The man, the voice, the legend. Today marks what would have been the 100th birthday of Frank Sinatra.
The little boy from Hoboken, Sinatra started working the club scenes in four-part harmony groups before his connections with music's royalty and pure solo talent found him a place on the radio. The rest is history; Sinatra made strides through the genres from big band, to Hollywood, to the Rat Pack until he found his stardom as the king of the Crooners.
My grandfather has always loved Sinatra, being only ten years his junior. This year, to celebrate his 90th birthday, I made my grandfather an album of my cover versions of some of his favourite songs. It goes without saying that Frank was heavily featured, but here are three of them, for you to enjoy.
So raise a glass to Sinatra today, and if you're really sticking to tradition, make it on the rocks.
Yesterday legendary sing-songwriter Neil Young celebrated his 70th birthday. Despite starting his career back in 1960, he is still going strong and performing today, and most notably headlining Glastonbury Festival in 2009. Young was born on 12th November 1945 in Toronto, Ontario. His interested in music began to develop at the age of fifteen when his family broke up. He idolized Elvis Presley and grew up listening to people like Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash and Roy Orbison. He began playing in bands all throughout his schooling years, and did his first solo tour in 1965. The next year he joined Buffalo Springfield who, according to many musical sources, helped create the genre of folk rock and country rock. The band’s success was unfortunately shortlived, and after another solo stint, Crosby, Stills & Nash, the folk super group, asked Neil to join them as a siderunner, but he refused unless he received full membership. This therefore sparked the birth of the quartet Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young in 1969. But this partnership too was not to last long, as Young’s own musical direction was fighting with that of the band’s. The years that followed were to be the most successful for Young, producing albums like After The Gold Rush and Harvest. The song I have chosen to cover is, I think, the best example of Young’s beautiful vocals and songwriting - After The Gold Rush. The beauty is in its simplicity – aside from his vocal, there are simply two instruments used on the track, a piano and a French horn (replaced by Young’s staple harmonica in live performances). In terms of the song’s meaning, it’s hard to say. Dolly Parton even asked the man himself when covering the song in the 90s, and Young answer pretty truthfully: “Hell, I don't know. I just wrote it. It just depends on what I was taking at the time. I guess every verse has something different I'd taken.” Well. At least he was honest. Nevertheless, enjoy!
Seventy-five years ago, a little baby boy was born in Liverpool who, unbeknown to his mother, was to grow up to be one of the most influential figures in popular culture. What can I tell you about the life of John Lennon that you don’t already know? I’m sure you know that in 1957, at their second performance, Lennon met fellow musician Paul McCartney, and asked him to join his band The Quarrymen. I’m sure you know that, four years later, The Beatles debuted at the Cavern Club. You may know about his first wife, Cynthia, and mother to his first child Julian, and you’ll certainly know of his second wife, Yoko Ono, and son Sean. You’ll know that after The Beatles split in 1970, he carried on his political activism through both his song-writing and his public life. And you’ll know that on the 8th December 1980, Lennon was assassinated outside his home in New York.
If he were still alive today, who knows what the music scene would be like? Just imagine… Even after death, his influence lives on, so I thought it would be appropriate to hand over to some famous names, to hear their thoughts on the late, great, John Lennon.
John Lennon was definitely my favorite Beatle, hands down. - Kurt Cobain
If one could have a wish, or an alternative life, I would've liked to have been John Lennon. - Gary Oldman
Lennon was a most talented man and above all, a gentle soul. John and his colleagues set a high standard by which contemporary music continues to be measured. - Frank Sinatra
He was an artist who was, in his own way, committed to wholeness and authenticity in a not dissimilar way that I am years later. - Alanis Morissette
It's a cliche, but he is my hero. He was so rebellious, so outspoken and so publicly opinionated, and I'm someone who's so private. I suppose you admire people who have the qualities you wish you had. - Emun Elliott
There were the Beatles, and there was John. As a band, they were a great unit. But John, he was his own man. - Keith Richards
What happens when people like him die is that the landscape changes. You know, a mountain disappears; a river is gone. And I think his death was probably as significant as that. We all miss him, and I think about him every time I walk by that building. - Sting
He knew who he was, and he knew what he represented to a worldwide public. John knew he had the floor; he knew he had to parlay that into something. I think he incited and inspired a whole group of youth to speak out and say what they felt. - John Travolta
He made enemies, but he was fantastic. He was a warm man who cared a lot and with the record Give Peace A Chance helped stop the Vietnam War. He made a lot of sense. - Paul McCartney
My husband John Lennon was a very special man. A man of humble origin, he brought light and hope to the whole world with his words and music. - Yoko Ono
It’s hard to believe that in the space of just 16 days, the world lost two of the most influential musicians. On Sunday 4th October 1970, just two weeks after Hendrix died in a London hotel, Janis Joplin was discovered by her road manager in her hotel room after an accidental heroin overdose. In both cases there are such sad similarities, including their age of course (they are probably the two best known members of the 27 Club). In marking her passing, let us remember what a truly unique woman Joplin was, a talent so raw it’s unlikely we will ever see someone match it again. Born in Texas in 1943, Joplin was a very needy child, and craved individual attention from her parents despite having two other siblings. She was an outcast at school and often bullied by her school mates for being overweight and having skin prone to very bad acne, which left her scarred for the rest of her life. However, she did find comfort in music and also painting. In her early 20s she moved back and forth from San Fransisco to Texas, often staying with her parents due to her ill health (by this time she had also gained a reputation as a drug user and heavy drinker). In 1966 she joined the psychedelic rock band Big Brother and the Holding Company, with whom she was to have a large number of hits (Down on Me, Summertime, Piece of my Heart…). Cheap Thrills was their second and most successful album, and launched Joplin’s career. By 1969 she’d left Big Brother and had ventured into her solo career, again with a stream of successful songs (mainly covers), and backing bands including the Kozmic Blues Band and Full Tilt Boogie. Two of her most notable performances were Woodstock (although being crippled with nerves at the size of the crowds) and Madison Square Garden, both in 1969. Despite her nervous disposition, Joplin was electrifying, both on stage and in the recording studio. In interviews you can hear her cackle like a small school girl, but knowing her difficult and slightly tortured past explains all that pain and anguish which you can hear in her voice when she sings. Pearl was to be her final solo album, which held the Number 1 spot in the States for nine weeks, despite being released three months after her death. It included songs for which she will forever be known: Cry Baby, Me and Bobby McGee, and the song I have chosen to cover, Mercedes Benz, written by Joplin along with Bob Neuwirth and Michael McClure. The song was recorded in one take, just three days before she died. I decided that in true Janis style, I too should record it in one take, completely a cappella, with no effects or tweaks (if you listen carefully you can also hear the perfectly timed car horn in the background - I so hope it was a Mercedes!). Forgive the squeaks and strains, but I hope Janis would approve.
