MONDAY MORNING SHUFFLE

A trip into London yesterday for lunch with the US writer Bob Spitz offers an opportunity for a one-off i-Podding post similar to those I did regularly before I stopped commuting three years ago. The number of songs on my i-Pod continues to grow, with 19,6769 as of yesterday, which makes this trusty iPod 5^th Generation Classic of mine, now no longer sold by Apple, all the more valuable to me. Sooner or later it’ll pack up and I’ll have to buy another on ebay, where I note that new ones sell for £92.99 or used from about £25.

         First up on shuffle yesterday morning was Eric Clapton, ‘Going Away Baby’ from his 1994 album of blues covers From The Cradle, a fairly standard blues rock shuffle song with plenty of harmonica but not much guitar apart from a nagging little riff that builds during a solo at the end, albeit with the harp dominating the guitar. Not a bad start to the morning’s listening as my train slid smoothly out of Clandon towards Waterloo but, in truth, a bit on the boring side.

         Eric was followed by John Mellencamp’s ‘Hurts So Good’, a song I acquired on one of those Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame CDs that voters used to be given before we were directed to a website, should we feel the need to listen to the nominees. I once encountered Mellencamp in a studio in New York when he was going under the name of Johnny Cougar and was managed by Bowie’s former svelgali Tony Defries who was clearly pointing him in the direction of Springsteen. ‘Hurts So Good’, a fine example of an oxymoron, was US number two hit in 1982 in that midwestern boogie style that was popular in the mid-seventies. Competent if a tad dull, with a predictable middle-eight, he sounds more like Bob Seger than Bruce to me.

         The shuffle setting often throws up wholly inappropriate songs and next up is ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’ by The Crystals from Phil Spector’s magical Christmas LP. Because we played this at Christmas year after year when our kids were growing up they came to associate Phil’s Wall Of Sound with Christmas, and so came to believe that songs by The Ronettes like ‘Be My Baby’ and ‘Baby I Love You’ and The Crystals (‘Da Do Ron Ron’ and ‘Then He Kissed Me’) heralded the imminent arrival in town of Santa Claus, as is apparent on this song. I never tire of this.

         Next up is Crowded House singing ‘Pineapple Head’ from a live CD recorded at the Fleadh in Finsbury Park in 2004 when the bill topper was Bob Dylan. This is from a bootleg I bought when I couldn’t get enough of CH, and on it Neil Finn has a wild old time berating security men who stand with their backs to the band, and he sends his heartfelt best wishes to his Irish-born mum back in New Zealand. This is a great version of a CH favourite, lovely harmonies with some improvised vocals towards the end. Finn, of course, is currently a member of Fleetwood Mac – not a sentence I ever thought I’d write – along with Mike Campbell from Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers, both enlisted as cover for the absent Lindsay Buckingham.

         CH are followed by Eels and ‘What Is This Note’, the closing song from their Souljacker album of 2001. Played double time, fast and short like The Ramones, this was the first real surprise of the morning, with distorted guitar giving way to unexpected acoustic picking and a relatively gentle climax. I needed that to wake me up.

         And then I was lulled back into a trancelike state by Alison Goldfrapp singing ‘Forever’ from Black Cherry, her second album. Smooth, soothing and breathy, with a pastoral feel, her synthesiser conjures up traces of birdsong and a hint of water flowing somewhere in the mix. I can’t remember where in hell I bought this CD; maybe it was from my daughter’s collection, now abandoned since she left home, or perhaps from a charity ship for a quid. Not a bad investment if that was the case.

         Next up is John Legend singing ‘So High’ from an album called Get Lifted, another CD possibly acquired from the daughter, and quite the opposite of edgy with Legend creating the same feel and tempo as Marvin on What’s Going On. It’s a passionate but rather OTT piano ballad, a tad saccharine, with a guitar solo awash in echo that floats in at the half way stage as Legend begins to emote rather too expressively for my liking. His shoes scrape the sky, which is how love is supposed to feel, as he helpfully informs his listeners.

         And on to Miles Davis, which is miles better. ‘Well You Needn’t’ is from a double CD set called Take Off: The Complete Blue Note Albums, all recorded during the fifties beginning with Young Man With A Horn, followed by Miles Vol 2 and Vol 3, and including a slew of outtakes. Being too wrapped up in rock during my Melody Maker years it wasn’t until the 1980s that I broadened my horizons into jazz, beginning with Ellington, then Cannonball Adderley’s Somethin’ Else and then Miles, stretching out from Kind Of Blue to this set and another from the Columbia Years. I really love this kind of jazz now, especially in the mornings, and I was lucky enough to discover it at just the right time, in my thirties.

