The Enigma of CD87: Part 6

Here we go with the final four songs from my in-car CD #87. The purpose of these CDs has always been to introduce my son to as a wide a variety of pop music as possible, not to steer him down any particular musical road or inculcate tribalism, which I’ve always believed to be a Very Bad Thing when it comes to musical appreciation.

Track 19: Vampire Weekend - A-Punk

Way, way back in the first decade of this disappointing millennium, Vampire Weekend were the Next Big Thing for all of three weeks or so. That said, this appears to be the average duration of Next-Big-Thingness in a world that constantly craves something NEW and rapidly loses interest in any artist with more than a couple of albums under their belt. 

A-Punk is the second single from VW’s eponymous debut album, and it’s a perfect example of their early “Paul Simon meets Talking Heads” sound. Or, as iffypedia puts it, “they bonded over a shared love of punk rock and African music”… so the Paul Simon bit is actually Graceland-era Simon, where he was nicking all his rhythms (and more) from South Africa. Of course, there’s a whole political / cultural appropriation argument to be heard when anybody brings up Graceland, but it was and still is one of my favourite albums of all time, so I’m not opening that can of worms here… other than to say that it was nice to hear a New York indie band doing something in the same style. That’s what drew me to Vampire Weekend more than anything.

The lyrics here are barked out at such speed that I’ve never stopped to ponder what the song is actually about, but there’s a rather confused examination to be had on Genius if you’re into that sort of thing. The closest thing A-Punk has to a chorus is the repeated line, “Look outside at the raincoats coming, say: Oh-oh-oh-oh”, which the Genius interpreter suggests might be a reference to “the redcoats are coming” (i.e. British soldiers in the American revolutionary war) or The Raincoats (the British postpunk band, one of the band’s musical reference points). Or it could just be that the song involves a character driving slowly into New York on a snowy day, and so everyone she sees is wearing a raincoat. Is that too literal?

Track 20: Them - Gloria

“G-L-O-R-I-A”, sings Van The Man, in a song he wrote when he was 18, back in 1963, and it was only a B-side… but it still went on to become one of the most famous songs in the history of rock. The Shadows of Night had a bigger hit with it, but they didn’t sound like they were making it up as they went along like Van did (especially live, where this 2 ½ minute pop song was often stretched to 20 minutes of pure madness).  And that was long before Patti Smith got a hold of it and really blew the doors off.

I’ve never seen the early promo video Them recorded for Gloria before… but watching it now, I'm surprised to find subliminal cuts of a donkey popping up every now and then. The interweb tells me that these were added after a music critic said that Van’s voice sounded like his neighbour’s ass… which only goes to prove that The (Grumpy Old) Man must have had a sense of humour once, even if it seems to have long since deserted him.

Track 21: The Clint Boon Experience - Comet Theme Number One

I was rather obsessed with The Clint Boon Experience back in the late 90s. Clint’s organ may well be the greatest thing to ever come out of the Madchester scene, and by all accounts he was a much nicer guy than the likes of Ian Brown or Shaun Ryder. (I was listening to Guy Garvey on 6Music a couple of weeks back and he told a story about how Elbow wanted to record their first album in France, but they couldn’t afford flights, so Clint Boon drove them all there in his van… then came back and collected them when the sessions were over). 

I probably like the Clint Boon Experience even more than I like the Inspiral Carpets, partly for their DIY aesthetic, and partly because I was more ready for this kind of music in 1998 than I was ten years earlier. Comet Theme Number One was one of a string of catchy singles Clint and co. released towards the end of the last century. None of them were hits, but they all were in this house. CT#1 is also one of a couple of Clint Boon records to feature guest vocals by “Opera Dude” – better known these days as acclaimed singer Alfie Boe. 

Track 22: John Waite – Missing You

Let’s finish this CD with a classic, shall we? (How many of you just spit out your tea? I claim a point for each ruined shirt-front.)

I was 12 when Missing You was on the radio, so obviously I loved it. Here was a big rock ballad in the “methinks he doth protest too much” vein, a sub-section of songwriting that always appealed to me because as a young man I was often laughing loud and hearty while deep inside, I was blue. I was also regularly infatuated with girls who didn’t even know I existed, and there’s definitely a sense of that in this song. 

