Guys and Dolls: King Short Shirt - Tyranny (28 May 1993)

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When it came to calypso music in Antigua, one man reigned supreme through the 60s, 70s and 80s. McLean Emanuel aka King Short Shirt, was the only performer - at least at the time that this article was written - to have won Antigua’s national calypso competition three times in a row, on three separate occasions.  Doing well in the competition opened up opportunities to record music, and Tyranny is taken from his fourth album, Illusion, released in 1977 by A & B Records.

In this frantic calypso - I hope that whoever was playing the cowbell was able to have a nice lie down after the session - King Short Shirt ponders the ongoing chain of unfairness that sees Africans move from slavery to living in countries run as dictatorships and totalitarian states. He namechecks apartheid

South Africa, Uganda (at that time still ruled by the despotic, Idi Amin), Rhodesia (like South Africa operating under white minority rule) and Chile (which was ruled by Augusto Pinochet). He notes too that the Caribbean has also known similar tyranny, such as that practised by the Duvaliers in Haiti, Fulgencio Batista in Cuba and Rafael Calderón in Costa Rica.*. 

King Short Shirt believed that change could come in each of those countries if the people rose up, which is always easier said than done of course, though he was proven right in the end. Amin fled Uganda in 1979 after his attempt to invade Tanzania backfired. The same year, white minority rule ended in Rhodesia and the country was renamed Zimbabwe. Unfortunately, this also meant the world was lumbered with Robert Mugabe for 37 years. Chile and South Africa took a little longer, but in 1988 Pinochet held a referendum to see whether the country wanted him to continue as president, and stepped down after losing it so as to pave the way for democratic elections. Meanwhile, in South Africa, F.W. de Klerk released Nelson Mandela from prison in 1990, dismantled the apartheid system and was succeeded as president by Mandela in 1994. 

The beauty of the sentiments expressed in Tyranny is that they are applicable to any country labouring under a dictatorship. And as White Afrikaners arrive in the United States under a refugee programme enthusiastically set up by the current president of the United States, we can only wonder how long it will take for Americans to follow King Short Shirt’s advice and cast their tyrant into the sea - preferably just off Mar-a-Lago.

*Not strictly speaking a dictator in the same mould as the others, but his refusal to accept the results of the 1948 General Election led to a civil war.

Video courtesy of Akla Tha First.

Guys and Dolls: Luscious Jackson - Daughters of the Kaos (28 May 1993)

 

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In the year of riot grrrl, New York four-piece Luscious Jackson carved out a fascinating niche for themselves which owed less to Bikini Kill and more to gangsta rap. Daughters of the Kaos is a work of subversive brilliance which manages to both demonstrate female power within a male dominated song subject (violence/crime) and show that you can get away with morally questionable sentiments in a song if you drape them in softly sung/spoken trimmings. Throw in the mariachi cum flamenco style guitar riffs, Lalo Schifrin style drum beats and the street flavour vibe that bubbles away underneath the track, and you get a song that has me offering up everything I own without any of the band needing to pull out the six-guns mentioned by Jill Cunniff.

Daughters of the Kaos hits a sweet spot in that it doesn’t glamorise the lifestyle it’s singing about, but it also makes clear that if you’re born into crime, it needs the guiding hand of a woman to both keep you alive and allow you to thrive in that environment: 

Never leave a child alone in a world like this.

He’ll play with bombs and always miss.

He’ll make a girl pick up a gun.

So she can show him how it’s done.

While not completely misandrist, the song makes clear that men are tolerated until a point that they’re no longer required:

Always give shelter to a man in need.

In the face of chaos I give up my greed.

Insane and unknown is my only creed.

Enjoy, destroy then set you free.

It’s wonderful, thrilling stuff - a product of its time and politics, yet set slightly apart from it. It shares riot grrrl’s female empowerment ethos, but acknowledges that they may need to fight dirty and with something stronger than an Andrea Dworkin paperback in their back pocket if they’re going to enjoy the spoils that men took as their right.

All lyrics are copyright of Jill Cunniff

Video courtesy of GR2 Records.

Guys and Dolls: Lonnie Johnson - Sam, You’re Just a Rat (28 May 1993)

 

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Recorded on 9 February, 1932, Sam, You’re Just a Rat subverts cliche by taking as its subject the rejection of an untrustworthy friend, rather than an untrustworthy lover. Whoever Sam is, they’ve been sniffing around not only Lonnie Johnson’s wife, but other men’s wives too, so the ostracisation is pretty damning: 

Sam, you’re not my friend and my home you’d better stop hanging round.

‘Cause I’ve paid for your coffin and I mean that you graveyard bound.

Mistrust and betrayal seemed to be on Johnson’s mind given that this song was recorded in the same session as Men, Get Wise To Yourself, a song in which Johnson considered infidelity to be so widespread among both sexes that humankind was beyond redemption. The two songs were coupled together in a release on Okeh, though Peel was playing Sam, You’re Just a Rat due to its inclusion on a reissue of the 1972 Yazoo compilation, Barrelhouse Blues 1927-1936.

Hilariously, this track about a friendship hitting the buffers was played immediately after Peel read out a fax from a listener called Mark Taylor, who asked him to dedicate a record to a friend of his who was celebrating their birthday, but had been taken ill on Friday 27 May and advised by doctors that they needed to cut out chocolate and beer. We can only hope that having had two avenues of pleasure closed off to them that Mark’s friend didn’t look to fill the gap with adultery instead.

Video courtesy of Lonnie Johnson - Topic.

Lyrics by Lonnie Johnson.

Guys and Dolls: Nigel Whitely Show - Saturday 22 May 1993 (BBC Radio 1)

 Although it didn’t make that week’s edition of the Radio Times, Peel had decided to rename this edition of his programme after Nigel Whitely, a listener who was celebrating their 40th birthday. Had I been a) listening to this programme when it was going out and b) had access to a fax machine, I would have faxed Peel to ask him to rebrand the programme as the Louise Gibson show in honour of my cousin, who had got married on Friday 21 May. 

