"Song For Kim" opens The Wellingtons' third album, the I've-played-it-17-times-and-I'm-not-stopping-now Heading North For The Winter (2008).
The "Kim" in question is Kim Shattuck, lead singer of The Muffs. I'd thought it was Kim Deal from The Breeders (and, before that, the Pixies – yay!). I've always had a thing for Kim Deal (female + bass player = yum) ever since her days in the Pixies.
Anyway, as a bonus here's Kim Deal as a Pixie and as a Breeder:
Digby Richards is an artist who was featured in a previous Song of the day doin' the Spunky Monkey. "Do The Spunky Monkey" was groovy (think Swinging Sixties), but Digby's song in this particular musical coincidence is also groovy, but in a different way (think hippies).
Digby had begun his career as a 50's rocker and then became a 60's rocker. By the 70's, Digby had reinvented himself as a countrified singer-songwriter type of guy (think Glen Campbell). It was during this easygoing, man-of-the-land phase that he wrote, recorded, and released "New York City (Send My Baby Home)" (1973). About a year before that, though, Albert Hammond wrote (with Mike Hazlewood), recorded, and released "It Never Rains In Southern California" (1972). They both have verrrrry similar verses.
Compare and contrast:
Digby Richards - "New York City (Send My Baby Home)" (1973)
Today's Song of the day is "Lady Bump" by disco artist Penny McLean, but it's not here today because it's an Australian song (it's not) or even because it's a good song (it's... well, you can decide for yourself). No, the reason for "Lady Bump" being Song of the day is:
The Scream.
This song contains the most unsettling and disturbing scream I've ever heard in any song – disco or otherwise.
Up until a few minutes ago when I pestered Wikipedia, I knew nothing whatsoever about Penny McLean. I now know that Penny McLean was in a German disco act called Silver Convention who had two huge hits, "Fly, Robin, Fly" and "Get Up And Boogie," and that Penny McLean's real name is the very German Gertrude Wirschinger. Apparently the lyrics of both those songs consists of precisely six words each. (Apart from the lack of value-for-money in the lyrics department, I must say that the cover art for the "Fly, Robin, Fly" single is distinctly distasteful.)
"Fly, Robin, Fly" and "Get Up And Boogie" are just two reasons why so many people hated disco music. I mean, really:
That tune will stick in your head all day. And that's not a good thing.
But back to "Lady Bump" and The Scream. What makes "Lady Bump" even more unsettling is The Scream appears not once, but eight times during the course of the song.
Here then, if you're game, is Penny McLean with "Lady Bump" (1975) and The Scream:
There were plenty of videos for the song to choose, but this one was only I could find in which Penny was holding a microphone, at least giving the illusion of not miming:
In the spirit of disco, with its habit of releasing extra-long versions of songs to keep people on the dance floor, here as an anti-bonus – or "punishment" perhaps – is the interminable 12" version:
"One Step Ahead" is one of my favourite Neil-penned Split Enz tunes. It's so full of snaky riffs that if this song was a person, you'd find it creeping around a house late at night.
"Accidently Kelly Street" was the second single from their debut album, the wonderfully-titled Marvin The Album (1994). For most people, Frente! was basically Angie Hart and a group of anonymous gentlemen in the background (the focus was always on Angie). Frente! made two albums and then disappeared. Angie, however, went on to form two other bands, Splendid and Holidays On Ice. (Angie has a knack of being in bands with great names.)
When Frente! first popped up on the radio and television all those years ago, I thought they were insufferably cute. Now, I think they're charmingly cute. I reckon Frente! get extra points for having an exclamation mark in their name (I like that enthusiasm), but they get points taken off for misspelling "accidentally."