         We’re reaching Wimbledon now and heading for another challenge as the lyricism of Miles’ golden trumpet gives way to ‘European Son’ by the Velvets from the Banana album, perhaps the most influential LP ever and quite a lurch as my train slows down into the home of tennis. After a couple of chug-along verses Lou, John, Sterling and Maureen embark on over five minutes of distorted guitar improvisation, a master class in avant-garde punk soloing before punk was invented, as edgy as it gets and clearly the signpost for bands like Television. No wonder they found the going hard outside of New York, and after five minutes it becomes rather too challenging for me in the circumstances. I’d rather move along so for the first time today I fast forward…

         … to ‘Ode To My Family’ by The Cranberries, from a Best Of I’ve had for a while. Lilting arpeggios accompany Dolores singing about family life back in County Limerick, a lovely song that reflects the group’s gift for melody and her unresolved desire to turn back time and return to her roots. Her death shocked me. Like everyone else, I was turned on to The Cranberries by ‘Dreams’, and we went to see them at Shepherds Bush Empire, my only disappointment the brevity of the show – less than one hour – when I’d been brought up on marathons by The Who, Bruce and Zep. Still, always had a soft spot for this group and their last offering, In The End, is among the CDs in my car right now.

         This is followed by the second Christmas song of the morning, ‘A Change At Christmas’; by Flaming Lips which appeared on a Mojo collection of Christmas songs that I downloaded a long time ago. In truth I have over 100 Christmas songs on a playlist now and this gets wheeled out every December. I haven’t heard this Flaming Lips song in ages and it sounds very heartfelt, reminds me a bit of R.E.M., with poignant sleigh bells and an uplifting chorus expressing, obliquely, hope for a better future.

         This is followed by The Shadows’ ‘Guitar Tango’ from a hits CD; Ennio Morricone territory really, as it sounds a bit like the theme from a western, all hot and dusty, with a South American tempo over pizzicato melody. To my delight I am now acquainted with Bruce Welch and Brian Bennett who are among those who attend the twice-yearly luncheons for old music biz pals at Barnes.

         Finally, as my train cruises into Vauxhall before the final stretch to Waterloo, up comes the mighty Bruce and ‘Raise Your Hand’ from his ‘Live In 1978’ 3-CD set, recorded in Cleveland for a radio broadcast with the legendary WMMS DJ Kid Leo as MC. This is a truly great, uplifting, show-stopping E Street band performance of the Eddie Floyd stomper with everybody on stage and in the crowd having a whale of time. Chaotically uninhibited, Bruce and his men give it their all, winding down at one point for a false ending then surging back in as Bruce encourages all those listening at home to pull down their windows, blast it out at top volume and if anyone objects to tell them to send their complaints to Kid Leo. I can only hope his mail sack was full to the brim a day or two later. This is the penultimate track on the CD and the applause goes on for several minutes, still going as I fumble for my ticket at the Waterloo barrier and put my iPod away. Intrigued, when I got home I checked what happened next: a seven-minute ‘Twist And Shout’ no less.

        

        

A 70th BIRTHDAY PLAYLIST

After breakfast this morning I made a quick iPod playlist of 70 tracks, a bit random but all songs I love, almost all of them from the 50s, 60s and 70s which was deliberate. No real surprises I don't suppose, and more recent songs can wait for another day. I could have done 700, of course, but that would have taken too long and I didn’t want to waste time while the sun was out. Either way I’ve probably missed some favourites and I made a rule to limit the number of songs to one per artist. (I broke that rule, but only with Beatles, Who, Bowie and Dylan.) Then I got in my car and headed south, to Lancing, and walked along the beach towards Brighton with these songs playing in my head. The weather was wonderful, warm, all blue skies and fluffy clouds, and the beach was largely deserted. I knew which song on the playlist was number 35, so after that played (and by an odd coincidence it was Dusty singing ‘Goin’ Back’) I walked back to Lancing, had a coffee in the Perch café and then drove home.