Is it me, or is everyone turning 70?! First Ian Gillan, then Bryan Ferry and now Don McLean is celebrating the big birthday landmark.
I toyed with the idea of recording one of McLean’s lesser known songs for this blog post; the beautiful Vincent, based on Van Gogh’s painting 'The Starry Night', or perhaps Wonderful Baby, a lullaby that used to send me to sleep as a small child. But considering this is a music education blog, there was only one choice of track. The song that shot McLean into every music hall of fame (yes, all eight and a half minutes of it)… It had to be American Pie.
Where to start explaining a song like this? Personally, it has great importance to my upbringing. My mum made me a cassette compilation when I was very little, which acted almost as a musical bible to me, and I listened to it relentlessly at home with her and on long car journeys. Amongst all the tracks though, American Pie stood out to me, and I remember feeling a great sense of achievement when I finally learnt all the words (before I even hit my teens, I must point out). The lyrics painted obscure and fantastical scenes like I could never have imagined, and all in effortless rhyme.
It would take me years to relay all the ways in which the song’s lyrics have been interpreted since its release in 1971, but let’s start with the facts. “The day the music died” is 3rd February 1959, when Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J P “The Big Bopper” Richardson were killed in a plane crash in Iowa. At the time, the 13 year old McLean was on his paper round when he read the shocking news on the front page. A huge Holly fan, McLean has recalled his disappointment that none of his school friends seemed to share the same upset. When it came to writing American Pie, this vivid memory was a great starting point. McLean wanted to write a political song about America, but knew he couldn’t bring out another slow song, so decided to give it its upbeat rhythm. Apparently it was the chorus that came first, then one morning he woke up and wrote all five verses (how’s that for productivity?).
McLean has never been too keen on pinning down anything other interpretations of the lyrics, favouring instead to leave it up to the listener (when asked in 1991 what American Pie means, he simply answered “It means I don’t ever have to work again if I don’t want to”). It’ll have different meaning to different people, but here are some common ideas:
The Jester - Bob Dylan. “A coat he borrowed from James Dean” - On the cover of The Freewheeling Bob Dylan, he wears a jacket similar to that of the actor’s. “And a voice that came from you and me” - A reference to the folk songs sung by Dylan. “With the jester on the sidelines in a cast” - Dylan had recently broken his leg in a motorbike accident! “And while the king was looking down the jester stole his thorny crown” - Dylan taking Elvis’ place as America’s most successful artist. The “King and Queen” could also refer to folk royalty Pete Seeger and Joan Baez. Another alternative is that the King, Queen and Jester were in fact President Kennedy, Jackie Kennedy and Lee Harvey Oswald, as Oswald was never convicted because he was murdered shortly after the assassination (“The courtroom was adjourned / No verdict was returned”).
“Helter skelter in a summer swelter” - The Charles Manson massacre of 1968.
“The birds flew off from a fallout shelter / Eight miles high and falling fast” - The Byrds’ track Eight Miles High. A “fallout shelter” was a 60s term for a drug rehabilitation facility and one band member had recently been admitted.
“And as I watched him on the stage / My hands were clenched in fists of rage / No angel born in hell / Could break that Satan spell / As the flames climbed high into the night” - The Rolling Stones’ concert at Altamonte where the security were made up of Hell’s Angels, one of which stabbed an audience member. There are many possible Rolling Stones connections in the song - “Jack Flash sat on a candle stick”, “Moss grows fat on a rolling stone”, “Fire is the devil’s only friend” - although these all carry double meanings.
“The sergeants played a marching tune” - Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band apparently had a strong influence on McLean when writing American Pie.
“I met a girl who sang the blues…” - Janis Joplin, who died of an overdose the previous year (look out for a blog post marking the occasion coming this Sunday).
“And while Lenin/Lennon read a book on Marx” - most obviously Vladimir Lenin and Karl Marx, but others believe this could be John Lennon and Groucho Marx!
“The quartet practiced in the park” - The Beatles’ concert at Shea Stadium.
“We sang dirges in the dark” - The 60s peace marches.
“The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost” - Holly, Valens and the Big Bopper, though of course this could be one of McLean’s references to religion, being a catholic himself.