As a bonus, here's their first single, "Ordinary Angels" (1994), in which Angie's singing is, well, angelic. The song also has, for some reason only their record company could explain, two videos (the second one looks more expensive – maybe that was used for the international market):
1. The cheap video (embedding disabled with this one, too. Extra grrr.) 2. The expensive video
Postscript: I just found an alternative video for "Accidently Kelly Street" which, like the second one for "Ordinary Angels," looks expensive. It also makes Angie and the lads look decidedly more "professional" (read: "internationally appealing") – but that's not a good thing, because I think it sucks all of the charm out of the band, surgically (or maybe "accidently") removing the group's naiveté:
There are plenty of reasons why I like "Such A Lovely Way" – it has pre-LRBGlenn Shorrock* and pre-solo career Brian Cadd, two Australian vocalists I like a lot, singing dual lead vocals; it swings, baby, as only a 1968 recording can (in other words, it's so 1968) – but the main one is that it's the only Australian song from the 60's that I can think of where the bass guitar is playing lead at the song's start before those pesky singers get in the way. Any song that has the bass playing lead is alright by me.
(*Update: I just found out, courtesy of eagle-eyed reader Simon, that Glenn Shorrock was never in The Groop, which shows my level of ignorance. The lead vocal duties were shared by Brian Cadd and a chap by the name of Ronnie Charles.)
I'm not entirely sure that singer Chris Bailey knew all the words to the song...
If there wasn't so much sneering – and being wrapped up in that whole punk ethos – it'd pass for a great piece of high-energy bubblegum pop.
Anyway, The Saints were probably the band that kick-started the Australian punk movement, along with Radio Birdman (who I've always thought of as an Australian Stooges, influenced by the American punks instead of the UK's youth) and maybe some others. I'm not completely au fait with Australian punk, so please pardon my ignorance*. Of what I do know, I believe that The Saints' rise to punk cultdom in Australia ran parallel to the UK movement more than being simply influenced by it, as they shared a concurrent disaffection with their milieu (sorry to get all psychoanalytical – and French – on you).
Right, that's enough of the big words.
In case you were wondering, here's the original for reference:
Connie Francis - "Lipstick On Your Collar" (1959):
I promise I'll not pester you with another Little River Band song tomorrow. Considering that the first LRB album was released in 1975, and punk was just around the corner (the very next year) to obliterate any traces of music like that of the Little River Band, I'll try to find you something raucous for tomorrow.
Here's a musical coincidence I simply refuse to believe.
I was listening to More Wharf: Australian Crawl Greatest Hits over the weekend, and enjoying those songs on the compilation that I haven't heard constantly on the radio over the last twenty years. Track 11 on More Wharf is "Daughters Of The Northern Coast" which was apparently released as a single in 1982, but I didn't remember it at all (it did only reach number 76, which could account for me not hearing it at the time). As soon as the song started, I thought "Whoah! You're kidding!" etc. I rubbed my ears in disbelief, had another listen and went "Whoah! You're kidding!" all over again. Here's a song that starts pretty much exactly the way that Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" starts – same quiet guitar, same guitar rhythm, same four bars of aforementioned quiet guitar followed by drum fill to start the song properly etc. Exactly the same.
I'm fully aware that Kurt Cobain regularly stated in interviews how he stole his quiet-then-loud song dynamics from the Pixies, but come on – here's a bit of music from the Southern Hemisphere in the 1980s that predates both Nirvana and the Pixies. How's that for a bizarre musical coincidence? It's gotta be a coincidence, though. I mean, there's absolutely no way that Kurt Cobain had ever heard Australian Crawl growing up in Washington. Is there?
Although...
Nirvana did play in Australia, but only once. They appeared at the very first Big Day Out in 1992 – but it's the kind of musical festival where the music played there isn't old radio-friendly songs from no-longer-hip bands. Consequently, I can safely say that there's very little chance, if at all, that any of the members of Nirvana heard anything that wasn't currently fashionable during their week or so in Australia.
Here are the full versions of both let's-start-quietly-then-get-loud songs:
Australian Crawl - "Daughters Of The Northern Coast" (1982)
(Useless aside: I saw Australian Crawl play at a soccer club in the northern suburbs of Adelaide in the 80's when they riding the crest of their popularity wave. It was also the height of the pub rock era, with audiences full of hairy men in flannelette shirts and jeans, drinking copious amounts of beer and shouting for more songs and more beer. Australian Crawl played well, but the comment I remember most fondly from the night was when they came on to the stage to play their first song, and lead singer James Reyne looked out at the crowd and said, "I've never seen so many beards in one place before...")
