Les Carle - Times They Are A-Changin'/ Catch The WInd - The Typhoons - For Your Love/ Honey, I Need

The Woolworths Bob Dylan is in the building, long before his career as Postman Pat theme tune singer and voice of the Smash robots

Label: Embassy
Year of Release: 1965

We've discussed the Embassy label on this blog before, but to summarise the situation for any newbies who may be lurking - it was a budget label stocked solely in Woolworths which featured session singers doing covers of the popular hits of the day. 

Embassy is a tempting punt for the record collector in the way that later exponents of penny-pinching department store pop often weren't, in that it didn't always try to be a sound-a-like label. Often the record would be a reasonable approximation of the artists being covered, but only a tone-deaf imbecile who had heard the original tracks once through a terrible radio reception could honestly believe that they might be the real thing. This has left behind a trail of interesting sounding records which don't tend to outshine the originals, but occasionally put their own likable stamp on them (my personal favourite is Joan Baxter's take on the Shangri-Las "Remember (Walkin' In The Sand)" which we covered some years ago).

This particular 1965 EP is a weird anomaly in the label's life which appears to be courting the student and counter-cultural market, desperately trying to gain the coppers of beatniks and hairies, or at least their relatives shopping for treats for them. On the A-side Les Carle (a pseudonym of Ken Barrie, the voice artist and session singer who later performed the Postman Pat theme and voiced the Smash robots) takes on Bob Dylan and Donovan, while the house band The Typhoons deal with The Yardbirds and The Pretty Things on the flip. It is, to say the least, an unexpected proposition and one that leaves you disappointed that the label couldn't hang in long enough for the psychedelic era - God knows what their backroom boys and girls would have made of "See Emily Play" and "Strawberry Fields Forever".

Barrie's take on Dylan is very clearly not an impersonation, not bothering to try and emulate that unique voice ("like sand and glue" as David Bowie once brilliantly put it) but instead put his own rustic, clear and pure sounding folk vocal on it. It works as well as any of the hundreds of other covers of the song tend to do, and doesn't disgrace itself in any way. So too does his take on Donovan's "Catch The Wind", and it leaves me wondering whether any of the Mums and Dads who may have bought this record for their scruffy offspring may have decided to keep it for themselves instead, preferring Barrie's clear, rounded delivery over those author's own works.

Reupload - Starlings - Remember (Walkin' In The Sand)/ Typhoons - Little Red Rooster

Powerful and surprisingly brilliant cover of the girl-group classic on the budget Woolies label

Label: Embassy

Year of Release: 1964

We've encountered the Embassy label on "Left and to the Back" before, of course. (Yes. We have). It was the label John Lennon referred to in a moment of despondency, jokingly commenting that even they had rejected The Beatles. Pressing up cheap sound-a-like discs for the cash-strapped or just plain unfussy, they were responsible for some truly awful howlers in their time. Just listen to this appalling caterwauling take on "Wimoweh" if you don't believe me, or this underpowered take on The Beatles themselves. 

Occasionally, though, Embassy did turn up trumps, and it's to the credit of the session musicians they hired when things did go to plan. Frequently thrown in at the deep end, given next-to-no time to learn the songs and even less time than that to record them (usually a few takes at most) when these discs sound good, they sound good under the most pressured and unlikely of circumstances. 

So then, if you were pop-picking in Woolworths in 1964, this record would actually have been a rather good buy. The version of "Remember (Walkin' In The Sand)" is a staggeringly effective take on the girl group classic. Joan Baxter handles the lead vocals and positively nails the yearning qualities of the song - so much so that this actually becomes a perfectly strong alternative version rather than just a cheap substitute for the real thing. This isn't some kind of dilute-to-taste ageing session muso's take on teenage heartbreak, there's genuine power and a certain innocence behind the performance, piercing right through everything else. 