So there you have it. Don’t tell me you haven’t learnt something new today! Enjoy showing off these fun facts and, if you’ve got the time, enjoy my rendition too...
Happy 70th Birthday to Mr Bryan Ferry! In the top five of my all time best male vocalists, Ferry has of course found fame through his solo career, but it’s Roxy Music that we all know and love him for really. Ferry started many bands in his art school years (in fact, it may have been him that once said that was the only reason anyone went to art school - I’m willing to be corrected on that!), but in November 1970 he formed Roxy Music, first with his friend Graham Simpson and then expanding to include Andy Mackay and of course Brian Eno. Apparently Ferry originally auditioned for the lead of King Crimson, and although the band members thought his voice unsuitable for them, they helped Roxy Music gain a contract with E.G. Records. The line up of Roxy Music was to change several times over the years, and it wasn’t until 1972 that they had their first hit with Virginia Plain. By the following year Ferry had also started his solo career, but that didn’t stop the hits flowing for him on both sides. The song I decided to cover for this post was Roxy Music’s most successful and most covered track, Love Is The Drug. Originally intended to be an Andy Mackay instrumental, it includes a fantastic baseline, a catchy, powerful chorus and in true Roxy Music style, sleek and sexy lyrics and vocals. It’s so popular that this track has been played at every Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music tour since it was released in 1975. Roxy Music and Bryan in particular were an influence on many, not only for their sound, but their style too. It ran through their fashion, their music videos and their promotional materials and album covers. Got to love a bit of 70s glitter, haven’t you? Ferry is still going strong and performing, both alone and in recent years as part of a reformed Roxy Music. Sharp suits, silky voice and a glamorous girl on his arm, he’s a sort of Bond of the music industry. Have a wonderful day, Bryan!
"The Genius" as he is known in some musical circles, would have been 85 years old today. It's not only his songs that make Ray Charles such a predominant figure in music history but his story too, and a driving passion for music which pushed him to overcome poverty, discrimination and disability.
Charles (or Ray Charles Robinson, as he was born), began to lose his sight at the age of four due to glaucoma, and was completely blind by the time he turned seven. Before this, he was taught to play an upright piano by Wylie Pitman, a boogie woogie pianist who owned the Red Wing Cafe. Charles and his mother were regulars here, and also lived at the venue after falling on financial difficult times. He continued studying piano at school, but was more interested jazz and blues than the classical pieces they were trying to teach him. Learning to play when blind is quite a feat, especially for a young child. It involves learning the left hand movements by reading braille with the right hand and learning the right hand movements by reading braille with the left hand, and then synthesizing the two parts. After his mother's death he moved to Jacksonville and played in bands, and then onto the bigger city of Orlando, but work was still scarce at this time, just as World War II was ending. It wasn't until 1948 when he moved to Washington and formed his own band that Charles began to find success. In 1953 he signed with Atlantic Records and produced his song Mess Around, then the following year he hit the big time with I've Got A Woman. This was to mark the beginning of Charles' sound - a mix of RnB, gospel, jazz and blues. 1956 saw the birth of the Raelettes, previously the Cookies, who became Charles' backing singers. One of the original Raelettes Margie Hendricks was Charles' mistress for six years, and mother to his fifth child (in total, Charles had twelve children, by ten different women!). What I'd Say was Charles biggest hit at Atlantic, which he later claimed was composed spontaneously on stage. It was banned from several radio stations due to its suggestive lyrics, but despite that became Charles' first entry into the top ten. Charles changed over to ABC-Paramount and soon after produced Georgia On My Mind and Hit The Road Jack. By the late 1960s however, things began to change. The genre that Charles represented was falling out of favour, and despite a move over to country, he had very little success compared to the fame he had known in previous decades. Ray Charles passed away in 2004 with an acute liver disease. Even after his death, his name lives on as an artist full of talent, who provided us with some incredible songs. "Music's been around a long time," Charles once said, "and there's going to be music long after Ray Charles is dead. I just want to make my mark, leave something musically good behind. If it's a big record, that's the frosting on the cake, but music's the main meal." Well, hallelujah to that!
45 years ago today, news swept across London, and the world,
that the legend Jimi Hendrix had died in the Samarkhand Hotel in Notting Hill.
The circumstances, like so many deaths of this kind, have been widely disputed,
but it seems most likely that it was the 9 sleeping pills consumed (18 times
the recommended dose) that ended the life and career of (let’s just say it) the
greatest guitarist ever to have lived. As well as covering his classic The Wind
Cries Mary, I wanted to share some facts that you may not have known about the
great man…
Born in Seattle in 1942, he was named John Allen Hendrix,
but after his father’s return from fighting in World War II, he renamed him
James Marshall. It wasn’t until he arrived in London in 1966 that Animals
bassist Chas Candler suggested he swap to Jimi.
As a school boy, before getting his hands on an actual
guitar, Hendrix practiced on a broom and also tried his hand at a one-stringed
ukelele!
His first band was called the Velvetones, but after three
months of them playing only on acoustic guitar, Hendrix realised electric was
the way forward.
Hendrix was caught twice riding in stolen cars at the age of
19, and was given the choice of going to prison or joining the army. He spent
two years as a paratrooper, but went straight back into his music when he was
discharged in 1963.
As mentioned in previous blog posts, he started his musical
career as a session musician, playing back up for the likes of Ike and Tina
Turner, Sam Cooke and Little Richard.
