52 GIRLS

"Roxette" / Dr. Feelgood

Dr. Feelgood's debut single, "Roxette" didn't exactly burn up the UK charts in 1975; getting US airplay? No way. Maybe it was too early for the general public to embrace this raw R&B sound, married to gritty satiric lyrics. But their fellow musicians were listening, notably Paul Weller of the Jam, Bob Geldof of Boomtown Rats, Clem Burke of Blondie. The seeds of punk had been sown.  

Normally I don't go with a live performance video of a song -- but in this case, the live performance is without a question the version you want.

 

Watch bassist John Sparks and drummer The Big Figure drive home that propulsive rhythm track, while Wilko Johnson snaps off obsessive-tic guitar licks. Above all watch Lee Brillaux command the mike, snarling Words of Warning to his straying girlfriend Roxette. (Perfect name for a rock girlfriend, with just a hint of cheap trashiness.) 

 

"I saw you out the other night," he begins, head lowered, eyes narrowed. "I saw somebody hold you tight / Roxette, / I wonder who it could be." If there's a whiff of the voyeur about this, so be it. "It was so dark I couldn't see / But I know it wasn't me," he remarks, a cruel ironic jab.

But he doesn't stop there. He follows her into a loud rock club, where he creeps around and eavesdrops enough to hear her "telling everyone / About a new guy you'd found." (Now that lurking guitar line makes even more sense.) Maybe she's clueless, publicly bragging about her new relationship, but I have wonder -- why is he stalking her instead of confronting her? Isn't that what a decent guy would do? Could it be -- is it possible -- that her new man is actually a better bet?

True as that may be, our singer can't afford to think that way. (Classic case of an unreliable narrator.) Love doesn't enter the picture for him at all, only jealousy and a prurient kind of rage. In verse three he's outright sinister: "Roxette I gotta go away / And leave you for a couple of days." If I were her, I'd be scared. And now the threat is made plain: "Roxette, I don't want no more of your tricks / I'm gonna get some concrete mix / And fill your back door up with bricks."  (Delicious triple rhymes.)  Sneaky songwriting from Wilko Johnson, to draw us into collusion with this yobbo until we're accessories in his hoodlum revenge. I think of the notorious Kray Twins, convicted only a couple of years before for their vicious East End crime racket. File for a restraining order NOW, Roxette!

Talk about clueless -- he's convinced that this intimidation will win her heart. "And you better be there waiting / When I get my business fixed," he signs off with a crisp threat. Because she's still his property, in't she?  Well, in't she? 

41 DOWN, 11 TO GO

WEDNESDAY SHUFFLE

Hoping for a little summer serendipity on today's shuffle...

1. "The Islands" / Black 47
From Bankers and Gangsters (2010)
Which reminds me -- I owe blogritics.org a review of this new album by Celtic rock stalwarts Black 47. Dig this nostalgic horn-filled ode to the auld country -- sweet and soulful and just a tad sad.

2. "Flying High" / Jem
From Finally Woken (2004)
I know nothing about this singer; I barely know how this got on my iTunes. But it's such a wistfully sexy number, I never can quite bring myself to delete it. High breathy vocals, with just a touch of synths underlying the delicate acoustic guitar -- so girlish, but just LOADED with desire.

3. "Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes" / Elvis Costello
From My Aim Is True (1977)
"Oh, I used to be disgusted, / Now I try to be amused / But since their wings have got rusted / You know, the angels want to wear my red shoes." And didn't we all want to wear Elvis's red shoes back then? Jangly punk-pop with more than a touch of snarky attitude -- this guy was this good from the very start.

4. "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" / The Animals
From Animal Tracks (1965)
I'd have run off with him, wouldn't you?

5. "Inch By Inch" / Elvis Costello
From Goodbye Cruel World (1984)
I wonder how much Style Council music Elvis Costello had been listening to when he put out this wickedly tasty album. Goodbye Cruel World certainly added a heaping helping of soul to the by-then-getting-stale EC formula (remember the lead-off hit "Only Flame in Town"?). Didn't care for it at the time; adore it now.

6. "You Got My Number" / Dr. Feelgood
From Brilleaux (1986)
Throw together soul, punk, and old-fashioned rock 'n' roll, and you have the recipe for Dr. Feelgood. Even on this later album, when the band had moved to the Stiff label and adopted a more radio-ready sound, their stuff just sizzles. Churning automotive guitar riffs, the punctuations of horns, and Lee Brilleaux's savagely sexy voice -- that's a number I'm definitely dialing.