That was a long day for me and my parents, as we had left Falmouth at 4am in order to drive up to Hertfordshire to attend the wedding.  I had been asked to give one of the readings at the service, because I “did acting”. Although I was happy to do this, I remember feeling a little worried that if I kept attending family weddings, I’d be expected to do readings at all of them like some kind of performing dog. As I was the youngest child of my generation on my mum’s side of the family, I always felt a little defensive about this. I was worried that even though I was now 17 years old, my relatives would still regard me as the baby, and seeing me do readings would provoke an onslaught of well meant but patronising compliments. This was my paranoia at work rather than a result of any evidence of condescension from my relatives, but I sat out several family weddings over the next couple of years, though a few of them were easy to miss as they were held in the United States. 

My parents and I spent the best part of 22 hours awake that day, so spent the rest of the weekend recuperating, before returning home on Bank Holiday Monday. 

12 years later, we would go through the same kind of rigmarole again when I accompanied them to a family weekend at Center Parcs in Thetford. Another early start, a longer journey than May 1993, but with no pressure to read anything. It was a cracking weekend, which climaxed in a family singalong on the Sunday night with nearly everyone performing a song.  It was though a different age from May 1993: John Peel dead for nearly a year and Louise, whose husband didn’t accompany her, laid up in bed in her cabin all weekend with flu, with concerned whispers doing the rounds that it wasn’t just the flu that was depriving Louise of her natural vigour and spirit. They separated in 2012.  Had I been aware how things would play out for her, the request would have been to name the programme by her maiden name, the Louise Kinsella Show.  With her new partner, she now spends most of her weekends participating in historical re-enactments, dressed as a cross between Guinevere and Anne Bolelyn. It suits her wonderfully.

Catching my interest - though not strongly enough to merit inclusion on the metaphorical mixtape - from this edition of Kat’s Karavan was Peel’s inclusion of Paydirt by Shampoo. Just over a year later, they would become Top 20 chart stars, but here Peel was playing a track from their Blisters and Bruises EP, of which more, potentially, in a few weeks time.

Apart from the occasional, murmur of Fades in quietly, Peel was not known for talking over the beginning of tracks. He made a rare exception though when playing Bad Man by Shaggy Wonder. The track featured a short spoken word opening, which Peel disliked so he spoke over it before letting the record play on. He was not being censorious though, his objection was to the ‘intergalactic’ voice effect that had been applied to it. I had sympathy with him over this. After all, it had proven to be something of a deal breaker for me when he played Saucer Surfing by Steve Hillage, a few months previously.

The selections I made from this programme were from a virtually complete show. Everything I wanted to include was available. Only one track in my original list of selections fell from favour:

Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet - Spy School Graduation Theme - A track title which makes perfect sense when you consider how much of the sound on Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet records owe a debt to the guitar playing of Vic Flick, who played the guitar riff on The James Bond Theme. But I found it too slow to want to listen to again. At their best, Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet are vibrant, exciting and thrilling. When the tempo drops though, they can cross the line into musical wallpaper.

When looking back over the list of selections I made from this show, I found I’d listed two tracks from previous programmes that I’d already blogged about. If Peel was repeating a play for a track, he clearly really liked it. You can enjoy the following again if you wish:

Rollerskate Skinny - Bow Hitch-Hiker

LMNO Pelican - Spine

Happy birthday, Nigel!

Guys and Dolls: Magic Sam - Look Whatcha Done (22 May 1993)

 

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Blues guitarist, Magic Sam Maghett got a lot of exposure on Peel’s playlists across 1993, mainly due to the release of a compilation called West Side Soul on Charly R & B, which gathered together most of Maghett’s A & B sides from the singles he released through the late 1950s/early 1960s, together with a few other tracks. Curiously, Maghett never had an original album issued under his own name in his lifetime, though he put out two albums as Magic Sam’s Blues Band in the year before he died of a heart attack on 1 December 1969. Indeed, the Charly compilation shares its name with the first Magic Sam’s Blues Band album.

Look Whatcha Done was issued as the b-side on Maghett’s 1958 single, Everything Gonna Be Alright. In keeping with many of Maghett’s b-sides, it offers a genre mashup in comparison to the pure blues sounds of his A-sides. In his home region of Grenada County, Mississippi, he grew up listening to as much bluegrass and country music as he did blues and this eclecticism distinguishes a number of his tracks such as the rockabilly blues of Love Me With a Feeling (b-side to All Your Love) or the rhythm & blues of 21 Days in Jail,** which demands a sacking if it was never dangled in front of Elvis Presley as a potential song for him to record.

Look Whatcha Done brings together blues and swing, though its centrepiece has to be the guitar solo from 1:01 to 1:26 in which Maghett picks out the notes with the precision of a sculptor cutting a piece of marble into the statue he wants to make.  Willie Dixon, who worked with Maghett as a musician, producer and writer* described Magic Sam’s use of harmonies in his playing as what marked him out as different from those who came before him. It certainly sounds as though multiple guitars are chocking that solo out, even though it is the work of one man.

*Going by the record labels on the original 45s, Dixon wrote a lot of Magic Sam’s songs; however, the credits on the West Side Soul compilation list only Maghett as the author of many of the same songs. Happily, both the original record and West Side Soul credit Maghett alone as the author of Look Whatcha Done.

** b-side to Easy Baby

Video courtesy of TheBluesfan12.

Guys and Dolls: Krispy 3 - We Don’t Go Pop Like Bubble Gum (22 May 1993)

 

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I’m so pleased that this blog’s 1000th post coincides with the return of the wonderful Krispy 3, who released We Don’t Go Pop Like Bubble Gum as a precursor to their second album, Can’t Melt the Wax.

Krispy 3 were always at their most entertaining when they were singing about the music industry and their own quest for artistic purity inside a business which either failed to recognise their genius or tried to persuade them to peddle pap for profit. Inevitably, they would stick to their principles and then bemoan the fact that lesser acts - both in terms of talent and integrity - were cleaning up financially or being promoted as cultural game changers, when they were doing nothing more than maintaining the status quo. The Can’t Melt the Wax album features a brilliant track called Who Ya Know, which rages against the fact that, in the music industry, contacts trump talent 9 times out of 10. I’m surprised that Peel never played it, especially given that his name comes up in the track.

What makes We Don’t Go Pop Like Bubble Gum so interesting is the conflict that runs throughout it. Krispy 3 always seemed keen to emphasise that, as far as they were concerned, rap music lived over here and pop music lived over there, and never the twain shall meet. Take the dripping disgust with which they read the headline Pop king is king of rap at the start of Don’t Be Misled as an example. Even though their own material was quite clean and positive by the standards of what rap music was considered to be i.e materialistic, violent, defiant etc, they were adamant that just because they used humour in their lyrics, they were first and foremost, a rap group - not a pop-rap confection. And yet, listening to the names and scenes dropped into the track by the Finlayson brothers and George Gueye, it ends up coming across as a bit of a love letter to pop music. Although the cover photo to the Can’t Melt the Wax LP featured a generic photo of the three of them, they could have used the cast list they assemble in We Don’t Go Pop Like Bubble Gum to make their own version of the cover of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band instead.