Hendrix became famous for all the tricks he could perform
with his guitar: playing with his teeth, behind his head, and, as all
left-handed guitarists like myself will appreciate, playing a right-handed
guitar upside-down.
After this, Hendrix went from strength to strength; The
Experience had a string of hits, sell-out tours, as well as a number of
controversial performances, including Monterey Pop Festival where he not only
destroyed his guitar, but set fire to it. By the time he was headlining
Woodstock in 1969, The Experience had ended and Hendrix was the world’s
highest-paid rock musician.
The Wind Cries Mary was written by Hendrix in 1967 and
inspired by his then girlfriend, Kathy Mary Etchingham. As she told Q magazine
in 2013, "We'd
had a row over food. Jimi didn't like lumpy mashed potato. There were thrown
plates and I ran off. When I came back the next day, he'd written that song
about me. It's incredibly flattering." Despite being about Hendrix having
a tantrum at the dinner table, I thought the song was a very poignant choice
for today’s anniversary. The man achieved so very much in his 27 years, and I doubt there's a rock musician out there today who hasn't been influenced by him. “Will the wind ever remember the names it has blown in the past”? In Hendrix’s case, how could we possibly forget?
This post is rather special, as we are in fact celebrating two Pink Floyd anniversaries. Not only is it 40 years to the day that Pink Floyd’s album Wish You Were Here was released, but it is 50 years this year since the band formed. Despite going their separate ways in 1994 and only performing once together since then for Live 8 in 2005, Floyd still manage to bring in fans from all ages, and remain unmatched by any other band in creating such a distinctive psychedelic sound. Despite forming in 1965, it’s probably their 1973 concept album Dark Side of The Moon that Pink Floyd are most famed for. Tracks like Money and its 7/8 rhythm, and Great Gig In The Sky and the astonishing improvised solo from Clare Torry are what make the record one of rock’s most commercially successful albums of all time. However, our focus today is on Floyd’s possibly lesser known next album, Wish You Were Here.
At first, recording this ninth album seemed difficult for the band, after the success of Dark Side and the tour they’d just finished had left them all emotionally drained. Roger Waters became lead writer of the album, although it could be argued that the album is more famous for Gilmour’s four note riff in the opening track than it is any of Waters’ lyrics. It is well-known that Shine On You Crazy Diamond, a track split into two 13-minute sections at the beginning and end of the album, is a tribute to the now late Syd Barrett, who at the time that the album was being composed had left the band, and was in a downward spiral of mental health. Each track is heavily instrumental, and one flows seamlessly into another, and the theme of Barrett’s condition with it. Just like Dark Side, any modern-day fan will know that Wish You Were Here is absolutely infuriating to listen to on a CD, iPod or other device that shuffles. You’ll be fully engrossed, about to launch into the opening chords of the next track and then BAM! You’re cut dead as if rudely awoken from a dream. The best way to listen to Floyd, I have found from experience, is in a darkened room with a vinyl copy.
I’ve always been fascinated by the album’s cover, and I in fact have a poster of it hanging on my bedroom wall. There is so much to read into with the cover design, which I have only realised myself whilst researching now. The image itself brings to life the album’s messages about the brutality of the music industry; the handshake, an often empty gesture, and a reflection on the phrase “getting burned”, used by musicians of the time when artists were denied royalty payments. A fun fact for you: When first taking the photograph, the wind was blowing in the wrong direction, so much so that one stuntman lost his moustache! They therefore changed positions and the image was later reversed. The overall theme of the album is “absence” which again was reflected in the the album being sold in a dark-coloured shrink-wrap, concealing the artwork. Like so many of Floyd’s albums, the cover was conceived by the great visionary Storm Thorgerson, who I had the pleasure of meeting shortly before he died in 2013.
It may not have the stand-alone hits like Dark Side does but as an album, Wish You Were Here was just as successful and impactful. It’s also said to be both David Gilmour and Richard Wright’s favourite Floyd album. The song I decided to cover, for practical reasons as much as anything, is the title track, a rare example of the balanced writing collaboration between Waters and Gilmour. It speaks not only of Barrett’s schizophrenia, but of human loneliness as a whole, and the image of "two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl" brings tears to my eyes nearly every time. Fading in from Have a Cigar, the track is supposed to sound like a radio tuning in from one station to another, the effect captured by Gilmour recording from his car radio. Unfortunately I am no multi-instrumentalist, so all the backing tracks that I use for this blog are downloaded. I have to hand it to the person who composed this backing, however, for their incredibly skilled playing. It was a delight to record with! So here it is, as it should be, instrumental and all. I hope you enjoy it...
George Ivan Morrison was born on 31st August 1945. Although best known for his 1967 hit Brown Eyed Girl, it’s only in the twenty-five or so years he has had his talents suitably recognised: In that time he’s won 2 Grammies, 1 Brit, BMI ICON and Ivor Novello awards, been inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame, Songwriters Hall of Fame and Irish Music Hall of Fame, given an OBE in 1996 and if that wasn’t enough, he was knighted this year for his services to popular music. Hailing originally from Northern Ireland, “Van the Man" left school at 15 to follow his musical dreams, fronting R&B band Them before venturing into his solo career, and is still going strong and touring today at the age of seventy. Strongly influenced by American singers like Ray Charles, Lead Belly and Jelly Roll Morton, he himself has been inspirational for the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Bono and Elvis Costello. For me, Morrison's voice has bettered with age: soulful, raspy and truly unique. Although I had a range of hits to choose from, I had to cover my favourite, Sometimes We Cry. This beautiful ballad is usually sung as a duet, and even though I love Morrison’s original version of 1997, his collaboration with Tom Jones for the album Reload is something special. Do check them both out, as well as listening to mine below!