Reupload - Embassy Big 4 - Anyway Anyhow Anywhere/ Mr Tambourine Man

Label: Embassy
Year of Release: 1965

We've been here before, and regular readers will know the drill, but for the benefit of those of you who have just tuned into this blog... Embassy were a tireless label in the early sixties, churning out endless discs of session musicians covering the hits of the day. Their platters would then end up in the budget rack of Woolworths waiting to be purchased by punters who felt that their approximations of hit singles were affordable alternatives to the real thing. So infamous were their offerings that John Lennon even jokingly referenced the label as a possible home for The Beatles when their chances of getting signed seemed slim.

Like the "Top of the Pops" albums that followed them, Embassy recordings were a decidedly mixed bag, ranging from faithful interpretations to wayward messes. This "Big Four" EP is particularly absurd in that it contains two ballads and two counter-cultural anthems, so Gene Pitney's "Looking Thru The Eyes of Love" shares Side One with "Anywhere, Anyhow, Anywhere" by The Who, and Side Two pairs "Mr Tambourine Man" with Lulu's top ten ballad "Leave A Little Love". If ever you needed proof that such things as youth splinter groups and demographics hadn't been fully defined by 1965, here it is staring at you in the face.

"Left and to the Back" readers are likely to be more interested in "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere" by The Who and "Mr Tambourine Man", and their interest will probably be inflated further still when they realise that neither version is particularly faithful. "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere" is, in particular, a really interesting approximation due to the fact that Embassy studio band The Jaybirds clearly don't know what to do with The Who's sound. The drumming sounds primitive and punkish rather than copying Keith Moon's ambitious style, the lead vocals yelping, desperate and close to the style of Jim Sohns of The Shadows Of Knight (though don't get excited - I'm not suggesting it is him) and the feedback-heavy break of the original is replaced with something a bit more synthetic and measured. It sounds more like a bunch of teenagers in a garage trying to copy The Who, and whilst I doubt that's actually the case, it's a peculiar old listen to say the least. It doesn't top The Who's original, but something about the hollow, primal simplicity of it almost reminds me of The White Stripes, which is no bad thing at all.

Meanwhile, The Typhoons - a session band previously known to handle The Beatles material on Embassy, although I don't know if the personnel remained the same throughout all their recordings - battle with "Mr Tambourine Man". It's a fey, gentle take which sounds influenced more by English folk than the American folk rock scene that spawned The Byrds, sounding sleepy and contended rather than urgent, preaching and elated. Readers won't be in a hurry to replace The Byrds version on their iPods with this one, but once again the different approach is at least an interesting interpretation.

As for Terry Brandon's take on "Looking Through The Eyes of Love" and Sally Hyde's version of "Leave A Little Love" - I hate to be dismissive, but neither track really captured my imagination in the first place, so my opinions on these reinterpretations are unlikely to be balanced or fair. They're here for anyone who feels curious enough to hear them, though.

And I hate to say it, chaps, but sorry for the surface noise on some of these recordings. It's difficult to find Embassy records in Excellent condition, and what we've got is the best I can obtain at the moment.

The Jaybirds - Tell Me When/ You Can't Do That

Label: Embassy

Year of Release: 1964

Regular readers will know the drill with Embassy Records - this was no ordinary record label, being a budget outlet which specialised in releasing quickie 45rpm cover versions of the hits of the day. I've already written about their history here, and I'll refrain from doing so again.

Side A in this case is actually a reasonably faithful cover of "Tell Me When" by The Applejacks, a group best known mainly for that hit. The Applejacks were the first Birmingham based group to hit the British top ten and there were high hopes they could continue that initial success, but in reality each subsequent release was greeted with less enthusiasm from the public. A deep pity, because one early flip side "Boom Boom Boom Boom (Everybody Fall Down)" could perhaps be seen to pre-empt The Housemartins sound by two whole decades, to the extent that it's nigh-on impossible to listen to it without imagining Hull's top turn doing goofy dancing along to it while Norman Cook dances properly and tries not to look embarrassed behind them. It's safe to say that while The Applejacks were not actually lost musical pioneers, they frequently bashed out a beat tune with more competence and enthusiasm than many of their better-selling peers. 

