We got our first glimpse of the forthcoming collaboration between Scottish singer/songwriter James Yorkston and Swedenâs genre-hopping Second Hand Orchestra last month, when they released the single âStruggle.â Now, with the album The Wide, Wide River just a month away, theyâve released a new single and video. âElla Mary Leatherâ is an improbable-sounding name, but she was a real person – an English folk song collector of the early 20th century. Yorkston clearly likes the way the name sounds (âElla Mary Leather I regret yaâ), since the actual Leather is not the subject of the song. Instead we get a story of mixed emotions â most clearly, regret and nostalgia â and a tale driven by insistent piano and acoustic guitar, with just the right mix of emotions in the strings. âElla Mary Leatherâ was a Herefordshire based folk song collector in the early 20th Century, but James Yorkston and The Second Hand Orchestra (JY and TSHO)âs song is not about her. Yorkston explains: âNo, itâs not about Ella Mary Leather. I am just using her lyrical name as a mask, to protect the innocentâŠâ Over a wealth of percussion, violin, nyckelharpa, Yorkston plays buoyant piano as he sings us a story about a friend from many years ago.
The video was shot in Stockholm; the album comes out on January 22nd. Watch for Yorkston and the band doing a remote live set for our Soundcheck series around that time. The Wide, Wide River is a soothing, warm and sublime listen, whilst also highlighting Yorkstonâs skills for song writing, collaboration and as a musical conductor. The album takes in past loves, advancing age and friends, now gone, whilst also containing some of the most sanguine songs Yorkston has ever made.
James Yorkston & The Second Hand Orchestra – “Ella Mary Leather,” taken from forthcoming album ‘The Wide, Wide River,’ out 22nd January 2021 on Domino Record Co.
As Live albums go Forget “The Song Remains The Same” the 1970 bootleg “Live On Blueberry Hill” captures Zeppelin at the peak of their powers better than anything else, Sure, Led ZeppelinIV and Physical Grafitti are generally accepted as Led Zeppelinâs twin peaks, though you could find someone to make a case for each of their albums (even In Through The Out Door). But itâs the 1970 bootleg Led Zeppelin Live On Blueberry Hill that is the true connoisseurâs choice when it comes to Zeppelin albums.
Bootlegs and Zeppelin have been synonymous for over decades. Despite manager Peter Grantâs heavy-handedness when dealing with anyone he caught taping their shows, Zep became the most bootlegged act of all time.
The bandâs impact on their initial American tours made them a prime target for the then emerging bootleg recording business. From their inception, it was more than evident that Zeppelinâs studio output was just the starting point. On stage was where the real action occurred, as they constantly improvised and expanded their material. Peter Grant summed it up when he stated: âLed Zeppelin was primarily an in-person band⊠thatâs what it was really about.â
On the night of September 4th, 1970, during their sixth American tour, two separate teams of fans were intent on taping the Led Zeppelin gig at the Inglewood Forum in Los Angeles. Both parties came away with lengthy representations of the bandâs then current state of play, recorded on reel-to-reel machines close to the stage.
Regardless of which version you hear, the sheer authenticity of the performance shines through. The dynamic thrust of Bonhamâs drums, the sinewy grind of Pageâs guitar, Jonesyâs resonant bass lines and melodic keyboards, plus the outstanding clarity of Plantâs vocal shrieks (enhanced by the echo unit used at the time), all merge into a ferocious mix that magically recreates the electricity of the occasion.  The sleeve notes describe it as “One hundred and six minutes and fifty three seconds of pure alive rock.
The recording that would become known as the album Led Zeppelin Live On Blueberry Hill was captured by a pair of West Coast bootleggers whose previous credits included Dylanâs Great White Wonder set and the Stonesâ Liveâr Than Youâll Ever Be. Another bootlegger known as Rubber Dubber also recorded the show and quickly issued it as a double album stamped Led Zeppelin Live Los Angeles Forum 9-4-70. The more commonLive On Blueberry Hill on the Blimp label version with a distinctive surreal cover insert, also came out within weeks of the show.
