Friday, 30 January 2015

Oliver: Consolidated - Peel Session (24 November 1991)



Although it seemed like a number of long running global issues had been decided by the end of 1991, not everyone was convinced that nirvana had been realised by the end of the Cold War and the speedy resolution of the first Gulf War. American band Consolidated took up the role of asking the hard questions about and pointing out the flaws of "our" side (specifically the United States, but enough of it could be applied to Britain as well) over three songs in their one and only Peel session.  On the recording I heard, only the middle track, No Censorship, was picked up by the taper, but the video features all three songs and I'm delighted to put them up here.  2 out of the 3 would definitely have made it onto my mixtape: the aforementioned No Censorship and the magnificent America No.1, a coruscating attack on America's interventionist stance and the way in which wars are conducted "against a poor third world country just to divert attention away from the war they conduct against their own people every single day." which implores "the youth of Britain" to question the motives of parents, teachers, authority, government and the mass media.
Although some of their sentiments seem quaintly trite now; No Censorship reasons that Satanists should be left to get on with it, there are others, especially regarding America's relationship with the developing world that have rung uncomfortably true since the turn of the century.  The great shame is that Consolidated were a band out of time.  Raging against facism and handing around microphones to the audience at your gigs so that you can debate issues of censorship, racism, fascism, sexism and nationalism seemed laughably "right on" in the 90s, the decade of peace * all the hard work had been done surely?  Now though, the world needs a Consolidated type band more than ever and the causes they espoused and railed against through the 90s seem as relevant and prescient as ever.  And they've arguably got worse.  Interestingly, it was George H.W. Bush who was coming into his final year as president when Consolidated recorded this session in October 1991, that the band would be raging against just as they got started.  Ironically, it was his son that started to enact many of the things that Consolidated warned about, just at the point that they called it a day in 2001.

The fusion of hip-hop and hard rock in a political protest setting would be taken on to greater commercial success by Rage Against the Machine within a year of this session but Consolidated's work promises some interesting discoveries not least their 1992 album, Play More Music, which features samples from many of their interactions with audiences during their gigs as they sought to shake the notion of a gig as something lead purely by the band and with the audience only inputting through applause and cheering.  Though as the clips I've heard from that album and those interactions prove, the rock audience will never precipitate a revolution when they've paid to watch a gig.  Afterwards maybe, when they've had a drink and a kip.  Possibly...perhaps...

This clip also features the first bit of Peel himself that we've heard on this blog, linking the tracks from the repeat of the session in February 1992.  Nice to have you along with us, John.

*I mean peace in the sense that the 90s lacked the global threat, real or imagined, of nuclear annihilation from the 60s to the 80s that underlined the Cold War or the randomness of the acts carried out from 9/11 onwards and their consequent effect on the relationship between the West and the Middle East.

Video courtesy of Webbie Webster.

Tuesday, 27 January 2015

Oliver: Home T, Cocoa Tea & Cutty Ranks - Another One for the Road (24 November 1991)



Another track which reflects the politics and upheaval of the early 90s, Another One for the Road sees Cutty Ranks and friends encouraging their audience across the Carribean to be agents for change and to follow the examples in the U.S.S.R (collapse of communism), South Africa (dismantling of apartheid) and "England" (...er...Maggie Thatcher being deposed?)

A glorious performance, just beautiful to listen to.

Video courtesy of Various Artists

Saturday, 24 January 2015

Oliver: The Wedding Present - Felicity [Peel Session] (24 November 1991)



From the  admittedly limited exposure I've had to their work, I've never been able to work out quite what The Wedding Present did to deserve their pre-eminence on Peel's playlists.  To me, they sound no different from a dozen other similar sounding bands who came along in the mid 80s.   I appreciate they were innovative, releasing limited edition singles for every month of 1992 which harvested a slew of top 30 hits.  They clearly had a sense of humour judging by their choice of covers (Come Up and See Me [Make Me Smile], Step Into Christmas etc) and in their side projects (The Ukranians - ha bloody ha).  And their decision to put a footballer on the cover of their debut album, 1987's George Best, In an era when football was a despised and frowned upon sport was slightly revolutionary for the time.  But for all that, I go into this project as ambivalent about them as The Fall.

