Hey Ho, Let's Go

The Ramones - Sheena Is A Punk Rocker


The Ramones are a curious musical atavism - while at their core, they were basically a bunch of anti-social, substance abusing lunatics who helped to define punk rock (and many of it's attendant behaviours), their heart beats with a solid pop rhythm, clearly evidenced in this song which was, apparently, the first 'punk' song to chart in the US and UK. Written by Joey Ramone and released in the year of our lord 1977, the year that punk rock broke according to Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth, it's a slab of surf-punk-pop. It features the traditional Ramones buzz saw guitar (courtesy of Johnny), machine gun drumming (courtesy of Tommy) and slightly doleful vocals (Joey again, in case you get confused about who did what). By all accounts Dee Dee played bass, but you can't really hear it, which means he was probably off stoned somewhere.

It's fantastic, of course, as this is The Ramones we're talking about. Or, more accurately, if you love the Ramones, you'll already love this and if you despise them, this will do nothing to change your mind. I love this song. It sounds like every other Ramones song with one difference being that, at 2:45, it's about a minute longer than most of their output. Most of that minute is dedicated to Joey singing "a punk punk, a punk rocker ooooh" repeatedly.



Now for the moment we've all been waiting for - The Ramones meet The Rock Nutter Scale (tm). True to form, they broke it.

(1) Must have done enough drugs to kill a regiment of dutch soldiers
They wrote Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue, Carbona Not Glue and I Wanna Be Sedated. They were junkies for most of their lives. Dee Dee died of an overdose at age 50-odd. Easy pickings for the boys from Queens, NY. And at one point they actually kicked Marky out for being an alcoholic. Guffaw.

(2) Must have been to prison more times than the neck tattoo fairy
Two words: Dee Dee. Three more words: Joey and Johnny.

(3) Must be reknowned for wild and destructive behavior
Joey stole Johnny's wife (or Johnny stole Joey's, roughly the same thing) and they consequently didn't talk for decades. This wouldn't be particularly out of the ordinary, except they were touring continuously during that time, playing on the same stage nightly and travelling in the same van. And Dee Dee was Dee Dee - tales of swastikas and being stabbed by drag queens abound.

(4) Should have a proper pseudonym
They're not an early precursor to the Jonas Brothers. In fact, they're not related at all. Which means they chalk up a point for their pseudonyms.

(5) Should have a suitably weird history
Joey spent time in mental hospitals getting electroshock therapy and Dee Dee was a male prostitute. Johnny was fascinated with the Third Reich.

Adding up the points, they're like a triple-headed Iggy Pop (in typical fashion, no-one cares about the drummer), a cerberus of punk-pop. And there's no doubt as to their influence - an often-quoted story is that everyone present at their first gig in the UK went off to form a band. And those present included future members of The Clash and The Sex Pistols. Apparently they also taught Sid Vicious how to shoot up heroin. Needless to say, their influence looms large over rock and roll. This song is tribute to their legacy - it mixes punk and pop at an almost intrinsic level - this wasn't punk or pop or some tired combination thereof, this was a visceral, vital mix at it's most basic level. They didn't know how to do anything else.

Verdict: A+ for Dee Dee

Tomorrow: Lloyd Price - Stagger Lee

Good Truckin'

Sam and Dave - Soul Man



Ladies beware, Sam (or Dave) has a truck load of good lovin' for you. And he's a soul man. Please, form an orderly queue.

Written by Isaac Hayes, this song was one of the biggest singles (and the biggest at the time) on the famous Stax record label. The backing music was courtesy of the legendary Booker T. and the MGs, although technically only the MGs as Booker was away at university, and the Mar-Keys horns. Unsuprisingly, influences on later music abound - the guitar intro is very Hendrix-y and the horn lines have been recycled and sampled endlessly. The song has also been covered a fair number of times, including one (ill-advised) cover by Sam and Lou Reed for a movie of the same name. This does, however, bring us to the creation of a new rule - if something is covered by the Blues Brothers, then it's automatically cool. A nod to the greats by Mssrs Blues imbues any song with the kind of cool that could, almost, override it being covered by Bruce Willis. So, by association, this song is cool.

Luckily, it would have been cool anyway. Sam and Dave know how to belt it out - they were reknowned for sweat-soaked live performances that resulted in them wearing through 100 outfits a year when touring - and anyone who can be described as one of the greatest live acts of all time while wearing lime green three piece suits could probably teach modern musicians a thing or two about showmanship. And there were no Iggy Pop rolling-around-in-broken-glass-theatricals either, these guys were dancing. No wonder they had a truckful of good loving, it was probably in the truck behind the truckful of colourful suits and the truckful of dance moves.