Based on what I can hear, and I may well have missed some other references, the cover would have included:

Sounds of Blackness

Dionne Warwick -  Walk on by like Dionne. And they may very well have thrown in Dion, for good measure, too.

Meat Loaf - A dead ringer.

The Champs - Tequila

Rupert Holmes - Pina Colada

Tone Loc - Funky Cold Medina

Glynis Barber and Michael Brandon - I make peace like Dempsey* is one of the best lines in any track I’ve heard since I started doing this blog.

Pat Morita - I love you Sensei.

Lou Rawls - Your love is hard to find, like my man, Lou Rawls, so I keep my head high and my head on my balls.

Fred Williamson - Black Caesar

Lucille Ball - I Love Lucy

Judy Garland - Skip to my Lou

Vernon Buckley and Gladstone Anderson  - Little Boy Blue**

Wings - Mary Had a Little Lamb***

That would be a row or two or sorted out, I think. 

Here’s to the next 1000!

Video courtesy of zitterfinger.

*Given Dempsey often solved problems by pulling out a gun, this might be less peaceful than initially thought.

**Buckley and Anderson recorded as a duo, Verne and Son, releasing their version of the nursery rhyme in 1971.

***So, Paul & Linda McCartney, Denny Laine, Henry McCullough and Denny Seiwell.

Guys and Dolls: Ween - Peel Session (22 May 1993)

Exactly a year after their first Peel Session was repeated, the Ween boys were back for their second and final Peel Session. Like the evening’s other Session guest, they used it as an opportunity to play songs which had not yet been issued on record. All instruments on the session were played by Dean Ween (Michael Melchiondo Jr.) and Gene Ween (Aaron Freeman), so the tracks have a slight element of works in progress about them; the entire session clocks in at less than 9 minutes. But, not a moment is wasted, and with one exception, they were fully in control of the material that they were playing.

After playing the first track, What Deaner Was Talkin’ About, Peel thought it sounded like a country song, and this inspired him to play a country music track by Freiwillige Selbstkontrolle (Das Hab Ich Falsch Gemacht). I’d be more inclined to describe it as the session’s indie-folk tune. Sung by Gene, it describes his experience with anxiety attacks, which was something that Dean had apparently suffered from all his life. The line, If I was king, I’d wear a ring/And never hurt my people, suggests that the anxiety is caused by somebody rather than something. This could be a link to the third song in the session, the jazzy Take Me Away, where Gene sings about his struggle not to go crazy after being cheated on by a woman; a devastating experience for anyone, but something which should at least offer clarity. The woman took his love for granted and took him for a fool. The heartache has to be gone through, but there will be someone else out there who will help him to repair his broken heart and make him smile again. That’s the optimistic take, but the closing lines on What Deaner Was Talkin’ About, I don’t think I will ever return again, my friend, suggest that Gene currently finds the damage to be irreparable.

Both What Deaner Was Talkin’ About and Take Me Away were recorded for Ween’s 1994 album, Chocolate and Cheese. 

The fourth track on the session, Buckingham Green, apparently takes its name from a shopping centre based in New Hope, Pennsylvania, close to where Ween were formed.  Even in a stripped down form it promises a psychedelic epic in its brief running time with its lines about eyeless children, meetings with God and beings descending from the stratosphere, which was duly realised when the song was finally recorded for their 1997 album, The Mollusk.

Apologies for jumping about the running order in this session, but I was originally going to pass on the second track, Vallejo, because it didn’t have much to recommend it beyond the catchiness of its Latin rock stylings. I changed my mind because given how short the whole session is I didn’t think would be too much of an encumbrance to have it included if I was listening to it on the metaphorical mixtape. In the event, it’s the song in the session which has most intrigue about it, especially this version of it.

The Ween wiki states that Vallejo was written and first performed during 1992.  Its role in live performance was to provide the music to a lengthy piece of performance art whereby the Ween boys would stack up instruments, amplifiers, drinks and many other things on top of their touring drummer, Claude Coleman Jr.’s drum kit, so as to form some kind of impromptu sculpture which could then be played to produce noise and feedback. This could take up to half-an-hour of time in the concert. One YouTube commenter I saw mentioned that they saw Ween do this in a live show once, and they decided to go and play a game of pool in another part of the venue. When they went back after their game, the song was still going and the sculpture was still being built.  

All that would be lost on record though, so, by the time Ween put Vallejo out as a b-side on their 1994 single, Voodoo Lady, it stood as a song about the life and wild times of the painter, Boris Vallejo. None of this features in the Peel Session version. I wondered whether the BBC quailed at lines that feature in the studio version version such as, I lick your pussy and then cum inside. Considering that this would have been going out long after the 9pm watershed, I can’t see why it would have been a problem. But nevertheless, Vallejo was presented as a short instrumental which tonally sounded closer to another version of the track called Vallejo Pt. 2.

If there were censorship issues  - and I’m only conjecturing about that - it might explain why Ween never recorded another Peel Session. However, this was not the last time that Ween’s music featured on a Peel Session, given that Tim Wheeler and Charlotte Hatherley of Ash included a cover of What Deaner Was Talkin’ About on their acoustic Peel Session at Peel Acres on 15 April 1999.

Video courtesy of VibraCobra23 Ennui.

All lyrics are copyright of Dean and Gene Ween.

Guys and Dolls: PJ Harvey - Naked Cousin/Primed and Ticking/Claudine, the Inflatable One [Peel Session] (22 May 1993)

 

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This was a repeat of, what Peel described as, PJ Harvey’s third and a half session for his programme. It was first broadcast on Friday 12 March, 1993. It’s a fascinating session because it gives a suggestion of the kind of music Polly Jean might have made had she continued working with Rob Ellis and Steven Vaughan. Although the Rid Of Me album was set to be released at the end of April ‘93, this session showed Harvey and friends were already looking ahead to the future. Three of the tracks - the three going on to the metaphorical mixtape - were new original compositions. None of them were on Rid Of Me or would surface as b-sides on the album’s singles. Indeed, only one of the three was ever issued and fans had to wait a long time for it.