7. "Right Place, Wrong Time" / Dr. John
From In the Right Place (1973)
And now here comes a second opinion from the Other Doctor -- Dr. John, a.k.a.Mac Rebennack, that mighty practitioner of soul pumped up with New Orleans funk. This is one of those radio hits I always turned up louder when it came on, but it took 30-plus years for me to finally buy it, just last week, in anticipation of a trip to New Orleans at the end of the summer. Swampy, and just a little bit nasty. Whoo-hah!

8. "Back To You" / Bill Jerram Band
From Bill Jerram Band (2005)
Bill Jerram -- a.k.a. Billo from the Ray Davies fan forum -- surprised us all with this sprightly album, full of melody and bop and crunchy guitar. Reminds me a lot of Steve Miller -- which reminds me, I've been meaning to do a Steve Miller for a few days now...

9. "Love Is An Outlaw" / Tom Gallagher
From Age of the Wheel (unreleased)
Talk about talented friends from the Ray forum -- Tom Gallagher was one of the great undiscovered rockers. I was lucky enough to get a copy of Tom's magnificent unreleased album shortly before his untimely death in 2007. This track really shows off his lazy drawling vocals and his plangent guitar work. Peace on you, Tom.

10. "I Believed You" / The Kinks (then called the Ravens)
From The Kinks (1964)
Inevitably, it all comes back to the Kinks. This early unreleased Ray Davies demo -- Beatle-sweet and teen-pop perky -- was appended as an extra track on the reissue of this debut Kinks album. Slight, yes, derivative, yes -- but Ray Davies' songwriting talent was clearly already in gear.

Well, I'm on to "Have A Cuppa Tea" from Muswell Hillbillies -- the official shuffle stops here, but if I'm on a Kinks roll, I'm not turning off my computer!

WEDNESDAY SHUFFLE

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll get back to Philly Soul Week. Later today, in fact. But I enjoy these Wednesday spins around my iTunes too much to skip it...

1. "Blackbird" / The Beatles
From the White Album (1968)
Paul McCartney, an acoustic guitar, and the tapping toe of a Spanish boot. (At least that's how I imagine that beat -- I read somewhere it was a metronome, but I don't care, I still picture Paul's boot tapping away.) That insanely beautiful melody never needed anything more. We all know it's a civil rights metaphor, possibly Paul's response to the King assassination, but somehow it rises above being a mere protest song. I always forget about the bird chirps and whistles in the middle eight; they're like a glorious surprise, nature bursting into the song, every time.

2. "Goodbye Nashville, Hello Camden Town" / Chilli Willi and the Red Hot Peppers
From Bongos Over Balham (1974)
Lovely little pub rocker, banjos and all. Chilli Willi was one of the funnest bands playing their scruffy brand of country rock in the pubs of London -- a geographic irony not lost on this band, as this song's title suggests. They didn't last long (two years, two LPs), but then neither did pub rock. Footnote: Their manager was Jake Riviera, soon to found Stiff Records, and their drummer was Pete Thomas, who'd soon join Elvis Costello's Attractions. Small world.

3. "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" / Vampire Weekend
From Vampire Weekend (2008)
How to dance to an Afro-Pop beat while wearing Topsiders and J. Crew. (What's that line about "It feels so unnatural, Peter Gabriel too"? Peter Gabriel doesn't feel THAT unnatural.) Brisk, bright, and totally irresistible.

4. "Magdalene" / Guy Clark
From Workbench Songs (2006)
That sweet spot between folk and country-western pretty much belongs to Mr. Guy Clark. A story, of course -- there's always a story in Guy Clark songs -- he's sneaking out in the dead of night with his lover, probably a married woman, skipping town before they get caught, escaping their suffocating small town. "Don't forget your passport, Magdalene," he murmurs huskily just before the fadeout. Achingly tender, with a loping gait and just enough twang -- oh, I sure do love Guy Clark.

5. "Slave Chain" / The Fortunate Sons
From The Fortunate Sons (2008)
From Scotland? You gotta be kidding me! This debut album by a youthful crew from Glasgow totally has the Delta sound down -- it's almost eerie. Don't get them mixed up with the Creedence revival band of the same name; these kids write their own stuff, and it's gooooood. This song reminds me of Sam Cooke's "Chain Gang" (dig the clanks and lugubrious hums of the intro), though here it's a a metaphor for being trapped in a demanding love affair. A great tripping guitar line, some sweet fiddle, and a wailing lead singer with a killer falsetto.