The only thing that this song misses is even a blip on the Rock Nutter Scale (tm). These dudes were so tame that they make Prince look like a drunken football hooligan.

Still, maybe I should buy a truck.

Verdict: Sweat-soaked Soul

Tomorrow: The Ramones - Sheena Is A Punk Rocker

The Origin of the Species

Muddy Waters - Rolling Stone



Let's get this out of the way right here - Muddy Waters was a total badass. In many ways, he was an archetype for all rock and roll. The Rolling Stones got their name from this song. Dylan's 'Like a Rolling Stone' owes some small debt to this song. Hell, where do you think Rolling Stone magazine got its name? The man has influenced everyone from the British beat explosion, to Hendrix, to metal, to modern indie, missing no points between. In many ways, rock and roll probably wouldn't exist were it not for Mr McKinley "Muddy Waters" Morganfield.

The song itself is pretty sparse and spare - the first single released by famed Chess records, recorded in 1948, it's simply Waters and his guitar with none of the big sound that would typify his later work with backing bands. Tempo is provided by a bassy stomp on the low E string, while Waters' guitar leads and plaintive voice rise from, soar above and, ultimately, return to the grounding rhythm. This simple formula makes it easy to trace a direct line from this song to something like Hendrix's Voodoo Chile (Slight Return) and to contemporary bands like The White Stripes and The Black Keys.

It's hard not to be blown away by this song - it's simple and powerful and must have felt like an earthquake in 1948. It makes so much of what I've listened to over the last few days sound overproduced, manufactured and irrelevant. Listening to it for the first time is like waking up one morning to find that your house has been overrun by Neanderthals - it's like experiencing history. Actually, it's nothing like the Neanderthal scenario, it's more like meeting your great-great-grandparents. Or something.

Verdict: Rocking and rolling

Tomorrow: Sam and Dave - Soul Man

Remeber The Kulaks

The Chiffons - One Fine Day


This song is a lot like the movie of the same name. While it doesn't necessarily have Mr Lantern Jaw George Clooney or Miss Neurotic Weasel Michelle Pfeiffer in it, it's saccharine sweet, completely innoffensive and a little nauseating in the wrong circumstances. And, just like the movie, I don't think I could sit through the whole thing unless there was a girl involved. And even then, I'd probably be wishing that something was being blown up.

That said, this is a cool little example of shoo-wop, girl group crooning, if you're into that kind of thing. I'm not really, but as a historical document it's quite interesting - this is an obvious fairy godmother of all things Spice Girls and Atomic Kitten. And, while that is akin to saying "That Stalin was quite a nice bloke, when he wasn't killing all of those dissidents and starving all of those Kulaks", I'd certainly rather listen to this than to Atomic Kittens execrable dreck.

This may be the first time The Chiffons have been compared to Comrade Josef Stalin. Let's hope it's not the last.

Verdict: No better than fine, comrade.

Tomorrow: Muddy Waters - Rolling Stone

Kiss Off

Prince - Kiss


This song is awful. It's not even about Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley and rock and rolling all night and partying every day. It's all cheap drum machines, casio keyboards and falsetto mincing. I'm sure that it appeals to a certain part of the population, normally those wearing moustaches, assless leather chaps and string vests, but it's not for me. I couldn't even listen the whole way through, despite what may have actually been some clever-ish lyrics. It made me want to listen to Black Sabbath so loudly that people in neighbouring towns complained, just the flush the song from my mind.

That said, it raises an interesting question - Prince is a bit of a nutter, is this song redeemable due based on what may be a good score on the Rock Nutter Scale (tm)? Let's see.

Name?
Well, his first name actually is Prince. But Prince isn't actually his real name anymore. His real name is something along the lines of % or ^ or & or # as part of his 'emancipation' from the record labels. Chalk up one point for squiggle, but I'm contemplating minusing a point for being a pretentious douche and requiring 'emancipation' from a life of millions of dollars and many, many women. If it comes to it, I'm willing to take his place. God knows I'm not going to change my name to ? or > or whatever and write 'slave' on my face, I'll handle it with dignity and savoir faire.

Drug use?
None that is known. No points there. A rock star that doesn't do drugs? Keith and Iggy would be spinning in their graves, were it not for the fact that they have clearly been provided with magic powers from injecting heroin into their eyeballs. Doctors everywhere, take note (kids, don't try that at home).