Side B is the puzzler. "You Can't Do That" was never a Beatles A-side, but it proves how popular the Fabs were in 1964 that even their flip sides were being covered for cheapo single releases. But surely the logical thing to have done would be to pair this with a cover of "Can't Buy Me Love"? What was going on in the minds of everyone at Embassy HQ at this point? It's impossible to say. The track is commercially available on iTunes and also a Beatles covers album these days, so you'll have to satisfy yourself with a YouTube link for it instead. I'll be blunt - it's utterly unremarkable. So many of the cover versions of Beatles songs during this era remind you never to underestimate the power the group - including the much-maligned Ringo - could pack into their songs. Other session musicians clearly struggled to replicate their sound, to the extent that an effective Beatles cover actually feels like a notable achievement. 

Starlings - Remember (Walkin' In The Sand)/ Typhoons - Little Red Rooster

Label: Embassy

Year of Release: 1964

We've encountered the Embassy label on "Left and to the Back" before, of course. (Yes. We have). It was the label John Lennon referred to in a moment of despondency, jokingly commenting that even they had rejected The Beatles. Pressing up cheap sound-a-like discs for the cash-strapped or just plain unfussy, they were responsible for some truly awful howlers in their time. Just listen to this appalling caterwauling take on "Wimoweh" if you don't believe me, or this underpowered take on The Beatles themselves. 

Occasionally, though, Embassy did turn up trumps, and it's to the credit of the session musicians they hired when things did go to plan. Frequently thrown in at the deep end, given next-to-no time to learn the songs and even less time than that to record them (usually a few takes at most) when these discs sound good, they sound good under the most pressured and unlikely of circumstances. 

So then, if you were pop-picking in Woolworths in 1964, this record would actually have been a rather good buy. The version of "Remember (Walkin' In The Sand)" is a staggeringly effective take on the girl group classic. Joan Baxter handles the lead vocals and positively nails the yearning qualities of the song - so much so that this actually becomes a perfectly strong alternative version rather than just a cheap substitute for the real thing. This isn't some kind of dilute-to-taste ageing session muso's take on teenage heartbreak, there's genuine power and a certain innocence behind the performance, piercing right through everything else. 

On the other side, The Typhoons take on "Little Red Rooster" isn't as great, but manages to capture the lazy sleaze of the blues track almost as well as the Stones did. It's hard to pick fault.

At the time it's doubtful any self-respecting teenager would have actually wanted to own this record over the original recordings, but now, with the reasonable passing of time, this has actually become something worth having. A shame the same can't be said for all of Embassy's output, but them's the breaks.

Embassy Big 4 - Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere/ Mr Tambourine Man

Label: Embassy
Year of Release: 1965

We've been here before, and regular readers will know the drill, but for the benefit of those of you who have just tuned into this blog... Embassy were a tireless label in the early sixties, churning out endless discs of session musicians covering the hits of the day. Their platters would then end up in the budget rack of Woolworths waiting to be purchased by punters who felt that their approximations of hit singles were affordable alternatives to the real thing. So infamous were their offerings that John Lennon even jokingly referenced the label as a possible home for The Beatles when their chances of getting signed seemed slim.

Like the "Top of the Pops" albums that followed them, Embassy recordings were a decidedly mixed bag, ranging from faithful interpretations to wayward messes. This "Big Four" EP is particularly absurd in that it contains two ballads and two counter-cultural anthems, so Gene Pitney's "Looking Thru The Eyes of Love" shares Side One with "Anywhere, Anyhow, Anywhere" by The Who, and Side Two pairs "Mr Tambourine Man" with Lulu's top ten ballad "Leave A Little Love". If ever you needed proof that such things as youth splinter groups and demographics hadn't been fully defined by 1965, here it is staring at you in the face.

