Rocks In The Attic #122: The Beatles - ‘Please Please Me’ (1963)

When I first listened to this, the debut album by The Beatles, I used to think it would have sounded pretty revolutionary at the time. In hindsight, you can hear that it’s still got one foot firmly planted in the 1950s. Dylan followed Please Please Me two months later with The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, and that’s like a futuristic text compared to the childlike nature of this album.

This album is notable for a few things. Firstly, the original compositions are attributed to ‘McCartney-Lennon’, not long before the decision was made to reverse the surnames. I heard a few years ago that McCartney was lobbying Yoko Ono to get the rest of their back catalogue changed back to this original song-writing credit. Thankfully it didn’t happen, and anyway, you never know if things like that are even true. I wouldn’t put it past McCartney to try something like this - he obviously waited until George Harrison died to release Let It Be...Naked - but you’d get the impression that after 40 or so years, he’d be content that his name comes last in 99% of their song-writing credits.

Secondly, the album was famously recorded in one day. I don’t really see that as being anything special though. This happens for a lot of bands - especially on their debut albums - and perhaps this should be a rite of passage for bands recording their first batch of songs.

In terms of their song choices though, I do think that there are a few mistakes. Their original songs really sound very good alongside some very odd covers, but maybe that was the intention. There were better covers recorded during the New Years Day 1962 Decca audition (available on Anthology 1), that would have fit better than some of the covers here, and are closer to the standard of covers they recorded on their second album.

Thirdly, Ringo Starr isn’t the only drummer on the album. He’d later be replaced by McCartney on the occasional track later in their career, but here he is replaced by session man Andy White on their prior single, Love Me Do / P.S. I Love You - both sides of which open the second side of the album. George Martin had expected them to turn up to the session with Pete Best (who had played on their first Parlophone session), had told Brian Epstein that he wouldn’t allow Best to play on another session and that he would supply the drummer next time. When The Beatles then arrived with their newly appointed drummer in tow, Ringo was relegated to tambourine. If nothing else, this story confirms that the band was right to fire Pete Best.

All in all, a very simple album that’s very hard not to like. Sometimes that simplicity turns me off, but I also think that’s where most of its charm comes from. The Beatles would produce works of much greater value and innovation, and it wouldn’t take them long.

Hit: Twist And Shout

Hidden Gem: Baby It’s You

Rocks In The Attic #121: John Lennon - ‘John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band’ (1970)

Although this album is starkly minimalist and deals with pain, anger and isolation, I find it to be a really chilled-out album. Of the four debut solo albums by the recently split Beatles in 1970, this is probably my favourite, closely followed by Ringo’s Sentimental Journey. McCartney’s debut is too childlike and home-made; and Harrison’s All Things Must Pass is too self-indulgent, warranting a lengthy amount of time to sit down and listen to it in full.

I can definitely imagine relaxing to this, with a joint, on its release - but like most people I would probably have been a little let down with its unBeatleness. All of the four albums are as removed from The Beatles as possible, with each member trying to escape from that shadow, but Lennon’s album sounds to me to be the furthest away.

Although McCartney’s album sounds like a hastily assembled bunch of demo recordings, Lennon’s album sounds more mature - and even though there is a very minimal arrangement and production, it doesn’t come off as sounding infantile like his former writing partner’s debut offering.

Hit: Working Class Hero

Hidden Gem: Look At Me

Rocks In The Attic #120: Queen - ‘Queen’ (1973)

It’s amusing that the liner notes on this album proudly declare that ‘...nobody played synthesizer’. Despite this claim, it’s sad that a band comprised of such good musicians depended on synths too much in the latter half of their career.

This album, their debut, relies on the heavy metal and progressive rock of their British contemporaries, without a promise of the songwriting genius that Freddie Mercury would become. Brian May is on top form though, machine-gunning riffs to sit between the album’s other highlight - Roger Taylor’s drumming.

Freddie Mercury is resigned to a pretty average vocalist on the album - albeit one with a good operatic range - but again, there’s no hint of what he would become. Although, there are some backing vocals that hint towards the layered harmonies that would later become the trademark Queen sound.

