘O’ My Father had a rabbit,
But he thought it was a duck,
So he stuck it in the oven
With its legs tucked up.’

So, obviously this record does has a certain something going for it that defies all rational explanation.

*for those of you who are unsure of what Scrumpy & Western sounds like then think The Wurzels, (especially in their earlier years with Adge Cutler), and you’ll be there.

Next Time…TWANG! Back to the 50’s

7 inch single collection: The Screaming Blue Messiahs - I Wanna Be A Flintsone

What does a caveman with a transistor radio listen to? Rock Music!

The Screaming Blue Messiahs

A: I Wanna Be A Flintstone

B: Jerry's Electric Church

(WEA 1988)

Somewhere between Rockabilly and Psychobilly (judging by this record alone, I'd be tempted to call it Sillybilly!), with a similar feel to the music as bands like Westworld (of whom more to come in another future blog entry).

I know nothing else about the band. I've got a 12 inch single of a Peel session of theirs, but am totally unable to recall anything of that so that's not going to help.

Just an aside – the lack of hair of the singer adds to a select group of bald rock stars. He joins such luminaries as Buster Bloodvessel from Bad Manners, Rob Halford from Judas Priest, Sal Solo from Classix Novaeux and, I don’t know – ‘Angry’ Anderson maybe…

It’s a risky strategy; coming up with a catchy, but ultimately daft, and throwaway song. It can catch people’s attention, and get popular (I remember seeing this on Top of The Pops), but then you’re potentially tarred with that brush forever. That’s fine if you want to carry on making silly songs, but if you want people to take you seriously, it may not be the best career move. There’s a great driving rockabilly style beat going on through I Wanna Be a Flintstone, and the Flintstones related lyrics samples, and silly voices bring a sense of fun to the record. However it isn’t particularly deep, and doesn’t really go anywhere. It stops becoming repetitive by the virtue of being short –suggesting that the band were canny enough to know that the joke has a time limit.

Turning the record over we find a tune called Jerry’s Electric Church. This starts with some extracts of suitably churchy sounds; prayer, sermons and the like. Then there’s a helicopter drone and a schplang of guitars, whereupon the old rockabilly style beat kicks in, which coupled with some nifty riffery drives the song along. I’m afraid that I found the lyrics incomprehensible (sorry I must try harder next time). I’m hoping that it was a coruscating take down of the hypocrisy of modern organised religion, (bearing in mind the song’s title), but it could just has equally been as silly as the a-side.

This is a fun record – but the kind that you hear, smile at, nod in appreciation, and then probably forget about for the rest of your life. A shame as I think this band seem to have more to them than a Flintstones addiction. I must dig out that Peel Sessions E.P. and give it another go.

Next time, an even more ridiculous record…

7 inch single collection: The Hollies - Stop, Stop, Stop

One of the finest bands of the 60's...

The Hollies

A: Stop, Stop, Stop

B: It's You
(Parlophone 1966)

Here we are then The Hollies - often overlooked amongst the big hitters of the 1960's, and yet solidly performing and producing great records throughout the decade, into the next and beyond. A good variety of sounds and a willingness to experiment from the early beat sounds to magnificent ballads like He Ain't Heavy, the cutesy sounds of Jennifer Eccles and the steel drums of Carrie-Anne - all of these kind of things give a twist to what are otherwise solid pop songs, and raise them beyond the mundane. Possibly they are the best band of the 60's (and 70's) that have fallen out of popular public consciousness. I recall listening to the radio (many, many moons ago), and the DJ commenting that The Hollies were considered "The group's group", in that all the other well-known groups liked and respected The Hollies. Granted the DJ who said that was Jimmy Savile, but I think the point still stands, and I'm sure that I've heard other, less contentious, personalities independently say the same thing.

The Hollies had been established several years by the time Stop Stop Stop was released, and had already become a popular hit machine including a number one record with I'm Alive. So it's unsurprising that this record also ended up in the upper reaches of the hit parade. I mentioned earlier about giving pop songs a twist, and this is no different - instead of this tune being led by the now common-place sounds of the electric guitar, it is, instead underpinned by a banjo. This lends the whole song an slightly other-worldly air, as if the whole thing is taking place in a Gypsy carnival. The continually speeding up of the music building to crescendo in the chorus is like a wild waltzer ride at the funfair*. It's only only the chorus that it comes up for air, takes a chance to breath, and then grows again in the next verse. It is, of course, completely brilliant.

It's You on the flip-side does that very mid-60's thing of opening with a harmonica riff. It is a lesser tune than Stop Stop Stop - but that's why it's on the b-side. It's a fairly standard light mid-tempo beat tune - a dime a dozen in this era - however The Hollies manage to lift it from potential mediocrity simply through some fine vocal work - not only from the lead singer, but the harmonies are really special, and give this otherwise slight song a boost.

I've yet to hear a song from The Hollies that wasn't, as a minimum, very good, and I don't think that I ever will - so all in all an excellent little record.

*Ironically their very next single was "On A Carousel"

Next Time rock music from the stone age...

7 inch single collection: The Maisonettes - Heartache Avenue

One hit wonders ahoy!

The Maisonettes

A: Heartache Avenue

B: The Last One To Know
(Ready Steady Go! 1982)

You know I was in a bit of a quandary as to which YouTube link to add on this one. The official video - which is just the band performing, or the Top of the Pops, which is the band performing with added balloons, fashion victims and David 'Kid' Jenson. If you've followed the link you'll know I've made the right decision.

There is a studied "cool" about this band from stark clean lines of the black and white clothing, to the supercilious sneers of the two female singers on the sleeve of the record. Talking of those two women, the prominence of them in that picture may lead you to think that this band is fronted by two aloof young women, with a backing band made up of white guys with afros. This is the wrong impression - in fact the bearded fellow in the white jacket handles the lead vocals, with the women doing little more than oohing and ahhing in the background. In terms of visual marketing it was probably the right thing to do; in terms of sexual politics it's definitely a step backwards.

The deliberate evocation of a sense of "cool" is down there in the music too. Heartache Avenue delivers a stylised blue-eyed soul - laid-back, with a touch of melancholy. A smooth bass groove provides a swaying rhythm, with a sparkling keyboard bringing a glossy sheen to the whole. I remember the first time that I heard this song; I was watching the TV, and there they were - it might have been the linked clip, or else some Saturday morning kids show (Swap Shop or Saturday Superstore - whichever one was on in '82) - it stood out and had a hypnotic sound, and the visual image was striking and memorable. It stood out as being a little bit different, a bit more adult, and at the time I was enticed. In hindsight, it still has some charm to it, but there's little that makes it exciting.

If Heartache Avenue is laid-back then The Last One to Know, on the flip-side is positively horizontal. It start slow and shimmery, like a mirage on tarmac on hot Sunday afternoon. It's a smooth jazz/pop number with echoes of Sade (the singer, not he Maquis). The sound turns from a hot afternoon, to a rainy night - if you can picture that. If I were to make a video it would be in black and white and feature lampposts in the drizzle - it's that kind of song. Generally it floats around listlessly for three minutes then drifts of aimlessly.

A record of two halves then - something stylish and something bland. The a-side is worth hearing once, but not something that's likely to incite a rabid fandom.

Next time we briefly escape the 80's and listen to one of the best and most under-rated of the 60's groups.