Nevertheless, when they hit the mark, they did it satisfyingly and they certainly made a strong start with this track from their first Peel session in February 1986.  A turbo charged cover of Orange Juice's, Felicity, from their 1982 album, You Can't Hide Your Love Forever.  The track was written by Orange Juice guitarist, James Kirk, hence David Gedge's remark about the track being "a William Shatner number".  And after breaking out their best Edwyn Collins "Woah-woh" impression, they fairly tear through the song at breakneck speed but somehow through the thrash, preserving the delicious pop pedigree of the more laid back original.  I'm delighted to include it here as I go into this blog, open minded and ready to be persuaded* of The Wedding Present's merits, but also because I get to eventually review You Can't Hide Your Love Forever and any chance to listen to an Orange Juice record should be taken wherever possible.

*Lest you think I have an unremitting downer on David Gedge and friends, I have Quick, Before it Melts & Careless by Cinerama on my 2002 Peel mixtapes and I love both of those tracks.



I wish this group had released a single a month for a whole calendar year..

Videos courtesy of Short and Sweet (Wedding Present) and Patrick Pierson (Orange Juice).

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

Oliver: Queen - Crazy Little Thing Called Love; The Pogues - Streams of Whiskey (24 November 1991)





I've put these two videos together because when Peel played these tracks on 24/11/91, they were linked by a definite sense of an ending.  Two apparently disparate bands had both lost their superstar frontmen - one permanently, one temporarily.  One to the sadness of music fans around the world, one to the relief of his bandmates and at their choice.

Over the weekend of the 23/24 November 1991, Queen vocalist and visual focal point, Freddie Mercury publicly announced he was HIV-positive and died the day after the announcement.  Peel was never a great one to run to the record library after a rock star death.  He was broadcasting in 1977 when Elvis Presley died and although he acknowledged it on air, he didn't play anything in tribute.  One of the first retrospective Peel shows I heard, a few years after his death, came from July 1979 and saw him play Little Feat's, Fat Man in the Bathtub, after which Peel tied himself up in knots over whether it should be considered a tribute play for the recently deceased Little Feat leader, Lowell George.  And when, a year later, he found himself on Radio 4 the morning after John Lennon's assassination, he admitted to John Walters in a subsequent interview his unease at being considered a
professional friend of the dead.

But with Freddie Mercury there was no such reticence and Crazy Little Thing Called Love from 1980's The Game album was given a spin, shortly after Peel himself confirmed the news on his programme.  In many ways it's just the track one might expect Peel to pick, being closer to the spirit of 50s rock'n'roll and a million miles away from the overblown but exhilarating anthems which Queen are better known for (and indeed, a re-released Bohemian Rhapsody would be the UK's Christmas Number 1 a few weeks later).   However, their back catalogue makes for an intriguing aural wonder and a review of The Game will surface here in due course.  Freddie was pretty much irreplaceable.  Bassist, John Deacon, knew that and effectively retired from rock music, though guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor have periodically kept the flame going by working as Queen + Paul Rodgers in 2008 and just three short weeks ago, while channel hopping on New Year's Eve, I chanced upon Queen + Adam Lambert, an American Idol contestant for God's sake, giving their all on a performance of The Show Must Go On.  It's easy to be cynical, so I won't.  A million times this rather than May and Taylor rocking out while a holographic Freddie goes through its life cycle next to them.  But no one talks about the Queen + Paul Rodgers album (maybe I will).

I may be legally bound to open any piece of writing about Shane MacGowan by marvelling that he hasn't joined Freddie at the great hooley in the sky, but he's still with us and since 2001 has been back with The Pogues.  But by late '91, he was out on his ear.  The heavy drinking, which is still part of the package with MacGowan so, you know, he won, combined with unreliability and a deterioration in his singing voice, which saw more members of The Pogues taking lead vocals as the records got slicker and slightly more tenuous in their connections to the "Gaelic punk folk" of their initial records, saw him sacked from the band during a tour of Japan.  MacGowan himself cites the moment he fell out of a stationary train as the point of no return for his bandmates.

Being close to Christmas 1991, Peel resisted the temptation to play THAT song and instead played a
standout track from 1984's debut album, Red Roses For Me.   Streams of Whiskey brings together

two of MacGowan's favourite lyrical themes: Irish literature (a dream about Brendan Behan) and drinking.  I'm seriously considering having it played at my wedding in South Kerry this coming summer (assuming no one takes offence at the lyrics).  The video is a good deal less slick than Queen's and while Freddie could get away with wearing some pretty outrageous clothes and showing some skin, he was trumped by MacGowan's willingness to sit around in red Y-fronts.  Note too, the director's unwillingness to let the camera get too close to Shane's face lest it push the video after the watershed.  But he was a handsomer divil back in 1984 to be sure.