It seems as the band was far more concerned with style over substance at this point in their career - as a telling example, John Deacon is credited on the sleeve as Deacon John because the rest of the band thought it would make him sound more interesting.

The band must have seen something in Seven Seas Of Rhye - probably the strength of the great piano riff - as they include an early instrumental version of it as the last track on this album, before including a more fleshed-out version, including lyrics, as the final track on their second album.

Hit: Seven Seas Of Rhye (Instrumental)

Hidden Gem: Keep Yourself Alive

Rocks In The Attic #119: The White Stripes - ‘The White Stripes’ (1999)

This album, the debut by The White Stripes, is very garage-rock. More so than their slightly more polished and better recorded later albums. The overall sound isn’t that different though - swampy blues rock spelled out with just guitar and drums, underneath Jack’s squealing vocals.

Meg’s drumming seems a bit better on this album, avoiding the mistakes and bad timing that she employs on De Stijl - suggesting they either rehearsed this material a bit more, or that Meg was simply a bit more comfortable with her parts.

De Stijl was their first album I heard, so I’ve always listened to this in retrospect. It lacks the direction that De Stijl has, and like most debut albums it suffers from that feeling of ‘let’s just get everything recorded and worry about everything else later’.

Hit: Stop Breaking Down

Hidden Gem: Do

Rocks In The Attic #118: Flowers - ‘Icehouse’ (1980)

Australian synth-pop band Icehouse were originally called Flowers, for this, their debut release. They changed their name to the title of this album not long after, and they’re still called that today.

With a sound not too dissimilar to fellow New Wave bands like Martha & The Muffins, Devo and Flock of Seagulls, they sound pretty cutting-edge for 1980, especially for a backwater country like Australia. Like most New Wave bands, you can hear the Bowie and Lou Reed influences dripping out of the stereo. They actually remind of the sort of bands that feature on the New Wave radio station in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.

Their two later singles - Hey Little Girl and Great Southern Land - would make them world famous a few years later. Well, world famous in the South Pacific, if you can call that fame.

Hit: We Can Get Together

Hidden Gem: Icehouse

Rocks In The Attic #117: Peter Gabriel - ‘So’ (1986)

I really should listen to more Peter Gabriel. His voice is awesome, but for some reason even though I have a fair bit of early Genesis on vinyl - plus their entire back catalogue on my iPod - their brand of Englishness doesn’t connect with me as much as, say, Pink Floyd.

I saw a foreign pressing of this record the other week in the sales racks at Real Groovy. A Russian version, with all writing - bizarrely even Peter Gabriel’s name I think - in Russian. There wasn’t anything on the record in English, and nothing that would lead a non-Russian speaker that it was a record by Peter Gabriel - unless you recognised his photo on the cover (designed by Factory Records’ Peter Saville). I should have bought it simply for its curiosity value, but left it there. I’ll have to manage with my normal English version.

Sledgehammer is a song that reminds me of my youth, and of family holidays. My Dad loves the track, and I think most people loved it at the time because of its groundbreaking video. I haven’t seen that in a few years, but the song is a classic - a little bit funky, a little bit menacing, and a choice of arrangement and orchestration that on paper doesn’t sound too great, but completely fits when it blasts out of the speakers.

The album is co-produced (alongside Gabriel) by Daniel Lanois - better known for his work with Brian Eno amongst a whole raft of other notable production credits. It’s probably because of this that the album doesn’t sound as dated as it should. It’s slightly more experimental and cutting edge than most ‘rock’ albums of the mid-80s, and even though the record is peppered with synthesisers it doesn’t make the same kind of mistakes that cheeseballs like Paul McCartney were making with synths around the same time.

There’s a whole list of guest appearances on So - the most famous being the duet with Kate Bush, but also showing up are The Police’s Stewart Copeland, PP Arnold, Wayne Jackson from Stax Records’ Memphis Horns, Youssou N’dour, Simple Minds frontman Jim Kerr, and Larry Klein (better known as the producer and former husband of Joni Mitchell).

Hit: Sledgehammer

Hidden Gem: Big Time

Rocks In The Attic #116: Bob Dylan - ‘Bob Dylan’ (1962)

I’m guessing this isn’t one of Dylan’s favourites. Although - and maybe because - there’s only a few Dylan compositions on here, most of the album doesn’t really fit with his later albums. It’s almost as though he hadn’t worked out to be the enigmatic, mysterious folk singer that everybody knows now.

