Curation is an art in itself, and every song deserves to be placed on an album in a spot that lets it shine its' brightest. Ultimate Albums, all larger than the sum of their parts, posted ~monthly!
Wednesday, August 27, 2025
The Rolling Stones - Confessin' The Blues (1964)
Sunday, July 27, 2025
Jimi Hendrix - Hear My Train A-Comin' (1969)
The Cry Of Love 2014 CD: 4
Rainbow Bridge 2014 CD: 1
Blues CD: 8
South Saturn Delta CD: 2, 5
The Jimi Hendrix Experience box CD: 3, 7, 9-13
Valleys Of Neptune CD: 6
Greetings! This is my newly assembled album Hear My Train A-Comin', the fourth and final one by the original lineup of the Jimi Hendrix Experience. It's a double album, with the first disc being recorded in the studio, and the second live on stage. When Hendrix died, he left a huge wealth of studio material in varying states of completion; in this fan's humble opinion, not a single official posthumous studio album has been up to par with the three incredible ones he released during his lifetime, so I have taken it upon myself to reassemble the best albums possible out of the stuff he never got the chance to release, and this is a keystone installment in that series. Hear My Train A-Comin', along with more soon-to-come albums, is meant to complement and sit alongside Are You Experienced, Axis: Bold As Love, Electric Ladyland (as well as my already-posted reassemblies of First Rays Of The New Rising Sun and War Heroes). There are minimal overlapping songs between them, and all tracks are taken from a specific set of sessions so as to show where the fast-evolving guitarist was, stylistically speaking, at that point in his too-brief career. Most importantly, the track sequence has been laboured over to create the most satisfying and cohesive collection of music as is possible with the material at hand, to the point where it sounds like a normal studio album.
But first, some historial context for this recording project. After finishing their double album opus Electric Ladyland in the summer of 1968, Hendrix re-entered the studio that October to produce (and play all over) Northern Irish rock band Eire Apparent's Sunrise (1969), their only full-length LP. Eventually, the rest of the Experience decided to join him there, at T.T.G. Studios in Hollywood, possibly in part because it had one of the first 16-track recorders in the world at the time. There they began recording new music. It seems Hendrix was creatively exhausted, and he had stopped writing songs in the same way that he used to, instead turning to jamming as his source for new musical ideas. That is to say that he didn't have much in the way of new, complete songs to bring to the sessions. No doubt the inhumane pressures of fame and immense success were at least partly to blame for this, and he is known to have eventually come to use the studio as a refuge from the whirlwind outside, although this may or may not have been the case quite yet.
Many tracks from this week or so of recording have since been released, and the evidence supports this hypothesis. "Look Over Yonder," by far the most polished and overdubbed recording to come out of these sessions, was originally recorded for Axis: Bold As Love over a year earlier. They also recorded versions of several of their live staples, "Lover Man" and "Red House." Beyond that, things get iffy. Often based more or less just on jams or riffs or melodic ideas, most tracks contain only the building blocks of what could become a finished song. Some are unfinished backing tracks ("Untitled Basic Track"), some are sonic experiments ("New Rising Sun"), some are jams with few to no lyrics ("Hear My Freedom," "Messenger," "Calling All The Devil's Children," "Peace In Mississippi."). None of these are worthy of standard, widespread official release, and I'm sure he would have been furious if any of them had been put out while he was alive, especially outside the context of an archival, fan-oriented collection.
Soon enough, though, sessions wrapped for the year, and the trio focused on their many upcoming live performances instead. They were, after all, busy promoting their new album which had topped the prestigious American charts for two weeks! As often happens when bands graze the stratosphere of success, tensions began to rise; in this case, it was between Hendrix and bassist Noel Redding; it would seem that their work ethics were clashing. Sessions resumed from February to April 1969, and here are excerpts of Redding's diary from the time, as quoted on Wikipedia from the book Ultimate Hendrix (which I don't have), and they make pretty clear why they stopped working together: "On the first day, as I nearly expected, there was nothing doing [in the studio] ... On the second it was no show at all. I went to the pub for three hours, came back, and it was still ages before Jimi ambled in. Then we argued ... On the last day, I just watched it happen for a while, and then went back to my flat."