By a short head, I make Naked Cousin the best of the tracks. My theory about it is that it is another of Harvey’s songs in which she plays a relation of a figure from the Bible. In Missed, she sang as Mary, mother of Jesus and desperate to find out why her dead son’s body was missing from his tomb. In Naked Cousin, I think that Polly is singing as a cousin of Moses, and what’s more, she’s not a fan. The Moses link suggests itself most obviously through the line, He run from burning bushes…he runs from everything that upsets his masterplan.  In this case, leading the Israelites from slavery in Egypt to find The Promised Land.

Polly is clearly unconvinced for reasons both familial - you can almost picture her telling people, “Moses will never pull this off, trust me, I’ve known him since he was a baby, he never sticks at anything”, though in the song she restricts herself to telling us that I hate his smell and/I hate his company but most of all/I hate that he looks just like me - and out of self preservation for what Moses’s uprising could mean for both the Israelites and herself, as a relation of his. It’s enough to have her wondering whether she will have the courage to join the Exodus, herself: He’s running naked through the trees/Scare the shit right out of me/Bought my ticket, take my ride/Take me to the sunny side.

Just like Missed, it’s a fascinating scenario, brilliantly brought to life by the whole trio.

Primed and Ticking and Claudine, the Inflatable One are more thematically straightforward. They are both, especially Primed and Ticking, aggressive love songs, heavy on sexual suggestion. With her squealing guitar and the dissonant brass - provided by Mike Smith and Dennis Rollins -  the implication is that the sex will be utter carnage, and that Polly will absolutely tear her prospective lover to shreds. So certain does she sound about her place in the lover’s life and future that the shrieking chorus of I believe my days will end with you starts to take on an air of obsessive control rather than one of heartfelt devotion.

At least Prime and Ticking has a recognisable target for its lust/devotion; the protagonist of Claudine, the Inflatable One has to play out their sexual desire with a blow-up doll. Nevertheless, a good time is still promised for all: I’ll blow your mind…I’ll show you heaven…I’ll make sweet honey, I’ll treat you nice etc. I had briefly thought that Harvey was singing from the perspective of the doll itself, but I’ve come round to the orthodoxy that it’s sung from the perspective of Claudine’s owner, and that their need is just as ravenous as Polly’s was in Primed and Ticking: Want to get into your sack of skin. Furthermore, the Scream blue murder refrain in the playout ties into the notion that both songs have of using sex as a way to  expel all negative emotions, energy and pain from oneself by giving yourself over utterly to another person. In body, soul, mind and heart in Primed and Ticking; in body only - at least as a start for practice -  in Claudine, the Inflatable One.

The fourth track in the session was the only one that was going to be commercially available to people in 1993, namely the trio’s cover of Wang Dang Doodle, written by Willie Dixon, who had died in January 1992. This session version featured as a b-side on the Man-Size single, and Peel subsequently complained on air a couple of times that it wasn’t credited as having been recorded for his programme. I passed on it as I found it too irritatingly mannered. This has been a common complaint from me about her music from this period.

In considering the three songs included here, it suggests that the PJ Harvey trio would have streamlined the harder edged tone of Rid of Me into a funkier blues/rock sound that focussed on sex and humour, had they continued working together on another album. All three songs sound like they would have been perfect fits on an album made by Harvey, Ellis and Vaughan. They clearly had belief in the songs as Naked Cousin and Primed and Ticking were included in the trio’s live set over the summer of 1993, including on a Radio 1 concert, hosted by Peel, broadcast on Saturday 31 July 1993, starting at 7:30pm, just as the curtain was going up on the third night of my production of Guys and Dolls. But when the trio went their separate ways at the end of the year, the songs went into cold storage too. They wouldn’t have fitted on Harvey’s first solo album, To Bring You My Love, and although she started working with Ellis again from about 1998 onwards, the songs have never been recorded by her on any of her subsequent albums. 

In the immediate term, the songs represented a last gasp of the early PJ Harvey. She would write and record many fine songs across the rest of the 1990s, but very few of them came at the listener with the same force and attack of these songs. Her work became more introspective, cinematic and warmer in tone. There was room for romance and love amidst the darker, serious material that she wrote through the rest of the decade, but no place for humour or wit. It would arguably take until 2000’s album, Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea for Harvey to rediscover a sense of brashness in tracks like Big Exit or This is Love, which is to all intents and purposes, Primed and Ticking’s younger, prettier sister. 

Meanwhile, Primed and Ticking and Claudine, the Inflatable One remain locked away, unreleased and unknown outside of this Peel Session. They didn’t even get to join Naked Cousin either on the selection of session tracks which made up Island Records own The Peel Sessions 1991-2004 or the extensive 2022 release, B-Sides, Demos & Rarities, which has the studio version of Naked Cousin  - recorded by Harvey with John Parish - which turned up on the soundtrack album of the 1996 film, The Crow: City of Angels. 

Videos courtesy of stoner 7412 (NC) and Black Thyme Thames (P & T, CTIO)

All lyrics are copyright of Polly Jean Harvey.

Guys and Dolls: Further - Real Gone (22 May 1993)

 

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Peel played Real Gone as part of a double bill of tracks from Further’s first album, Grip Tape L.P.  It’s fairly standard “I-don’t-know-myself-and-I-think-I’m-going-crazy” hard rock/shoegaze stuff, albeit leavened with some great guitar work and a little boy lost vocal that you’d have to have a heart of stone not to be affected by.  The chopped, crunchy riffs of its opening 80 seconds provide a perfect backdrop to the confessions about dark thoughts and feelings of being publicly misunderstood. Between 1:23 and 1:56, the music becomes clearer, less dense as the narrator strives for some kind of control over their darker impulses. They even end on a note of defiance, I am taking control. But the Dinosaur Jr. style guitar solo and that returning choppy riff guide us back into a sea of uncertainty and churned up emotions; the frustration of seeming to identify a way in which to live your life, only to find it’s illusory.

As previously mentioned, Dinosaur Jr. are clearly a huge influence on this track. Even the vocals sound like someone doing an impression of J Mascis stuck in a subterranean toilet. 