Moments to relish include the unpredictable Communication Breakdown medley that included Buffalo Springfieldâs For What Itâs Worth and The Beatlesâ I Saw Her Standing There, plus the Zep I opener Good Times Bad Times. Not forgetting freshly minted nuggets from the soon to be released Zep III album such as Since Iâve Been Loving You and the rarely played live Out On The Tiles. A lengthy Whole Lotta Love turned into a rockânâroll juke box as they randomly threw in covers of Buddy Hollyâs Think It Over and Leiber, Stoller & Barrettâs Some Other Guy â a formula they repeated with a breathless encore rendition of Fats Dominoâs Blueberry Hill.
Back in their heyday, bootleg recordings of Led Zeppelin offered a whole new perspective on the band. This remains as essential a part of their discography as any of their official albums. To paraphrase the great Fats himself, Led Zeppelin Live On Blueberry Hill is still an absolute thrill. From the 1980s the bootleg became available on CD as a 2-disc set, often under the titles Blueberry Hill and The Final Statements. An historic show immortalized on the first-ever LP bootleg, Blueberry Hill. After the concert, JP, RP and JB jam at the Troubadour with Fairport Convention. “It was mainly Plant and Page who got up onstage and joined Fairport. They did things like âHey Joe,â âThatâs Alright Mama,â âMystery Train,â and other stuff. This was after Sandy Denny had left Fairport, so it was the all-male Fairport lineup. Joe Boyd
Setlist:Â
Immigrant Song, Heartbreaker, Dazed and Confused, Bring It On Home, That’s Way, Bron-Yr-Aur, Since I’ve Been Loving You, Organ solo / Thank You, What Is and What Should Never Be, Moby Dick, Whole Lotta Love (medley incl.: Let That Boy Boogie, Who’s Loving You Tonight?, I’m Movin’ On, Red House, Some Other Guy, Think it Over), Communication Breakdown (medley: incl. Good Times Bad Times, For What It’s Worth, I Saw Her Standing There), Out On The Tiles, Blueberry Hill.
David Ramirez was a great folk singer, but he hasn’t been for some time. To be clear, it’s not because he’s fallen off, but because he’s moved so far from the sounds of his early albums. That sound peaked with 2015’s Fables, a stunning collection of Americana. Ramirez followed that one up by listening to the Cure and releasing the surprising but equally good “We’re Not Going Anywhere” just two years later. Now Ramirez moves further away â consider the folk and country influences gone â with the complex, R&B-driven My Love Is a Hurricane. While the music surprises once again, it also keeps Ramirez’s strengths (his song writing and his vocals) at the fore, focusing the proper narrative on Ramirez’s career, not on his unexpected changes but the remarkable consistency at the centre of his art.
In a live setting, it becomes apparent how big Ramirez’s voice is; he sings more coolly on record much of the time. Here, “I Wanna Live in Your Bedroom” highlights that power. He’d be testing the song on the road since at least 2018. The music leaves plenty of space for Ramirez’s voice as he builds his longing, and the reverb on the vocals helps fill in the space. The cut would be effective with no instrumentation, and Ramirez makes the smart choice of leaving some piano primarily to create the frame for the song.
His vocals shine on every track, but most of the album focuses more on groove than “Bedroom” does. The title track brings a little gospel into the mix. The song uses dynamics to help articulate Ramirez’s passion. It stays under control throughout, but its surges show the tumult of the singer’s “hurricane”. The following track, “Hallelujah, Love Is Real!” turns that storm into a focused celebration, an epiphany of the possibilities of love despite a history that says otherwise.
“My Love Is a Hurricane” was initially conceived as a collection of love songs for David Ramirezâs other half. One abrupt breakup later, and it became a nuanced exploration of love and what comes after. It ranges from passion and dedication to desperation to doubt to resilience, all without simplifying an unnavigable emotional storm.Â
David Ramirez âMy Love Is A Hurricaneâ (Thirty Tigers, ) David Ramirez is releasing his fifth album â My Love Is A Hurricane â via Sweet World/Thirty Tigers, the second not self-produced after first using an outside producer on 2017âs â Weâre Not Going Anywhere â. This time that role goes to Jason Burt (who has worked with Leon Bridges), and the album explores different musical influences moving away from the more traditional Americana of his earlier work.