One final detail.  The Pogues replaced MacGowan with Joe Strummer, formerly of The Clash, and latterly producer of their final album with MacGowan, Hell's Ditch.  You see, Brian and Roger, if you're going to build on your legacy, aim high.



Is this a tribute to Lowell George or not?

Videos courtesy of Queen Official,  ThePoguesOfficial and albafinc.

Sunday, 18 January 2015

Oliver: John Peel Show - Radio 1 (Saturday November 23 1991)

The selections from this show were taken from a 55 minute mixtape recording, the final one for now which appears to be heavily skewed towards guitar music.  A look at my lists for future recordings sees a lot more eclecticism coming in.  5 tracks stood out for selection of which are shared in the following posts.

Selections I would like to share but currently can't include:

Action Swingers - Cuban Bush
Stumpy Joe - Day Dreams

Full tracklisting

The show itself starts by celebrating a happy recent political event...

Oliver: The Fall - Terry Waite Sez (23 November 1991)



"I made a promise to meself, a few years ago, to play that when it was appropriate" - John Peel, 23 November 1991, a few days after the release from captivity of Church of England envoy, Terry Waite.

I'm no expert but there's a definite sense of history not just repeating but curdling in the Middle East.  Militant groups taking Westeners hostage is nothing new, but the difference between now and then is that when hostages were kidnapped, they really did vanish from view.  There was no bargaining, no sitting in poorly recorded videos denouncing the West in front of garish pink fabrics and, happily for many of those who were taken in the 80s, no decapitations put out on to the Internet.  Instead there was only snippets of news, put out to news channels indicating that the hostages were alive, but with no real movement or advancement beyond that.  There were no botched rescues, no ransoms demanded and paid and for a long time no prospect of negotiation or dialogue to try and secure the release of the hostages.
It was a time when the buzzwords of Al'Qaida and Islamic State were replaced by Hezbollah and Islamic Jihad as names designed to strike fear into the Western heart.  The names of the hostages, particularly the British/Irish quartet were a spectral presence as the 80s turned to the 90s.  Out of sight, but not out of mind: Brian Keenan, John McCarthy, Jackie Mann and Terry Waite.  Their names kept in the public eye by their most prominent supporters:  Keenan by his sisters, Elaine Spence and Brenda Gillham; McCarthy by his girlfriend, Jill Morrell; Mann by his wife Sunnie, who never appeared anywhere without a pair of old lady's shades.  I once heard a woman I worked with who wore those glasses being good naturedly insulted by being referred to as "Sunnie Mann".  Waite had the highest profile of any of the British hostages due to his success in negotiating the releases of several hostages during 1985-86.  The news would often show footage of this gentle giant of a man with thick bushy beard getting into cars in Beirut to go for clandestine meetings with the groups, leaving you to think, "Oh, do be careful."  In January 1987, Waite was abducted by Islamic Jihad.  It's believed they did this because he had had contact with Lt. Col Oliver North and so was in some way linked to the Irangate scandal.
It seemed all the more shocking that a man representing the church and who had gone back to Lebanon to try and demonstrate trust to the groups despite the links to North should be taken in this way.  Periodically over the following years, a hostage would be released who had been held with one of the other hostages and would give news of McCarthy or Keenan, but of Waite nothing emerged until the early 90s when hostages started to be released more frequently and in greater numbers as the hostage crisis began to wind down after Shia prisoners were released by Israel mixed together with pressure from Lebanese and Syrian governments as well as the end of numerous conflicts in the region which had seen hostage taking become another strategic variation.  Throughout 1990 and into 1991, hostages came home.  Keenan first in August 1990 followed by McCarthy, Mann and Waite between August and November 1991.

Many of the Peel recordings from late 1991 that I've been listening to include news bulletins and included stories of the release of hostages coupled with other world changing events of the time such as the formal dissolution of the Soviet Union.  It's always tempting to look back and say things were better then, but at that time, it really seemed as though they were getting better.  It may have been a myth, but what we wouldn't give for a little bit of late 1991 in world politics now.

Terry Waite Sez was recorded for The Fall's 1986 album, Bend Sinister and gets in more for its link to a happy historical event than anything else.  Given Peel's love for The Fall and my ambivalence to them (in my more cynical moments, I regard them as one of the biggest cons in pop music; at other times, I get it.  Perhaps it was that contradiction that made Peel cherish them so much?). I'm considering upping the quota of good tunes required before I will seek down any of their albums.  But as Bend Sinister contains their wonderful cover of Mr. Pharmacist, you can expect to see a review here eventually.