            Music has been a constant in my life since I was nine or ten, so it seemed only right to spend the first part of this day with songs I've grown up with. It took just over four hours and here’s what I listened to…

   

Mystery Train – Elvis

Great Balls of Fire – Jerry LL
Tutti Frutti – Little R
Rave On – Buddy H
Summertime Blues – Eddie C
Claudette – Everlys
Only The Lonely – Roy O
You Need Love – Muddy W
Hellhound On My Tail – Robert J

Sweet Little Sixteen – Chuck B

Long Tall Sally – Beatles

Satisfaction – Stones

Rising Sun – Animals

Respect – Aretha F

Sweet Soul Music – A Conley

Slippin’ & Slidin’ – Band (live)

Don’t Worry Baby – Beach Boys

Waterloo Sunset – Kinks

Hello Mary Lou – R Nelson

Here Comes The Night – Van M

Substitute – Who

Who Do You Love – Bo D

Mr Tambourine Man – Dylan

Shakin’ All Over – J Kidd & Pirates

I Fought The Law – Bobby Fuller 4

Move It – Cliff R

Time Is Tight – BT & MGs

Bells of Rhymney – Byrds

Stop In The Name of Love – Supremes

Tracks Of My Tears – Smokey R & Miracles

Walk Away Renee – Four Tops

My Girl – Temptations

Midnight Hour – Wilson P

Ecstasy of Gold – Ennio M

Goin’ Back – Dusty S

I Want You – Dylan

4 + 20 – CSN&Y

Don’t Let Me Down – Beatles

I Can’t Let Maggie Go – Honeybus

I Can Hear The Grass Grow – Move

Save The Last Dance For Me – Drifters

Be My Baby – Ronettes

Gasoline Alley – Rod Stewart

Knock On Wood – Eddie Floyd

When You Walk In The Room – Agnetha F

How Can You Mend A Broken Heart – Al Green

River Man – Nick Drake

See Emily Play – P Floyd

Hold On I’m Coming – Sam & Dave

Who’ll Stop The Rain – CCR

Winner Takes It All – Abba

Everybody’s Talkin’ – Harry N

If Paradise Is Half As Nice – Amen Corner

All Right Now – Free

Starman – Bowie

Chimes Of Freedom (live) – Bruce S

Me & Bobby McGhee – Janis J

Rock’n’Roll – Led Zep

Europa Endlos – Kraftwerk

Heroes – Bowie

I Can See For Miles - Who

Dixie Chicken – Little F

There She Goes – The La’s

Like A Hurricane – Neil Young

Baby Blue – Badfinger

Hello In There – John Prine

Highway Man – Albert Lee & HH

Blitzkrieg Bop – Ramones

Dreaming – Blondie

Elvis Presley Blues – Gillian Welch

THURSDAY MORNING SHUFFLE

When I commutated to work regularly on the train from Guildford to Waterloo I used to listen to music on my iPod and every so often write about whatever came up on the shuffle setting. Well, I was on that same train yesterday and switched to shuffle again, a choice of 17,376 songs on the iPod as of this week, so I jotted down the names of tracks and random thoughts with the intention of writing another iPodding post. Here goes:

First up is The Faces’ ‘You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything’, a title that went on for much longer on the single that was a minor hit in 1974. There’s more than a hint of Motown in this song, and not just the lyric ‘this old heart of mine’, the title of an Isley Brothers’ hit that Rod covered on one of his own albums. I always had a soft spot for The Faces, more live than on a record, and this is one of their best songs. A good start to the morning’s listening.

Next up was Simon & Garfunkel, though from its choppy guitar chord intro I thought for a second it was The Everly Brothers. ‘You Can Tell The World’ was track one side one of their debut album Wednesday Morning 3AM, the song that introduced them to the world, but is very unlike the type of music that we now associate with S&G. “A joyous gospel track sung with plenty of naïve enthusiasm but lacking real depth or subtlety,” I wrote in my little guide to their music, and my opinion remains unchanged. “The rather academic approach that S&G brought to their music was unlikely to befit a gospel song that was generally delivered with unfettered enthusiasm by black choirs immersed in the glory of the Lord,” I continued. “The most impressive feature is Simon's rhythmic guitar work, an early example of his strength as an accompanist, not just with precise, claw-hammer finger picking but with confident chord work as well.”

S&G are followed by Gillian Welch, for whom I also have a very soft spot as anyone who visits Just Backdated on a regular basis will surely know. ‘Everything Is Free’, a track from her third album Time (The Revelator) was instantly recognisable from her partner Dave Rawlings’ springy guitar introduction, a sound I’d recognise anywhere these days. This is one of Gillian’s more mournful songs, bemoaning the loss of innocence or maybe the impermanence of things that once mattered to her, and like everything she does it’s a joy on the ear.