I had originally included the second track, Gimme Indie Fox, for inclusion as well, though there was a question mark against it. It’s a rib on Gimme Indie Rock! by Sebadoh, but the vocals are so messily recorded that it’s not easy to tell what points they’re making. If they can’t be bothered about us hearing it, I can’t be bothered to keep it. A shame really, because the video is good fun.

Video courtesy of coldnebraskablue.

Guys and Dolls: Yami Bolo - Leave Out the Badness (22 May 1993)

 

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I spent some time last week listening again to this blog’s Festive Fifty for 1992. As always when you come to look over a cultural list that you made, I spent time picking it apart and asking myself the usual questions: why did I include that? Why did I rank that so high? etc etc. One track, though, which never loses its power or lustre is the hip-hop track, A Minute to Pray and a Second to Die by Scarface (Number 11) which provides a hard-hitting but lyrical tour through the pointless cycle of violence perpetuated by young black men drawn into gang lifestyles and how this leaves dead men being mourned by abused women, holding babies that their fathers will never see because they pissed off the wrong people.

Leave Out the Badness is the PG certificate, PIF, Dancehall equivalent. It tries to ape the documentary realism of Scarface’s tune by providing a case study of two, out of control brothers, Johnny and Charlie, whose propensity for gunplay and robbery leaves one of them dead and the other on the road towards it, but not before they’ve made other people’s lives a misery first. Yami Bolo’s concern is that these people will be seen as role models to be followed into lives of crime - albeit he recognises that many in the ghettos may see it as their only option due to the poverty that they live in, Where is shoots and rice… etc.

Leave Out the Badness is a poor relation in comparison to A Minute to Pray and a Second to Die.  The whole badness/madness/sadness rhyming scheme is pretty anodyne and Bolo conjures a picture of such hopelessness that his imploring of young people to turn away from violence and crime seems unlikely to have much of an impact on the people it is trying to reach. But, its sincerity is genuine enough and acts as a reminder that if we regard goodness as the weaker of two impulses, then we are lost.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.

Video courtesy of  TrailerMufflerCrew.

Guys and Dolls: Eat Static - Inner Peace (22 May 1993)

 

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This was another borderline inclusion. It was the final track on the Eat Static album, Abduction. I was torn  between liking its gentle, soothing, though brisk, tone and finding it too skittish to really enjoy. There are some moments where this trance track introduces surprising elements such as the uilleann pipes between 1:26-1:55, but it never seemed to commit to anything long enough to fully draw the listener in. 

Ultimately though, I included it because I liked the samba elements in it and once they started to coalesce  around the synths and reverb beats - that four note synth riff that occurs throughout the track becomes especially beguiling after a while - I started to get into a headspace where I could appreciate it both as music to listen and dance to.

At times, Inner Peace reminded me of the much superior Music by The Safehouse. This morning, when the YouTube algorithm cued Music up after I gave a final listen to Inner Peace to decide whether to include it on the metaphorical mixtape, that sealed the deal for me. It seemed like confirmation that both tracks came from the same family, and even if Inner Peace was the runt of that family, there was no reason to not show it some love.

Video courtesy of Planet Dog Records.

Guys and Dolls: Sebadoh - Sister (22 May 1993)

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This has ended up being a borderline inclusion. I’ve listened to it so many times over the last couple of days that it has ended up becoming dangerously close to losing all meaning. But I’ve stuck with it because the fault has mainly been mine given that my work is in a particularly intense phase at the moment, and that can make the notion of trying to relax (ha!) by writing a blog/listening to music seem ridiculous when balancing it alongside stuff that means less emotionally, but is more important in a real-world sense.

So distracted have I been that I ended up having to look at the the lyrics, at which point I became possibly the last person in the Western world to realise that Sister is about incest between siblings. The song positively drips with self recrimination, regret, lust and love; both lyrically and in its churned up, propulsive music. 

In contemporary culture terms, its author Jason Loewenstein may have been influenced by Stephen Poliakoff’s 1991 film, Close My Eyes, which details the incestuous affair between a brother and sister played by Clive Owen and Saskia Reeves. Alan Rickman played Reeves’s husband in the film, and it’s regrettable that it was made a couple of years before he started to regularly keep a diary again. Indeed, the first entry in the Rickman Diaries book, was made three weeks after this Peel show was broadcast, on 13 June 1993.

If we’re talking about further cultural influences on Sister, then Loewenstein might have felt he needed a palate cleanser after watching the subject matter in Close My Eyes, and so decided to unwind by watching some cartoons instead. That’s the only way I can explain the guitar riff - at the 8 second mark, and especially between 1:38 and 2:01 - that appears to be modelled on the laugh of Woody Woodpecker.

Having sabotaged his Sebadoh competition, the previous week, Peel was relieved to be able to announce winners for it on this programme. Lynn Parsons drew four winners out of a hat which Peel had been given, earlier that day, by the editors of The Memoirs of Seth Bottomley, a Port Vale fanzine. Peel had been a guest of the Seth Bottomley team, cheering Vale on to a 2-1 win over Stockport County in the Autoglass Windscreens Trophy Final at Wembley.** Peel was surprised and gratified to see that none of the prizewinners came from London. Instead, copies of Sebadoh’s new album, Bubble and Scrape*, were sent to Gina Twarley from Galway, Jonathan Barnes from Whalley Range, Al Cook from Glasgow and Mark Waters from Hereford (apologies to any of them for misspelling their names, in the unlikely event of them reading this.)

*I suspect the prize may have been this version which included a limited edition 7-inch single.

** This was Vale’s first game at Wembley in their then 117 year history. But like buses, they were due to go back there again the following week for the Division Two promotion play off final. However, that did not go so well for them.

Video courtesy of 

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Guys and Dolls: Lord Spoon & David - Woman A Love in the Night Time (22 May 1993)

 

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This charming, if slightly repetitive, lo-fi calypso tune was released on Escort in 1970. Lord Spoon appears to be an alias of Shirley ‘Calypso’ Williams, who also worked under the name of Mix Flour & Sugar. It was under that name that he recorded one of the great double-entendre titles, Screw the Cock Tight in 1978.

Given it’s a calypso tune, my mind inevitably turns to the Caribbean, so I’m dedicating this post to a couple of people, such as the two different women that my wife and I met while we were holidaying in Saint Lucia, last year, who asked us whether we were on our honeymoon simply because they saw us either sharing some kisses in the hotel pool or cuddling up and sharing the occasional kiss while on a boat trip out to the Pitons. In reality, the holiday was an advanced tenth wedding anniversary gift to ourselves. We were both flattered and slightly deflated by these assumptions. Flattered because it was nice to see people were moved by our affection for one another to assume that we were newly-weds, but at the same time it left us both wondering just what sort of state their relationships must be in if a couple showing each other some affection in public could only be down to them honeymooning.

