Reupload - Rhys Eye - Yellow Submarine/ I Just Can't Lose That Tune

 

Fascinating but sombre reading of the jaunty Beatles tune

Label: Epic

Year of Release: 1975

"Yellow Submarine" is probably one of the less analysed Beatles songs in their oeuvre, despite being one of the best known. At my infant school, it was wheeled out for sing-a-longs in school halls that whiffed of chips and baked beans, and it was a track I was used to hearing soundtracking cartoons or during intervals at local children's theatre shows. Marrying upbeat melodies to nonsense lyrics, it seemed like the very definition of "harmless fun".

Clearly not everybody thought that way, though. Paul Phillips, who would later on find brief fame as Driver 67, was troubled by the sense it was an "other-worldly excursion into all sorts of sub-conscious emotions that I couldn’t put my finger on". When he eventually had gainful A&R employment at CBS he was surprised to find someone who agreed with him turning up to an audition.

Peter Bennett, who recorded and wrote under the name Rhys Eye, dropped by insisting he had a fantastic idea, but if he simply told Phillips what it was there was every possibility he would be cut out of the picture and find it being used by another artist on CBS. Phillips arranged for a legal waiver to be signed stating that whether he accepted or rejected the idea, it would remain the intellectual property of Mr. Eye.

And this, amazingly, was it - something that confirmed Phillips wasn't the only one bowing his head solemnly to Ringo's honking about strangely coloured submersible warships. Bennett's idea was a heartfelt, bluesy, troubled take on a Beatles song most listeners haven't really bothered to read much into. In Rhys Eyes' hands, "Yellow Submarine" becomes reflective and regretful, sounding like a hymn to lost childhood, lost friends and perhaps lost innocence - or, more than that, a nostalgia for absurd, exaggerated things that were never truly as the singer believed them to be eating away at him like a slow poison. 

Whether it works is something not everyone is going to agree on, but it certainly fits the modern music business model of finding opportunities for plaintive, melancholy expression in the most unlikely source material. If an advertising executive from John Lewis hears this and doesn't use it in their next Christmas campaign, then I'll be lost for words.

Bernadette - Come Kiss Me Love/ Let Me Do The Talking

 

Scottish folkie with a bouncy, peppery 1967 pop effort

Label: RIM (Rediffusion International)

Year of Release: 1967

Bernadette Connelly of Coatbridge, North Lanarkshire - known solely as Bernadette during her recording career, for unclear reasons - is one of those folk artists who seemed to be glued to the release schedules for most of the late sixties, but to no commercial avail. Many such characters abounded through the period, perhaps because while labels back then didn't expect folk music to fly off the record store counters, they seemed quite happy with the steady, niche sales it achieved.

"Come Kiss My Love" was her debut single, but a huge clutch followed; "Many A Day", "You're The Nearest Thing To Heaven" and "Toys Toys Toys" in 1968, followed by "Sing Me Sunshine" in 1969 and "Ladyfingers" in 1970. The LP "A Girl Called Bernadette" was released by Philips in 1969 as well, and as recently as 1984 she put out the album "Back On The Road Again" on the Scottish independent label Lismor. 

That last LP appears to have largely consisted of modernised recordings of her previous waxings, including a version of this very single with none-more-eighties keyboard chiming. To my ears, though, the original is best. It gives Bernadette lots of Sergeant Pepper styled brass flourishes, strident melodies and choppy guitar rhythms. It's actually a very restless arrangement and while I'm sure its busy, poppy nature had many a folkie screaming "Judas!" at the time, it's actually a thoroughly interesting piece of work as a result. 

Music Room - I Don't Mind The Rain/ Come Softly To Me

 

Zack Laurence arranged harmony pop 45

Label: Decca

Year of Release: 1971

Music Room managed two 45s on Decca; this was their debut in 1971, and the follow-up "Hook and Ladder" emerged in 1972. Neither were hits and nor were they issued in other countries, and after they came and went the group also seemed to evaporate completely.

The trail they've left is so utterly non-existent that it leads me to wonder whether they were just a studio session group and the clue was in their name. This single in particular highlights some amazing performances - those harmony vocals are as slick as they come, and Zack Laurence's arrangements are as intricate, careful and cotton wool soft as you'd expect. It achieves the almost impossible feat of making a rainy day sound appealing, with its swirling, pinging and joyous harmonies. 

While this isn't the sort of single I can imagine myself returning to often, fans of The Carpenters or the softer, poppier end of easy listening will probably find themselves succumbing to its charms very quickly.

If anyone knows who performed on this record and what became of them, please do leave a comment.

The Zoo - She Said She Said - Good Day Sunshine/ Where Have All The Good Times Gone

 

Two song Beatles medley (and Kinks cover) from Ohio garage rockers

Label: Parkway

Year of Release: 1967

One of the more finely observed aspects of "Spinal Tap" is the way the group went through so many name changes before settling on their sinister moniker. Digging up facts about obscure sixties groups comes with plenty of challenges already, but the fact so many of them struggled to settle on a working group name complicates matters further. 