Unstable behaviour?
If his career is not a testament to years of hard drug use, then it certainly is a testament to seriously unstable behaviour. He is also a vegan Jehovah's Witness, which stacks up pretty high on the weirdo scale. See also desire to be 'emancipated' from his terrible life of 'slavery'. He should change his name to Kunta Kinte (I'm sure most people already refer to his as a variation of the first bit) and be done with it. Plus squiggle has allegedly bedded Magic Johnson amounts of women, so we'll give him the point.

History of arrests?
Again, none known. However, where's there's no smoke, there's no fire. FAIL!

Suitably weird upbringing?
Not really. No points.

So while he may be a nutter, he's not a Nutter. The song is not redeemed. And it was covered by Art of Noise and Tom Jones, further besmirching any claim to this being a good song.

Verdict: Clown Prince

Tomorrow: The Chiffons - One Fine Day

Ruined By Bruno

The Staple Singers - Respect Yourself

There's only one word that describes this song - Groove. This song just totally grooves. With an organ line that is the epitome of understated funk, a bassline that simmers, propulsive drums, and guitar reduced to nothing more than a palm-muted *snick*, this song will never rock, but with it's nifty line in faux-swearing and building, brassy crescendo is grooves as much as, or more than, anything on this list that has so far professed to being funky. George Clinton, take note.

Damnit, damnit, damnit, my research has just turned up an unpleasant truth about this song - Bruce Willis covered it.


As such, a previously fantastic, edgily funky song about civil rights is ruined by the sneering visage of Mr Willis. The man may have made Die Hard, but he is the anti-christ of soul when it comes to music. And with that, a new rule: Any song, no matter how good, will be consigned to the rusting slag heap of ignominy if it's covered by Bruce Willis. And the Staple Singers had such cool names too, to wit: Roebuck "Pops" Staples, Cleotha Staples, Pervis Staples, Yvonne Staples and Mavis Staples. It sounds like Shaft mated with the Ramones. All I can say is that they really must have needed the money to allow that no-talent assclown to cover it and ruin it forever.

Verdict: Respect Yourself Enough To Not Let Bruce Willis Cover Your Songs

Tomorrow: Prince - Kiss

Seasonal Affective Disorder

The Beatles - Rain


As cool as their musical output may be, and some of it is decidedly cool, the Beatles were just such .. gimps. The bowl haircuts, the bad clothes, the wholesomeness, apart from Lennon's recalcitrance - you'd rather party with the Stones or Led Zeppelin, wouldn't you? While Lennon was lying in bed with Yoko, Keith was eating Mars Bars in interesting places and Jimmy Page and the lads were worshipping the devil. I'd certainly pick, well, almost anything over lying in bed with Yoko. Which leads me to my chief ideological difference with the Beatles - they seemed to care what everyone else thought of them. No likely self-doubt or analysis for the Stones - while they rode like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse through the seedy underbelly of the world, the Beatles trod respectfully on the Abbey Road crosswalk. Keith would have jaywalked.

And while the Beatles increasingly experimented with recording techniques and created a vast sonic pastiche, the Stones relied on their trusted formula of live instruments.

Philosophical differences aside, the song may as well be called, to quote REM, New Adventures in Stereo. Jangly guitars, and a bouncy bassline, along with drumming that is almost jazzy, albeit with a harder edge that would make true jazz aficianado sneer over his single malt, combine to bring about strange time changes. In addition, Lennon's legato, adenoidal vocals and Harrison's almost sitar-like lead guitar lend a spacy feel. And all this in a song about the weather. Maybe it's true that some of the greats could sing the phonebook and make it great.

But not the weather. The song, bar the rhythm section, and who would have thought that I'd ever admit an appreciation for Paul McCartney, leaves me cold. And it's not just my philosophical difference with the Beatles that is leading to this assessment, because a listen to the other songs on this list has given me a new appreciation for a lot of their other work (Sgt Peppers has always been a favourite of mine, and I wouldn't argue with it's inclusion, almost in totality, on this list, which is something I could only say about London Calling and, maybe, Exile on Mail Street). This song feels like a concerted attempt to use whatever studio tools and techniques were available to disguise a weak song with typically obtuse lyrics.

Verdict: Get an umbrella

Tomorrow: The Staple Singers - Respect Yourself

Proto-Emo, Philip Roth and Barry White

The Four Tops - Standing In The Shadows of Love

Kicking off with Levi Stubbs' soulful baritone, plaintive and impassioned, over a minor chord choral backing courtesy of the Andantes, Standing In The Shadows of Love is a rollercoaster of anguish. Were it not for the fact that kids with dyed black fringes and multiple facial piercings didn't exist back in 1966 (nor did My Chemical Romance), this could almost be considered emo in a Philip Roth-ian alternate future. That said, if we're going to speculate about said future, Marvin Gaye was a lot hipper than Alkaline Trio, Sam Cooke knew far more about dying for women and no-one is ever going to rank Mr Vegan girly-boy Davey Havok next to Wilson Pickett in terms of cool.