Ramirez’s latest album began in the throes of a joyous romantic relationship but persisted through its demise. Even so, the album brings encouragement, even the track titled “Hell” brings some fire in its retro-R&B sounds. Ramirez resisted the impulse to turn dark and inward, maintaining an open-hearted approach to his pop record. The album opens with a question to a lover and closes with a call to prevail. Ramirez, in any form, doesn’t go small, and matching this romance with these sounds lets him fully express his unbowed feelings.
Itâs taken far too long for Osaka post-punk trio OXZ to get the international attention they clearly deserved. Some of that has to do with how the all-girl group was marginalized within the Japanese rock scenes solely on the basis of their collective gender. But hearing this collection that pulls together the groupâs entire recorded work, itâs a wonder that a UK or US indie label didnât leap at the chance to canonize them before now. The trioâs sound is a perfect crystallization of the new wave/darkwave aesthetic, but with added dashes of colour and ebullience that their contemporaries like Killing Joke or the Birthday Party wouldnât touch. To that end, the music is scratchy, minimalist and direct, eschewing a lot of the overbearing production or the chirping cheeriness that helped their buddies in Shonen Knife find an international fanbase.
An added bonus to the fantastic compilation is the addition of a well-designed booklet that spells out OXZâs history through interviews with the former members of the group alongside tons of photos and ephemera.
The Staple Singers, the gospel-soul family group from Chicago led by Roebuck âPopsâ Staples and featuring the unimpeachable vocals of Mavis Staples, was already a going concern by the time they signed with Stax Records in the late â60s. But that move over to the Memphis label, and the input of producers Steve Cropper and Al Bell, helped take the ensemble to bigger stages and greater commercial heights. This long overdue collection brings together all the full-lengths that the Staples recorded for Stax; a run of albums that resulted in peak R&B/funk recordings like âRespect Yourself,â âIâll Take You There,â âHeavy Makes You Happy,â and âIf Youâre Ready (Come Go With Me).â The groupâs spiritual leanings were ever-present, but what took precedent was an Afrocentrism born from the waves of change being created by the Civil Rights Movement. Who better to bring messages like âLove Comes in All Colorsâ and âGive A Hand, Take A Hand,â than this church-bred group. This marvellous run of records sound brand new in these new all-analogue pressings, with the earthy tang of the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section and the Bar-Kays horn section ripping out of the speakers with hip-shaking fervour.
Itâs all capped off by a collection of stray singles and, most vitally, a recording of the bandâs set at Wattstax, the day-long concert that brought the best of the label to celebrate the Black art and the Black community of Los Angeles. The Staple Singersâ performance is all fire and sweat, with Pops urging the Black Power movement to keep up the good fight and, on âIâll Take You There,âMavis testifying like the Holy Spirit had a hold of her body and soul. This is a milestone of American musical history, treated with the appropriate levels of respect and reverence.
From their gospel beginnings through the folk-rock era to their soul music peak, the Staple Singers travelled a long, artistically-rich road into the mainstream of American music, spreading messages of peace, equal rights and love. When the Staples âcomprised of family patriarch Roebuck âPopsâ Staples and daughters Cleotha, Mavis and Yvonneâ joined Stax in 1968, they were working alongside major rock acts at forums like the Fillmore West and East. Over the next few years, The Staple Singers saw 12 chart hits, including “Respect Yourself” and “I’ll Take You There”, both off their 1972 breakthrough album, Be Altitude: Respect Yourself. The Staples continued to record through 1994, when they found a new audience with their cover of The Bandâs âThe Weightâ for MCA Recordsâ compilation âRhythm, Country & Blues.â Mavis Staples, who received her first GRAMMYÂź Award in 2011, continues to record and tour, performing everywhere from the White House to the Kennedy Center Honours stage to major festivals like Outside Lands. Most recently, Staples is the subject of documentary âMavis!â
For almost a decade, Agnes Obel has been one of the most independent and original artists in contemporary music. now she has returned with new music, releasing the enchanting single âIsland of Doomâ, ahead of the release of her highly anticipated new album “Myopia” â through Record label Deutsche Grammophon, UniversalMusic groupâs prestigious yellow label, and blue note in north america, It came out on 21st february 2020.