Videos courtesy of zobythefly (Fall) and Thames News (Waite).


Thursday, 15 January 2015

Oliver: The Clouds - Dude Electric Cell [Peel Session] (23 November 1991)

Stockport based band, The Clouds, were so pleased with how they sounded in their Peel session, they wrote to thank engineer, Dale Griffin, for his labours.  The gesture was the least Griffin deserved as he made this doomy yet thrilling piece of psychedelia soar into the stratosphere.  Unfortunately, the Peel session version isn't available for sharing, but the recorded version, which was the lead track on the band's second and final EP, Bingo Club's Millenium Ball can be found on Soundcloud.

Starting out of a synths and guitar opening, the song kicks off into a glorious guitar wash as it drives forward.  The undermixed vocals lose their relevance amidst the attack of the music, but by keeping it simple and forceful, The Clouds make a better contribution to the mixtape than say the overplayed virtuosity of Levitation.


Monday, 12 January 2015

Oliver: Orchestra Maquis Original - Ngalula (23 November 1991)



Back to Africa now and from the album, Tanzania Dance Bands Vol.2, we get to enjoy some Tanzanian rhumba.  One of two tracks from an album which was played on successive nights and an album which only featured three bands on it.  Presumably the other three all featured on Vol. 1.

Altogether more funkier and deep (in a sound sense) than the soukous tracks which Peel gave heavy rotation to, the heavy brass and plangent guitars soundtrack a lovely lyric which Peel had the kindness to read for us.  All together now:

"Despite her problematic character, I still need her in my life.  She knows me better than anybody else, understand my problems and my joy. I forgive you, Ngalula.  In the end, even hot water will cool."

The art of the make-up sex song: perfected in Tanzania.

Video courtesy of Dekula2.

Friday, 9 January 2015

Oliver: John Peel Show - Radio 1 (Sunday November 17 1991)

I had 2 hours of a 3 hour show to make selections from from this show.  6 tracks would have made it on to the mixtape, 4 of which are shared below.  The 2 tracks which I can't currently share on the blog are:

Whipped Cream - Whatever (Peel session)
Lethal - Techno Stylin'

I'm particularly bummed out that the Whipped Cream song is missing, because unless it's been re-recorded under a different title, I haven't found hide nor hair of it on any of their work.

I also went through a process whereby one track I was going to include, Skip Steps 1 & 3 by Superchunk, came off the list when I listened to it again.  Not only that, but another Superchunk song which I'd earmarked for inclusion in the future, was taken off when I listened to it again and decided, I really didn't like Superchunk.

As you'll see, I've started on my record hunt to buy as many of the records which contain the tracks I've selected.  2 down, many thousands to go.  The Howlin' Wolf Album (1969) hasn't cropped up in any of the recordings I've been listening to but I was interested to see how the tracks which he returned to in 1969, which had been originally featured on the 1962 album, turned out next to the originals.   There will be similar diversions in future as you'll see when I pick up the next record in the hunt...

As it turns out, I can share the Whipped Cream and Lethal tracks, as well as much else besides.  Have a listen and see what you think of Superchunk.  Would you have included them?
Also, I had completely forgotten that Philip Schofield used to be on Radio 1 despite the fact that he hosted a Radio 1 Roadshow from Gyllngvase Beach, Falmouth that year.  I went down but left after an hour when he promised us that one of the hip 'n' happening guests we had to look forward to was the comedian, Jethro.  If you've never been to a live roadshow event, trust me you aren't missing anything.  Watching a music radio show in person is, exactly as Peel said, like watching somebody typing.

Full tracklisting.





Oliver: Organised Konfusion - The Rough Side of Town (17 November 1991)



Melancholic nostalgia is not a phrase often associated with New York rap, but from what I've heard so far of Organised Konfusion's debut album (2 tracks played by Peel), it was a strong part of the duo's shtick.  Understandably so, as here they reflect on how Southside Queens, NY has changed over the years.  Now the police are never out of anything other than high speed chases when they're in the area. Women who were sweet as children become corrupted once they reach maturity.  In the cut, Peel played on 17/11/91, the track is introduced by a short sketch in which a naive and uncertain young woman is persuaded to try a narcotic only for it to kill her.  The am-dram radio quality of the start of this track (which isn't included on this clip) and the bogus shouts of "Yeah! Yo! Yeah!" bookend a lament about how the neighbourhood has gone to the dogs. It's great stuff, but done even better on the other Organised Konfusion track which has been saved up for the future, Who Stole My Last Piece of Chicken?