There’s only one Bob Dylan. Whether you’re a fan of his music or not, you have to admit that the man and his songs changed not only folk but the entire music industry. Up until Dylan, the 1960s' idea of what made a “pop star” was rather different. All of a sudden, there came a singer/songwriter who, to be honest, couldn't even do half of that very well, but was able to tell a story like no other. No more soppy, run-of-the-mill love songs; Dylan took the same subject matter and turned it on its head, with tales of fantastical characters from mythical times. He also brought politics into his songs, which became anthems of the era. Without meaning to sound funny, the fact that Dylan couldn't sing paved the way for so many artists that we may have otherwise never heard of. Take Jimi Hendrix, for example. Until that point, Hendrix had been a pretty good guitarist, strumming away in backing bands for the likes of The Isley Brothers and Little Richard. Now he could step centre stage, and it didn't matter that he wasn't very melodic - his guitar could do as much talking for him as his voice did. I will always be grateful to my friend (and first boyfriend) Joe for bringing Bob Dylan into my musical make-up. You see, it was kind of a package deal - it would take a lot of time and commitment if you wanted to call yourself a Dylan expert, but I hope Joe won't mind if I call him, let's say, an extreme admirer. I know I've barely scratched the surface, but having an additional insight into his music opened up a whole new kind of songwriting to me. We also went together to see him live at Wembley Arena in 2007 - a night I will never forget. I couldn't tell you specifically what he played, but I'm sure Joe still has his scribbled copy of the set list somewhere. Bob Dylan has been a musical God for over five decades now, but on this day in 1965, he released his sixth album, Highway 61 Revisited, the title making reference to the road that ran from Canada, through his hometown of Duluth, to New Orleans. With this album and the one previous, Dylan shook the music world by moving from acoustic to electric sound, and away from his political lyrics.
The opening track, and one of Dylan's most famous songs, was Like A Rolling Stone which in 2004 was crowned by Rolling Stone magazine the greatest song of all time. I'll give you a second to take in just how important a declaration that really is... I can't quite believe I'm saying this but, hand of heart, as I type these very words, the very song has just burst onto my radio! As always with Like A Rolling Stone, I can't listen to those first chords without beaming. It's uniquely upbeat and energetic, which comes from a special combination of a rock-formation and the improvised organ riff. Apparently Columbia Records were initially hesitant to release it due to this, and also its length (imagine their faces when Dylan presented the 11-minute Desolation Row...), but the track was leaked and grew in popularity through DJs of the time. Before it was put to music, Like A Rolling Stone was a ten-page verse written by Dylan after his return from a tour of England, and it seems that it is the only one of his songs that has been composed in this way. It was never intended to be anything other than written word, but according to Dylan, one day at the piano one infamous lyric sang out to him: "How does it feel?"
The sound may be cheerful, but on closer inspection of the lyrics, it's in fact quite a dark and cynical song. Dylan confronts "Miss Lonely", a previously well-to-do woman who has now fallen on hard times, about how her lack of sympathy and kindness towards others has come back to bite her. "In the end it wasn't hatred," Dylan has said, "it was telling someone something they didn't know, telling them they were lucky. Revenge, that's a better word." I tell you one thing, some may think it's easy to do a Dylan impression, but singing Like A Rolling Stone is a completely different ball game. Rapping isn't my strong point (except for when I'm a little tipsy and suddenly remember that I know all the words to Gangsta's Paradise), but I tell you, this was just as difficult an exercise - hopefully you'll enjoy my efforts!
“The Beatles and The Stones” - you often hear these two bands referenced together. They’re penned as the good boys and bad boys of the 60s, but whether this was a managerial decision is hard to confirm. Mods vs Rockers, Blur vs Oasis, every decade has them, but what’s one thing that separates The Beatles and The Rolling Stones? In a word, longevity. Despite all the odds and obstacles thrown at them since they formed in 1962 (drugs, arrests, falling from coconut trees, that kind of thing...), they're still going strong.
Some of you may be shocked when I point out that The Beatles were only active as a band for 10 years. But today, as their biggest hit turns 50 years old, The Stones have just got back from touring the States, and are preparing for their retrospective show Exhibitionism next spring. Individually, Mick’s producing TV series Vinyl with Martin Scorsese, Keith’s about to release another solo album, Ronnie’s set to reunite with The Faces for a charity gig (as well as continuing with his work as a fine artist) and Charlie… well, he’s probably still contemplating leaving, like he threatened to in 1975.
I’ve seen The Rolling Stones live twice now, once at Twickenham in 2002 and again in 2013 at their Hyde Park gig. Each time it’s been their energy that’s brought the music to life, and encouraged strangers of all generations to dance and sing together (even after the concert, in the crush to get on the train, you’re bound to get an “Ooh oooooh” of Sympathy for the Devil, and then the whole carriage is off again). I often hear The Rolling Stones referred to as “old men” or “aaaancient”. “Aren’t they dead yet?” is another classic. Well, they may have a combined age of 285, but by God, that ain’t gonna stop ‘em. They’re here to stay, not fade away (Ah, I do love a pun, me).
In his autobiography Life, Keith Richards describes (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction as “the track that launched [The Rolling Stones] into global fame”. To this day, despite recording nearly 200 songs and among them more hits than Jagger can shake his hips at, it remains their most well-known and most popular. It’s a hit most artists would dream of… which is funny, because that’s exactly where the song began...