Ohio's The Zoo were yet another one of those restless cases. Starting life as the Beau Denturies in 1964, they gigged around the local area and following a victory in a WAKR battle of the bands contest issued "Don't Quit Now" on the Encore label in 1966. 

Perhaps realising The Beau Denturies was a pretty awful name, they promptly changed it to The Yellow Pages to issue this track on Encore in March 1967. The directory company they'd named themselves after promptly objected, and it was shelved and subsequently released again under the name The Zoo in May the same year, this time on the Parkway label.

It's a curious attempt to wedge the last track on Side One of "Revolver" and the first track on Side Two together; the uneasy, disassociated "She Said She Said" and the bouncy "Good Day Sunshine". By rights, the two don't feel as if they should be existing in the same 45rpm space, but the group find a way of making it work, partly by virtue of taking the rubbery bounce of "Sunshine" and hardening it up somewhat with distorted buzzing chords, and taking the trippy darkness of "She Said" and adding some perk. 

Is it a worthwhile artistic endeavour? Good question. The liberties taken with the original arrangements are hardly radical, and there's probably no particular reason you'd need to reach for this record over the original "Revolver" tracks. Despite this, it's a cheery bit of work which predates The Beatles own "Abbey Road" device of meshing their work together in medley form (and Stars on 45, for that matter, but let's not go there).

Reupload - Tony Merrick - Lady Jane/ Michelle

A Stones cover one one side + Beatles cover on the other = near-hit single

Label: Columbia

Year of Release: 1966

Depending on how far you want to push or stretch the term, Tony Merrick could be regarded as a one hit wonder thanks to this single. It spent a solitary week at number 49 in June 1966 before dipping back down under the waves again - so close and yet so far.

It's not too surprising it was at least faintly in-demand for awhile. Both sides cover the two biggest hitting bands of the sixties, with "Lady Jane" taking on Jagger and Richards and "Michelle" naturally being another cover of The Beatles track. The A-side here is beautifully arranged, sounding like a touching and innocent piece of baroque styled pop, with strumming harpsichord sounds meeting plucked nylon guitar strings. Merrick's vocal performance is gentile and ever so slightly arch, suiting both the song and the arrangement.

"Michelle" on the flip side is less interesting, unfortunately, though it's not a Beatles track of which I'm especially fond, so your experience of it may differ.

Chris Parmenter Orchestra - Cul-de-sac/ Donkey Feel

 

Souped up, modish cover of Roman Polanski film theme

Label: Polydor
Year of Release: 1966

Roman Polanski's strange gangster flick "Cul-de-sac" caused a fair share of rumbles on its release in 1966. Portraying two individuals on the run backed into a corner, holed down with a couple in a peculiar relationship, it also features a bald Donald Pleasance delivering an uneasy performance. 

The theme tune to the film itself is unusually and unexpectedly threadbare, sounding like one of Joe Meek's unused 3am demos polished up with an orchestra behind his back. While the film itself may have been respectfully reviewed, the title track clearly wouldn't have made a good single or momento of anyone's cinema visit. 

Enter Chris Parmenter, Polydor's house producer who had been behind work such as The Longboatmen's "Take Her Anytime" and The Cymeron's "I Can See You". Somebody at the label obviously thought he could turn the theme into something harder edged, and indeed he did - those Meekish keyboard whines are still intact, but the track is given firmer footing and considerably more welly. It wasn't enough to impress the public who clearly felt they didn't need an audio souvenir of Donald Pleasance wearing a nightie and some lipstick, but it's a cool, modish piece of work.

Brown Ale - It's Only A Wind Up/ Norman Service

Eurovision baiting novelty single written by future Eurovision songwriter

Label: Radioactive

Year of Release: 1981

In the first few years of Left and to the Back's life I tried to tie the blog neatly in with each year's Eurovision contest by writing some relevant material, but the stats for those entries prove that I might as well have been talking to myself. 

Still, since most readers here seem to hate the contest, perhaps this 45 will provide the spite they're looking for. The British have always had a complicated relationship with Eurovision, feeling entitled to win it while looking down on it at the same time. As a nation, our attitude has been akin to the Goth Kids on South Park entering a talent show to perform lame, half-hearted songs, then acting like scolded teenagers when we inevitably finish in 22nd place.

"But Dave!" I hear you cry. "The Iraq war, our uncompromising approach to international politics and the way everyone is just so jealous of how great we are as a nation was the reason our Electro Swing Birds Eye Potato Waffles song finished in 24th place in 2015!" Er, are you quite sure about that one?

Still, David Mindel was behind that piece of waffly electro versatility, and he also co-wrote this Eurovision mocking novelty single in 1981 as well. You have to wonder if anyone responsible for the contest had checked his track record before hiring him; it could be we had a renegade in our ranks, hired by Putin to upset our chances. 