Thereâs a pitch bending backing-vocals-as-alien-instrument thing that The Knife and Fever Ray often deploy that I canât get enough of. These electronic hinterlands sit wonderfully adrift from Agnes Obelâs soaring voice that rises from her whirlpool compositions. when this pandemic is over, Iâm still going to want a one way ticket to the âIsland of Doomâ, which I presume is an uninhabited 20 metres of dirt in the middle of a mountainous Fjord.
Following the same principles as with her previous albums (Philharmonics, Aventine and Citizen of Glass), which she completed as a one-woman project in her own Berlin home studio, Obel has been under self-imposed creative isolation with the removal of all outside influences and distraction in the writing, recording and mixing process. âthe albums Iâve worked on have all required that I build a bubble of some kind in which everything becomes about the album.â âFor me the production is intertwined with the lyrics and story behind the songs,â says Obel. this is precisely what makes her music so compelling and the same is true with Myopia. âParadoxically, for me i need to create my own myopia to make music.â Obel was experimenting with techniques of recording processing, warping and pitching down vocals, strings, piano, celesta and lutheal piano, finding ways to melt these elements together to become one and twisting them in a way that you feel at home within the sound she conjures throughout the record.
Although Obelâs music can often curate a monologue of modern-day dystopian-esque news stories that we are all now subject to, the contents of âIsland of Doomâ are much more personal, as she explains: âThe song is made up of pitched-down piano and cello pizzicato and vocals, all choirs are pitched down and up⊠in my experience when someone close to you dies it is simply impossible to comprehend that you canât ever talk to them or reach them somehow ever again. They are in many ways still alive because in your consciousness nothing has changed, theyâre still there with everyone else you know.â created by long-term collaborator and partner Alex BrĂŒel Flagstad, the video perfectly visualises the experience and mystery of Myopia, which can be defined as âthe quality of being short-sightedâ.
Stylistic shifts have been the norm for Swedenâs I Break Horses – from the traditional rock sound of Hearts, their debut from almost a decade ago, to the electronic synthpop of its follow up Chiaroscuro in 2014. Both commendable releases, they were always an act searching for a sound that truly fit their ambitions, a search this sepia-tinged, darkly cinematic release has concluded.
At times, itâs a record that luxuriates in wondering what if you had wandered up a crumbling path to a parallel world. A place thatâs now just out of reach.
In almost any other year, this would be my album of the year and it was definitely my salvation for many weeks of it. Maybe the only reason it isnât top of the tree is because the 500% slowed grooves matched my mood almost too well… and I wish it didnât resonate so deeply.Â
Lyrically musing on love and loss, on opening track “Turn” she delivers one of the yearâs most direct observations on the futility of keeping a broken relationship alive: âMaybe weâre fucking with absent minds / While our hearts are breaking.â Musically venturing into new areas such as thunderous trip-hop beats, propulsive arpeggiated basslines, swirling dreampop with hypnotic synth chords, introspective coldwave, and on highlight “Neon Lights” she takes the flatness of krautrock and sprinkles it with an ’80s pop fizz, all done with a deft touch.Â
Yeah Yeah Yeah’s announced details of a vinyl reissue of their seminal, ground-breaking debut, “Fever To Tell”, through Interscope Records / UMe. Of all the bands that emerged from the beer-soaked basements of New York Cityâs music scene at the turn of the 21st Century, Yeah Yeah Yeahs were by far the most compelling. A trio of art school misfits, Karen O, Nick Zinner and Brian Chase flouted the conventions of indie rock and, with their debut album, “Fever To Tell”, brought a sense of fun and urgency to the quickly calcifying garage-rock revival.
Speaking about the release, the New York trio said, âA friend of a friend kept asking if we were ever gonna put Fever To Tell out on vinyl as it hasnât been on vinyl in 10 years. Thatâs not right. So here it is on vinyl for the first time in 10 years plus a time capsule of photos, demos (1st ever recorded,) a mini film documenting our near downfall and other fun memorabilia, from the turn of the century NYC, made with love + the usual blood, sweat + tears of Yeah Yeah Yeahs.â
One of the finest debut albums of recent times, “Fever To Tell” was released in 2003 and was influential in shaping the sound of the early aughts and beyond. Prior to its release, Karen O, Nick Zinner and Brian Chase had already established themselves as a ferocious live force; Fever To Tell introduced a band who could play thrilling and frenetic rockânâroll one minute and captivating, hushed ballads the next. Its meld of scuzzy riffs, angular grooves and hypnotic hooks set a template that was often imitated over the next decade but the albumâs rare chemistry isnât easily replicated. Itâs a snapshot of an era that sounds just as mesmerizing as it enters its 15th anniversary in 2018.