6. "How Deep Is the Red" / Elvis Costello
From Secret, Profane, and Sugarcane (2009)
Elvis does the Depression-era blues.

7. "Scum of the Earth" / The Kinks
From Preservation Act 2 (1974)
The apex of Ray Davies' theatrical period...

8. "Modern Love" / David Bowie
From Let's Dance (1983)
And speaking of theatrical . . .

9. "Like A Freight Train" / John Hiatt
From The Open Road (2010)
Back to faux-vintage blues, apparently the Shuffle Theme of the Day. Here it's updated with wry humor by my fellow Hoosier John Hiatt. "I used to roll through here like a freight train / But my wheel's come off..." It's Hiatt's strategy for aging, with a sardonic chuckle and a mean riff.

10. "Spy Vs Spy" / Dr. Feelgood
From Classic (1987)
"I'm checking on you, you're checking on me / The moment we walk out the door..." Dr. Feelgood's last Stiff album, full of R&B wail and punk snarl, featured several tracks co-written by their former producer Will Birch (Kursaal Flyers, the Records). A scathing portrait of a poisoned relationship, but with a damn snappy beat.

“(I Wanna) Make Love To You” / Dr. Feelgood

28 DAYS OF LOVE SONGS

There’s a fine line between love and lust – well, sometimes, at least. Our last few numbers were all about guys on the make, randy and ready for action; in this Dr. Feelgood number, the singer has a specific target for his affection. But is he seeking respect and understanding, like Ricky Nelson was? Nope. He’s got one thing on his mind, and one thing only: “I wanna make love to you.”

On all levels, this is a seduction song – but man, it works. Dr. Feelgood’s lead singer Lee Brilleaux had one of the dirtiest voices in rock and roll, no question, and despite the slicker sound of this mid-80 Stiff-era track, nothing can take off that raunchy edge. He’s set front and center against a lasciviously slow tempo, with whacking drums, a sighing organ, and whiplashes of guitar. The key is faintly minor, and touches of echo effects lend a lonesome nighttime quality. This isn’t the plea of a confident ladies’ man -- he sounds slightly hoarse with desperation, but hey, I think that makes it more seductive, not less. Naked hunger is so much more arousing than an arrogant command. After all, it’s so lovely to be wanted.

There’s not much melody to this song, really – it’s almost like a talking blues. You can hardly distinguish the verse from the bridge, except that the latter shoots off a few higher notes, like uncontrollable squirms of desire. The lyrics, what few lyrics there are, follow your basic romantic pop conventions, with stuff like “How could I explain / This feeling that's true” or “When the stars fall from the heavens / And the rivers have stopped to flow.” Apparently they’re not a couple, at least not yet, so he plays the old self-pity card in verse three: “I ain't gonna try and tell ya / How it's made me so blue / Sitting alone and wondering.” But whatever he says, it always leads back to his obsessive mantra: “I wanna make love to you.”

That’s the main hook, the soul and substance of this song in a nutshell, and they sure do get their money’s worth out of it. It starts low, with a tender raspy growl on “I wanna”, surges hopefully upward on “make,” then gradually slip-slides downward on “love to you.” I count eighteen times he sings this phrase; by the end he’s just repeating it over and over. You know he’s not gonna shut up until you give in, girl. And really, the more you’re sucked into the vortex of Brilleaux’s wheedling, sensual vocals, abstinence begins to seem absurdly overrated.

(I Wanna) Make Love To You sample

PUB ROCK WEEK

“I Love You So You’re Mine” / Dr. Feelgood

There was nothing country about Dr. Feelgood—just a super-charged R&B intensity that must have torn down the house at every performance. They qualified as pub rockers because they played the same venues, but trading in plaid shirts for mortician-like black suits and skinny ties, they definitely moved the scene into a new direction.

Feelgoods frontman Lee Brilleaux apparently had a riveting stage presence; I only wish I could have seen him (sadly, he died of lymphoma in 1994, only 41 years old). His voice had a dangerous rasp and snarl to it, and his material played into that, dwelling on the darker side of human emotions – jealousy, possessiveness, suspicion, revenge, the really juicy stuff. The main character in “I Love You So You’re Mine” is a compulsive egotist and misogynist, and Brilleaux plays him with zest.

There’s a great vein of dramatic irony running through this song: This guy is so determined to get his girl, he refuses to recognize that she may feel differently. I’d love to hear her side of things, but all we get is his bullheaded certainty. “Well honey I ain’t buying what it is you’re trying to sell,” he insists, “Cause when I look into your eyes now, I can see just how you feel / Forget about the lies now, Cause I know our love is real.”