"It's Only A Wind-Up" is, of course, a rewrite of the 1980 winner for Bucks Fizz, "Making Your Mind Up", and dissects the contest's downsides, from hidden singers in the wings and jarring key changes to the vain and beige attempts to produce music which has luke-warm cross appeal. It's a cosy jaunt through the sillier aspects of the show rather than a savage knifing, though there's one moment when a swear word seems promised, then fails to emerge. Naughty Mr Mindel.

While the song nails some of the worst tropes of eighties entrants to the contest, back when the show seemed irreversibly stuck in some mid-seventies light entertainment twilight, it's off-beam by present day standards. Trucker's key changes seldom occur anymore, and most countries put forward their best pop stars, some of whom even go on to achieve global success if they finish low on the scoreboard (as 2022's "Snap" by Rosa Linn proved). Having some kind of appreciation for pop music as well as Classic Rock is probably essential for watching the contest without throwing a hissy fit, but it's become a world-class spectacle for all the right and wrong reasons, for the garish flash and the class alike, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Unicorn - P.F. Sloan/ Going Back Home

 

English Country Rock meets Jimmy Webb 

Label: Big T

Year of Release: 1971

Unicorn are occasionally cited as one of the seventies rock groups who really should have been huge, but barely raised above the club and university circuit. Consisting of Ken Baker on guitar and keyboards, Pat Martin on bass, Kevin Smith on guitar and mandolin, Peter Perryer on drums and Trevor Mee on guitar, they also sang harmonies in a Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young styled blend. They weren't alone in taking that particular road in the UK - even Hank Marvin was up to similar tricks by the early seventies - but their style was admired enough to catch the ears of David Gilmour, who produced a number of their LPs.

Prior to Gilmour's ears twitching, this little single slipped out on the Big T label, a cover of Jimmy Webb's "PF Sloan" which took the bruised Americana of the original and sanded down some of the edges to create a version some still reference as outshining Webb's version. It certainly lets plenty of sunlight in through the cracks, sounding like a possible minor hit in another universe. 

Unicorn had a long history prior to this record, beginning life as The Late Edition in 1968 and occasionally backing Billy J Kramer under that name, before eventually shortening their name to The Late and finally Unicorn. How such name-hopping came about isn't recorded, but one can only assume that line-up changes may have been to blame.

"P.F. Sloan" was included on their first LP "Uphill All The Way" which contained covers of artists the band admired, before Gilmour got his mitts on the group and produced "Blue Pine Trees" for the Charisma label in 1974 and "Too Many Crooks" and "One More Tomorrow" for Harvest in 1976 and 1977 respectively.

JAB - Pretty Polly/ Easy Action

 

Sweetly sung beast of a mystery indie rock single

Label: JAB

Year of Release: 1988

Another bunch of mystery performers, I'm afraid. There was a brief period in the late eighties and early nineties where bands who were keen to prove they were serious and going places shelled out for limited run pressings of singles to sell at gigs. A nice slab of vinyl felt like much more of a statement than a mere demo cassette, after all, and vinyl pressing plants were starting to feel the CD market pinching into their profits; this led to some good deals for aspiring bands. 

What it didn't leave was a neat audit trail. A white label 7" single with some hand-stamped details and inked scribble on it doesn't offer many clues to the poor mp3 blogger. If the band were also never signed to a proper label - and the vast majority of them weren't - these brief moments were usually their only recorded message to the world. They are their era's equivalent of the unidentifiable crackly sixties acetate. 

The net result is I've had this record in my collection for nine months and still been completely unable to work out who the band JAB are. It's an interesting effort, though; the "Pretty Polly" side has clattering train-track rhythms, chiming guitar lines and buttery, folky female vocals. It's the kind of indie rock confection the music press at the time would have been sympathetic towards, but if JAB got a mention at the time, I certainly can't remember it (but what am I, a walking IPC encyclopaedia?) 

The flip "Easy Action" has a groovier swagger which points slightly towards the forthcoming baggy movement, but those careful, pretty vocals clearly date it in the mid-to-late 80s period. It might make your feet twitch slightly, but it isn't funky. 

A fox, a fox in a cardboard Box

You'll probably all have noticed that our mp3 hosts Box have recently undertaken one of their periodic redesigns and upgrades, and as is customary on these occasions, that has led to hiccups for a few readers (and for the first time, me as editor of this blog, so I share your pain). I can't begrudge web designers a living, but I do wish their best laid plans didn't so often lead to chaos.

Anyway, some of you may be constantly seeing a tiny cloud in the preview panes which you're being asked to drag into an even tinier cloud. Far from being some kind of "pin the dot on the tiny pixel" game I've set up to annoy vinyl nerds everywhere, it's actually a system error which can usually be corrected.

Please take one or all of the following steps below to view this blog in a more pleasurable way:

• Make sure your browser's up to date. 
• Clear your browser's cache and cookies, here are the steps. 
• Check if your firewall is configured. 
• Disable any plugins/add-ons/extensions. 

That should work. I've also updated the FAQ with other relevant technical information (and corrected other aspects which had fallen out of date) so please do go there if something else seems to be up. Or you want to know why the music you like hasn't been uploaded recently. Or anything else like that.