Making his second appearance this morning, Rod Stewart belts out ‘You’re My Girl (I Don’t Want To Discuss It)’, a track from Gasoline Alley, an album that sat next to my first decent stereo system for the second half of 1970 and all of 1971, and one that brings back sharp memories of time and place, in my case a shared flat in Bayswater, and a girlfriend who loved Gasoline Alley as much as I did. This is a slab of pure funk, with great bass playing (Wood? Lane? I have no idea) and guitar (probably Wood). Nowadays my version comes from Reason To Believe: The Complete Mercury Studio Recordings, a 3-CD set that demonstrates how wonderful Rod really was before success skewered his focus and led him to prance about in the wrong trousers. Things were going a bit pear shaped by Smiler (1974) but the four albums that preceded it remain magnificent examples of the best of early 70s UK rock.

I wasn’t that keen on the orchestral Quadrophenia, though ‘Helpless Dancer’ by Alfie Boe and Phil Daniels is probably the one Quad track that lends itself to this treatment as well as anything. “A dramatic but lean operatic-style aria featuring a double tracked Roger over staccato piano chords, acoustic guitar and little else,” I wrote in my little guide to The Who’s music, thus foreseeing the symphonic Quad about 20 years before it happened. Still don’t like it much, sounds a bit like Townshend meets Gilbert & Sullivan.

Far more conducive to my morning mood is Clannad’s chill-out version of ‘Coinleach Glas An Fhómhair (Cantoma Mix)’ which sounds like it should be on one of those Café Del Mar compilations; soft, dreamy, laid-back and, in typical Clannad style, rather haunting too. I think I picked up this Clannad compilation for £1 in a charity shop a year or two ago. I became attuned to Café Del Mar music on a beach in the South of France back when our kids were little and we took them to Eurocamps down there.

Up next is Kirsty MacColl and ‘Rhythm Of The Real Thing’ from a great anthology called From Croydon To Cuba, though I’m not convinced this funk style is suited to her voice. Bass led with stabbing brass, Kirty’s warm personality doesn’t come across anywhere near as well as on the pure pop and Cuban material that makes up most of this collection. Tragic loss, and those responsible for her death have never been brought to justice.

I reviewed the Beatles Live At The Hollywood Bowl album at some length here last November and the next track up on shuffle is John singing ‘Help’ in which he mangles the lyrics slightly but makes a great effort against formidable odds thrown up by thousands of screaming girls. As I said then, this album presents a decent argument that JPG&R were much better live than they thought they were, especially in the circumstances.

‘One Step’ by Ronnie Lane takes the adrenalin quotient way down as my train pulls into Surbiton, a folksy song in the rural style that Ronnie moved towards after leaving The Faces, so much more satisfying that the direction the singer took. Lovely acoustic guitar picking on a gently rolling tune; from a fine compilation called How Come that all sane music lovers of a certain age ought to own.

‘Hello Little Girl’ by The Beatles from Anthology 1 doesn’t sound like The Beatles at all, lacking in confidence and more like a third rate Merseybeat band. John and Paul share the vocals but you’d never guess, and George’s solo is very lacklustre. There’s evidence, too, of why Pete Best had to go. This is taken from the January 1, 1962, Decca audition session and, to be honest, it’s no wonder they were rejected, at least on the evidence of this.

Oscar Petersen takes me into Wimbledon with ‘Band Call’, piano jazz, followed by Fairground Attraction and ‘The Wind Knows My Name’. Their 1988 album First Of A Million Kisses was a favourite of mine for a while, its highlight the wonderful voice of Eddi Reader whom I later discovered was singing anonymously (or enhancing the vocals) on hits by lots of bands that featured girl singers. ‘Perfect’ was their big hit, of course (which had a fabulous C&W feel guitar solo) and the album as a whole was chock full of grace and romance, with a nice London feel about it too.  

Eddi was in the wrong place at the wrong time ever to have enhanced The Ronettes whose ‘Woman In Love (With You)’ comes up next, one of their lesser known songs but unmistakably A Wall Of Sound production by the inmate of the State Prison at Stockton, California. From the Back To Mono Spector set.

From its title alone ‘Origin Of The Species’ by U2 sounds like a pretentious slab of grandiosity worthy of Bono’s loftiest aspirations, but it turns out to be an inoffensive power ballad, from their album How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. I quite liked U2 around the time of Unforgettable Fire and Joshua Tree but indifference seems to have set in now.