How would they have coped had they been sitting behind the young couple that I was sat behind on a bus journey that I took between Truro and Falmouth on Wednesday 3 September 2008. On that day, I witnessed one of the most staggering and passionate displays of mutual public affection that I’ve ever seen. 

The reason why I can be so specific about the date and the memory of it is down to two things:

1) It was the day before I was due to move to Ireland to join my future wife and to take a Masters degree at the University of Limerick.

2) I was convinced that I actually knew one of the couple, and spent the whole journey trying to establish whether it was them.

I can’t remember whether I got on the bus before them or not, but I was sat behind them, until they got off (the bus), halfway through. For the vast majority of the journey, they were kissing. And these weren’t mere pecks at each other but lengthy, languorous, romantic kisses. If the bus had crashed and exploded, they wouldn’t have noticed. On the contrary, they would have died exactly as they would have wished - in one another’s arms and locked into each other’s kiss. They went on so long, that eventually, I stopped looking out of the window, and just watched them. They clearly didn’t give a damn, so why not. 

In the brief moments they weren’t tongue wrestling, they sat staring into each other’s eyes. I saw that the girl in particular was completely oblivious to anything other than her man’s face. And it was that moment that I started to wonder about her. She looked the spitting image of Sarah-Jane Davies, a girl I had been on the BTEC Diploma in Performing Arts course with between 1992-94.  Was it her? She looked exactly as she had done at college, but this didn’t seem to tally with the last time I had seen her, which was when I was working in a sports shop in Truro, circa 1998/99. Back then, she’d grown her hair long, dyed it blonde and introduced me to an older man, who was her husband. If this was Sarah-Jane, she’d reverted back to the brunette bob that she had in college, and the husband was long gone judging by the look of the man she was with on the bus.

Alas, I never found out if it was Sarah-Jane. She never looked anywhere else but at her man, and in no time at all, they were kissing the faces off one another again. In the circumstances, I felt that my gently calling her name might look a bit weird. There was also an element of thinking that there was no point making even casual acquaintanceship given that I was off to make a new life the following day. So, I told myself that it was her and sat back to watch them kiss, while I ran a few lewd thoughts through my mind about the show I was being given.

All I can tell you is that whether the girl on the bus was Sarah-Jane or not, her lucky partner found himself sharing the journey with a girl who, on that day, looked ready to love in the nighttime, morning time, afternoon time, weekend, bank holidays….. And if the cock didn’t get screwed tight that evening, I’d be amazed.

Video courtesy of Mo-Fi.

Guys and Dolls: Mayaula Mayoni - Ko Tika Te (22 May 1993)

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If there’s a heatwave in the UK, you can usually depend on this blog to provide a soukous track from a John Peel playlist for you to dance along with.

This one had a question mark against it, because it’s a bit of a slow starter, and its opening minutes are dominated by the synthesisers which Peel so loathed hearing on African music. But once Mayaula Mayoni and friends have spent the opening two and a quarter minutes imploring his loved one, Do not leave or Don’t Give Up - both of which are potential translations of Ko Tika Te - the guitars kick in and the dancing can start. My wife heard and liked this, last night, so that confirms its place on the metaphorical mixtape.

Language issues mean that I’m not sure why Mayoni’s lover wanted to leave him, but it could be because Ko Tika Te is taken from an album call L’Amour au Kilo - or Love By the Kilo - which strikes me as an album title that even Barry White’s management team may have considered a little too on the nose, though I love the fact that on the album cover, the title is broken up by a little drawing of a market scale for measuring fruit and vegetables - lest we get too offended by the title’s connotations.

Mayoni turned to music after quitting professional football in the Congo at a relatively young age. His nearest UK equivalent is Gareth Ainsworth, who has combined a lengthy career in football playing and management with a music career fronting several different bands. His current band, The Cold Blooded Hearts, released their debut album in 2023. Mercifully, Ainsworth and friends refrained from offering us Love By the Kilo, plumping instead for the niftier title of The Cold Light of Day. 

As things currently stand, we’re more likely to get a Gareth Ainsworth soukous album than we are a Mayaula Mayoni rock album. Not least because the latter died in 2010, six years after suffering a stroke.

Tell Me! - The closest thing that The Cold Blooded Hearts have to an out-and-out floor filler.

Guys and Dolls: Thule - Dynamo (22 May 1993)

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If you’ve ever thought that hard rock would be improved by the addition of party razzers* then this is the song for you.

That might sound like I’m trying to polish a novelty turd of a tune, but Dynamo, recorded by Thule for their second and final album, (321 Normal 2) has grown on me the more that I’ve heard it. If you read the Discogs or John Peel Wiki pages on them, they promise a banquet of eclecticism, with their music encompassing electronica, dub and ambient, while groups such as Kraftwerk, Tackhead and Chrome are all mentioned as influences. To my untrained ears, Dynamo owes more to Bauhaus and Joy Division - they even manage to rhyme the words control and dynamo for goodness sake!

It all starts out with a scratchy bassline followed by similarly scratchy guitar picking. I’ve always been a sucker for musical flourishes that sound like something eroding before your ears. And once the track gets started, it’s played in a key which dominates the environment so completely, it’s a struggle not to be drawn in. I’d rhapsodise even more about Dynamo if we could hear the lyrics more clearly. What I can make out from it makes the Joy Division comparisons even clearer given that they seem to be barking out a list of Ian Curtis approved bullet points: Obsession…isolation….etc. Alongside that is the post-punk ethos of embracing the mechanical/technical and working that into a crossover with the organic. I think Thule also managed to align this with early 1990s musical mores. For example, I originally heard the word, insulator - at 1:15 - as Catch you later, which given that it followed a line that sounded like it was saying, Young and tender had me wondering whether this was acting as some kind of deconstruction of Beverly Hills 90210 youth culture, but I’m more inclined to believe that, with a dynamo being something that converts mechanical energy into electrical energy, the song is instead targeting the slacker generations and by extension, it projects a frustration that the angst and fury in grunge music isn’t being converted into something more positive and constructive. The squealing party razzers evoke the sense of an attempt to summon up energy, which in keeping with the spirit of the time, eventually peters out in a fit of audiopique.

