One of my favorites from the early 1990s. From Cracker’s 1992 self-titled debut. Favorite line: “I see the light at the end of the tunnel now … Someone please tell me it’s not a train.”
One of my favorites from the early 1990s. From Cracker’s 1992 self-titled debut. Favorite line: “I see the light at the end of the tunnel now … Someone please tell me it’s not a train.”
A great performance of one of the more memorable (albeit extremely depressing) songs from Lou Reed’s stellar 1973 song cycle “Berlin.” If you like what you hear, you should check out the original album, or the brilliant 2007 film adaptation (lensed by Oscar-nominated director Julian Schnabel) called “Lou Reed’s Berlin.”
The title track from Cave’s amazing 1988 album “The Mercy Seat.” The term “mercy seat” does have religious connotations, for which I’ll consult Wikipedia for a more literate translation than I could ever muster:
According to the Bible, the cover or mercy seat (Hebrew: כפורת, Kapporet ; “atonement piece”) was an object which rested upon the Ark of the Covenant, and was connected with the rituals of the Day of Atonement; the term also appears in later Jewish sources, and twice in the New Testament, from where it has significance in Christian Theology.
The English phrase mercy seat is not a literal translation of the Hebrew term kapporeth, which appears in its place in the Masoretic text, nor of the Greek term hilasterion, which takes the same place in the Septuagint but instead is the translation by William Tyndale influenced by the German term Gnadenstuhl, from the same narrative position in the Luther Bible; Gnadenstuhl literally means seat of grace, in the sense of location of grace.
Despite this meaning, the song is sung from the perspective of an inmate on death row who is facing imminent execution in what I imagine is an electric chair. Cave’s version is unremitting in its intensity. However, Cash’s quieter, but still fierce cover from 2000 is damn good. Both versions will make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
“Layla” may be the best-known song from Eric Clapton’s and Duane Allman’s pseudonymous 1970 band Derek and the Domino’s “Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs” album. While it’s a great song, unfortunately, it’s power has been greatly diminished (at least for me) over the years due to endless replays on classic rock radio and other places. Though, Martin Scorsese did redeem it somewhat through its use in “Goodfellas” but I digress …
For my money, their cover of Jimi Hendrix’s “Little Wing” is the highlight of the album. I’ve never heard hard rock sound so damn sad, but not in a grandiose “Pink Floyd The Wall” type way. This may be just the blues … but it’s played with such incredible power and sorrow. Clapton was in a bad way (emotionally and healthwise) when he recorded this and you can feel it.
From their nearly forgotten and severely underrated classic 1971 album “Teenage Head,” this the the Flamin’ Groovies arguably at their best. I hate saying that, considering the classic work they did with producer Dave Edmunds in 1976 with “Shake Some Action,” but “Teenage Head” and especially this track (“Whiskey Woman”) has been on constant rotation recently on my iPod.
No less than Mick Jagger at the time (who noticed similarities between what the Groovies were doing on this album and what the Stones were doing on “Sticky Fingers”) admitted the Groovies had the better take on the same theme. Miriam Linna, co-head of the stellar Norton Records label, opined that this era of the Groovies sounded like the Stones, had the Stones sworn their allegiance to Sun Records instead of Chess Records.
Among the more inspired bits in Ben Stiller’s extremely funny 2008 Hollywood satire “Tropic Thunder” were these fake ads / movie trailers starring the film’s lead characters that came before “Thunder” started. Not safe for work. “I’ve been a bad, bad boy, Father.”
Wow. A slower, acoustic, and really beautiful version of one of the Pretenders best early singles. I never thought of this song as a ballad, but damn, it works. And of course, Chrissie Hynde’s vocals are terrific as always.
The opening track of Wire’s incredible second album “Chairs Missing” from 1978. This is a song about a woman becoming a prostitute for the first time, with all the agony and paranoia a group of young English men can muster when you sound like graduate students trying to do their best Black Sabbath – Brian Eno homage. If what I described doesn’t sound like the coolest sound in the world, you don’t know what it’s like to live in my head. Maybe that’s a good thing. Who knows? All I know is that “Chairs Missing” has been one of my all-time favorite albums for the last 20+ years, when I came across a cassette of this album for $4.00 at a used record store in 1990 and it completely blew my gaskets.
From the damn fine 1977 debut album “Cabretta” by Mink DeVille, comes the smooth but tough “Cadillac Walk.” “Cadillac Walk” was composed by Moon Martin, whose main claim to fame was composing Robert Palmer’s huge 1979 hit “Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor).” Martin also had a Top 30 hit in 1979 with his song “Rolene.”
The punks meet the godfathers. Green Day mastered the mini-rock opera on “American Idiot” with two 10-minute rock operas: “Jesus of Suburbia” and “Homecoming.” Here Green Day pay homage with a damn terrific cover of the original mini-rock opera, the Who’s “A Quick One (While He’s Away),” recorded as a bonus track for “21st Century Breakdown.” This is my favorite Who track of all-time and Green Day delivers magnificently.