We’re just pulling into Vauxhall as U2 give way to Diana Ross & The Supremes, a song called ‘No Matter What Sign You Are’, a bit Motown-by-numbers really but no matter. The subject matter reminds me of concerts in America by all those funk bands like Brass Construction, Ohio Players and EW&F, who at once point in their shows would invariably introduce each band member – and there were a lot of them – and state which star sign they were, thus inspiring big cheers from those in the crowd born around the same date. It always took ages – the funk equivalent of the prog rock drum solo – and was just as dreary.

Into Waterloo and R.E.M. are beginning ‘Belong’ from their Unplugged album, another record I’ve reviewed on this blog. Mike Mill’s bass is joined by Stipe’s mumbles, giving way to a gorgeous choral wash. Shame I have to switch it off and head for my lunch date.

iPOD SCARE

Regular visitors to Just Backdated will have noticed that I no longer write iPod ‘Shuffle’ posts. This is because I no longer commute regularly and don’t really shuffle the songs on my iPod any more, just select what I want to hear instead. But the fragility of digitalised modern music was brought home to me about four weeks ago when, against my better judgement, I downloaded a new version of iTunes on to my laptop, in the process straining the relationship between the iPod and the laptop which necessitated a visit to the nearest Apple store to sort out. In the end it was but not before the iPod was reformatted to become compatible with the new version of iTunes, a process that for one heart-stopping moment caused me to imagine that all my music might have disappeared. It hadn’t – but I did have to synchronise the iPod again. To download all the music again, of course, would have taken months.

The upshot of this rather stressful episode was that for reasons I can’t understand some music has disappeared. On the last iPodding post here, on December 21 last, I refer to 16,635 songs but my iPod now tells me it contains 16,210, so 445 songs have somehow gone astray. Also, the figure of 16,635 ought now to be higher to take into account new songs (and there’s probably over 300) acquired this year. I have no real idea what the 445 missing songs are, and I suspect more have disappeared because the recent stuff (which I can remember) seems to be all present and correct.

One track whose absence I did notice – because I’d played it a lot around the time of his death – was the David Bowie Soulwax mash up, lasting slightly over an hour. I didn’t notice it had gone missing until I tried to play it on my iPod shortly after downloading the new format, and when I discovered it wasn’t there I checked on the laptop and it wasn’t there either. Fortunately I’d saved it elsewhere, a reflection on how much I love this homage to the great man, so I was able to reinstate it easily. As for the rest, I’ll only find out what they are if I happen to look for something and can’t find it.

There were two further side-effects to this: all the playlists I had compiled were deleted, which is easily remedied by making new ones, and the number of plays each of the 16,000+ songs had received was also lost. This meant I was no longer able to compile a list of my most played songs, as I did here on 26 June, 2014, when ‘Orphan Girl’ by Gillian Welch topped the list with 130 plays, followed by The Beatles’ ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ (126) and Welch again with ‘Make Me Down A Pallet On Your Floor’ (124).

Although the list of plays on the iPod had disappeared into the ether, there was a list of most played on the laptop, however, but it was wildly different from its predecessor in that it consisted entirely of songs I’d bought from iTunes as opposed to CDs, and also bought fairly recently.  The reason for this is that I had synchronised my iPhone with the laptop so as to be able to transfer this music to the iPod and the number of recent plays on the phone had been registered in the iTunes folder. Why older plays on the iPhone hadn’t registered is a another mystery, a case in point being the Under The Covers albums by Matthew Sweet and Susannah Hoffs, which I’ve listened to a lot.

Since phone calls interrupt music and won’t therefore be missed, I often listen to music on the phone and not the iPod when on a train or strolling around a supermarket. It is these plays, concentrated over a limited number of albums, that have registered highly while iPod plays, which cover 100s of albums and, in any case, will only have registered during the past four weeks, are minuscule.

But just for the hell of it, here’s how the ‘most played’ list looks today. The top six are all tracks from The War On Drugs’ album Lost In A Dream, number one ‘Under The Pressure’ with 69 plays. Ennio Morricone sneaks in at number seven with ‘Ecstasy Of Gold’, then Robert Plant with ‘Little Maggie’, then more War On Drugs and then Ravi Shankar since I find sitar music is a pleasing soundtrack to supermarket shopping. In fact, the entire top 50 consists of War On Drugs, songs from Plant’s Lullaby And.. The Ceaseless Roar album, sitar music by Shankar and Nikhil Banerjee, Morricone film music, John Fahey (I bought a Guitar Masters collection of his on line) and a girl trio called Applewood Road, which, like the Under The Covers albums, was recommended to me by old friend Richard Williams.