John Waite hailed from Lancaster but made more of a name for himself in the US, first as lead singer of The Babys with two Billboard Top Twenty hits in the late 70s. Missing You was his only UK solo hit, and even then it only scraped into the Top Ten, unlike the States where it knocked Tina Turner off the top spot. Waite later reunited with some of his Babys pals to form Bad English… which makes me wonder if he was casting aspersions at the UK record buying public? I’m sure he made more money in the States than he ever could have back home. 

The video, which I've somehow reached the age of 54 without ever seeing before (we never had MTV when I was a kid) deepens my nostalgia. It feels like an episode of a soft focus US TV drama, and there's an amusing moment where the girlfriend John is stalking (there were a lot of stalking-based pop videos in the 80s) opens the door into his face and appears to break his nose. There's also a bit where a larger lady tries to chat him up in a bar, but obviously he's having none of that. And to top it off, he smashes up a payphone too. Kids these days, they wouldn't even know what a payphone was.

That's it for CD87... but I'll be back soon to examine another of your random selections.

The Enigma of CD87: Part #5

More tracks from the 87th in-car CD compilation I made for my son, Sam, in order to introduce him to as  wide a variety of old pop music as possible in his formative years, before I lost him to Young Boy With A Broken Neck et al.

Track 15: The White Stripes – The Hardest Button To Button

Watching this video, which uses stop-motion to make Meg White play an endless line of drums – a new one appears after every beat – I started to wonder what had happened to Meg once the band broke up and Jack ploughed on with his solo career.

Remember how back in the day, there was a big mystery over whether Meg and Jack were brother and sister or husband and wife? I’m not sure they’d be able to maintain that level of mystique in this day and age. It finally transpired they had been married in the early days of the band’s career, but divorced before their breakthrough in 2001, staying together for the music. Jack’s only called White because he took Meg’s surname when they married… his real name is Jack Gillis. (Neither Louise or I changed our names when we tied the knot last week, in case you were wondering.)

The White Stripes broke up in 2011, not through any major disagreement, but purely to preserve their legacy… and maybe because Meg had had enough. She hated the limelight, was always a very shy person, and suffered from both acute anxiety and low self-esteem. It’s a miracle she was able to get up on stage for as long as she did, and I hope she’s found some peace and prefers her life as it is now. It’s kind of incredible that she’s considered one of the best drummers of her era, yet she only learned to play when she first met Jack in 1997.

Track 16: Billy Joel - You May Be Right

This would normally be the point where I get all defensive and start trying to justify my love of Billy Joel… but sod it, if I’m not bored with all that by now. Listen without prejudice, as I’m trying to teach my son to do, or be damned. I ain’t changing my position.

You May Be Right was a Top Ten hit in the US and Canada but didn’t chart at all in the UK. It’s from the 1980 album Glass Houses, and the single that everyone remembers from that one is It's Still Rock and Roll to Me, but there’s plenty more great songs. I’m not sure when my Billy Joel obsession began, but I bought all his albums on CD (though I’m pretty sure I had Storm Front and Greatest Hits on vinyl, so that suggests it was 88/89, probably not long before I got my first CD player).

I’m part-way through watching a Billy Joel documentary that came out recently, and it’s refreshing to see so many people discuss his work with respect. Almost makes me feel justified. Then I checked out a couple of the sniffy reviews for Glass Houses that are referenced on iffypedia, and I could feel my hackles starting to rise again. The Rolling Stone critic at the time remarked, “Billy Joel writes smooth and cunning melodies, and what many of his defenders say is true: his material's catchy. But then, so's the flu.” Way to turn a positive into a negative, you dick. Meanwhile, self-confessed muso-snob Robert Thomas Christgau bleats, “it's all rock and roll to [Billy], but to me it's closer to what pop meant before ironists and aesthetes, including yours truly, appropriated the term. Closer than any skinny-tie bands, that's for sure: gregarious, shameless, and above all profitable. Of course, if it doesn't make up in reach what it lacks in edge, ironists and aesthetes needn't notice it's there.” Careful there, Bobby, you almost said something nice, but I think you managed to pull it back at the end by reminding us that you’re above this sort of thing, so we probably should be too. God, I hate music critics. Or, to quote Billy himself…