I suspect those "lies" he's talking about may have something to do with the fact that she's interested in somebody else, damn it. Yet he chafes against having to stand in line, and he gets more and more flagrant with every verse: “One and one is two now, / There ain’t no room for any more / I don’t wanna make you blue now, / I’m about to lock your door.” This isn’t pleading or begging; it’s coercion. A threat of physical violence is right under the surface, underscored with a menacing harmonica and scolding guitar line (not to mention the smack-around drumbeat.)

And yet, round about verse three, his insistence actually begins to be a little intoxicating: “So what’s all this I’m hearing / About the way it’s gonna be? / Cause when the dust is clearing, / There’s only you, there’s only me.” There's something pulsing and immediate about that image; my defenses begin to crumble. "You better get it right now / Get your feet back on the ground/ I’m taking you tonight now, / You know I don’t mess around.” Well, all's I'm saying is, you can see how a girl might give in in the end.

Granted, this Feelgoods track comes from much later in their career, in the mid-80s. Unlike the earlier pub rock bands, Dr. Feelgood landed a major label deal and continued to tour in various incarnations until Brilleaux’s death. But while the later albums may have layered in a horn section or two, the sound stayed essentially the same – visceral, adrenaline-charged R&B with a cynical view of the war between the sexes. The sound may have been vintage but the sensibility put a whole new neurotic spin on things. Could New Wave be far behind?

I Love You So You're Mine sample

"Don't Wait Up" / Dr. Feelgood

Another band I wish I'd seen back in the day -- word has it that Lee Brilleaux's live performances were riveting. His slightly husky, supple voice has plenty of shivers and growls in it; something about it reminds me of a less laidback Huey Lewis (I always had a fangirl crush on Huey Lewis). Photos I see of Dr. Feelgood in performance -- all dressed in suits, like the Blues Brothers' British cousins -- make it look like they rocked long and hard every night. If their studio recordings have this much visceral energy, I can only imagine what the adrenaline of being on stage did to them.

"Don't Wait Up" was a 1986 single that didn't do much on the UK charts (and certainly did not do any better across the ocean). I guess Dr. Feelgood fans felt disappointed because it's not like the band's usual propulsively uptempo tracks -- but I find it haunting and irresistible. The minor key, the echoey double-tracked vocals, the prowling offbeat rhythms, all build an apprehensive mood, like a coiled snake ready to strike. Basic premise: The singer's telling his wife/girlfriend not to wait up for him -- "There's someone I gotta meet," he says with casual, but deliberate, malice. "I've got the keys to the door," he informs her, "and you've got the keys to . . . the street." Now there's a punch line that really packs a punch (more like a dagger to the ribs).

"I may be gone for quite some time / But I will return," he begins -- fair enough. But then he goes on, coolly, "Where I'm going, what I'm doing / That is my concern." Excuu-uuse me. And if she needs an explanation, he's happy to supply one: "I'm just getting even / If you've been keeping score" -- and you just KNOW she has been. In the next verse, he reminds her that she put a detective on his tail to find out "who I'm seeing / IF I'm seeing anyone at all." These people have obvious trust issues, in psychobabble terms, and now he's deliberately keeping her in suspense, knowing that that's more agonizing than anything else. But before we rake this guy over the coals for tormenting her, check out the end of the verse: "I've had my share of waiting / Staring at the wall." So she's been fooling around too, and turnabout is fair play . . . isn't it?

The hypnotic repeated organ and guitar riffs give me a feeling that these people aren't just cheating on each other -- they're still tangled up in jealousy and revenge, still focused more on each other than on whatever new partners they've found. It's a dance, and an ugly one all right. Brilleaux's vocal has enough weariness and hurt and hostility to put this all across, and more.

This song was co-written by ex-Kursaal Flyer Will Birch, the producer on their first Stiff album (who also wrote the definitive book about pub rock, No Sleep Till Canvey Island, which I've finally acquired and can't wait to read). Another song Birch co-wrote for Dr. Feelgood, "Spy Vs. Spy," is also about a relationship full of suspicion and recriminations -- you've got to wonder how autobiographical this is. Some songs just have that jolt of hard-lived experience to them. I can imagine hearing this song sung, for a change of pace, late in the set in a smoky club -- and feeling suddenly, starkly, alone. And pissed-off. And ready to DO something about it.

Don't Wait Up sample.