The 26 June, 2014, list of most played songs took several years to compile insofar as it represented the length of time I’d owned my iPod ‘Classic’ (which, regrettably, Apple discontinued in September 2014). It will therefore take several more years to compile another representative one, by which time I might have traced the missing music or – more likely – this trusty iPod will have given up the ghost and – technology being what it is – all my music will have been transferred into an appliance the size of a pin head that has been implanted into my brain from which I can select or shuffle merely by thinking about it.

MONDAY MORNING SHUFFLE

With 16,635 songs now on the new sound-enhanced iPod, the endless variety is amazing, and as the 8.54 shuffled out of Guildford this morning I was listening to Lester Flatt & Earls Scruggs, The Foggy Mountain Boys, singing ‘Is It Too Late Now?’, a plaintive love-song given the hoe-down treatment, from a Best Of CD I have called Mountain Breakdown. I have a soft spot for hillbilly mountain music and there ain’t no finer practitioners of the art than Flatt & Scruggs, the latter playing fine banjo on this one, the only other accompaniment Flatt’s acoustic guitar and a waltzing-style accordion, player unknown.   

         Derek & The Dominos, aka Eric Clapton and the crack American musicians he recorded with in the early seventies, was up next with ‘One More Chance’, which I think is what Flatt & Scruggs might have sounded like if they’d been born 30 years later: easy-going country rock, with what I think is a dobro and a nice slide acoustic, probably played by Duane Allman. This track wasn’t on the wonderful Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs album released in December 1970, and I think I came by it through buying a new version with bonus tracks from iTunes a few years ago. Far more laid back than its better known tracks, of which ‘Bell Bottom Blues’ and Eric’s Hendrix tribute ‘Little Wing’ remain long-term favourites.

         Eric was followed by Crowded House, ‘Fall At Your Feet’ from a pirate CD called Taking The Weather, recorded live somewhere in America I think. When I discovered CH back in the early nineties, for which I can think Lisa (Mrs C), I bought three live CH albums from a company in Italy where they proliferated unchecked by the industry. All sounded like sound board recordings to me, and this one is superb: lovely harmonies, all the better for being genuinely live with no subsequent tampering, nice song too.

         Next up was ‘Somewhere There’s A Girl’, smooth R&B, by The Valentinos, the group that introduced by Womack Brothers to the world, from a 23-track album called Looking For Love that I bought on the recommendation of my old Melody Maker colleague Richard Williams who extolled its virtues on his terrific Blue Moment blog. Wrote Richard: “What always struck me about the Valentinos was how, at a time when most soul hits gave the impression of having been moulded in a studio, the Womack brothers sounded like a band playing together on stage in front of an audience. There was an R&B-style rawness and immediacy about their records, a sense of rough edges left unpolished. It was probably that quality to which The Rolling Stones were responding when they heard the group’s record of ‘It’s All Over Now’, written by Bobby and Shirley Womack, and swiftly covered it, making it their first UK No 1 in July 1964, only a few weeks after the release of the original version in the US.” Thanks Richard.

         Elvis followed, a segue of a song called ‘This Time’ into the Ray Charles’ hit ‘I Can’t Stop Loving You’, which sounds a like a studio jam, especially as EP starts laughing at the sound of a (very) down-tuned guitar. He stumbles over the lyrics until ‘Can’t Stop…’ explodes with magic as he finds his way, a fabulous voice singing a lovely song. From one of my many Elvis box sets.

         Next up was the Four Seasons with ‘Rag Doll’, from a ‘Best of’ CD I have, which opens with that haunting baion drum sound. Funny to think that back in 1964 Vee-Jay Records in America actually released a two-record set entitled The Beatles v The Four Seasons which had the US album Introducing The Beatles in one side of a gatefold cover and a Four Seasons comp in the other. Pictured below:

         The best part of ‘Quinn The Eskimo’, by Bob Dylan & Band recorded in 1967 and from the fairly recently released new Basement Tapes CD, is Garth Hudson’s swirling, fairground organ. Under the title ‘Mighty Quinn’, this was a hit for Manfred Mann in 1968, but I prefer Bob.