There are all kind of myths and fudged truths flying around the origins of the song, but this is my favourite, so I’m sticking to it. According to Keith, “I wrote Satisfaction in my sleep.” After a row with his girlfriend in her St John’s Wood flat, he went to bed, as was his ritual, with his guitar. When he woke up the next day, Keith glanced over to his cassette player and realised it was at the end of the tape. He wound it back and there it was - the bare bones of Satisfaction. Fantastical, perhaps, but as legend has it, this was how Jagger/Richards songs often came about. Keith would present the initial idea (the riff, the chords, maybe a line or two) and then Mick would flesh it out with lyrics and turn it into a recordable track. Gibson had also just sent Keith their first fuzztone box, which gave the song its famous distortion.
Satisfaction was actually released in the US in June 1965, two months before it came out in the UK, but once it hit the charts it made No. 1 on both sides of the pond, as well as in Austria, The Netherlands, France and Germany.
In a 1995 interview, Jagger made the following observation:
“…It captures a spirit of the times… which was alienation. Or it’s a bit more than that, maybe, but a kind of sexual alienation. Alienation’s not quite the right word, but it’s one word that would do.”
I agree though, that there is more to it than simple alienation. There’s frustration, irritation, a sense of rebellion, and a wanting to belong but at the same time, a wanting to be your own person. Of course it’s predominantly about sexual satisfaction, but I think it relates to many more of the struggles of teenage life too.
There have been several interesting covers of Satifaction. Putting Devo and Britney aside, it’s the soul covers that I enjoy the most, and that I turned to when making my own version (Aretha, for example, really gives it a spark). Despite changing some of the words, the soul covers are far livelier with horns and trills, and it is in fact Otis Redding’s version that the Stones listened to for inspiration when reproducing Satisfaction for their own stage shows (it had previously been left off set lists).
But whether it’s Aretha or the boys, it’s that riff, “the five notes that shook the world”, and that classic double negative that will live on for generations. Happy 50th, and here’s to 50 more.
Earlier today I heard on Absolute Classic Rock Radio that Ian Gillan is celebrating his 70th birthday. So, what’s a girl to do when she finds a spare hour? Record a track for the blog, of course! I’m sorry that it’s such short notice and so this post won’t be up to the standard of the others, but I couldn’t miss an opportunity to record a Deep Purple song - who knows, it could be a while before another anniversary comes up.
Gillan joined Deep Purple in 1969, leaving his then band Episode Six and taking bassist Roger Glover with him. Although his presence has been patchy over the decades (including a year spent as the vocalist for Black Sabbath), the band are still touring regularly, with Gillan up front. As lead singer and lyricist he is mainly responsible for the band’s biggest hits, including Smoke on the Water, Child in Time, Speed King, Black Night and my favourite, Strange Kind of Woman.
It’s only now recording this song that I see its resemblance to an old folk song, a bit like Whiskey In The Jar, for example. It won’t come as a surprise that the original title for the track was Prostitute (well, the hints at Nancy’s profession aren’t subtle, are they?), but actually, this is a love story, with a tragic ending. Gillan has said in interviews that it's a story of a friend, and in other reports that Nancy is an amalgamation of many different women and experiences, but I’ve read some research that this the track is actually written about Gillan himself, who wed a lady before she passed away just three days later.
Enjoy the track, and if you’re near a glass, raise it to Ian, and to Nancy, whoever she may be...
If music is in your heart then surely, The Beatles must run through your veins. I’ve heard the odd idiot (yes, I said it) try and impress with the bold statement “I don’t like the Beatles”, and every time, I can’t help but shudder. I guess it’s forgivable for someone of my generation to, say, not be that acquainted with their discography, or call Hey Jude their best track, but to say you don’t like The Beatles is comparable to saying you don’t like… eating. You may not like eating spicy food, or you might prefer eating beans on toast to champagne and caviar, but no one could say they don’t like eating.
The Beatles and Beatlemania not only changed the music industry but all of popular culture from 1960 onwards. On this day, we celebrate a very important anniversary in Beatles history. The stadium tour is a norm in today’s music scene; in London alone venues like Wembley and Twickenham play host to some of the world’s biggest stars when out of the sports season. But, it was fifty years ago today (see what I did there?) on 15th August 1965, that the Beatles drew a record-breaking crowd of 55,600 fans to Shea Stadium in New York City, and hosted the first concert held in a venue of this size.
The following year a documentary of the concert, produced by Ed Sullivan, was released, which showcased extraordinary scenes unlike any that had been seen before. There are looks of astonishment across the Fab Four’s faces as Sullivan announces them onto the grass. Although perfectly clear in the film, in reality their playing was completely drowned out by the sound of screaming and crying, and the on-site security were fully occupied throughout the concert with the removal of fainting teenage girls, or those attempting to run out onto the stage. Cousin Brucie, the announcer on the night, put it quite simply in a recent interview. He said:
“This was a sociological experience. This was an amazing event, more than just the music. The music played almost a secondary role to what was going to happen at that particular moment in time.”
Here are some fun facts about the Shea Stadium show:
1. Seats in the upper deck cost $5.10 – that’s about $40/£25 in today’s money
2. In the audience that night were a young Meryl Streep as well as Linda Eastman and Barbara Bach (the future Mrs McCartney and Mrs Starr)
3. 25%-30% of the crowd that evening were male!