You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for

I know I certainly was, but unlike some people - Robert Thomas Christgau - I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Track 17: The Fountains Of Wayne - It Must Be Summer

Another artist that fills me with unashamed joy whenever I hear them, New York power-pop heroes The Fountains of Wayne, named after a garden furniture store in New Jersey that sadly closed in 2009…

 

That joy is tempered with sadness though, since half the band’s driving creative force, Adam Schlesinger, died of COVID-related unhappiness a few years back.

It Must Be Summer is taken from the band’s second album, Utopia Parkway from 1999. It’s the perfect summer anthem – sunshine mixed with sadness – and if it’s a little power-pop-by-numbers in the tune department, well, we can forgive that because power pop is ace.

Oh, and remember what I was saying about music critics? I only hate them if I disagree with them. Here’s a quote from the Entertainment Weekly review of 1999: “Oasis would give up a week's worth of pints for any one of these pop hooks, though they'd never manage the humour or warmth.” That’ll do, pig.

 

Track 18: John Lee Hooker - Boom Boom

I probably don't need to tell you anything about Boom Boom, other than it was written after something a bartender kept saying to John Lee Hooker when he was consistently late for a gig.

Being a child of the 70s/80s, my first thought whenever I hear this is... of course... Basil Brush. Boom Boom, Mr. Rodney / Mr. Derek / Mr. Roy / Mr. Howard / Mr. Billy*.

(*Delete as appropriate, depending on your age.)

The Enigma of CD #87: Part 4

More tracks from another randomly chosen CD compilation. The purpose of these CDs wasn't to show off my cool (ha!), eclectic tastes... it was just to expose my son to a wide a variety of old pop music as possible in his formative years, before I lost him to spotle-fy.

Track 11: The Fratellis - Chelsea Dagger

Confession time: I find The Fratellis a bit annoying. And most of the time, I find Chelsea Dagger, their biggest hit, very annoying. Actually, I’m not sure I can remember any of their other songs, but this one… it’s hard to get away from. Because of the yobbish terrace anthem chorus which, the more I hear it, the more I can’t help but think, “Knees up, Mother Brown!”

I was therefore surprised to discover that the Fratellis are, to quote George, Weegies. I would have sworn they were Landahners, like the Libertines who they clearly owe a sizable debt to. I also didn’t know that they took their band name from The Goonies. Clearly I need to watch The Goonies again. I did know that they called their debut record Costello Music, but apparently that has nothing to do with Elvis, it’s just the name of an old studio they used to rehearse in.

Why are they here if I don’t care for them that much? I guess because I thought this would be the kind of easy-to-singalong indie gubbins that might stick in Sam’s head and persuade him that guitar music was the way forward rather than Juice WRLD, Imaginary Dragons and Youngboy With A Broken Neck.

All those efforts were ultimately in vain…

 

12: Fine Young Cannibals - Good Thing

Is it better to burn out than fade away? The Fine Young Cannibals burned very brightly in the late 80s, and they were a band I had a lot of time for while I was otherwise falling out of love with the singles chart. Turns out that Roland Gift and his two mates – Andy Cox and Davis Steele, both formerly of The Beat – had even greater success in the US where both this song and its predecessor, She Drives Me Crazy, were Billboard Number Ones.

And then, by 1992 it was all over. Two albums, a clutch of hit singles, then the pressure of fame, musical differences, the same old story. Maybe it’s better they went out on top rather than the slow decline that kills so many bands.

 

13: The Clash - London Calling

Some of you will be wondering how I could do 87 CDs before getting to The Clash’s best song. 

The Clash are a harder sell than The Jam or The Undertones – maybe they’re a more mature proposition? Or maybe they just didn’t have tunes that were quite as catchy? Should I Stay… and the Bobby Fuller Four cover (originally recorded by a post-Buddy Crickets) had already featured by the time I got to this one, but after that there was a long gap and I’ve only recently started adding less obvious Clash songs to Sam’s compilations… long after I pretty much exhausted the early Weller output.