There’s a whole lot more fun on this album than on later ones - he spends a few moments whooping and hollering on some of the songs (especially Freight Train Blues), which sounds out of character with the serious personality he would become. The liner notes explain that one of his strongest influences is Charlie Chaplin, and that he would borrow some of the actor’s gestures on stage. That sounds pretty terrible - but I guess this influence manifests itself in something like the ‘music video’ that accompanied Subterranean Homesick Blues.

There’s not really a ‘hit’ on this album - but plenty of songs that are familiar in retrospect. Probably the most famous song on here - his cover of House Of The Risin’ Sun was made world-famous by The Animals two or three years later. Similarly, In My Time Of Dyin’ was popularised by Led Zeppelin on Physical Graffiti, and the song Highway 51 suggests that Dylan was listening to the same vein of blues that Jimmy Page would later base his supergroup around.

Hit: House Of The Risin’ Sun

Hidden Gem: In My Time Of Dyin’

Rocks In The Attic #115: Whistler - ‘Whistler’ (1999)

Whistler are an acoustic trio, put together by ex-EMF guitarist Ian Dench.

I came across this band when they were supporting Wiiija labelmates Bis at a gig in Leeds. I then saw them a few nights later in Manchester, on the same tour and finally on the acoustic stage at Glastonbury that summer.

It’s definitely nice music - I don’t think anybody would disagree with that - but Kerry Shaw’s posh voice does grate on some tracks. Singing clearly and over-enunciating every word isn’t a great idea when you sound like you come from the privileged classes. The songwriting is very good on this album though, good enough in most cases to ignore Shaw’s vocals; and there’s a massive influence of Nick Cave on this LP, which is why I like it.

Hit: Don’t Jump In Front Of My Train

Hidden Gem: The End

Rocks In The Attic #114: Led Zeppelin - ‘Led Zeppelin II’ (1969)

This album to me sounds like summer. I remember listening to this vinyl copy - one of my Dad’s - putting it onto tape, and then buying it on CD not long after. I always think Zeppelin’s brand of rock is quite rich - in that in most cases it’s a high level of musicianship and substance, over catchiness and pop hooks - but their second album is instantly listenable. I’d recommend it as a way-in to Zeppelin, over anything else they recorded, including their arguably superior fourth album.

I must have bought the record on CD during school holidays, as I have a really clear memory of walking up the hospital every day (I think to see my Dad who was in there for an operation), and I would listen to this on my Technics portable CD player all the way up to the hospital, and all the way back home. I think it sounds like summer to me because of this very association. That couple of weeks must have come in the middle of a hot spell - a rarity in an English summer.

It’s incredible that this record was released in 1969. It has 70s rock written all over it, but it comes from the tail end of that earlier decade. It’s also fantastic proof that a great album can be produced out of pressure, and on the road, with the band stealing studio time whenever and wherever they could to put this together.

Hit: Whole Lotta Love

Hidden Gem: The Lemon Song

Rocks In The Attic #113: ABBA - ‘ABBA: The Album’ (1977)

Listening to an ABBA album other than Gold: Greatest Hits is a very odd experience. The hits on Gold: Greatest Hits completely overshadow anything else the band ever recorded - much to the disadvantage of some album tracks that aren’t half-bad. In fact, I can’t think of any other band that suffer from this particular quirk. A Greatest Hits collection would usually turn you on to a band’s back catalogue - that’s the aim of the record company - but with Gold: Greatest Hits, much of the world seems to be content with just those nineteen songs. I heard More Gold: More Hits the other day, and aside from a few familiar songs, most of the album left me strangely dissatisfied.

This album is ABBA’s fifth, and is a companion piece to ABBA: The Movie - although not a straightforward soundtrack to that film (only five of the album’s ten tracks are from the film). It was pilfered from my parents’ collection, and I can see from the sticker inside the sleeve that it was purchased from Woolworths, store number 4, on the 3^rd of March 1978, which means that my Mum was pregnant with me when she bought it.

Hit: Take A Chance On Me

Hidden Gem: Eagle