         Next up was Bruce Springsteen singing ’Reason To Believe’, a live recording from the E Street Band 1975-85 album, which I think I bought as a three-LP vinyl set on the day of release, plucking it from a great pile of them just inside the door of the Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street which is now a downmarket clothes shop, a hellish place too. Bruce’s Nebraska album, from which this song is taken, is among his very best though it takes a while to love. When you do, however, you’ll remain faithful for ever.

         ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ by the Arctic Monkey is uncharacteristically laid-back by their standards but I can forgive them anything with lyrics like, ‘I wanna be your vacuum clear, breathing in your dust. I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I won’t ever rust’. Very nice.

         And then it was back to The Band, ‘Endless Highway’ from the Dylan live album Before The Flood, sung – I think – by Richard Manuel, with Robbie contributing a fine guitar solo. The opening line ‘Take a silver dollar and put it in your pocket’, reminds me of a song by Perry Como that my dad liked called ‘Catch A Falling Star’ which Perry also put in his pocket. I probably heard The Band play this in early 1974 when I caught this memorable tour at the Garden in New York. Terrific.

         And then it was back to doo wop, Ricky Nelson singing about ‘A Teenagers Romance’, a bit tame but enlivened by a sax solo. This was the B-side to ‘I’m Walking’, Nelson’s first US hit back in 1957 and my version comes from a massive retrospective I have with no fewer than 55 songs on it. Of course I bought it mainly to hear James Burton’s guitar.

         Finally this morning I was charmed by James Whild Lea, aka Jim Lea of Slade with a lovely song called ‘The Smile Of Elvis’ from his 2007 solo album Therapy. Written, produced and recorded by Lea, it was never promoted which is a crying shame as many of the tracks are gorgeous, including this one, a lovely melody enhanced by orchestral woodwind and a fine chorus. I’ve known Jim for the best part of 45 years and we still meet up from time to time, and on the last occasion he played me some of his own work on the system in his car parked up the street from my office. I believe quite strongly that Jim doesn’t get the credit he deserves for his role in Slade, but there isn’t much he can do about it as he dislikes the limelight, unlike Noddy who nowadays seems to get all the acclaim. Still, you can buy Therapy on Amazon and, if these reviews are anything to do by, I’m not alone in thinking it’s a five star album:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Therapy-James-Whild-Lea/dp/B002RLWW56/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1450707663&sr=1-1&keywords=Therapy+James+Whild+Lea

iPOD MINI AMP – Breakthrough In iPodding!

For the second time in about five years the jack socket on the top of my iPod has become corrupted, meaning that one channel had a tendency to cut out so you could hear music in only one ear. You could fiddle around with the jack on the headphones a bit and the problem temporarily solved itself, but then if you moved the iPod it cut out again. The first time this happened the frustration led me to eventually buy a new iPod, and though Apple gave me a sort of part exchange deal whereby they took a few quid off the price of a new one, I still felt hard done by, not least because it worked perfectly in the docking speaker system I have at home.

         So this time around I decided to be more creative. Since yet again the iPod still works fine in the docking speaker – meaning there’s nothing wrong with the 30 pin socket on the base of the iPod – what was clearly needed was an arrangement whereby this could be hooked up to the headphones, but no cable seems to exist with a 30 pin male plug on one end and a female jack socket on the other.

         The only way around this was to invest in a FiiO E17 Portable Headphone Amplifier (£120) and a FiiO Right Angled Line Out Dock Cable (£8.50) to link it to the IPod, and to plug the headphone jack into the top of this mini amp. Well, whoopee, early indications are that this arrangement not only works perfectly but the sound of the iPod is massively enhanced too, not just louder but much clearer. Volume goes from zero to 60, and 30 is just fine, and you can adjust the bass and treble too.

It does mean that you have to carry around another gadget, which needs charging every so often, but it's actually a bit smaller than the iPod so it's no big deal. 

         And hopefully it’s given the trusty iPod a few more years of active life. 

TUESDAY MORNING SHUFFLE

My days as a commuter will draw to an end early next year, but in the meantime I’m still clamping on the headset as the 0894 pulls out of Guildford heading north east towards London. First up today is The Beach Boys and ‘Our Sweet Love’, a pleasant if unremarkable track from Sunflower which found its way on to my iPod via Summer Love Songs, a 2009 compilation of 20 of the BB’s more tender moments, newly remixed, that I can recommend for anyone seeking to successfully woo their partner on the beach in a warm resort where the sea laps the sand.