Both the band and album were a product of a specific time and place. Rising out of the ashes of a post-9/11 New York, Yeah Yeah Yeahs embodied the hedonism and debauchery of the nightlife scene, when people were looking for release. Riding a wave of critical buzz from their first two EPs, the group set about shedding the âgarage-rockâ label and channelling the energy of their live shows into a fully-formed, genre-defying debut album that more than lived up to the hype. Released on 29 April 2003, Fever To Tell signalled what the future of rock would sound like.
Much of Yeah Yeah Yeahsâ outsider status came from their art school sensibilities. Karen O and Brian Chase met at Oberlin college, while Nick Zinner matriculated at Bard before they all decamped to New York and enmeshed themselves in the mythologised Brooklyn underground scene, playing warehouses and crumbling lofts before opening for likes of The White Stripes. But while Yeah Yeah Yeahs are a product of New York, they got their first brush with fame overseas, playing headlining shows in the UK and creating pandemonium wherever they went, before even releasing their debut album in the States.
At the time of the albumâs release, Brooklyn was a just a blip on the radar as far as the mainstream was concerned, and Yeah Yeah Yeahs were battling Clear Channelâs chokehold of the charts, dominated by Linkin Park, Creed, Nickelback and the rest of their ilk. As its title suggests, Fever To Tell has a wild sense of urgency to it; it burns red-hot and rarely lets up â who knows if there will even be tomorrow? For now, you have a date with the night.
Fever To Tell opens with the No Wave punch of âRichâ, a blast of snares, thrashing guitars and Karenâs guttural shrieks, making it clear they werenât messing around. Thereâs also a layer of synths, so the track âcould in no way be mistaken for a garage trackâ, said Karen.
Outside the albumâs sonic outlier, âMapsâ, âDate With The Nightâ is Fever To Tellâs most brilliant cut, a stomping rocker that morphs from punk anthem to a sweaty dancefloor number, punctuated by Karenâs orgasmic trills. By the time itâs over, it feels like youâve survived a bender with the band.
Birthed in the New York tradition, Yeah Yeah Yeahs represented a sum of the cityâs musical parts, from No Wave to art-rock, post-punk to brash pop. Fever To Tell also predicted the next wave to come out of NYC: dance-rock, something their groove-laden debut helped set into motion. You canât listen to the scuzzy, wailing guitars, bouncy percussion and enticing synth line of âY Controlâ without walk-walk-walking your butt to the dancefloor, the cityâs cabaret laws be damned. At centre of all this hype was the bandâs fearless leader, Karen O. Dubbed the female Iggy Pop, for her wild stage antics and lack of self-preservation, Karen O is the albumâs emotional lightning rod.
Along with inspiring a generation of rock frontwomen Karen O is also to blame for every girl in Brooklyn with a Beatles bowl cut. That said, she was untouchable on stage, and she brings her beer-swelling, world-conquering swagger to the album. From her man-eating grin on âManâ to her lusty âuh-huhsâ on âBlack Tongueâ and frenzied shrieks on âTickâ, Karen O doesnât do the detached, post-punk flat vocal delivery; she works every word, demanding you listen.
Sometimes, however, her punk tendencies ran the risk of overshadowing her actual vocal performances. She only drops her guard towards the end of Fever To Tell, with âModern Romanceâ, the Velvet Underground-inspired âPoor Songâ and Mapsâ.
Fever To Tell wasnât all just piss and vinegar, though. It also birthed the bandâs most beautiful song: âMapsâ, a vulnerable, lovelorn ballad thatâs as devasting as the rest of the album is frenetic.
The intro to âMapsâ has become one of the most recognisable in rock music history. It starts out spare and sweet, before Zinner fully unleashes his guitar at the end, creating an immortal, indie-rock ballad for the hipster generation.