Or, to put it another way, London Calling is a far, far better song than Chelsea Dagger. But I bet if you played them both to the average eight year old and asked them which they prefer, Joe and Mick would be going home with second prize.

 

14: Dobie Gray - The In Crowd

I wonder if I included this one as a subtle hint at a moral message? “Don’t worry about getting in with The In Crowd, son. Just find people who accept you as you are.” That’s a lesson I’m still trying to learn as my regular carping about not being one of the cool kids on the blogosphere will clearly show.

Dobie Gray, of course, wants to be part of The In Crowd… so actually, the message is the opposite of the one I’d like Sam to learn. Did Dobie ever get to be part of that auspicious group himself? Well, he came from nowhere, born to Texas sharecroppers – there’s even a question over his real name… was it Lawrence Darrow Brown or Leonard Victor Ainsworth? He then achieved a fair bit of success over a fair few years… most notably with the song Drift Away, a hit both in 1973 and again in 2003 when it was covered by country-rap-rock dude Uncle Kracker* who took it back into the US Top 10, with Dobie on guest vocals.

(*I was unfamiliar with Uncle Kracker until today. He looks like that kid you went to school with who started working in McDonalds in the Sixth Form... and he's still working there.)

When he died in 2011, Dobie left 100% of his musical assets and royalties to charity. Surely that qualifies him for membership of a very select group, even better than The In Crowd?

The Enigma of CD87: Part 3

Continuing the trawl through another of the randomly selected (by Martin) in-car CDs I created to ensure my song had a decent knowledge of popular music before he got too old to listen to his Dad's crap...

Track 8: The Lemonheads - Alison's Starting To Happen

Over at No Badger Required, the esteemed gentleman known as SWC has been counting down Rock’s Greatest artists beginning with the letter E. All his blogging chums were asked to vote, and naturally a lot of my own choices fell by the wayside (I didn’t expect the Eagles to make it into the Top 20, but I was generally wounded by one voter's opinion that ELO were "the worst band in the world… apart from Queen"). Still, such is the nature of democracy… which goes a long way towards explaining why Donald Trump has been elected President of the USA twice, while Bruce Springsteen hasn’t even been nominated. Whenever SWC asks for my votes, I always feel unworthy of giving them, like I’m being invited to play for the school football team only so that the jocks can have a good laugh at my expense. But enough of my insecurities… what does all this have to do with the Lemonheads?

Well, Mr. L-Head himself, Evan Dando, got enough votes to make #12 on the list, though I doubt that was for his one solo album, Baby I’m Bored, released in 2003… chances are it had far more to do with his band. Sadly, his high ranking in the list arrived shortly after a sordid news report revealed that Evan had been checked into a mental health hospital following sexually inappropriate behaviour via video messaging. In light of that, SWC took the decision to suspend any celebration of Mr. Dando’s work… and while I understand that completely… for the benefit of this feature, art will always be separate from artists. Which I’ll remind you all when the Manchester Miserabilist makes an inevitable appearance at some point in the future.

Alison’s Starting To Happen was one of many stand-out tracks on the Lemonheads’ breakthrough album, It’s A Shame About Ray, released in 1992. I played that CD till the paint wore off back in the day, and I’ll still be playing it even if they never let Evan out of the nuthouse. (As someone who works in the field of mental health, I feel qualified to use that term in ironic fashion without any offence being intended.) If you’d asked me before today, I’d have told you that Alison… was the lead single. Pff – shows what I know. It was never released as a single. Well, it should have been.

 

Track 9: Lobo - Me & You & A Dog Named Boo

When evaluating these CDs, you must keep in mind that my aim was to engage a youngster. Although I’ve kept a spreadsheet (Alyson will be proud) of the track-list of every CD I’ve created (to prevent repetition), it doesn’t contain the date I brought them into the world. I’m guessing Sam would have been about 8 or 9 when I made this one, so a song called Me & You & A Dog Named Boo would surely appeal? I wonder if it coincided with us getting our own dog, Bertie? Possibly not, CD87 probably came first.