Hendrix was working at his own pace, and things were only marginally better on the compositional front than they had been in October. They played more of their live repetoir in the studio (Many of these versions will appear on a forthcoming 'live in the studio' album), as well as recording more demos and jams, gradually working out new material. Very few groups could afford to develop their songs in the studio in this way, but if anyone could, it was Hendrix. Many of the tracks on the First Rays Of The New Rising Sun album which I assembled can be traced back to this time, for example "Night Bird Flying." The version of "Star-Spangled Banner" on that album was recorded the month prior, too, just not with the Experience. They even recorded a Noel Redding-penned instrumental called "Noel's Tune." Not a scrap of any of this was released while he was alive. By early April, despite the rising tensions, the Experience put to tape a smattering of excellent tracks, many of which made it onto Hear My Train A-Comin': the proto-metal "Midnight" (and its sibling "Trash Man" from my War Heroes album), the electrifying "Hear My Train A-Comin'" (along with a strong alternate take), and...
...a rerecording of their song "Stone Free." In something of a full-circle moment, the very last session Noel and Jimi ever played together was dedicated, in part, to overdubbing this remake of their very first B-side from way back in late 1966, the second track they ever recorded together, and its' lyrics, to me at least, take on a new layer of context considering Jimi's catapulting into stardom in the time between when these two versions were put down. This rerecording was intended to feature on the then-upcoming stateside release of the band's Smash Hits compilation, but only got as far as the rough mix stage before they decided to just use the original single version, making it the only studio recording by the Experience following the completion of Electric Ladyland for which I know its' intended purpose. The studio half of Hear My Train A-Comin' is built out of the best of the Experience recordings from October to mid-April, as well as a few leftovers from the Electric Ladyland sessions to flesh it out (those being "My Friend," "Tax Free," and "Waitin' For That Train'").
Even if Hendrix couldn't be relied upon to show up to a session, he'd absolutely be there for a concert. As a result, from April 15 until their final show on June 29th, the Jimi Hendrix Experience existed only onstage. I imagine that they only stuck it out due to their American summer tour already having been booked, but I have no actual information with regards to that. Possibly due to the tension in the group at the time, the Experience's performances in 1969 are among the most consistently gripping, intense, and incindiary of Hendrix's entire career. A few of the shows were professionally recorded: two in London (filmed, but more or less unreleased), and one apiece in L.A. and San Diego. Between these shows, the Experience had some career-highlight performances on their hands. Now, because of a lawsuit over a forgotten pre-fame recording contract, Hendrix, who usually worked for the Reprise label, owed Capitol Records a full-length album of new material. What eventually fulfilled this was the Band Of G****s live album in 1970, but prior to that, in the summer of 1969, a live album of performances by the Experience from this tour was assembled for potential release. This obviously didn't come to fruitition, and has still to this very day never been released in full, but the live half of Hear My Train A-Comin' is largely based on it. All of the tracks which I used, barring "Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)," were intended for it, and "I Don't Live Today" and "Purple Haze" are even featured in those very mixes made for that record, which Hendrix likely approved. Everything else on Hear My Train A-Comin', except for the special case of "Waitin' For That Train," was mixed after Hendrix died, so obviously without any input from him.
From what I understand, Hendrix himself regarded his studio recordings and live performances as very seperate affairs especially once he began using the studio as an instrument on Axis: Bold As Love (1967). The reason I decided to combine those two sides of his musicianship together on this album is because the rawness of his studio recordings from late '68 and early '69 makes for a very smooth transition into songs recorded live on stage. Indeed, half of the tracks on Hear My Train's first disc were recorded live in the studio without a single overdub, making for an almost seamless transition into the second, live disc. Their power-trio'ed peers Cream put out a half studio/half live double album right as Hendrix was finishing up Electric Ladyland in the summer of '68, so there was very much a precedent for this kind of record at that point. In line with the times (as well as Cream themselves), the Experience had begun to stretch out their songs and improvise a lot more onstage, and these recordings really reflect that. This is where Jimi was pointing with "Voodoo Child" and "Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)" on Electric Ladyland, just without the psychedelic production blanketing the raw takes. In some senses, that album is a transitional one, and Hear My Train A-Comin' is where Jimi arrives at his destination, at least as far as the Experience are concerned.
As I often do, I took the limitations of vinyl side lengths into consideration while sequencing the album. Each of the four sides of (imaginary) Hear My Train A-Comin' LP is in its own way musically distinct, resulting in a unified yet varied listening experience. Side one is made up of relatively short and polished rock songs with plenty of overdubs, as well as one instrumental. Side two opens with the album's second and last instrumental, and following it are two extended live-in-the-studio performances which close out the studio disc. Opening the live one is an older delta blues-style arrangement of the first of those two songs, a variation on a theme if you will, and that's followed by the album's 13-minute centerpiece. After it comes what is arguably the most delicate and intimate song on the album, which also happens to be one of its' shortest, offering a form of contrast to the listener. Lastly, the fourth side closes things out in style with three balls-to-the-wall rockers. Now for the track-by-track breakdown!