That’s what I believe anyway, but I can’t be sure, so in the final reckoning, Dynamo ends up as a half-masterpiece.

Video courtesy of subunitfour.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.

*The party razzers are probably broken saxophone reeds.

Guys and Dolls: Jimmy Reed - Hush-Hush (22 May 1993)

 

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There’s already a blogpost featuring this song, dating from the very earliest days of the blog in which I included it in a post outlining my favourite tracks from Peel’s final Radio 1 show. I put that up at the time without comments to mark the tenth anniversary of Peel’s final Radio 1 broadcast, but back then I was still figuring out how this blog would work and I didn’t want to focus too much on the end of Peel’s career. But, 11 years before his death, Hush-Hush, originally recorded by his beloved Jimmy Reed in 1960, was cropping up on this 22/5/93 show, and in doing so, finally ensured Reed took his place on the metaphorical mixtape.

I still hold to my earlier contention that all Jimmy Reed songs sound the same. Indeed, one of the reasons why Hush-Hush has been included here is because I briefly thought it was actually Too Much*, my favourite Reed song. But, as overused as it is, the rolling blues scale which underpins Hush-Hush and most other Reed songs, sweeps the listener in to shoulder-rolling-head-bobbing submission. 

Peel spoke once about how, as a live performer, Reed tended to sing more slowly as his set progressed, and there are moments here where he sounds like he’s singing a song called Hughe-Hughe, but with his lyrical parries to the attacks of a nagging, suspicious partner, he also manages to provide inspiration to future songs as diverse as Rabbit by Chas and Dave and It Wasn’t Me by Shaggy.

Samey? Pretty much, yeah. Influential? Obviously!

*Apologies for not doing a link to Too Much, but I’m sure it’ll turn up on a Peel show I’m covering at some point in the future, and I’d like to hold it back as a treat.

Video courtesy of Carlos Rasool.

Guys and Dolls: Eric’s Trip - Hurt (22 May 1993)

 

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Fans of the Canadian band, Eric’s Trip, would have been in heaven during the Spring of 1993 given that two different labels released an EP and a mini-album by them in that period. Peel had already played tracks from the mini-album, Peter, released by Murderecords (though it was also issued by Sub Pop in Germany). Now Sub Pop was issuing an EP called Songs About Chris. If you bought the maxi-EP and paired it up with Peter, you had 12 new songs with only Listen appearing on both records.

Hurt does exactly what it says on the tin, the only question is whether the lyrics refer to it being felt after an argument, a break-up or a bereavement. I think it may be the latter given that there are references to the other person having a stupid mouth and being someone who complained a lot. Hurt me with the words/Scream ‘em in my ears/Cause it’s OK implies that this person was a drag to be around, but that never hearing from them again is too upsetting to contemplate.  

The moral appears to be love and cherish those around you; even the ones who bug the hell out of you, because when those annoyances have gone for good, you’re going to miss them.

Peel played Hurt together with another track from the EP called Sloansong. This may have been a tribute to the band, Sloan, who owned Murderecords. One of the lyrics even says Get that Sloan song zooming through my head/Do the words relate to me?  I wonder if this was the one they had in mind?

Video courtesy of contraflow.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors,

Guys and Dolls: The Glory Strummers - Neglected ‘N’ Blue (22 May 1993)

 

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This was the final record that Peel played on 22/5/93. He admitted that when he received a copy of The Glory Strummers EP, Retrograde Steps, he had been unenthusiastic about listening to it, because he found the band’s name off-putting. However, he really enjoyed the EP, of which Neglected ‘N’ Blue was the opening track.

If you’re cynical about bands trying to do the whole 70s punk sound a decade or more after the original scene had happened, you may find it difficult not to snigger at Neglected ‘N’ Blue. Listening to the drum roll that accompanies the opening riff, you may find yourself thinking, “I bet the singer’s going to shout Hey! any second….now!” and you’d be right to do so. I confess that I blew hot and cold on it when initially re-listening to it, but I was finally won over by The poor little rich kid refrain and a gradual understanding about what the song was about. I say gradual because while some parts of the lyric ring out loud and clear, other parts are too garbled to fully make out.

If punk rock’s principal lyrical qualities were anger and piss taking, then Neglected ‘N’ Blue mixes a smidgin of the former with a dollop of the latter.  The target of the song appears to be affluent students who are able to delay having to go out and work by taking a year out. The line You don’t care about people suggests that The Glory Strummers have particular contempt for those who use their time out to have an ongoing holiday, rather than use the time to help those less fortunate than themselves. I could be misinterpreting the song, and in a way I hope I am given that my reading of it suggests righteous anger on one hand and unattractive envy on the other. 

Ultimately, I think it takes a slightly superficial line of thinking that money should insulate you from unhappiness, which it can in terms of not needing to worry about paying your next bill, but it also labours under the misapprehension that mental health anxiety is a myth when applied to the well off. If it wasn’t for the fact that the performance is so electric, I might have left Neglected ‘N’ Blue off on the grounds of a shitty attitude. Emotional uncertainty is no respecter of bank balances after all.

Video courtesy of Release - Topic

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.

Guys and Dolls: John Peel Show - Friday 14 May 1993 (BBC Radio 1)

My notes describe this show as being …at times, like a Peel Show version of Junior Choice. This is because at least two of the records played on the show were inspired by children. He played Open the Door, Richard! by Louis Jordan and his Tympany Five, originally recorded in 1947, in response to a fax he had received from James Turner, aged 6, from Cardiff. James wrote to say that he liked Peel’s show, that he had a tape of Jordan’s music and wanted to know whether Peel liked him too. Peel dedicated Open the Door, Richard! to James, claiming that this, and Silver Dollar, were the first songs in his life that he had learned the words to.

Meanwhile, Peel’s son, Tom, was away on a school trip to Normandy, so he dedicated 33% Free by Ford to him, just in case he was able to hear the programme on a long wave frequency. According to the John Peel wiki though, Peel ended up playing the other side, Friendly, which ended up delaying the 11:30pm news by an extra minute.

Other dedications included Enna Garrib by Harram, which went out to the taxi driver who had taken Peel from Stowmarket to Colchester earlier in the week. This was the longest journey he had ever done by cab, though he didn’t specify which roads he’d been taken on. 