âThose f__king weird art-project kids wrote a beautiful hit, and it went global,â said Vice Media co-founder Suroosh Alvi in Lizzie Goodmanâs excellent oral history of the scene, Meet Me In The Bathroom. âMapsâ not only put Yeah Yeah Yeahs on the map, but planted a flag for the Brooklyn scene they came from.
What also set Yeah Yeah Yeahs apart from their Pabst-drinking peers and the punk revivalists is the dynamic guitar work of Nick Zinner and the percussive assault of Brian Chase. Zinnerâs idiosyncratic technique and his producerâs ear more than made up for the fact the band had no bassist: listen to the thrashing fervour and guitar stabs of âPinâ, the monster blues riffs on âBlack Tongueâ and the crashing cymbals of âCold Lightâ, and Fever To Tell makes one thing abundantly clear: Yeah Yeah Yeahs are their own power trio.
1969 was a roller-coaster year for Folk Rock band Fairport Convention. In January of that year they released their second album “What We Did On Our Holidays”, the first one to feature singer Sandy Denny. In May they hit rock bottom with a tragedy that killed two people including one of its members. Miraculously they recovered and released the album that defines Fairport at that time, “Unhalfbricking” was released in July of 1969, several weeks after the fatal accident on the M1 that killed drummer Martin Lamble and Jeannie Franklin (âGenie the Tailorâ, who designed clothes for west-coast pop and rock elites), Richard Thompsonâs recent girlfriend. The event questioned the bandâs resiliency, and was followed by an amazing period of recovery that gave birth to Liege and Lief. Franklin was immortalized a month later when Jack Bruce dedicated his debut solo album Songs for a Tailor to her, and Elton Johnâs Tiny Dancer is likely about her as well with the telling lyrics âBlue Jean Baby, L. A. lady/Seamstress for the bandâ.
Even more uncool is the back cover with a picture of the band engaged in the domestic task of having a meal. The whole package smells of looking back at days of yore, keeping a distance from current trends. A&M Records, who distributed the bandâs albums in the US, found the album coverâs concept abnormal and instead decided in a curious creative burst that the average American consumerâs palate might appreciate a photo of three dancing circus elephants with a girl dancing (balancing?) on top. Underestimating the American record buyerâs tolerance for the unknown, the band and album titles were slapped on the US album cover.
The band was going through a Bob Dylan phase at the time, resulting with three covers of his songs on the album. Dylanâs version of Million Dollar Bash, later to appear on the Basement Tapes album but at that point not yet released, The song came to the band through producer Joe Boydâs song publishing company which had access to Dylanâs new recorded materials. The great mandolin accompaniment is courtesy of Dave Swarbrick, who made a number of excellent recordings with Martin Carthy between 1965 and 1968, and was called by Joe Boyd to guest on a number of songs on “Unhalfbricking”.
Another Dylan cover was for a relatively unknown song, If You Gotta Go, Go Now. Dylan had recorded it in 1965 for his Bringing It All Back Home album but decided not to include it in the album, instead releasing it as a single in the Netherlands in 1967. Manfred Mann covered the song soon after Dylan recorded it in 1965. Fairport Convention gave it an interesting twist by singing it in French, translated to Si Tu Dois Partir.
Fairport Convention was playing a gig at the Middle Earth and thought it would be amusing to do Dylanâs song in French Cajun style, so the band called for volunteers from the audience to help with the translation. Richard Thompson: âAbout three people turned up, so it was really written by committee, and consequently ended up not very Cajun, French or Dylan.â The studio version is a better attempt at the Cajun style, featuring Dave Swarbrick on fiddle, Richard Thompson on accordion and Trevor Lucas, who later formed Fotheringay with Denny, on triangle. The band was quite inventive when it came to producing interesting sounds in the studio. Joe Boyd, in his book White Bicycles: Making Music in the 1960s recalls: âMartin created the Cajun washboard sound for âSi Tu Dois Partirâ by stacking some plastic Eames chairs and running his drumsticks along them. The percussion break was supposed to feature an empty milk bottle lying on the topmost chair, but when the time came it fell and smashed on the floor. I signalled frantically to keep playing. The crash of broken glass was absolutely in time and worked perfectly, a good omen for the session.â The song was released as a single, reaching the UK singles chart, and got the band its first appearance at Top of the Pops on August 14th, 1969.