Hear My Train A-Comin' kicks off with the massive opening chords of "Look Over Yonder," which, as written above, is a rerecording of a Axis: Bold As Love outtake from mid-1967. It's easily the most polished song to come out of those October '68 T.T.G. Studios sessions that kicked off Hear My Train's recording, and is featured here in a vintage posthumous mix from 2014's sublime-sounding Rainbow Bridge CD. After that burst of feedback-laden energy, the listener's ears are attacked by the monster riffage of "Midnight." This is an album of near-constant shredding, and this track makes that abundantly clear (however, although it's certainly proto-metal in sound, Hendrix's most proto-metal track is without a doubt "Peace In Mississippi" from my already-posted War Heroes album). It's sourced from a South Saturn Delta compilation CD. The tempo then picks right back up where it left off with "Stone Free," that 1969 rerecording of a track from 1966. It's a tight song with a killer solo that leans into the groovier direction Hendrix would soon go in, and I take it from the Y2K-released Jimi Hendrix Experience box set (although I faded it out a little quicker so the song doesn't break down too much). These last two song were put to tape in April 1969, the very month the Experience stopped working together in the studio, making them among the very last songs they ever recorded as a unit.
Closing out side one is "My Friend," a folksy, dylanesque, faux-barroom number where Jimi shows off his lyrical skills. Though it took me a while to decipher it, the track is about the rough times Jimi went through before he hit it big, and how he had to be his best friend through the thick and thin of it. Recorded back in March of '68, this is the first of three Electric Ladyland leftovers that I chose to fill out this collection. It was originally released in 1971 on The Cry Of Love, sitting among nine other songs recorded by-and-large in 1970, which led me to wondering why it was chosen for inclusion. The story goes that, at the beginning of the Electric Lady Studios sessions that summer, while he and his team were reviewing his masses of old tapes from the prior years in order to find tracks to get to work on, Hendrix found and really enjoyed listening back to this one. By the time he was dead and his team had to start going about putting his next record together, I suppose engineer Eddie Kramer and drummer Mitch Mitchell's sentimentality led them to include it. Anyhow, it's sourced from the excellent 2014 Cry Of Love CD.
After flipping the imaginary record, side two opens with the album's second (and final) instrumental, as well as the second Electric Ladyland leftover, the high-energy "Tax Free:" a cover of a Swedish jazz song by an organ/drums duo. Some or all of the drums on Jimi's version were rerecorded in the early '70s, marking them the only posthumous overdub on the album. It's also the final track on Hear My Train to have recieved any overdubs at all; along with those drums, Hendrix recorded several layers of guitar for the track. I also sourced it from the afformentioned South Saturn Delta CD, and the song ends in a climax that leads us directly into the next one, the (possibly-autobiographical) live-in-the-studio number "Hear My Train A-Comin'," which is also the first of two furious blues-rock behemoths near the middle of this album. It is also the third and final song from this album to be recorded during the Experience's final slew of sessions in April '69. There are official releases of four different studio recordings of it from the first half of that year, each of them highly enjoyable, but I think this one, Take 1 off of the highly uneven Valleys Of Neptune compilation (as well as in overdubbed form on Midnight Lightning from 1975) is best, because his singing is the strongest. In fact, he harmonizes with his guitar in both this and the acoustic version featuring later on in the album. Unlike the bulk of Hear My Train A-Comin', this, "Stone Free," and the soon-to-come "Gloria" are all modern digital mixes from the last 30 years. Luckily, though, I don't think they stand out all too badly among the other late '60s to early '70s mixes, despite the tremendous technological shift that took place in the time between. Anyways, this searing song is the title track for a reason, and is taken from the 2010 Valleys Of Neptune CD.