Speculative future aside, the song has a number of musical highlights - the all-but-the-kitchen-sink Holland-Dozier-Holland approach to arrangement, where there are so many instruments (a full woodwind section, 2 sets of backing vocals, a rhythm section, guitars, and a brass section, amongst others) that it's hard to work out exactly what instruments are on the track, gives the track a volume that was definitely inspired by Phil Spector's Wall of Sound approach. The energy and tempo with which the song is performed gives it an almost attack-like quality and a frenetic pace, like Stubbs and co are not resigning themselves to heartbreak, but rather preparing themselves for a war with it.

One of the other highlights of this song is the interplay between the rhythm section - the song features incredible, driving drumming and some of the funkiest bass playing ever, courtesy of the Funk Brothers (probably not their real names) who are regarded as having played on "more number-one records than The Beatles, Elvis Presley, The Rolling Stones, and The Beach Boys combined" (Standing In The Shadows of Motown, documentary, 2002). Needless to say, they know how to play. In fact, they did so well for The Four Tops that it's pretty difficult to tell Standing In The Shadows of Love from the Four Tops' previous hit, Reach Out I'll Be There. Crafty move there boys, recycling wasn't a well-known technique back in 1966 (Barry White, and the Jackson 5, did however recycle this as cover versions over the years).

Despite that, both songs are ten kinds of badass. But was Stubbs and the rest of the band as badass as their music? Sadly not, unless you consider being married to the same woman for nearly 50 years and dying of old age at 72 as badass. Needless to say, he didn't challenge GG Allin and Keith Moon for the title of Head Rock Nutter. In fact, he was so unbadass that he makes my life of empty pizza boxes and blogging about old music look like a never-ending parade of wolvo-beserkerdom. But then again, maybe there's something far more hardcore about not walking down the road of nutterdom when all the groupies in the world are massaging one another with baby oil and the living room table is buried under a mound of cocaine. Maybe going home to your wife, every night, for almost 50 years is a far harder task.

Verdict: Bring on the groupies.

Tomorrow: The Beatles - Rain

We're All OK

Cheap Trick - Surrender



Cliche Alert: This song contains more rock cliches per song minute than any song I've reviewed yet and, by all probability, will ever review. It's like every 70s American rock band decided to have a gangbang in the Stones' living room while The Darkness humped The Beatles' leg.

In short, you have:
(1) More slickly produced power chords than all of Tom Scholz sexed-up, soft focus Baywatch fantasies, courtesy of walking guitar stand and permanently baseball-capped (rebel!) Rick Neilson
(2) Castrato vocal fills
(3) The Generation Gap, addressed lyrically
(4) More rim shot drum fills than a bad comedy evening
(5) Iconic lyrics such as "losers of the year" and "We're all alright"
(6) Harmonised backing vocals, sounding like a drunken Beach Boys

Basically, the end result is The Who's My Generation reimagined for a car advert by a particularly untalented coked-up advertising exec. Score 1 to the British Invasion.

Rock Nutter Scale Scores?
(1) Must have done enough drugs to kill a regiment of dutch soldiers
Unless you count the collection of rare guitars as drugs, then nothing. And this scale doesn't. No points.
(2) Must have been to prison more times than the neck tattoo fairy
Nope. In fact, Rockford, Illinois has made April 1 "Annual Cheap Trick Day", obviously in recognition of their complete and utter lack of rock nutterness. No points.
(3) Must be reknowned for wild and destructive behavior
See above
(4) Should have a proper pseudonym
If Rick Nielsen and Robin Zander are pseudonyms, they're shitty ones. No points.
(5) Should have a suitably weird history
They're about as weird as peanut butter. On toast. No points.

So, the song is one big rock and roll cliche, in terms of nutterdom the band are basically as boring as pensioners, and the enduring legacy of this song is something along the lines of "thank you Cheap Trick, for Blink 182 and Bryan Adams". It should be rubbish, right? Right? It probably is, but it's likeable. Cheap Trick weren't rock stars, they were just a bunch of guys who defined the term 'Big In Japan'. They didn't trash hotel rooms or beat up supermodels, they made modest power pop for an adoring audience (mainly in Tokyo - their inexplicable popularity in Japan has led them to be referred to as The American Beatles over there) with no histrionics or ever attracting attention for anything other than the music. And the result has obviously inspired as many good bands as bad ones - Kurt Cobain described Nirvana as Cheap Trick with louder guitars. Surrender has been covered by everybody from Green Day and Down By Law to Marilyn Manson and Bob Mould. The song's cool. And so are Cheap Trick, for no other reason than being working class heroes.