Lobo’s real name was Roland Kent LaVoie and he started out in a band called The Rumours, playing alongside Gram Parsons and Jim ‘Spiders & Snakes’ Stafford. He also played in bands called US Male, The Uglies, and the Other Guys… all of which I’ve added to my Namesakes to-do list. He enjoyed a fair bit of success in the early 70s on both sides of the pond, and although that faded as the 80s approached, he would later become inexplicably popular in Asia, so I guess the bills were still paid.

 

Track 10: Dave Berry - Little Things

I’ve no idea why I included this one – it’s not really a favourite, and pretty forgotten when it comes to 60s hits. It’s a jaunty enough little number, raised above the average for me by the “You know…” refrain. But there are far better songs on CD 175, which I’m just putting the finishing touches to. Maybe I’d heard it on the radio at the time or something.

Dave Berry came from Sheffield, and had a short run of hits in the mid-60s, starting with a cover of Chuck Berry’s Memphis, Tennessee… which was the only time that song ever made it into the UK charts. Frankly, that’s scandalous because the Chuck Berry version should have been Number One for a year.

Little Things was one of Dave’s three biggest hits – the other two being The Crying Game and Mama. They all reached #5. Bobby Goldsboro wrote and recorded the original Little Things, a Top 20 hit in the States the same year Dave took it into the UK Top Ten.

Dave was no relation to Chuck, Mike or Nick. Actually, his real name was David Holgate Grundy, but as far as I can tell he’s not related to Bill or Solomon either. Iffypedia tells me that whenever he appeared on TV, he attempted to perform with his face hidden, “to stay behind something and not come out" – his upturned collar and the microphone stand are mentioned as props used to achieve this unlikely end. 

He also runs an antique shop. Or he did. He's 87 now, so hopefully taking it easy.

Track 11: The Kinks – Apeman

I don’t think the mix is particularly great on this CD – after a solid run of 80s and 90s tunes, there’s a big chunk of older songs in the middle. I normally prefer to jump between the eras a bit more… I wonder if this particular CD was a little rushed, with not enough attention paid to balance?

Anyway, you can’t go wrong with The Kinks, and Apeman is bound to appeal to kids with its silly, singalong chorus. Like a lot of Ray Davies’ more offbeat hits, it seems throwaway at first, but its message is more profound than you expect… and just as relevant today as it was back then.

I think I'm so educated and I'm so civilized
'Cause I'm a strict vegetarian
But with the over-population and inflation and starvation
And the crazy politicians
I don't feel safe in this world no more
I don't want to die in a nuclear war
I want to sail away to a distant shore and make like an apeman

Apeman was the follow-up single to Lola in 1970, and it appeared on the 8^th Kinks album, Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One, which is surely in the upper echelon of album titles.

In 2018, the Daily Torygraph apparently judged it the second greatest Kinks song, with one proviso: “Although the reggae-infused piano on the track is still delicious more than 40 years later, the combination of Ray Davies's faux-Caribbean accent and his 'apeman' references are not exactly politically correct these days.” Any thoughts on that from the Cancel Culture Club Committee?

Not sure how the fur coats from the video would be received these days either...

The Enigma of CD87: Part 2

Ah, the euphoria that greeted the first three tracks on this CD… “great opening”, “cracking triumvirate”, “[setting] the bar high for the rest of the CD”, said the gathered cognoscenti.

But anyone who knows anything about my dubiously higgledy piggledy taste in music will know that such glory cannot last. To thine own self be true, Rol.

 

Track 4: Van Halen - Why Can't This Be Love?

I have a particular fondness for American rock of the 80s because I grew up without anyone cool to tell me differently. The only muso I knew as a teenager tried his best to get me into The Smiths (who I rejected at the time because their singer was “a miserable bastard”) and New Order, of whom much has been written previously. But he also liked Queen, so I’m sure some of you would have had him tarred and feathered if he’d been in your class.