The third of the Dylan cover’s is Percyâs Song, recorded by Dylan in 1963 for his third album The Times They Are a-Changinâ. The song did not make it into the album and was released some twenty years later on the Biograph collection. The song lyrics are a futile plea to a judge to reconsider a harsh sentence given to a driver in a fatal car accident. Sandy Denny sings a beautiful harmony with Ian Matthews who had left the group after their previous album, and her interpretation is the best I know for this lesser known Dylan tune. Guitar player Simon Nicol said this of Dennyâs vocal on the song: âIt needs a voice like Sandyâs to get the shades of emotion across, from moodiness to compassion to outright fury. Thereâs not many singers can do that.â
One song on Unhalfbricking points to the direction the band would take on their next album. A Sailorâs Life is a traditional song brought to the band by Sandy Denny. The song, indexed as Roud 237 in the English Folk Dance and Song Society, was previously covered by Judy Collins on her album A Maid of Constant Sorrow in 1961 and by Martin Carthy on his second album from 1966.
Fairport Conventionâs version is a milestone in British folk rock, maybe the first time a serious rock interpretation was given to an old ballad. Sheila Chandra, who was inspired by Sandy Dennyâs delivery of the song and later covered it herself, found similarities to Indian music in Fairport Conventionâs version: âThe track is actually a microcosm of 2,000 years of Indian music â it goes from Vedic chanting on two or three notes right through to full improvisations on a fixed note scale. All in one take. The band have realized that all folk music is based upon a drone, and shares a common root. For instance, the way the violin comes in with an insistent repeat of the drone note is reminiscent of the Indian wind instrument the Shenai, and its distant relative the shawm in Irish music. It all connects.â That violin is played by Dave Swarbrick, his finest contribution to this album.
John Wood, who was the principal sound engineer in the studio, recalls the recording of the song: âRichard and Sandy came in and said âwe really think we can only do this onceâ. They already got Dave Swarbrick in to play on it. We put Sandy in a vocal booth (she had an awful cold that day too) and everybody else in a big semicircle. When you want to cut that sort of track, its not easy for people to work if its all sectioned off, so it was very open and that was it, one take, done. No overdubs.â Dave Swarbrick was given no specific instructions as to what to play on the song other than to just come in when the singing stops. He had fond memories from the session as well: âSandy had a great band to soar over and a great bunch of musicians who were sympathetic. Richard and Sandy worked closely together. Richard was awesome, of course. That should be his middle name. But the band was cohesive and so special, the chemistry worked and the line-up was sensational.â
I have two favourite songs on this album, and one of them is Sandy Dennyâs “Who Knows Where the Time Goes?” Denny wrote the song early in her career with the original title The Ballad Of Time. She was not yet 20 years of age when she wrote the mature lyrics about the passage of time. She sang it during her short stint with the Strawbs in 1967. Judy Collins gave the song an interpretation in 1968 on her album of the same name and as a B-side on her single Both Sides Now. The song became one of Dennyâs most enduring and beloved songs, and in 2007 it was voted by BBC Radio 2 listeners as their favourite folk rock track of all time. It was the last song to be recorded for Unhalfbricking, and the last drummer Martin Lamble would ever record with the band.
The album was recorded in the early months of 1969 at Sound Techniques and Olympic Studios in London. Sound Techniques was a go-to studio for many great psychedelic, rock and folk British acts of the time, including Nick Drake (Five Leaves Left, Bryter Layter), Incredible String Band (The 5000 Spirits Or The Layers Of The Onion), Jethro Tull (This Was), John Martyn (Solid Air), Pentangle (Cruel Sister), Pink Floyd (Arnold Layne), Steeleye Span (Parcel Of Rogues) and Fairport alumni Richard Thompson and Sandy Denny. John Wood assembled a roster of first-class musicians who acted as the house band for a great variety of recording sessions. Not surprisingly, many of them were associated with Fairport Convention, including Dave Mattacks and Gerry Conway on drums, Danny Thompson, Dave Pegg and Pat Donaldson on bass, Richard Thompson, Jerry Donahue and Simon Nicol on guitars.