So, for that, they should be saluted.

Verdict: Worth the price of admission

Tomorrow: The Four Tops - Standing in the Shadows of Love

Country-surf-o-rama

Del Shannon - Runaway

I remember encountering this song when it was used as the title music for a TV show* in the 80s. I must have been 8 or 9 years old, so it was clearly very memorable. Listening to it with a more discerning ear, my overriding impression is that it's a deeply strange song. It starts off all minor chord and mopey, but it's a weird mix of country via Shannon's voice and the guitar sweeps, rhythm and blues courtesy of the staccato, punchy woodwind, and surf music thanks to the clean guitar, sax and bustling piano.

And then it gets really confusing. Shannon's voice is almost nasal except when you're trying to work out whether he's singing or whether they've craftily used a muted trumpet for the incredibly memorable "why-why-why-wonder" vocal hook. Add to this the extended clavioline-based electric keyboard, a.k.a the Musitron (futuristic!), solo courtesy of Maximilian Crook and the result is a little like an acid trip in a tuxedo, like the theme music for a 70s cowboys in space sci-fi tv show.

For all the weirdness, it's quite an innocent song, albeit being a clash of anachronistic elements. Maybe a true tribute to it's legacy is the list of people who've covered it, from punk banks Screeching Weasel, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes and The Misfits, junked-out Chili Peppers guitarist John Frusciante to Roy Orbison, Bonnie Raitt, Lawrence Welk and Cajun Dance Party. In retrospect, I think some of them may have been taking the piss.

And hell, Del Shannon was just a hella weird-looking guy. You have to be pretty talented to make it in life if you look like a stroke has paralysed the right side of your face.

*Recollection alert - the show was Crime Story, Michael Mann's initially acclaimed Cop vs Mafia epic.

Verdict: If it's good enough for Me First and the Gimme Gimmes..

Tomorrow: Cheap Trick - Surrender

Heart of Darkness

Guns And Roses - Welcome To The Jungle

Video: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x5dqd_guns-n-roses-welcome-to-the-jungle_music

Personal History Alert: This was the song, along with Thunderstruck by AC/DC, that made me fall into pre-pubescent love with loud music at the approximate age of 10 or 11. Needless to say, my tastes have matured to a degree in the intervening years and, while I haven't listened to this song in probably 15 years, I can still remember it word for word and note for note and there's a degree of subjective fondness. I'm really hoping that the first listen will bring back the happy memories and that the song will remind me why I thought it kicked so much ass back in the day.

After the first listen it takes a while for the taste of bile subside, but that does allow me to take a slightly more objective view of the song.

It starts off with an almost arpeggiated guitar courtesy of the Amazonian-coiffed Slash (probably the hairiest man in rock), building into.. actually, I can't be objective. This song stands, along with Warrant, Poison, Def Leppard et al, for everything bad in loud guitar music. God, it's awful. Axl Rose's canine-unfriendly shrieks, faux-swagger and orgasmic, microphone humping groans just shit me. It's probably quite a good song viewed in fully objective hindsight, but in the context of all the awful early 90s hair metal, and what it wrought, it just sounds painfully adolescent and leather pants-y. I just can't take it seriously. It makes complete sense that a 10 year old with no musical context or understanding would think that it's fantastic, but for the love of god, if you have a brain in your head, don't ever admit to liking this.

It's so unpalatably bad that not even Rose's solid work on rock nutterdom redeems it. As per the scale (tm):
(1) Must have done enough drugs to kill a regiment of dutch soldiers
It's safe to assume that Rose was not scared of cocaine and Jack Daniels.
(2) Must have been to prison more times than the neck tattoo fairy
He beat up supermodels, probably because they were smarter than he was. By all accounts he was a habitual criminal throughout his youth. If ever there was a case study for the Three Strikes Law, Rose should have been it. They should have thrown away the key. Maybe the Hague has a special court for crimes against music.
(3) Must be reknowned for wild and destructive behavior
Beaten supermodels, continual feuds with bands such as Motley Crue, Nirvana, The Offspring etc etc, the revolving door policy of bandmates and Chinese Democracy's elephantine gestation period all bear testament to behaviour that should have seen Rose and cohorts
(4) Should have a proper pseudonym
I doubt his parents named him after a car component. It's unlikely that Slash's parents were so completely and utterly monosyllabic that they saddled him with a single noun for a name. And Duff Mackagan probably wasn't named for the fictional beer in The Simpsons.
(5) Should have a suitably weird history
Raised a Pentecostal, sexually abused by his father, taught sunday school.