          Next up is ‘Hong Kong Garden’ by Siouxsie & her Banshees, their very worthy debut hit from 1978, from a comp I picked up in the supermarket called Up Yours Punk’s Not Dead. Steve Severin plays a furiously strummed guitar over Chinese style percussion and more than a hint of the mysterious Orient while Siouxsie sings of Chicken Chow Mein and Chop Suey, evidently about a Chinese takeaway of the same name but there’s a deeper comment in there somewhere about the Chinese race. I haven’t heard this in ages but I’m glad I did again.

          Siouxsie is followed by Abba singing ‘The Way Old Friends’, their Old Lang Syne pastiche that was used to close concerts late in their career. Led by Benny on accordion and Frida taking the lion’s share of the vocals, this the sort of stirring singalong anthem that patriotic crowds sing when someone has won an Olympic gold medal. This version is taken from the fairly recent Live At Wembley album, reviewed elsewhere on Just Backdated, and not the more widely known live recording on More Abba Gold. Serious lighters in the air stuff.

          The wide variety of music on my iPod is no better illustrated by the fact that this is followed by ‘Fever’, the old Peggy Lee song, here given a reggae treatment by Junior Byles, very laid back indeed, and then one of my much-loved more recent discoveries, Tama Impala, with ‘Yes I’m Changing’ from their Currents album, released in July this year and a fixture in my car ever since. For this album Kevin Parker has largely abandoned his dreamy guitars for equally dreamy synthesisers, but not so on this lovely track which, as with much of TA’s music, puts me in mind of Lennon, or more precisely what Lennon might have got up to had not fate dealt him the worst card imaginable. Actually this reminds me a bit of ‘#9 Dream’, sumptuous, melodic, Spectoresque, with a swirling backdrop that would have been both unavailable and unthinkable in Lennon’s time.

          And now it’s a touch of jazz, ‘My Heart Belongs To Daddy’ by Oscar Peterson & his Trio from his 1963 album Night Train, a record that Chris Welch recommended to me many years ago when I felt like I wanted to learn more about jazz and needed a bit of guidance. He certainly did me a favour as this album is perfect if you like tricky piano jazz, ideal for a late evening.

          Oscar is followed by folksy singer-songwriter Shawn Colvin, ‘The Story’ from her debut album Steady On from 1989, a favourite of Mrs C, and then by JS Bach’s ‘Prelude In C Major’, one of those harpsichord pieces that you expect to hear in the background to historical plays based on the works of Hilary Mantel. No lesser authority than Jack Bruce once said that Bach was the master of the bass line, and this piece, a stream of arpeggios grounded by a descending left hand pivot, explains what he was getting at. Very medieval. Of the 16,000+ songs of the iPod these days less than 1% are classical but it makes a change.

          From Germany long ago to what sounds like Africa, Deborah Harry with ‘Calmarie’ from Def Dum And Blonde, her third solo album released in 1989, on which she adopted ‘Deborah’ as opposed to ‘Debbie’ for her professional purposes. More like Blondie than her other solo efforts, this song is actually a sort of tone poem with indecipherable lyrics, very chilled out and very listenable.

          Next up are R.E.M., always a favourite of mine, with ‘All The Way To Reno’ from 2001’s Reveal album though this version comes from Unplugged 1991/2001. It was at this point in R.E.M.’s career than guitars fell out of favour, not a move I welcomed but this still sounds lovely, as does almost all of this Unplugged CD, another one I reviewed elsewhere on JB.

          Keyboards seem to dominate the ride this morning, for next we have Scott Joplin – ‘New Rag’ from an album called, surprisingly enough, The Entertainer. Very enjoyable as the train rattles along, even if most of these rags sound remarkably similar.

          Finally, we have Kraftwerk and ‘Man Machine’ from Minimum-Maximum, their 2005 live album which I always though was a bit odd because, as David Buckley pointed out in his KW book Publikation, “although the authenticity of having a ‘best of’ of live performances masquerading as one show might be said to have been compromised (performances in Warsaw, Moscow, Berlin, London, Budapest, Tallinn, Riga, Tokyo, and San Francisco formed the composted aural whole), what cannot be levelled as a piece of criticism is that the music itself isn’t played. It just isn’t played with instruments.”

          Nevertheless, the sound of Kraftwerk’s machine music seems somehow appropriate as I approach the towering arch of Waterloo and pull up alongside these great machines called trains that carry us hither and thither.