4. The concert made $304,000 in box office takings, of which the Beatles got $160,000
As with every concert on this tour, the set list was comprised of 12 songs. But which track should I choose to cover as tribute to the anniversary? One in particular stood out to me, a favourite of mine which, I can’t believe, only made it to No. 42 in Rolling Stone’s top 100 Beatles songs.
I Feel Fine was released in November 1964 and appears on the album Beatles ’65. Its opening note is the first example of feedback being used on a record, made by McCartney pressing his bass up to the amp. Just think how a single note, who knows, maybe even a mistake initially, paved the way for acts of the future to coin the technique (Townshend, Hendrix and Cobain, to name just a few…)
Lennon wrote the majority of the song, and came up with the riff whilst recording Eight Days A Week at Abbey Road. This riff is very close to Bobby Parker’s Watch Your Step, and although it has been suggested that Lennon may have stolen it, the inclusion of Parker’s track on the 2004 John Lennon’s Jukebox compilation ironically made Watch Your Step a hit in the UK. Bobby Parker isn’t the only influence on I Feel Fine. Lennon admitted that the inspiration for the drum piece came from Ray Charles’ What I’d Say, and you can hear this coming through on the vocals too.
But all these factors aside, I Feel Fine still has all the elements to make a perfect Beatles' classic: Sweet, catchy rhymes, a poppy, toe-tapping rhythm and a simple, effective harmony. The trinity!
Brace yourself. I’m about to make a very bold statement.
If I could listen to just one artist for the rest of my life, it would be David Bowie.
(Told you it was bold.)
I guess in a way I’m cheating slightly, because by choosing him I’m actually getting the full spectrum of Bowies, a vast collection of all kinds of personas and genres, from both in and out of this world...
There’s teddy boy Bowie, hippy Bowie, Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane, the Thin White Duke, and the Man Who Fell To Earth, not to mention the musical styles transforming through psychedelia, Glam rock (my fave), soul, new wave, electronica and pop. The man is a chameleon.
This is the first of many appearances that Bowie will be making on the blog, so let’s not go into a full detailed history of his rise (…and rise…) now. Instead, I want to take you back thirty-five years to the 8th August 1980 - the day when Ashes to Ashes was released.
Bowie is more than a singer/songwriter. He is, like the best are, a storyteller too, and it was his concept albums and the characters that captured my attention when I was first made aware of his music. Usually these characters just exist within one song or album, but in Ashes to Ashes, Bowie makes reference back to Major Tom, the “Action Man”, from his 1969 classic Space Oddity.
In Space Oddity, a conversation takes place between Ground Control and astronaut Major Tom, who is successfully launched into space on a solo mission. But after technical complications, communication is lost and Tom is left "floating like a tin can far across the world", we think never to be seen or heard from again. However, jump forward eleven years and Tom's back, making contact with Ground Control once more. He's happy and well, but those on earth are weary of him, describing him as a "junkie, strung out in heaven's high, hitting an all time low". It has been discussed whether Tom is representative of Bowie's struggles with drug addiction. It is suggested, therefore, that in order to progress both musically and in his personal life, Bowie must put old habits behind him.
In past interviews, Bowie has spoken of one song in particular that had an influence not only on Ashes to Ashes, but many of his tracks. Inchworm was sung by Danny Kaye and featured in the 1952 film Hans Christian Andersen. Bowie said:
"I loved it as a kid and it's stayed with me forever. I keep going back to it. There's a child's nursery rhyme element in it, and there's something so sad and mournful and poignant about it... There's a connection that can be made between being a somewhat lost five-year-old and feeling a little abandoned and having the same feeling when you're [an adult]. And it was that song that did it for me."
Ashes to Ashes may not be considered a predominant hit for some Bowie fans, but in fact it has great historical importance. In the UK charts the track went from the No.4 spot straight to No.1 in its first week of release, meaning that it was Bowie’s fastest selling single up until that time (amazing when you consider the cult-like following he had throughout the previous decade).
The music video was also groundbreaking. Not only did it cost £250,000, which at that point made it the most expensive video ever made, but it also featured effects that had never been seen before, like solarised colour and clever transitions. It may look rather amateur now, but the video is still considered one of the most iconic of the decade. For most of it, Bowie is dressed as Pierrot, adding theatricality to the otherwise dark scenarios; drowning, being locked in a padded cell, and walking in front of a bulldozer (a symbol of "oncoming violence" according to Bowie).
As previously mentioned, my love of Bowie comes from my mother, whose life was changed forever when watching Starman on Top of the Pops aged thirteen (the same age I was when I first delved into her record collection). "I'd never seen anything so beautiful and so extraordinary in my life," she told me. It seemed only natural to invite her to feature on my cover of Ashes to Ashes. So, enjoy!
Last Sunday, just minutes after finalising the title of this blog, I was informed of the passing of Priscilla Marie Veronica White, or as she was more commonly known, Ms Cilla Black. Like so many of my generation, I grew up with Cilla the TV personality, queen of Saturday nights, but of course she was far more than that. It seemed only fitting to kick off my blog with a post dedicated to one of the greatest female vocalists this country has produced.
Priscilla was born in Liverpool in 1943 and from an incredibly early age knew that she wanted to be a star, sneaking out in her lunch breaks at the hair salon to listen to bands down at the Cavern and Zodiac clubs. Growing up with the likes of The Beatles had its perks and in 1963 she was introduced to their manager, Brian Epstein, and was later signed as his only female singer. Despite being written by Lennon and McCartney, her first single Love of the Loved only made it to No. 35 in the UK charts. However, that didn’t stop Cilla Black (the name change due to a misprint in a local music paper). Underneath that girl-next-door exterior lay a feisty go-getter, and when Epstein returned from a trip to the States with a Dionne Warwick song he’d heard on the radio, she was ready to give it all she had.