But Rose has none of Iggy Pop's chuckling misanthropy. He doesn't have the charm of Willie Nelson. He's just a pissed-off, coked-up, drunken Michael Jackson.

He's impossible to like. Slash appears to be a half-wit. The rest of the band were just untalented people in leather pants who could affect the teased-up hair and rail-thin look of early 90s supermodels while acting dangerous. They were basically a machine that ingested drugs and Jack Daniels and excreted music for teenagers. It's no wonder that no-one but the most atavistic of throwbacks care anymore.

Verdict: Rather relive the early 90s by listening to Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer

Tomorrow: Del Shannon - Runaway

Raw Power

Iggy and the Stooges - Search and Destroy




"The best of all of them is what happened when he played the Whisky in Los Angeles ... It was a very star-studded, Jack-and-Anjelica-and-Warren night. He was waiting for his dealer, to cop, intent on getting his shot of heroin before he went on. But he had no money. So he went to the VIP booths one at a time and explained the situation. He said, 'Look, you're here to see me, and I can't go on until my dealer is here, and he's waiting to be paid, so give me some money so I can fix up, and then you'll get your show.' He got more than enough money. He stood off to the side and shot up. The lights went down, the music went up, he stood onstage and collapsed. Without a note being sung. He'd OD'd in front of everyone. And had to be carried off. I think that was one of his greatest shows ever ... It was so minimally perfect. It just says a very great deal."
- Danny Fields

"If I don't terrorize, I'm not Pop."
- Iggy Pop

Warning: Potential loss of objectivity ahead.

Before we begin, I'll warn you that I may find it hard to be entirely objective about this song. You see, it's one of my favourite songs of all time, and the Stooges are one of my favourite bands. This song, in my mind, is one of the purest punk songs I've ever heard (along with Pay To Cum by Bad Brains, American Jesus by Bad Religion and Holiday in Cambodia by The Dead Kennedys). When I think of punk and hardcore, this is the song that plays in my head. Some have said that I Wanna Be Your Dog is really the greatest punk song of all time, but this is, at least in my humble opinion, the epitome of the form. This is the kind of music that

The Stooges have influenced every band in the world that ever put a fuzz pedal between a guitar and an amp and decided to hit their cymbals a little harder than the norm. From the rather explicit copycats like The White Stripes and The Hives, to Eugene Hutz, Henry Rollins and Morrisey, the level of plaudits is almost universal. A list of bands who have covered them includes The Sex Pistols, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Slayer, The Birthday Party, The Black Keys, Guns and Roses, Rage Against The Machine, REM and Sonic Youth.

To add to all of that, Iggy Pop broke the Rock Nutter Scale(tm).
Name: He wasn't christened Iggy Pop, you know. He named himself after the first band he played in (The Iguanas) and a local junkie. His dear, trailer park resident mother actally christened him James Jewel (?) Osterberg. Which is almost as weird as Iggy.
Drugs: He practically defines rock and roll excess. He may be the only man Keith Richards respects when it comes to serious drug use.
History of Violence and Reckless Behaviour: He wrote the book. He dropped out of varsity to be a blues drummer, married a 13 year old heiress and lived in a house full of guns with the MC5 intent on dying in a shootout with the police. And then the real weirdness started. Read Please Kill Me by Legs McNeil to understand the full scope of Pop's depravity and craziness. He is the Rock Nutter. All bases, from ODing on stage, rolling around in broken glass mid-gig, calling out an entire biker gang for a fight, to appearing on British TV in see through pants, are covered. One gets the feeling that, while Ozzy may have bitten the head off a bat on stage, Iggy would prefer to bite the head off the guy from Blink 182.
Fallen afoul of the law? If he hasn't, he should have. In fact, if he hasn't it's only because the law is scared of him. No jail can contain him.

In short, Keith Richards probably wears a little rubber bracelet with WWID? on it. Sorry Willie, you were never really in the race.

