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.
