I don’t know how the compilation, “Reprises Inrocks”, ever ended up in my Apple music library*, which song it was that led me to track down the two disc compilation, but it did. And I did. And though, I don’t listen to it all the way through all that often, there are some great tunes on there that are not available anywhere else.
It was released in 2007 by French music and culture magazine, Les Inrockuptibles, whose pages upon whom I have admittedly never glanced, though I have admired a few of their other compilations in the past, most notably the wicked Leonard Cohen and The Smiths tribute albums, “I’m your fan” and “The Smiths is dead”. The twenty five tracks on this one are all covers, some by bands I love and others not, and many are ones that may not seem like they could work on paper, but somehow do nonetheless. Examples include: Ray Lamontagne’s stripped down take on Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy”, Jose Gonzalez’s unplugged version of Massive Attack’s “Teardrop”, Nina Gordon channelling Frente but doing NWA’s “Straight outta Compton”, and Calexico’s spanish guitar folk rendition of The Clash’s “Guns of Brixton”.
One of the few tracks that I knew would work from the very beginning was Cincinnati, Ohio’s The National taking a crack at The Psychedelic Fur’s classic, “Pretty in pink”. I was still relative new to The National at this point, having just delved into their fourth studio album, “The boxer”, but I was already hooked on their dark and atmospheric sound and completely sold on the rich vocals of frontman Matt Berninger. Even though his voice is quite different from that of Richard Butler, more lounge and laconic than rough and punk, it still feels exactly right for the song.
Originally written and released in 1981, “Pretty in pink” gained a greater following and notoriety when it was re-recorded a few years later for inclusion on the soundtrack for the John Hughes teen 80s film of the same name. Both Furs’ versions are hard to argue with, raw and more guitar heavy, and more upbeat than The National’s cover. The song is a post punk classic and likely a huge inspiration for a band who have long since penned a bunch of post punk revival classics of their own.
I think both of these recordings are incredible and full of life, one sunny and one rainy, but I have to go with the original here, mostly for the nostalgia factor for me.
Cover:
Original:
*It would’ve been iTunes way back then.
For the rest of the 100 best covers list, click here.
I’ve spilled plenty of virtual ink already on the Portland, Oregon based indie-folk quintet led by Colin Meloy. However, the band keeps coming up on these lists of mine because I love them so much, so I might as well spill a little bit more.
“Los Angeles, I’m yours” is a track off The Decemberists’ second album, “Her majesty The Decemberists”. As I’ve already shared, I first heard this album, along with the debut, a year after its release and promptly fell for the literate tales* that frontman Colin Meloy spins into his globalized and folkloric indie rock. Apparently, he wrote this track after his band’s first visit to the great metropolis on the west coast and found that he hated it. The song is a hilarious number where he pokes fun at its denizens and their collective fashion sense**, the sights and the smells, and likens the entirety of it all to vomit from the Pacific Ocean.
“It’s streets and boulevards
Orphans and oligarchs are here
A plaintive melody
Truncated symphony
An ocean’s garbled vomit on the shore”
In true Decemberists fashion, though, the song is not a straight-ahead diss track. The music tells a completely different story, giving the feel of an answer to Sinatra’s “New York, New York”. The melody is at times joyful and wistful but always upbeat. There’s an aggressive strum on the acoustic that sets the mark and the tone. There’s strings. There’s a harmonica. You can almost hear birds chirping at one point… but maybe that would be too much.
As a post script to this entire thing, it’s worth noting Meloy’s story about the first time The Decemberists played this song live in LA after it was released into the world. He had been half expecting to be pelted by tomatoes by the crowd. Instead, the crowd all happily sang along, loudly and proudly, and this changed Mr. Meloy’s mind about the city and its people.
Happy endings all around.
*It was no big surprise to me when Meloy started publishing works of fiction, all of which are great. I just finished “The stars did wander darkling”.
**The women with their underwear straps showing about the waist of their pants and the men with their pants hanging off of them, well below their bottoms.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2003 list, click here.
It’s almost becoming a trope with me during each summer. I sustain a bit of blogging fatigue, leave off writing and posting entries, come to the realization that I have less time to dedicate to this hobby of mine than I used to have, weigh the pros and cons of the whole thing, and eventually decide to soldier on, albeit at a less frequent pace.
So here I am again, soldiering on, much like the subject of today’s post: The Charlatans.)