On to the song. The song drips anger and disaffection, from the opening guitars, seemingly fuzzed into another universe, and the atonal, almost out-of-time guitar lead building up to a shriek when Iggy Pop delivers the first of many lyrical body blows, proclaiming himself, almost crooning, as a "streetwalking cheetah with a heart full of napalm". From that point on, Pop, the Asheton brothers (described by Pop as two of the dimmest bulbs in rock and roll) and James Williamson (by all accounts an immensely unlikeable character and the person who turned Pop's heroin use into an addiction) pound the world into submmission with a vicious slab of fuzzed-out bass and shrieks that make it sound like the world is collapsing around your ears. This is music that should be played so loud that it makes your neighbours' ears bleed, like Jello Biafra used to do. This is the music that will signal the apocalypse. To be honest, it's more difficult to describe a song that I love and that I've heard so many times than it is to be critical of some of the dreck that I've been listened to recently.

Verdict: Apocalypse Now.

Tomorrow: Guns And Roses - Welcome To The Jungle.

It's too late for me, save yourself.

This song makes me want to die. Consider it an entirely irrational, instinctive, visceral reaction, but it sounds like it should be the theme tune to a 70s sitcom starring Norman Fell (a.k.a. TVs Mr Roper).

I'm not going to say anything and, instead, listen to tomorrow's song until I've banished the foul taste of this abomination from my mind.

My verdict should be clear.

Neither free, nor a man

Joni Mitchell - Free Man In Paris



Written about David Geffen and a trip to Paris with Robbie Robertson from The Band, this is one of the rather cheekboned Ms Mitchell's favourite live songs. To put it into perspective, if Willie Nelson was the happy stoner uncle of folky, country music, Mitchell would be the weird aunt who you're not sure is a Wiccan or just in need to electro-convulsive therapy. Either way, she normally embarrasses herself at family gatherings and wears clothes that look like hippies threw them away. She may even be a sculptor. in the same way that I've managed to stretch that metaphor to the painful limit, Mitchell seems intent to stretch the upper limits of her vocal range to the same heights - She manages to hit notes that would reduce our canine friends to conniptions and that automatically make me want to do someone harm. However, this is a more consistent and less breathy vocal than normal from Mitchell, while still retaining some of her trademark minor key, legato vocals. She can't so much as hold a note as want to slide it up or down a hill.

Musically, there's some slide guitar in the mix, some flute or recorder, some airily-strummed, folky guitar, a shuffly drumbeat and a serious reliance on the 'new' idea of stereo recording. The music side is not really noteworthy. Rock and roll flautism reminds me of bearded men in dresses shouting 'AQUALUUUNG'.

The whole package is a little twee and chanteuse-y for me. I prefer music with a little more edge than this, which has about as much sharp edge as a properly baby-proofed lawn. This music is incapable of offending or provoking moral outrage in any way. But apart from that, it's perfectly fine, even if Mitchell looks like a horse trying to eat an ice cream when she sings.

Verdict: Give me death.

Tomorrow: Carole King - It's Too Late.

America's Outlaw

Willie Nelson - On The Road Again



I don't think that, as a Gen X'er who didn't grow up in Texas, you can think of this song without thinking of it's far more pop culture mooring point. Yes, Eddie Murphy, singing it as Donkey in Shrek. And if anyone is cool enough to deserve a bit of pop culture big ups, Willie could do worse than step up to the plate. He's not far off gold medal nutterdom on the Rock Nutter Scale (tm). Witness:
(1) Must have done enough drugs to kill a regiment of dutch soldiers
Check! Nelson is not only a member of National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, he's co-chair of the board!
(2) Must have been to prison more times than the neck tattoo fairy - check!
Nelson is no fan of the IRS or the DEA, both of whom have put him in the chookie for tax evasion and marijuana possession respectively.
(3) Must be reknowned for wild and destructive behavior
I think that counting Keith Richards, Kinky Friedman and Kid Rock as friends is probably destructive enough for various reasons. Plus he starred in Friedman's Roadkill.
(4) Should have a proper pseudonym
His middle name is Hugh. Badass.
(5) Should have a suitably weird history
He's a country musician, it's practically part of the job description.

That seals it - Nelson is the most badass of rock nutters encountered so far (mainly because Grace Slick is a poor owner of the title so far and Rick James is nobody's hero). Needless to say, while Keith Richards and Iggy Pop haven't been subjected to scrutiny yet, they are coming up and the title may change hands. Willie is, however, a true outlaw legend and, by all accounts, a genuinely genuine one at that.

But on to the song. It's upbeat country fare, all skiffle-y beat, fingerpicked guitar and a nifty slide solo. There's some harmonica. There's a real fun, good ol' boy live vibe to it. Nelson sounds like he's having a good time. There's genuine enthusiasm. It's no Johnny Cash/Hank Williams opus, but that's not the point - Willie doesn't exist to remind you that you're dying, like Johnny Cash does. If Cash is the substance-abusing, suicidal father of country music, Nelson is the drunken, stoner uncle who's always smiling. And this song is all about getting on the bus, jamming with his friends and making music for the people. Rock on Willie. I may be harping on about Aretha again, but Nelson's bonhomie is precisely what differentiates this as a song from hers - you can almost hear him smiling his way through, and it's a genuine smile.