I never really hung out with any discerning Peel or NME acolytes, so there was nobody to tell me that it wasn’t dope, drip or rizz to adore the work of Billy Joel, Hall & Oates or even the hair metal crew. It was only when I joined the blogosphere that I truly became aware of the tribalistic prejudices that damned me forever after. But as we all know, first loves never die when it comes to pop music, the songs of our youth never grow old… which brings us to Van Halen.

The Man In The Street (UK version) will doubtless only be able to name one Van Halen song – the MTV juggernaut that Roddy Frame triumphantly turned into a suicide ballad. The band may as well be a one hit wonder in Britain – unlike the US, where they were semi-regular visitors to the Top 40 between 1978 and 1995. Yet Why Can't This Be Love? is their second biggest hit, and it was a Top Ten smash on both sides of the Atlantic. It also marked a big change for the band – David Lee Roth had gone off to become a solo star and do more cocaine, only to be replaced by Sammy Hagar, originally from 70s band Montrose, and also a successful solo artist in the early 80s. I think you have to be a true rock aficionado to spot the difference. People in the know seem to class Sammy as the better singer, but Diamond Dave is often considered the better front man. There’s an argument that the difference is immaterial because neither gets their name on the tin – this was always Eddie Van Halen’s band anyway.

Eddie died of cancer in 2020 and everyone agreed there could be no Van Halen without him. Although there have since been some disturbing rumours that his brother Alex, the band’s long-term drummer,  has considered using AI “to duplicate the style of” Eddie’s guitar work… and also looked into the possibility of hiring Robert Plant as vocalist future Van Halen records. Don’t do it, Alex!

Track 5: Madness - Michael Caine

I won’t bore you again with the story about how I never liked Madness in Junior School because all the tough kids used to go around singing Baggy Trousers like it was a badge of honour… but at some point I must have decided the band were all right, and maybe it was this song that tipped me over.

Michael Caine is very different from the chirpy, knees up singalongs that had kept Madness firmly fixed in the Top Ten for almost five years when this was released in early ’84… and ironically, it marked their departure from that section of the charts until well into the 90s. It doesn’t even have Suggs on vocals – it was written and performed by top trumpet dude Chas Smash, and it tackles the thorny subject of IRA informants, using Michael Caine’s vocal samples as a subtle reminder of spy films like The Ipcress File. Caine initially refused to blow the bloody doors off on this track, until his daughter talked him into taking part. Makes me wonder how different the song would have sounded without his contributions.

Apparently Neil Tennant gave the single a good review in Smash Hits while Tony Parsons wrote in the NME, “They never sounded less like Madness and they never sounded so good.” Maybe that’s why this proved to be the song that thawed my Madness iceberg? Or maybe my arrival in High School had distanced me enough from the Junior School tough guys to listen without prejudice.

For many years, I thought Michael Caine also made frequent vocal contributions to another big hit of the 80s… but I later learned that those samples were James Fox instead. I’m sure you can guess the song.

 

Track 6: Love Unlimited - Walkin' In The Rain

Barry White’s first hit record, from the glorious year of 1972, when all was right with the world. Barry wrote and produced this, and appears towards the end... with the very definition of a phoned-in performance.

Walkin' In The Rain has all the right ingredients to make it a classic soul song - Supremesy chorus, a slowed down talky bit like the Shangri Las, moody sfx, the hint of sex, and flourishes of orchestral glory. Plus added Barry White... what's not to love?

 

Track 7: The Lightning Seeds - Ready Or Not

What a great singles band The Lightning Seeds were, eh? I sang their praises last year after seeing Ian Broudie & co. play at the local village hall. Following on from that, I tried listening to a couple of their old albums again… and I have to be honest, it seemed to these aging ears that there was a good bit of filler on them. But the singles….? Wow. They were the tipper-most, topper-most.

I could tell you more about this song, but then I discovered that an esteemed colleague had already given it a far better write up than I could ever attempt. Here’s JC with the full lowdown.

Oh, you make me feel alright

It's like the tipper-most, topper-most high

Oh it's you you you

Crack up your face and give us a smile

Cos tonight i just wanna be wild

The Enigma of CD87: Part 1

Thank you to everybody who chose a CD number for me to write about from the 174 I have created for our in-car entertainment since Sam was born. I will endeavour to look at each CD in turn, so we’ll start with Martin’s choice of CD87.