I often found Bob Dylan songs that no-one else had, like “Percyâs Song”, which is a fabulous song. Fairport Convention got a reputation for doing unreleased Dylan songs, but we never knew if Dylan heard about us. The years rolled by â and then, unbeknownst to me, a friend who does some work over here for Bobâs management sent me a quote heâd got for my website from Bob: âAshley Hutchings is the single most important figure in English folk-rock. Before that, his group Fairport Convention recorded some of the best versions of my unreleased songs.â What I now discover is, heâs known about us right from the beginning! He loved “Liege & Lief”, he thought Sandy Denny was the best singer heâd heard. He turns out to be lovely, very considerate, very funny and very, very knowledgeable about all kinds of things» â Ashley Hutchings, 2022
“Loaded,” the Velvet Undergroundâs fourth album, released in November of 1970 and getting the grand box set treatment soon to mark its 45th anniversary, was the last to feature Lou Reed. It was also the last Velvet Underground album I bought and listened to on my quest to own every note this band every recorded. For some reason, “Loaded” was the hardest one to track down.
I knew as I scoured the bins that “Loaded” was the original home for a pair of Velvet Underground songs that had already taken on legendary status by the ’80s, âSweet Janeâ and âRock and Roll.â But the only version of âSweet Janeâ I’d heard at that point was the one off Lou Reedâs live album “Rock nâ Roll Animal,” which was widely acknowledged as a way to place the irascible star back on the charts after he chose to follow up his breakthrough “Transformer” â which David Bowie and his late guitarist Mick Ronson crafted into a glitter-era sensation â with the dour, Bob Ezrin-produced “Berlin.”
That live version of âSweet Janeâ comes with an extended intro â if you happened to turn in before those chords smashed down, you might think you were listening to Yes. But then thereâs a wave of applause and Reed strolls onstage, and begins to sing in his tough monotone. Heâs got bleached blonde hair and never takes off his extra dark aviators:
“Loaded” was a fitting end for the mighty Velvet Underground. Lou Reed had penned an album seemingly loaded with hits, but by now, four LPs into the Velvets’ career, a sad few record buyers appreciated the band. After recording the album, Reed called it quits and disapeared to his parents’ home in the suburbs – the ultimate anti-rock statement. Resignation permeates the album. Reed’s voice is noticeably ragged, and bassist Doug Yule ended up recording many of the vocals for the final mix. Drummer Moe Tucker was pregnant, and Yule’s brother Billy sat in on drums for most of the “Loaded” sessions, further alienating Reed from the already disintegrating band.
Iâd heard Janeâs Addictionâs slurry, meandering, percussive version of âRock nâ Rollâ before I ever heard the Velvets. âRock nâRollâ was clear-eyed and true. But it was almost immediately clear to me what I had been truly missing all these years. âSweet Janeâ is the second song on the album, after the bubblegum sweet âWho Loves the Sunâ (a showcase for Doug Yule, who replaced the more avant John Cale), and it begins with a guitar squiggle followed by those steady, wave-like chords (unmistakable in any version), and just like in the live “Rock nâ Roll Animal” version, Lou sings: âStandinâ on the corner, suitcase in my hand. Jackâs in his corset, Jane is in her vest and me Iâm in a rock and roll band.
What makes the “Loaded” version life-changing and revelatory the fact that âstandinâ on the cornerâ is cooler than anything you are doing, even if the suitcase is full of used books to sell at the Strand on Broadway.
Lou was âa monster,â a bad man, a crank, a grouch, a sharp tongued, cranky, short-fused bastard, There is also an utterly batshit version of “Sweet Jane” on the live “Take No Prisoners” album, in which Lou rails against rock critics and the hipster scene and just about everything else: The album is more of a stand-up routine than a live document,
This was no longer the art-rock Velvet Underground, but a far more accessible version, relying on Reed’s songwriting over the band’s overall musicality. accordingly, the songs are either retreats into the faux innocence of parental ideals (“Head Held High“), or autobiographical pieces of teenage rebellion (“Sweet Jane”).
“Rock and Roll”, for instance, reads like text-book angst, where everything your parents do is, well, “it ain’t happening at all”. The album appropriately sounds like Reed’s final bit of energy for the band. there’s the saddened tone of “Oh! Sweet Nuthin'”, in which the heroes walk with their “head[s] down”, and “New Age”, in which they mingle with “over the hill” movie stars.
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The Fat Angel Sings 