"Left and to the Back" readers are likely to be more interested in "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere" by The Who and "Mr Tambourine Man", and their interest will probably be inflated further still when they realise that neither version is particularly faithful. "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere" is, in particular, a really interesting approximation due to the fact that Embassy studio band The Jaybirds clearly don't know what to do with The Who's sound. The drumming sounds primitive and punkish rather than copying Keith Moon's ambitious style, the lead vocals yelping, desperate and close to the style of Jim Sohns of The Shadows Of Knight (though don't get excited - I'm not suggesting it is him) and the feedback-heavy break of the original is replaced with something a bit more synthetic and measured. It sounds more like a bunch of teenagers in a garage trying to copy The Who, and whilst I doubt that's actually the case, it's a peculiar old listen to say the least. It doesn't top The Who's original, but something about the hollow, primal simplicity of it almost reminds me of The White Stripes, which is no bad thing at all.

Meanwhile, The Typhoons - a session band previously known to handle The Beatles material on Embassy, although I don't know if the personnel remained the same throughout all their recordings - battle with "Mr Tambourine Man". It's a fey, gentle take which sounds influenced more by English folk than the American folk rock scene that spawned The Byrds, sounding sleepy and contended rather than urgent, preaching and elated. Readers won't be in a hurry to replace The Byrds version on their iPods with this one, but once again the different approach is at least an interesting interpretation.

As for Terry Brandon's take on "Looking Through The Eyes of Love" and Sally Hyde's version of "Leave A Little Love" - I hate to be dismissive, but neither track really captured my imagination in the first place, so my opinions on these reinterpretations are unlikely to be balanced or fair. They're here for anyone who feels curious enough to hear them, though.

And I hate to say it, chaps, but sorry for the surface noise on some of these recordings. It's difficult to find Embassy records in Excellent condition, and what we've got is the best I can obtain at the moment.

Tracklisting:
1. Terry Brandon: Looking Thru The Eyes of Love
2. The Jaybirds: Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere
3. The Typhoons: Mr Tambourine Man
4. Sally Hyde: Leave A Little Love

Bud Ashton - Telstar

Label: Embassy
Year of Release: 1962

Way before those dodgy "Top of the Pops" low budget compilation albums we've already talked about, chock full of frequently inaccurate cover versions of the day's hits, came Embassy Records.  Whereas Hallmark, Pickwick, Contour and endless other budget labels in the seventies crammed non-original artist takes of twelve hot hits across twelve glorious inches, Embassy were a bit more modest.  The racks of Woolworths were filled with their singles offering one song per side.  If you were hard up for cash and not especially fussy, you could walk out with a record by The Typhoons rather than The Beatles and see if anyone noticed at your next house party (they'd have to be either very drunk or tone deaf not to observe the differences, mind you).

For me, it's always more interesting when the session musicians attempt to take on anything with either a technically advanced production or complex arrangement.  The "Top of the Pops" gang managed to create a creditable version of "Bohemian Rhapsody", but for the most part, the least convincing tracks in any budget sound-a-like marketing formula are those which simply couldn't be created effectively in one quick recording spree.  "Telstar", then - one of the most unique sounding records of its day - would surely be screwed, wouldn't it?

The answer is a somewhat surprising yes and no.  Bud Ashton, whoever he may be (somebody hiding behind a pseudonym, I don't doubt) begins gamely, trying to replicate Joe Meek's effects-fest at the start of the record, and not failing entirely, even if there's a tad more squeakiness to it all.  The intro builds convincingly, the keyboards buzz confidently, and it seems like we're blasting off into a reasonable enough replica.  But then the track gets going, the bass line plods in a timid and out-of-depth manner, some of the arrangements sound very muddy indeed, and the faults begin to show.  By the time the record gets to the tail end, Mr Ashton can't even be bothered to re-do the sound effects which clearly bookend Joe Meek's original effort.  Perhaps he ran out of time.

If anything, it shows that many of the strengths of the proper version of "Telstar" lay not in its melody, but in the depth and adventure shown in its production, apparent to this day.  Ashton's version begins to sound boring and repetitive a minute and a half in, whereas Meek's paces its ideas neatly, allows the instruments room to breathe, and is beguiling as a result.

The flip side to this is a version of Adam Faith's "Don't That Beat All" by Rikki Henderson, but please pardon me if I don't waste too much time dissecting it.  I've included it below for the benefit of the curious, however.