THE SMITHS on CHARLIE'S BUS (1984)

It's April 1984 and The Smiths appear on TV-AM's SPLAT riding something called Charlie's Bus. "Where are we going?" asks one of the many children on the bus. "We're all going mad," replies Morrissey. "I thought we were going to Kew Gardens," says the kid. No flies on that young lady.

Off they trot to Kew Gardens and who should turn up but Sandie Shaw to serenade them with "Jeanne", a song about graves and failure.

Thanks to @binkydawkins for sending in this gem.

OCTOBER PLAYLIST

1.  The Moontrekkers – “Night of the Vampire” (1961)

When North London kids The Raiders auditioned for Joe Meek he was less than impressed with 16 year old singer Rod Stewart. Duly dumped, the now instrumental band were rewarded by creeping into the Top 50 with their first single, complete with Meek screams and a ban from the BBC for being “unsuitable for people of a nervous disposition”.

2.  The Vontastics – “Lady Love” (1966)

Do The Vontastics really sing “She’s a man and I love her so” in the first twenty seconds of this Impressions-style 45? No matter how many times I listen (and it’s a lot) that’s what I always hear.

3.  MC5 – “Looking At You” (1968)

Completed in 2002 but prevented a full release by Wayne Kramer, David C. Thomas and Laurel Legler’s documentary film MC5: A True Testimonial sneaked its way onto YouTube last week. There’s so much to admire about the MC5: their attitude, style, politics, wilful anti-establishment stance but what comes across most vividly from the bountiful footage is what an untouchable force they were as a live act. The original single version of “Looking At You” is the best studio capture of their sound.

4.  Bob Seger System – “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” (1968)

Was sent this song the other day and told it had my name all over it. How right they were.  Foot stomping, hand clapping, organ propelled Detroit garage rock. Tamer than the MC5 but then what isn’t? 

5.  The Eddy Jacobs Exchange – “Pull My Coat” (1969)

Funky just isn’t a strong enough word for this tough JBs style bomb.

6.  Leon Thomas – “Bag’s Groove” (1970)

There’s nothing Leon likes more than to break out into a prolonged bout of scat singing. A couple of tracks on The Leon Thomas Album break the ten minute barrier so first ease yourself in gently with this more manageable three minutes of shoo-be-doo-be-doo-wop gibberish set to a swinging groove.

7.  Bob Dylan – “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue” (1970)

This previously unreleased take from the recent Another Self Portrait finds Bobby gently crooning and tinkering the ivories. The ten volumes of his Bootleg Series alone wipe the floor with everyone else.

8.  The Kinks – “Nobody’s Fool (Demo Version)” (1972)

Written by Ray Davies and used as the title music for the second series of TV drama Budgie, starring Adam Faith as the consistently unlucky charismatic rogue/unscrupulous bastard title character (“I’ve bleedin’ stood for it again, ain’t I?”). The telly version was released as a single by a studio concoction christened Cold Turkey (thought by many – incorrectly - to be The Kinks under alias). Ray’s demo can now be found on the new deluxe edition of Muswell Hillbillies.

9.  Robyn Hitchcock – “Brenda’s Iron Sledge” (1981)

I’m unfashionably late to the Hitchcock party but what a wonderful discovery Black Snake Diamond Role is. If you like Syd Barrett, fill your boots. 

10.  Morrissey and Siouxsie – “Interlude” (1994)

I usually hate the early chapters of autobiographies but Morrissey’s incredible purple prose, turn of phrase and eye for detail about growing up in dark and brutal Manchester in the 60s and 70s makes the first 100 pages of his the exception. 

PUT THE BOOK BACK ON THE SHELF: BOHEMIANS, BEATNIKS AND AN ED BANGER

Time to rest the ears and treat the eyes.

If I were in the process of writing my first novel I’d put my quill and ink back in the desk drawer, close the lid slowly, put the kettle on, and think of another way to make my mark after reading The Panopticon by Jenni Fagan. I’d already read Jenni’s poetry in Blackheath publications The Dead Queen of Bohemia and Urchin Belle so knew what to expect theme wise but the writing in The Panopticon is truly exceptional: economical, sharp and knowing.

Anais Hendricks is 15, her adoptive prostitute mum has been murdered, and has been sent into care at the Panopticon - ”a circular prison with cells so constructed the prisoners can be observed at all times” - after being accused of her latest misdemeanour (namely landing a policewoman in coma). Given time to dig beneath all the violence, drugs, sex, and teenage bolshiness – both administered and received – Anais is revealed as a savvy, intelligent young woman with dreams of living a quiet bohemian Parisian lifestyle. The story of her and her fellow “prisoners” is, to put it mildly, tough going (I can’t begin recount the list of horrors) but is dealt with even-handedly and compassionately. It’s a book that should be read by precisely the people who won’t touch it and who’d dismiss the likes of Anais. I, naturally, was rooting for her.     