Who? The Charlatans (aka The Charlatans UK)
Years active: 1989-present
Current Members: Martin Blunt (bass)
Tim Burgess (vocals)
Mark Collins (guitars)
Tony Rogers (keyboards)
Past Members: Jon Brookes (1989-2013)
Rob Collins (1989-1996)
Baz Ketley (1989)
Jon Day (1989-1991)
Selected discography:
Some Friendly (1990)
Between 10th and 11th (1992)
Up to Our Hips (1994)
The Charlatans (1995)
Tellin’ Stories (1997)
Us and Us Only (1999)
Wonderland (2001)
Up at the Lake (2004)
Simpatico (2006)
You Cross My Path (2008)
Who We Touch (2010)
Modern Nature (2015)
Different Days (2017)
Context:
The title of ‘Madchester survivors’ that is often bestowed upon The Charlatans (known as The Charlatans UK here in North America) is actually a misnomer given that the band is not from Manchester at all. The band originated in the West Midlands circa 1988. Despite the geographic distance between The Charlatans and the other bands that rose to prominence out of the ‘Madchester’ scene, they were consistently thrown in with that lot based on the coincidental similarities in initial influence and sound. Their music was anchored by Martin Blunt’s solid, driving basslines and Jon Brookes’ funky drumming but it was Tim Burgess’s simply smooth vocals and especially, Rob Collins’ monstrous work on the Hammond organs that gave The Charlatans their soul and made a name for them in the early days.
I became a fan of their music perhaps a year after their debut album was released in Canada. “Some friendly” and their sophomore release, “Between 10th and 11th”* were albums that were consistently in my Walkman in the early 90s and both are still among my favourite albums of all time. Their third album, “Up to our hips”, wasn’t my favourite at the time but it didn’t stop me from purchasing their next album, 1995’s self-titled LP, the first of many ‘comeback’ albums. I think The Charlatans may have released more ‘comeback’ albums than any other alternative artist, except for perhaps David Bowie, and I think this is where the aforementioned moniker of ‘Madchester survivors’ may be partly right. The Charlies certainly are survivors.
They soldiered on through the arrest (in 1992) and the death (a few years later, in 1996) of their founding keyboardist, Rob Collins. In fact, you got the sense that the band rallied around that disaster and released their best-selling album (in the UK) to date. Then, in 2013, founding drummer Jon Brookes died from a brain tumour, which personally, really hit me hard and sent me on a serious Charlatans kick, listening to all 11 albums released at the time, in quick succession. I remember briefly wondering at the time whether The Charlatans would continue to exist after the loss of Brookes. Sometimes the deaths of band members can destroy bands and any momentum they might have had, but for the second time, The Charlatans managed to weather the loss of one of their own. Indeed, 2015’s “Modern nature” heavily featured work done by Brookes before his passing and that wasn’t the last we heard from the band.
Thirteen studio albums, six compilations, and close to fifty singles into their career, this band has persevered where many of their so-called peers have disappeared… or perhaps reunited years later to tour on the backs of twenty-five year old songs (no offense, Stone Roses, I love you too). The Charlatans have accomplished this, I think, simply by keeping things real and fresh and pursuing their latest sound wherever their moods take them. They’ve toyed with reggae sounds, folk country and even some Curtis Mayfield soul, but have always been sure to keep their own stamp on their songs.
As I might have hinted earlier in this post, I have owned every studio album The Charlatans ever released, be it on cassette tape, compact disc, MP3, vinyl, and a good deal of their EPs and singles as well. I’ve always been game when I hear there’s a new Charlatans release coming out because they’re one of those bands that I’ve become a bit of completist about but also because I’m always curious as to what they’re going to sound like the next time around. Not every album has been slam dunk solid, some I have only listened to in full, a handful of times, but every album they’ve released has produced one or two gems.
I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this before somewhere in these pages but my friend Tim and I have discussed The Charlatans’ legacy at length, over multiple conversations and beers now, and also the topic of whether anyone will remember them in ten or twenty years. I was and still am firmly of the belief that they will be remembered, if only metaphysically through their influence on the musicians of the day who grew up listening to them. Sure, they are not as well-known here in North America (even less now than they were in their heyday in the 90s) but in their native England, they appear to still have a substantial following. As I read recently to my own disbelief, every one of their full-length studio albums have hit the top 40 charts there and their tours are always very successful.
Though no hiatus has been announced and indeed there have been Charlatans tours galore, it’s been seven years since we’ve last seen a new studio album by the group. It’s been even longer than that, more than two decades, since the group has produced a tune that surpasses some of my own personal faves but it doesn’t mean the group is done. Indeed, frontman Tim Burgess might have became even more famous than his group during the pandemic when he started a cultural phenomenon with ‘Tim’s twitter listening parties‘ as a way of occupying himself during all the lockdowns. But this didn’t stop him from keeping his band involved, including most, if not all of his group’s releases on the ‘show’s’ episodes. The Charlatans’ last compilation album, “Head full of ideas“, came out in 2021, just a year late in celebrating the group’s 30th anniversary, and though there’s been no news either way, one can’t help but think there’s something new pending on the horizon.
Until then, these five tunes are still my favourite Charlatans ditties.
The top five:
#5: One to another (from “Tellin’ stories”, 1996)
I remember seeing a piece a decade ago on the Uncut website that has long been taken down in which frontman Tim Burgess compared this particular track with Joy Division’s “Love will tear us apart”. Not because the songs sound anything alike but because it was the last song that was recorded by the band before the original keyboard/organ player, Rob Collins, died tragically in a car crash. For Burgess, this placed a certain mythos on the song, much like that other famous song that will forever be tied to Ian Curtis’s suicide. But far from being dark and haunting, “One to another” is a swaggering, stomping anthem for the club kids of the Britpop era, Jon Brookes crashing about on his kit and helped along by some wicked drum loops courtesy of The Chemical Brothers’ Tom Rowlands. Press “play” below and turn it up.