Verdict: Legend rolls on

Tomorrow: Joni Mitchell - Free Man In Paris

Romper Stomper

The Supremes - Where Did Our Love Go?

And Diana Ross stomps into the list, leading the Supremes in their first hit, the 1964 Holland-Dozier-Holland opus Where Did Our Love Go?, which was originally offered to the Marvelletes (the big dogs in the girl groups yard) who thought it was a bit childish. Ross, of the 'no-hit Supremes' as they were then known, latched her claws into it, and the result is a saccharine sweet "burning, burning yearning" of "burning love that stings like a bee".

It's really girl group-y. This could be the template, in fact. Sweet as sugar harmonies, a sax solo, minimal but driving drumming with a great stomp beat that was augmented by 'stomp boards' or additional plywood boards on top of mahogony floors which the artists stomped on while singing.

Needless to say, it's been covered by everyone from the J.Geils Band to Soft Cell to the Pussycat Dolls. And it's cool - it just hits me much more than Aretha's effort. I really like it. Maybe it's the simplicity - you can hear that this was recorded on 3 tracks - just vocals, sax and rhythm, no messing around - walk in, drop the track and head out to become stars. It's a simple song, done simply, relying on nothing by beautiful voices and a hearkening back to simplicity. Oh, and they say the word 'baby' more times than a pack of pregnant women.

Verdict: Sweet death by stomping

Tomorrow: Willie Nelson - On The Road Again

Done Right, Every Time

Aretha Franklin - Do Right Woman, Do Right Man

I know, I know, I missed yesterday. Stop acting like your world fell apart. There was a specific medical reason for it - gluteal glaucoma. Basically, I just couldn't see my ass posting anything. Especially about this song. Which is not to say that there is anything wrong with it. There's not - it's an amazing, beautiful, touching song. And it's sung with incredible emotion, as perfectly arranged as a song could be and all of the instruments just work perfectly in the context of the song - twinkling pianos, bubbling horns, just the slightest hint of upright bass and snare drum, almost in a waltz figure.

To add to this, the vocal harmonies are stunning and Aretha's lead vocals are on the baddest side of badassville. It's also been covered by a veritable clutch of pretenders - everyone from Sinead o'Connor and Cher to the Flying Burrito Brothers and Willie Nelson, none of whom, I'm willing to be, managed to so much as touch the original.

But still, it just doesn't do it for me. I'm just not that into it, to use the popular term. It's cool, but there's no spirit of playfulness, no feeling that Aretha didn't see it as anything more than a job, albeit one that she did really well. I know that's very subjective. I don't care either. Chances are, if you haven't heard this, you'll love it, and if you have, you already do, but maybe it just needs to grow on me.

Verdict: Done right, but not with love.

Tomorrow: The Supremes - Where Did Our Love Go

Unity through funk

Funkadelic - One Nation Under A Groove

While it's possible (although improbable) that you haven't heard One Nation Under A Groove, it's impossible, especially if you have listened to popular music in the last 15 years, to not recognise some of its hooks - maybe the shouted background vocal of "Feet don't fail me now" or the legato vocal of "Ready or not, here we come" (memorably appropriated by The Fugees). It's an immense, gigantic, month-long marquee tent full of groove-funk, led by the inimitable George Clinton who was, at the same time, making brassier, bassier funk with Parliament, on an entirely different record label. The result was, at a later date, Parliament Funkadelic, but that's another story.

The song is pretty much just .. funky (if it's not clear, funk is not something I know a hell of a lot about) - maybe a bit groovier than Parliament, which is all brassy, party grooves. It's all Hendrix-flavoured noodly guitars, bouncing bass, smooth as butter backing vocals and a vocal that ranges between croony and mellow to excited and exhortational. And it's long at seven and a half minutes. This must be the Stairway To Heaven of funk - you get the feeling that in music stores in 70s Harlem, there was a sign above all the bass guitars saying something Wayne's World-ish like "No Groove". And, like Stairway, it's an anthemic song that's inspired everyone from Prince to Outkast to those funk-thieves The Red Hot Chili Peppers and all manner of g-funk and hip-hop music.

Verdict: National Anthem of the United States of Funk

Tomorrow: Aretha Franklin - Do Right Woman, Do Right Man