Like young Hendricks, American writer Richard Brautigan also aggravated law enforcement agencies when he chucked a brick through a police station window back in ‘55. Although done with the intention of being arrested so he’d be fed, Brautigan got more than he bargained for when subsequently sent for twelve sessions of electroshock treatment. Jarvis Cocker presented a 30 minute documentary last week on Radio 4, Messy, Isn’t It? Brautigan shot himself in the head in 1984 and was not discovered until weeks later. Such a grisly death was at odds with the bright playful nature of his most famous work and it was great to hear admirers Holly and David from The Lovely Eggs sing his praises on the wireless. They’ll be pleased to see their man on the cover of the latest issue of Beat Scene magazine which includes an interview with William Hjortsberg, author of Jubilee Hitchhiker: The Life and Times of Richard Brautigan, a new book Beat Scene call “a monumental study, intense in detail, history leaping off the page.”

Brautigan always resented being referred to as a hippy writer after his success with Trout Fishing In America in 1967 and also fumed when A Confederate General From Big Sur linked him to the Beats. My favourite part of Beat Scene is the new book reviews which this issue includes Ring Of Bone by Lew Welch. Welch was inextricably linked to the San Franciscan branch of the Beat Generation through his association with poets Gary Synder and Philip Whalen and for Jack Kerouac’s portrayal of him as his hard-drinking buddy Dave Wain in my favourite Kerouac novel, Big Sur. Ring of Bone is a newly expanded edition that collects poems, songs and drawings and a new foreword by Synder. Welch was staying with Synder in 1971 when he took a revolver into a forest and was never seen again. It’s good to have Welch back in print and be able to add some flesh to the bones, so to speak.

One MonkeyPicks reader wrote my Beat posts were the equivalent of finding only toffees left in a tin of Quality Street – he’d eat them but only if there was no other choice. With that, and the misery above in mind, perhaps a new biography about The Smiths will cheer everyone up. They are still all alive after all. A Light That Never Goes Out: The Enduring Saga of The Smiths by Tony Fletcher is an exhaustive account of the band stretching the best part of 700 pages.  Such is the detail that it’s not until nearly page 200 that Marr knocks on Morrissey’s door looking for a lyricist. Within days they’d completed the classics “Suffer Little Children” and “The Hand That Rocks The Cradle”, which is the point I’m up to at the moment. Fletcher’s Keith Moon book Dear Boy showed what a thorough biographer he is and he’s superb here painting Manchester during the punk and post-punk era. I still find it incredible Morrissey joined Ed Banger and the Nosebleeds in 1978, a year after their “I Ain’t Been To No Music School” single. Morrissey and Marr were the song-writing perfect team, it’s almost impossible to find an unwanted Smiths track. Like dipping in the Quality Street tin and pulling out a caramel swirl every time.

The Panopticon by Jenni Fagan and A Light That Never Goes Out by Tony Fletcher are published by William Heinemann Ltd.

Ring of Bone by Lew Welch is published by City Lights.

Beat Scene is available here.

JANUARY PLAYLIST

Some favourites this month.

1. Henry “The Hipster” Gibson – “Who Put The Benzedrine In Mrs Murphy’s Ovaltine?” (1944)
Mrs Murphy liked a cup of Ovaltine at night to help her sleep, until one night somebody spiked it with Benzedrine. Things were never quite the same again.

2. Screaming Gospel Chordettes – “I Can’t Believe It” (1958)
The Screaming Gospel Chordettes hurtle along chasing an organ accompaniment and surveying the troubles, wars, bloodshed and even sputniks around them.

3. The Alan Bown Set – “Jeu De Massacre” (1967)
Write a bunch of songs for a soundtrack album and then stich them together to make a single instead. The result is suitably madcap not least for the playground gun-shot sounds.

4. The Lloyd Alexander Real Estate – “Watcha’ Gonna Do (When Your Baby Leaves You)” (1967)
Swinging club soul from the Far East: Hackney.

5. Grahame Bond – “Moving Towards The Light” (1968)
By 1968 Graham had taken an E and in his music was all sunshine and flowers, make love not war. His Love Is The Law album is hippy Age of Aquarius claptrap from start to finish yet curiously engaging.

6. Felt – “I Will Die With My Head In Flames” (1986)
Felt’s ten albums neatly straddle the whole of the 80s; not that I was listening. Now, I hear the past and the future in them.

7. Morrissey – “I’ve Changed My Plea To Guilty” (1991)
When the Queen famously accused Morrissey of not being able to sing in 1986 he replied “that’s nothing, you should hear me play piano”. Unbelievers may scoff at the very thought, but here Moz – just backed with a piano – gives the vocal of his life.

8. The Pink Mountaintops – “The Gayest of Sunbeams” (2009)
When I was at school I was accused of making up bands. Whaddya mean you’ve never heard of the Direct Hits? This looks like I’ve made up the band and the song title.