"Emma" appears on Little River Band's 1975 debut album which is, believe it or not, a fine album. You may be thinking to yourself, "Yeah, but the Little River Band were just an Australian version of the Eagles." Be that as it may, there was a time when they had their own identity. On that 1975 debut album, to be specific. It's full of good songs, including the epic "It's A Long Way There," one of my all-time favourite Australian songs. (One bonus song comin' up...)
If you've ever heard "It's A Long Way There," it was probably the ghastly radio edit which shortened the song inexcusably from 8:39 down to 3:27 (!). I thoroughly recommend you take the time to listen to the whole thing. It's worth hearing the song just for Rick Formosa's guitar playing alone, which I think is some of the best guitar playing ever recorded on an Australian album:
Incidentally, each of those artists have two versions of their songs. "Do Ya," written by Jeff Lynne, was first recorded in 1971 by the band he was in at the time, The Move, and appeared as the B-side of their 1972 single, "California Man." It was then recorded by Jeff's next band, ELO, and appeared on their 1976 album, A New World Word. "Fox On The Run," on the other hand, was recorded twice by Sweet – it first appeared as a pretty heavy album track on Desolation Boulevard (1974) and was then re-recorded as a more radio-friendly single in 1975.
And speaking of musical coincidences, the verse of "Do Ya" (in its ELO incarnation) reminds me of the chorus of ABBA's fabulous "Hey, Hey, Helen" (1975):
Here's a band I might get into trouble for mentioning, Australia's best live band of the 80's (and possibly ever – they were that good), with "Dreamworld" (1987) a song that has great jangly guitar playing and wonderful vocal harmonies in the chorus:
It's been a while since I posted a non-Australian song, so I thought I'd present you with something that I reckon no-one in Australia has ever heard*. Here's The Eames Era with the irresistible "Could Be Anything" (2004):
"Could Be Anything" was The Eames Era's first single, and appears on The Second EP (2004).
Incidentally, the makers of the video claim that they spent approximately zero dollars on it.
(*Well, it is possible that someone in Australia has heard the song – according to Wikipedia, the song has appeared on US medical weepie Grey's Anatomy and Canadian teen drama Falcon Beach. I've no idea where I first heard the song, but it wasn't on either of those programs, as I never watched them.)
OK, this song has absolutely nothing to do with power pop, but I just have to share it with you. Here's folky troubadour Josh Pyke with the distinctly unique* "Middle Of The Hill" (2007):
The first time I heard this song was on TV. I was watching one of those Top 40 music video shows (you know the ones: they're full of bands pretending to be other bands, rappers pretending to be pimps, or skimpily-dressed, gyrating women pretending to be recording artists – Top 40, in other words). Amongst all of that, "Middle Of The Hill" just appeared, and I was hypnotised for two-and-a-half minutes.
I don't know what it is about this song, but whenever it plays I stop whatever I'm doing, fall silent and simply listen, and then think that was a special moment in time.
I'm very pleased to let you know that Josh isn't a one-amazing-song wonder. So far, he's made two albums and a few EPs, and it's all good. I think Josh Pyke is a fine songwriter. Highly unusual, but fine. It may not be your cup of whatever you enjoy drinking, but when I'm in the mood for turning down the guitars, I often look to Josh Pyke.
As a bonus, here's the equally wonderful "Lines On Palms" (2007):
"Superstar" had a rather long journey on its way to the singing siblings. Wikipedia has all the details, but here's a short version of events. The song was written by Bonnie Bramlet and Leon Russell, and originally titled "Groupie (Superstar)". It first appeared as the B-side of Delaney and Bonnie's 1969 single, "Comin' Home." And this is what it sounds like:
The song was then modified slightly, renamed "Superstar" (no Groupie, alas), and next appeared on Joe Cocker's 1970 Mad Dogs And Englishmen live album. It was sung not by Joe but by one of his backup singers, Rita Coolidge, who was billed on the album as 'The Delta Lady.' Here's Rita's version, which marks the official debut of "Superstar":
But it wasn't either of the above versions that caught the attention of Richard Carpenter – he heard the song being performed by Bette Midler on The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson in August 1970. Bette eventually recorded her version in 1972 (after The Carpenters' version had become successful). I won't present you with Bette's recording because there are enough versions of the song on this post already and, well, because Bette sings it.