A14/A12 covers 28.6 miles, A14/A12/A134 would have been 28.7 miles, with the A14 alone offering the longest journey of all at 30.2 miles.  If he was using “Stowmarket” to encompass a pick up from Peel Acres, then the distances increase to 31.2 miles via A14/A12, 31.4 miles if using Combs Lane before the A14/A12, but the quickest journey of the lot - in terms of distance - would have been via the B1115, which was only 26.2 miles, though it was the longest journey in terms of time, at 48 minutes.

Perhaps Peel had needed to use the taxi in order to take him to see The Fall, who he had seen in Cambridge, earlier in the week, and whose performance he described as at their most non-commital. He opened the show by playing Everything Hurtz, which would have made a nice partner to a similarly named REM hit which was clogging up the airwaves around April/May 1993.

This show was also to have featured the naming of winners for a competition relating to Sebadoh, but he had received no entries for it. Peel blamed himself for this as he had given out what he termed a silly address for the entries to be sent to and realised in retrospect that this may have put people off.

The show was notable for Peel being thrown into a state of alarm when he realised, halfway through the programme, that he had mistimed the music he was going to play through the various hours of his show. One hour had 75 minutes’ worth of music programmed in, while another hour only had 45 minutes’ worth. This was problematic because he also had to ensure that the news bulletins came in at the right time.

One record which was unaffected by all this was Ritmista! by Astrospider, which was the first fruit of Peel’s hookup with the Belgian label, Wonka Beats. Peel had made contact with them during his Grand Tour of Europe, the previous autumn, and they had promised to send him all of their future releases.

The selections from this show were taken from a full 3 hour programme. Everything which made my initial list of selections was available, but five choices fell from favour on relistening:

Blade - Keep It Goin’ On - UK rapper, Blade, made history in June 1993 when he released the double-album, The Lion Goes From Strength to Strength. This was one of the first albums ever to be released via crowdfunding:

The original crowd funded album, just goes to show how far ahead of the game Blade was. I sent off my cheque (for £25 from memory) to Blade months before the album was released and my name is in the album. Every mail order piece of vinyl I bought from Blade had a hand written note from him included. Absolute legend of the UK rap scene. (A messageboard comment by sskelly on Discogs, 13 August, 2021).

Keep It Goin’ On was the opening track on The Lion Goes From Strength to Strength. It always had a question mark against it, because it was OK, but not OK enough to make me want to keep it. I then did that thing I occasionally do where I listen to an album that a track has been taken off to see whether it would ultimately make my mind up for me - see Gallon Drunk on the previous Friday’s Peel Show. I need to stop doing this, because, apart from setting it in context, it really isn’t a particularly relevant method of choosing whether to include a single piece of music by comparing it to potentially better pieces of music by the same artist. Make no mistake, some of the tracks I heard from The Lion Goes From Strength to Strength (I didn’t listen to the whole album) were very good indeed. For instance, Gripper the Pitbull (The Approach) would have got on without any problems at all. But ultimately, doing this only caused me to wish that Peel had been playing that instead of this. As I listened to the other tracks I became quite beaten down by the aggression and attack, it all seemed to become rather one note. Hence, why my summary of  For Whom the Bell Tolls by Hyper, which I listened to after some prolonged exposure to Blade, was so succinct. After all the moaning, it was a necessary blast of effervescence. Still, I have a Blade track down on my list of selections from Friday 28 May 1993, so maybe he will end up in the mixtape after all.

Ohio Players - Walt’s First Trip - 1970s funk and a track recorded for their 1972 album, Pleasure, which appears to have been a companion album to another album they released the same year called Pain. A look at their album covers suggests that the team behind This is Spinal Tap may have had both them and Roxy Music in mind when it came to the idea around the Smell the Glove album cover.  I sometimes get blindsided with surprise when Peel plays a funk/soul track because of a misconception I have about him not being keen on the genre. This is palpably untrue and is most likely down to me constantly making the touristy mistake that because Peel preferred the output of labels like Stax over Motown, that any soul based record appearing on his show is a surprise. As a result it means that I’ll initially include pleasant if unremarkable instrumentals like this one. It’s only on re-listening that I find myself thinking less about how I would dance to the tune and more about what I would be ordering for a starter if it was playing in a restaurant. And speaking of pleasant but wholly unremarkable…

The Edsel Auctioneer - Philled/Summer Hit [Peel Session] - Oh lads, lads, lads….another name to add to the list alongside Stereolab and The Hair and Skin Trading Company of artists who regularly make my initial list of inclusions but who fall from favour at the moment that I would be pressing the record button on the metaphorical mixtape. This is the third occasion that I’ve left The Edsel Auctioneer out in the cold. I’m not going to lie, their name is a big turn-off for me, but ultimately they are far too bland for me to want to keep hold of. My notes say that I agreed with Peel that Summer Hit was the best track of the session.  

Both Philled and Summer Hit ended up on The Edsel Auctioneer’s second album, The Good Time Music Of…, released in 1995. Looking at the track titles, my interest was piqued by it including a track called 11th September ‘94*. Morbid curiosity provoked me to listen to it to see whether the band had any kind of foresight for the terrible events that would take place on that date, seven years later. But all I got was, what d’you know, a pleasant but inessential instrumental track, which is notable only for the fact that it has commentary from Leeds United’s 2-1 win over Manchester United, which was played on the same day, in the background.

The full session is available including two additional songs called Simple and State of Grace.

Candy Machine - The Merchant’s Square/Macrobot - Peel played three tracks from the Baltimore band’s eponymous debut album on this show. These two made my initial list, The Constant didn’t. Having listened back to the tracks, I see now that the only reason I chose them to start with is because I liked the band’s name. The Edsel Auctioneer were always up against it, and ultimately they missed out because the quality wasn’t good enough. Candy Machine’s name promised sweet treats, but the music was gnarlier and lumpier than I thought it would be or that I could stand it being. The Candy Machine album is available for listening. The Merchant’s Square and Macrobot are the first two tracks.

Admiral Bailey - Can’t Keep a Good Man Down - This started out quite promisingly, but I lost patience with it when halfway through, the Admiral abandoned what he was doing and started to perform Psalm 23 - The Lord Is My Shepherd instead.

Full tracklisting

*By curious quirk of fate, the Peel Show that I’ve just finished listening to for this blog was the one from exactly a year before The Edsel Auctioneer recorded that instrumental.