Anyone Who Had A Heart is a song of pure heartache. Written by the legendary Burt Bacharach, it presents the ultimate girlfriend dilemma; do I stay with the man I love, despite the pain and anguish he causes me, because I’m scared it’ll ruin me to leave? This same problem is tackled in other hits, like Aretha Franklin’s I Never Loved A Man (The Way That I Love You), for example ("My friends keep telling me that you ain't no good, but oh, they don't know, that I'd leave you if I could"), but unfortunately in neither case is a solution found, both ladies ending up just as distraught as they were at the start.
For Dionne, the single reached a rather pitiful No. 42 in the UK charts (and only No. 8 in the States) but once Cilla got her hands on it the song flew all the way to the No. 1 spot, and in its first three months it had sold nearly one million copies. Not only did Anyone Who Had A Heart catapult Cilla’s career, but it was the biggest UK chart hit by a female artist in the whole of the 1960s.
What made it so special then? Well as Bacharach described it, it was the passion that Cilla put behind the song and its lyrics: “There weren’t too many white singers around which could convey the emotion that I felt in many of the songs I wrote, but that changed with people like Cilla Black”. You could argue that praise simply doesn’t get any higher than that.
If you love the track too, why not join the thousands petitioning to get it back to No. 1? Here's the campaign's Facebook page with more details.
Now, Liverpudlian accent I have not, but in finding that redhead Cilla was in nature a true mousey brunette, I’ve discovered a very personal bond with her that I shall hold on to in my attempts at recording a version of this song. I'd previously underestimated what a high register Cilla sings in, and being an alto girl myself, the power that she is able to give those top notes is mighty impressive. Still, that wasn't going to stop me giving it a damn good go.
So, here it is. My tribute to the one and only Cilla, an icon and national treasure. It’s sad that she’ll never get the chance to fulfill her desire to “grow old disgracefully”, but in honouring her memory, do try to remember her wish: "On my gravestone, I want 'Here lies the singer,' not 'Here lies the T.V. presenter’”.
"Most likely to become a famous band photographer, manager AND music critic. She knows the roots of music better than you know your own family."
This was the future predicted for me by my best friend when venturing into the sixth form, aged just sixteen. So in the present day, eight years later, how accurate was she? Photographer, yes. Manager, no. And as for the latter - well, "critic" may be a tad strong, but as a self-confessed music snob, I can't say she was entirely wrong.
We all have a little critic living inside us, and when it comes to music, one's preference can be made of up of a cocktail of factors; experience, heritage, and most importantly, gut feeling. Whatever sways your opinions towards a particular song, one thing is for sure: when it's good, you feel it. You feel it in your ears, in your heart and right down to your clenched fists and your toes wiggling in your shoes.
Bob Marley said the one good thing about music is that when it hits you, you feel no pain, but I'm afraid Bob, I have to disagree. Physical pain, maybe not, but if you've ever listened to a track that's made your chest tighten or tears well up in your eyes, I hope you share my feeling that music can definitely cause some serious discomfort, even out of joy.
A song's like a smell. Good or bad, it can transport you across countries and time periods, even taking you back to a former version of yourself. As a singer, it's the lyrics that pack the most punch for me. I can hear a tune and suddenly, it's like someone's opened up my inner-most thoughts and put them to music, whether it's the first time hearing it or, as the Four Tops put it, whether I've heard that same old song a million times before. I often feel that no matter what I say or write, it's probably been sung before, and sung better.
That doesn't mean to say that you have to be able to relate entirely to the lyrics; I haven't stayed at the Hotel California, been to the House of the Rising Sun, or fought in the Battle of Evermore, but I know what it feels like to do all those things, in my way.
So where did it all start for me personally? I guess really I'm the old soul here, a girl who grew up believing she was born in the wrong decade. I'm still not entirely sure which one would've suited me the most, but aside from the Spice Girls and a bit of Brit Pop, I think I'd trade in the 90s music scene for just about anything else.
It's not surprising that I should have such a fascination with the past. My grandfathers spent their careers working for H. R. Owen and Brooks Brothers, so be it cars or clothing, it's the classics that do it for me.
But back to the music. My family provided me with the best kind of grounding; Crooners and Broadway from my grandparents, the Stones, the Kinks and Clapton from my dad, and the Beatles and Bowie from my mum. From this platform I could then spring into further realms, like actual albums rather than Best Ofs, documentaries, exhibitions, books and films.
For the most part, the relationships I have made in my life have been based on a musical bond. The afore mentioned best friend and I, for example, started our friendship one Saturday afternoon when, coursework abandoned, we spent hours listening to Mick and Marc. When not in deep discussion together we'd be spreading the word to others, encouraging group choruses of Get Off Of My Cloud, sitting in the loos working out the chords to Lola, or lending albums, almost by force, to our classmates. "Satisfaction?", they'd say, "Yeah, I'm a huge Britney fan."
I hope that this blog will act, not only as a tribute to some of these greats, but as a mild educational tool, pinpointing important dates, inspirational people, and some damn good tunes that you may or may not have previously heard (and I will, she says nervously, be attempting to showcase my own versions too). I may have decent knowledge of the music that I love but as with everything life, I'm always learning. So here's to sharing the old and, in the process, I'm sure unearthing some new too.