On a side issue, is there any word in the history of language that has dated worse than "yo"?

Video courtesy of toxicofera.

Thursday, 8 January 2015

Oliver: Curve - Clipped (17 November 1991)



"They seem to have been coming in for a certain amount of stick recently, I'm not sure why.", Peel remarked after playing this on 17/11/91.  A throwaway remark but one which spoke of the divide that was staring to rear its head in the music media as the onset of grunge began to register bands associated with shoegaze as passé and unfashionable.  By the time, I started taking a casual look at the music papers in 1994/95, grunge was getting a restrained backlash as Britpop took hold, but shoegaze hadn't been "re-assessed" and the bands of that time were either winding down or disbanding to go on and re-invent themselves in new forms while their names were held up as objects of derision.  Had I been a fan of a group like Curve at the time (who carried on until 2005) I would have been very miffed about this given they had produced songs like Clipped, which showcased exactly why shoegaze deserved better than it got.

Out of the ethereal radio static, we are launched into a thunderously exciting song mixing propulsive beats with heavily riffed and distorted guitar line.  The brief bridge provides a wonderfully ecstatic moment.  And over it all, Toni Halliday, drawls her way like a sky goddess over the thrashing cocophany underneath her.

I seem to remember that one of the criticisms of music made by the likes of Curve was "They let the (guitar) pedals do all the work for them!" which ignores the fact that the tools only work brilliantly when the mind operating them is inspired too.

Video courtesy of Felice Scala.

Tuesday, 6 January 2015

Reflections on New Fast Automatic Daffodils - All Over My Face (1991)

Referenced via: played on 2 November 1991 - released through Play It Again Sam.

All Over My Face (1991) - note watercast of male genitalia


The first single on the record hunt and I have little to add to my write-up of the track from 2 November 1991. The 4 track EP is bolstered by two superfluous remixes which do little except bolster the volume of the guitars and put back the swearing which the radio edit covers with a car horn.  The 4th track is a percussion and bass lead instrumental called Why The Hard Man Fail.

Personal interest comes from the fact that All Over My Face was recorded over my father's 50th birthday weekend in August 1991. The only time he has ever had a surprise party thrown in his honour and a particularly emotional moment when he was given a present of a painting of the boat he served in during his navy service which is still hanging in my parents' house now.  A thoroughly good time was had by all.

Also, kudos to whoever decided that the photo of a pool of water needed enlivening with some positively pornographic manipulation of the water. At least, I don't think that's an elephant's head on the front cover.

Mixtape selection: All Over My Face.

Discogs link: All Over My Face

Sunday, 4 January 2015

Reflections on Howlin' Wolf - Howlin' Wolf (1962) and The Howlin' Wolf Album (1969)



Referenced via: Down In The Bottom played on 2 November 1991.  Original release on Chess Records.  2014 reissue on Hallmark Records.

My record collection hunt begins with two albums by one of the giants of 20th Century blues music, Chester Burnett aka Howlin' Wolf.

Howlin' Wolf (1962) Val Doonican vibe in the cover art


Wolf began releasing records on the Chess label in 1951 and remained astonishingly productive all the way upto his death in 1976.  In 1962, Chess gathered together 6 of the 7 singles that Wolf had released between 1960 and 1962 and put the A and B sides out as a compilation album which they entitled simply, Howlin' Wolf.  As an arrival point for a Wolf novice, which I am, it's an ideal album to start with for him.
Given that these songs were intended for singles, they contain the essential element of economy that was such a feature of pre-House of the Rising Sun 7"s, but being rooted in the blues, there was nothing throwaway about any of these tracks, even the B-sides.
From the opening Latin blues sway of Shake for Me through to the almost showband blues of Tell Me, the listener is grasped both by Wolf's voice and Hubert Sumlin's urgent guitar lines.  However, the first half of the album passes by in such a blur that only The Red Rooster really makes an impression and that's mainly down to what's missing from Wolf's version compared to the better known Rolling Stones version.  I have heard a recording of Peel playing a version of this by The Jesus and Mary Chain in 1993 which makes it into a pile driving rock song, but that's for another time.