There were some other early versions – Cher recorded it in 1970 – but the majority of the other versions (and there have been plenty) came much later. There have been all sorts of different versions – post-rock, post-punk, post-ironic etc. They all seem to be making some kind of artistic statement, rather than simply be a good song performed well. Unfortunately, as they've tended to be "post-" something, that spells Art with a very serious capital A. Despite all those "post-" versions, for most people it's The Carpenters all the way. (Perform a good song with taste and sensitivity, and you can't go wrong.)
Although I could go on and on about "Superstar" (well, it is a good song), I've got to finish this post sometime, so I thought I'd finish it with an Australian version. Here's Colleen Hewett with her version of "Superstar" from 1972, where she belts it out as if she's channelling Shirley Bassey at full force ('overwrought' is the word I'm thinking of):
Hush's "Bony Moronie" was an Australian number 1 hit (their only one) in September 1975. Go, glam!
Hush had the glam thing going on in spades – they had spandex, pyrotechnics, and dangerously high platform boots. And it was a whole heap o' fun. I mean, who couldn't love a band that looked like this?
Although they had their biggest hits with covers ("Bony Moronie" and The Dave Clark Five's "Glad All Over"), they did write their own stuff. Here's one of their originals, "Rough Tough 'N' Ready" (1975):
Dragon had a fantastic run on the Australian charts in the mid-70's, but by the end of that decade Dragon were pretty much a forgotten entity (their 1979 single, "Love's Not Enough," just scraped into the Top 40, peaking at 37). As the 80's began, the hits dried up for Dragon. They had a break, then in 1983 decided to stage a comeback, and did so in the best manner possible: with a great song.
Their comeback single was "Rain" (1983). And what a single it was. This song demands to be played loud. It has hooks a-plenty, and sucks you in with its build-up. It starts with the verse minus the vocals, creating a mood with its subdued beat (well, subdued by 80's standards) and a spare guitar line. The vocals then come in with a good tune. The verse builds to the bridge which has a better tune, then it's back to the verse, and on to the bridge again. It builds and builds until you hope for a big chorus – and when the chorus does arrive, it explodes with a magnificent tune. What a comeback single:
"Rain" put Dragon back on the Australian charts in a big way (it peaked at number 2). And I'm glad it did, because Dragon were one of the great Australian Top 40 bands of the 70's.
Now, depending on how you view that distinctly 80's practice of "extended" versions of hits, this may or may not be a bonus for you. Nevertheless, here's the extended remix of "Rain" for you to either enjoy or ignore (your choice):
I was listening to Marcia Hines' Greatest Hits 1975-1983*, and up came track 4, "Don't Let The Grass Grow" (1975). The whole vibe of the song – chord changes, lyrics, the beat, just about everything in it – sounded very familiar. Here's the chorus:
Marcia Hines - "Don't Let The Grass Grow" (1975) (excerpt)
The two are so similar that I reckon you could even interchange the lyrics and no-one would notice: "Don't let the grass grow / Don't blame it on the moonlight / Don't let the time go / 'Cause if I get lonely / Blame it on the boogie" etc.
"Don't Let The Grass Grow" was written by David Buskin and recorded by Marcia for her 1975 debut album, Marcia Shines. It was released as a single in May 1976.
David Buskin (born December, 13, 1943 New York City) is a singer, songwriter, performer, author, playwright, jingle composer and girls’ basketball coach.
Although "Blame It On The Boogie" is known the world over (well, the parts of the world that have heard it) as a Jacksons song, it wasn't originally theirs. It was first written and recorded by Mick Jackson who, apparently, is not related in any way to the rather famous Jackson clan. Mick Jackson recorded the song in 1977, a year or so after Marcia recorded "Don't Let The Grass Grow," which leads me to wonder just how coincidental it all is, and if Mick Jackson was indeed "influenced" by the Marcia ditty.
Here are the full versions to illustrate how similar the two songs really are (and they really are similar):
(*Which reminds me: courtesy of that Greatest Hits 1975-1983 album, Marcia's "(Until) Your Love Broke Through" which appeared on my earlier post involving Marcia Hines has been updated with much better sound.)