#4: Weirdo (from “Between 10th and 11th”, 1992)
“Most of the time you are happy… you’re a weirdo.” That first line of the song is almost as instantly recognizable as is that crazy organ riff and hyper drum beat that get the song off to a roaring start. To this day, “Weirdo” remains The Charlatans’ biggest hit in North America and it’s unsurprising given it’s almost a perfect melding of 60s psychedelic rock and dance-ready drum beats. Heck, this song made us all dancing fools, but whenever I hear it, it’s my friend Andrew Rodriguez that I picture, wearing a Reni-style bucket hat, pulled down so that you can barely see his drunken gaze, dancing in a crouch by himself on the dance floor, arms waving wildly both to keep time to the melody and to keep himself from falling.
#3: A man needs to be told (from “Wonderland”, 2001)
“A man needs to be told” is easily my favourite Charlatans track released after the turn of the century. It is here, perhaps to a lesser extent than on the other tracks on 2001’s “Wonderland”, that you can hear Burgess’s flirtation with Mayfield-esque falsetto vocals. The first time I heard the song I almost thought that it couldn’t be The Charlatans. It blends elements of soul and funk, layers slide guitar over a dancing bass jive and some excellent time-keeping by Jon Brookes. It starts off in a mellow groove (there’s that word again) oddly reminiscent of Chapterhouse’s “Mesmerise” but the gospel backup vocalists chime in at the last minute and the drums suddenly kick the song into high gear. You’ve just to got to listen to it to understand what I mean. Simply fantastic.
#2: Tremelo song (from “Between 10th and 11th”, 1992)
There’s a long story that goes along with my love for this track**. And given this story, “Tremelo song” became something of an anthem for my high school friend Andrew Rodriguez and me the year after we graduated. Even though neither of us knew what a “tremelo” was, we forever called a certain very memorable day “Tremelo day”, given that we had felt what we imagined the featured character in the song’s music video felt. Let it suffice to say, “Tremelo song” will always hold a special place in my soul due to that certain time and place in my life when I felt that Burgess was singing about me and my life in this song. Put your earphones on for this one folks because it’s made for it. The keys, the drums, the bass are all layered on, one at a time, combining for one killer hook.
#1: Sproston green (from “Some friendly”, 1990)
To tell the truth, there was such a jumble and jockey for the order in this top five of songs that I wasn’t really sure until I finished drafting this post as to which would be number one. In the end though, it had to be the final track on The Charlatans’ debut album, “Some friendly”. There’s just something so epic about “Sproston green“. Maybe it’s the lengthy, slow-building intro. Perhaps it’s the way the song never gives an inch, the equally driving drum beat and bass line and the “raise the goblet of rock” guitar riff. Listening to it on repeat while finishing up this piece this week, it struck me how it hasn’t aged a day, timeless, like a good deal of The Charlatans material. Let’s turn it up for one more listen. And then, perhaps, I’ll go back to listen to their entire collection one more time and revel once again in Jon Brookes’ brand of drumming, Rob Collins’ (and then, Tony Rogers’) keyboards and organs and of course, Tim Burgess’s random wording and perfect lyrical delivery.
*This post became a necessity when I realized, while throwing together my list of my favourite tunes of 1994 (the series for which shall start sometime in the near-ish future), that I somehow managed to miss including some great tunes from my very favourite album by one of my favourite bands while counting down my list of Best tunes for 1992. So this post is recompense, in my own little way… many apologies to Tim, Martin, Mark, Jon, and Rob.
**Being typical gen-Xers, I was taking a year off after high school to “work” before heading to university for higher learning and my friend Andrew Rodriguez went back to high school to boost his grades. There was a day in the spring of that year that we called “Tremelo day”, based mostly on the video for the song. On our “Tremelo day”, we both woke up hungover, though I daresay Andrew was moreso than I. Andrew had had a fight with his girlfriend, got kicked out of a party, and proceeded to get rip-roaring drunk the night before and woke up on the couch at a mutual friend’s apartment. I woke up in my bedroom in the basement of my parents’ house, having drunk a bit myself the night before. That weekend’s want ads were left resting on my head, a none too subtle jab at the fact that I was still unemployed almost a year after graduation. Of course, the threat didn’t feel empty at the time so when Andrew showed up at my door not long after I got out of bed, I left with him, both of us unshowered and unshaved, making us a sorry set indeed. We spent the day aimlessly wandering our small town, scraping together the few coins we had to nourish our hungover selves. Somewhere near late afternoon, Andrew made the connection between our meager existence that day and that of the guy in the “Tremelo song” video.
For other top five lists in this series, click here.
My (life in) music lists 