The album starts to pick up from track 6 onwards.  Little Baby is a blues song which anybody can sing.  I wouldn't attempt to try and sing any of the earlier cuts like Who's Been Talking, but If you put Val Doonican into the rocking chair on the front cover of the album, then Little Baby would be the tune he'd come back at you with.  The ladder is pulled up again on subsequent tracks but the battle of engagement has been won and the listener can revel in Wolf doing his stuff on the likes of Spoonful, Down in The Bottom and Howlin' for my Baby.  The standout track is Back Door Man, a key blues touchstone tune.  Basically, every "Woke up this morning" blues song parody you've ever heard uses Back Door Man as its riff, but this tale of a man making his escape after nights spent making love to the women of the men working on the night shift is the original work.  Wolf's voice on every refrain
of "I AMMMMMM... Back door man" is that mythical, much discussed "sound of the blues" and with his voice front and centre throughout, it's pretty hard to resist.






The sound of the blues...

Unfortunately, the same can't be said for 1969's The Howlin' Wolf Album.






The Howlin' Wolf Album (1969) - Note reverse psychology advertising strategy for cover art.
The idea behind it was impeccable, Marshall Chess of Chess Records decided to pair up both Wolf and Muddy Waters with the avant garde, Chicago rock band, The Rotary Connection to create a fusion between old school blues and late 60s acid rock.  The records were released on a new subsidiary of Chess Records called Cadet Concept.

Waters's effort, Electric Mud, was released first in October 1968.  The Howlin' Wolf album followed a year later.  Neither man was happy with the final product, feeling that neither of them worked as blues albums or as rock albums.  Chess tried to work Wolf's dis-satisfaction into the marketing of the record by telling the record buying public on the front cover that he didn't like the record they were
thinking of buying, but to basically ignore him on this.  The album also includes two short spoken
word interludes where Wolf reflects on the "queer" sound of electric guitars and later states that
people don't like the blues and that the sound of today, 1968 and by extension the record he was then working on, wasn't the blues.

When dealing with a good record that the artist who made it criticises, the common argument against them is that they were too close to the product to judge it.  But this isn't a good record and Wolf's unhappiness was thoroughly justified here.  The record's main issue is that Wolf is too often pushed into the background while wah-wahs wah, fuzz guitars scream and Morris Jennings on drums runs through his full repertoire of Keith Moon fills.  There aren't enough instances where Wolf and The Rotary Connection seem in sync with each other.  This leads to lapses like the ridiculously
overblown, echo laden ending of Smokestack Lightning or the interminable noodling on Moanin' at
Midnight, Wolf's first single for Chess in 1951, which sees Wolf doing his trademark howl,
ineffectually over a band that take the music nowhere.  Four songs are revisited from the 1962 album (Spoonful, The Red Rooster, Down in the Bottom and Back Door Man) and get a psychedelic rock
overhaul, meaning that the best they can come away with is an honourable defeat next to the original recordings. 

Only twice does the album really hit its stride.  The Rotary Connection find a lovely laid back groove on Built For Comfort and this encourages Wolf to deliver a characterful vocal.  Standout track is one of Wolf's standards, Evil, which sees everyone deliver the goods. Perhaps the reason for this being that Wolf seems to take centre stage in these songs in a way which he is never given the room to in the other tracks.







Evil - the best performance on the record.

Although, Wolf didn't enjoy himself with The Rotary Connection, he didn't turn his back on the contemporary scene altogether given that a year later he was in London working with such luminaries as Eric Clapton, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts on an LP called The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions.

Videos courtesy of MrJohnnyNumbers and DeepDownSound.
Mixtape choices: Little Baby, Spoonful, Down in the Bottom, Back Door Man, Howlin' for my Baby (Howlin' Wolf);
Spoonful, Built For Comfort, Evil, Back Door Man (The Howlin' Wolf Album)


Discogs links

Thursday, 1 January 2015

Happy New Year and a Twitter feed.



Something to celebrate the start of a new year and the blog setting up a Twitter feed.  Find us @greasepaintpeel

This track is out of sync with the journey so far given that the first recording I heard Peel play it from was on January 1 2002, though it counts as I was rehearsing David Hare's play, Amy's View at the time.  He played it from a CD called Blue Yule which was another CD I recommended to the Sainsbury's worker who craved some more musical variety during his festive shifts (see Henry Rollins: T'was the Night Before Christmas - 24 December 2014).

Video courtesy of Eric Cajundelyon.