I’ve grown to enjoy this feature because it takes me back to the music blogging basics. And the randomness of it means I’ll write about things I might otherwise never get to comment on. I’ll try not to let the comments become too repetitive and find something interesting to say about all the songs that feature.

Let’s see how CD87 kicks off…

Track 1: Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers – Here Comes My Girl

Tom Petty crops up on these CDs with surprising frequency… or perhaps not surprising when you consider his songwriting philosophy of “"Don't bore us - get to the chorus!" Tom’s back catalogue of catchy FM rock songs are perfect for driving because they easily hook into the minds of casual listeners. But there’s a depth to his songwriting too, something that a lot of his peers can’t quite equal.

Here Comes My Girl was from the third Heartbreakers album, 1979’s Damn The Torpedoes, the one that really broke them in the US. Unlike the two singles that preceded it (Don’t Do Me Like That & Refugee), it didn’t crack the Top 40, but I guess it still racked up a lot of airplay at the time and kept the album in the public consciousness.

I like the fact that Petty talks / shouts the verses, then sings the chorus. It feels a bit bluesy in that – though iffypedia suggests he stole the idea from either Blondie or the Shangri-Las.

I didn’t get into Tom Petty until he released his first Greatest Hits compilation in 1993. Since then, he’s rarely been far from my speakers.

Track 2: The Manic Street Preachers - Australia

It might seem hard to believe now, but there was a time when the Manic Street Preachers were the biggest band in Britain. It started in '96 with the Everything Must Go album, which delivered four Top Ten hits in 1996. Australia was the last of these, but the fact that it still got to #7 in December (after 3rd single Kevin Carter only got to #9) shows that they were pretty much unstoppable back then. 

Of course, Oasis would soon eclipse them, but the fact that the Manics returned in '98 and went straight to Number One with the least radio-friendly track on the follow up (If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next) showed they weren't about to be cowed by the Manc knuckle-draggers.

Were the Manics Britpop? They appeared on the same compilations, but always seemed one step removed. They didn't specialise in kitchen sink dramas or 60s throwbacks like most of the Britpop gang. Instead, they combined 6th form poetry with Guns 'n' Roses riffs... doesn't sound too appealing when you put it like that, does it? But they made it work. 

Apparently Australia was written shortly after the disappearance of Richey Edwards. The lyrics express Nicky Wire's desire to get as far away from the pain that came from that as he possibly could. As always, James Dean Bradfield took those words and made them transcendent. That's the power of a good frontman, and James is one of the best.

Track 3: Lloyd Cole - Perfect Skin

Here Comes My Girl was the 12th Tom Petty song to make it onto one of these compilations. Australia was the 8th song by the Manics. By contrast, Perfect Skin was only the third Lloyd Cole song to feature... this despite the fact that Lloyd is one of my absolute favourite artists. I'm not making these CDs for myself though, and I knew Lloyd was going to be a hard sell for an under 10. There's some out there who would accuse Lloyd of writing the same 6th Form poetry the Manics do... but Lloyd is getting consistent As in his Literature mocks, Nicky Wire is happy with the occasional B. In contrast though, Lloyd isn't all about the big singalong pop hooks that the Manics manage to effortlessly weave into their singles, so it's hard to find the tunes for an audience that isn't going to obsess over the lyrics like I will. 

Perfect Skin was the first Lloyd Cole single to make the charts, back in 1984. He never set those charts afire, never got close to the Top Ten, because he never really tried to write a pop song. He was always too cool to bother trying any of that. Those of us who love him, love him for that. And maybe despite that. A reviewer in Record Mirror at the time of Perfect Skin's release wrote, "If Lou Reed had ever sung the lyrics to a spaghetti western, this would have been exactly how he'd have done it." Lloyd, on the other hand, admitted to being obsessed by 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' at the time, and the wordplay clearly owes a sizable debt to Mr. Zimmerman...

I choose my friends only far too well

I'm up on the pavement

They're all down in the cellar

With their government grants and my IQ

They brought me down to size

Academia blues

More of CD87 soon.