9. Lumerians – “Burning Mirror” (2010)
Hold on tightly, we’re going for a white-knuckle lysergic ride.

10. The Electric Stars – “Between The Streets and The Stars” (2012)
How you view The Electric Stars will depend almost entirely on how you view the Brit-Pop era. “Between The Streets and The Stars” may have got lost in the scrum back then but now it's so out of step it almost sounds subversive. The chorus has most definitely infiltrated my brain.

MOVEMBER SPAWNED A MONSTER

I’ve not done charity fundraising before. You'll never find me running a marathon or climbing three mountains before teatime but I reckon I can grow a dashing moustache during the month of November. Sorry, Movember.

So please support my David Crosby growing efforts and the 10,000 men who will die of prostate cancer and the more than 2,000 men who will be diagnosed with testicular cancer this year.

This all I’m gonna say. You didn’t come on here for the sound of me rattling my tin. If you wanna know more and/or feel like chucking in a few quid, the full details are at http://mobro.co/markraison.

Thank you. Here’s Morrissey...

MOZIPEDIA: THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MORRISSEY AND THE SMITHS by SIMON GODDARD

Start handing out the Music Book of the Year awards now. Simon Goddard, I hope you’ve a very large mantelpiece.

Over 600 entries across 532 pages cataloguing in exhaustive detail everything you’d ever need about Morrissey and Smiths songs, plus all the books, films, actors, singers, groups, records and anything else that has lit Mozza’s muse. All the significant people he has worked with, all the places of interest, all the odds and ends that paint the most comprehensive portrait you’ll find of the man. And he’s maybe not quite the man you think he is. Or perhaps he’s more men than you think he is.

Yes, he’s the vegetarian, flower smashing, hearing-aid modeling, James Dean worshipping, master of Wildean wit and withering putdown; he’s also a football watching, boxing following, beer swilling, ecstasy taking, listener of the Cockney Rejects.

Goddard’s pain staking research and the book’s attractive encyclopedic format offers more scope to cover beyond a bog-standard music biography and it does with glorious aplomb.

Mozipedia: The Encyclopedia of Morrissey and The Smiths by Simon Goddard is published by Ebury Press, priced £25.

MORRISSEY at BRIXTON ACADEMY

“A punctured bicycle, on a hillside desolate, will nature make a man of me yet?” I’m singing at the top of my voice. My best mate Jonny Wilks has his arms outstretched as we reel around the fountain. There’s no denying we’re mincing about. We’re walking home from school and it’s 1984.

“When in this charming car, this charming man.” A quarter of a century later and Morrissey is using the song to open his set. It doesn’t sound like mine and Jonny’s version, nor Morrissey and Marr’s. It’s like he’s joined a pub rock band on some beer crates at the back of the Swan and Bottle. Only louder. You’d think this song would kick things off big time yet the reaction is surprisingly lukewarm, not helped by the relatively obscure “Billy Budd” that follows it, nor “Black Cloud” one of the weaker tracks from the current Years of Refusal LP.

“How Soon Is Now” should be a winner, and you can dress it up with as many bangs on a giant gong as you want, but the band bludgeon all the friction and edginess out of it. Subtlety isn’t their strong point. I’d expect Smiths numbers to sound different but there’s “different” and there’s “a bit shite”. Dylan gigs are games of Name That Tune where he’s reworked, rearranged and rewritten songs with varying degrees of success. At their worst they’re interesting. Moz’s Smiths versions aren’t interesting, they’re simply bad versions. Other victims were “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others”, “Ask” and “Girlfriend In A Coma”. Maybe I’m being too precious about them but I was praying for the butchery to stop.

Some of the blame must go to the sound engineer. Morrissey was in good strong voice, crystal clear, but the rest, especially the guitars, were a stodgy mush. For forty quid a ticket it’s not asking too much to be able to distinguish one instrument from another. But why the need for three guitars anyway?

The new tracks from Years of Refusal fared better as they’re meaty, glam-punkish affairs to begin with, although none surpassed their recorded cousins. Moz, for his part, still can’t find a pair of jeans to fit properly; still possesses that gangly awkwardness a thousand years in the business hasn’t smoothed over; and is still weighed down by the sack of spuds he carries on his shoulder due to perceived ill treatment by the beastly British music press. “How many came to review our little show? None”. Later he whinges like a moaning ninny about a previous reviewer before introducing “The World Is Full of Crashing Bores”. Rather than reveling in outsider chic it came across as somewhat sad and pitiful, like Lenny Bruce and his persecution complex.

I’ll give credit for a thoughtful set list. It was far from a greatest hits – or even recent hits – collection (what constitutes a hit these days?) with curios thrown in the small pocket of diehards at the front, eager to touch the hem of his garment, probably appreciated more than the casual fan. “The Loop” was transformed from weedy skiffle into raucous rockabilly and was the surprise highlight until the one-song encore of “First Of The Gang To Die” lifted proceedings with a welcome spring in its step.

After 25 years of not wishing to spoil my nostalgic boyhood memories, it feels like I’ve killed the golden goose. I still love you Morrissey; only slightly less than I used to.