That goes right into the closer for the studio half of the record: Hendrix's very heavy take on Them's much-covered garage rock classic "Gloria," recorded in October '68 at the same time as "Look Over Yonder." Sludgy and churning, "Gloria" was released on a largely-forgotten single in the late '70s, but remains, at least in my opinion, one of the most exciting tracks in his entire oeuvre, complete with spine-tinglingly-distorted riffs, a very rare, throbbing bass solo, "groovy grass," a drug bust, and an even rarer shout-out to the band members! Interestingly, mere hours before he flew out of the United States for the very last time in August 1970, Hendrix chatted with a young pre-fame Patti Smith on the stairs outside of his very own Electric Lady Studios (which was then holding its opening party), and she went on to record a very famous version of "Gloria" herself several years later. I sourced this song from that box set from 2000, but with the opening studio chatter edited out. Interestingly, both this as well as the next song had their recording captured on video. The one for "Gloria" is horribly edited but does nonetheless exist, while the video for "Waitin' For That Train" is simply fabulous (go watch them for yourself via the links in the tracklist up top). One could consider it a music video of sorts for the album. Hear My Train A-Comin's live half is opened by an earlier, fully acoustic, delta blues-styled version of the title track (though it's missing the title lyric, so I renamed it). A rare recording of Hendrix on acoustic guitar, "Waitin' For That Train" was put to tape spontaniously during a photo session in late December 1967. It's taken from the compilation Blues, and the audio recording is less than perfect, but with the song being in an old-timey blues vein, I consider the drop in fidelity an artistic decision within the context of the album. It also servies as a sonic boundary smoothing out the transition from the studio disc to the (forthcoming) live one.
Otherwise, the six-song live disc is sourced (performance-wise) from two live albums assembled the years prior and following Hendrix's fatal 1970 suicide attempt: one being that unreleased 1969 album, the other being 1972's Hendrix In The West (stay tuned for my remake of that one!). All tracks are live renditions of key songs from each of the Experience's three original studio albums, all are sourced from that boxed set from 2000, and all were recorded from February to May 1969 in London, Los Angeles, and San Diego. Bookended by the two shortest tracks on the album is its longest, the gargantuan 13-minute San Diego rendition of the blues-rock workout "Red House," a song which featured on the band's debut album (outside of North America, at least). I mean, talk about soloing. What follows is contrastingly delicate and breathtakingly beautiful rendition of "Little Wing" from Axis: Bold As Love, recorded in London at the filmed-but-still-unreleased-due-to-legal-wranglings-between-the-rights-holders Royal Albert Hall concert, the Experience's final British gig. This was the first live Hendrix song I ever came to love, so it holds quite a special place in my heart. After it ends, raucus crowd noises herald the start of the fourth and final side of the album, before a fantastic rendition of "I Don't Live Today" begins. It's also a song from their debut album Are You Experienced, but all editions this time. The performance is from the L.A. Forum show in April, where, word has it, Jimi was only allowed to take to the stage because those in charge believed - maybe correctly, by the sounds of it - that he would be the only person capable of preventing the crowd from breaking into an all-out riot.
This song, as well as the soon-to-come album closer, were mixed in 1969 for the afformentioned live album that never came out. Considering the fact that Hendrix may have approved these mixes for release, they are indeed fantastic ones compared to the others done shortly after he died; for example, the instruments are largely centered, as opposed to being at times quite widely panned on the others, I would say unnecessarily so. Next up is a down-and-dirty performance of "Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)," also from the London concert, before the album closes with the San Diego version of Hendrix's signature "Purple Haze" (which he would eventually grow quite tired of playing), also culled from that unreleased live album. With that, both Hear My Train A-Comin' and its' write-up come to a wrap! I hope you enjoy the album, it was a long time in the making, and I'm really proud of how well it came together! Happy listening!
Monday, June 30, 2025
The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour (1967)
Thursday, December 26, 2024
The Velvet Underground - Rock And Roll (1969)
Like "Sunday Morning" and "Candy Says" (and arguably "White Light/White Heat") before it, "Stephanie Says" lulls the listener into something of a false sense of security as they begin the musical journey ahead (although the difference is not nearly as severe as on the group's previous albums). Indeed, after a soft melodic introduction on guitar, a celesta is added that's reminiscent of the one that opens "Sunday Morning" on their debut record. Recorded and mixed in early '68 to be the A-side a single that didn't get released, this song's original mix eventually came to be released on the 45th Anniversary reissue of the Velvet Underground's second album (and the first I got to know very well) White Light/White Heat. It's one of the five songs on this album that feature John Cale prior to his firing from the group (he's here on backing vocals, celesta, and his signature viola). The lyrics are somewhat cryptic, but I interpret them as discussing the distance between Stephanie and those in her life (the lyrics say she's the door instead of the room; that she is, or is in Alaska [which sits geographically apart from the main 48 US states]; that she's not afraid to die because she has little to lose; and so on). But that's just my reading of it; I invite you, dear reader, to interpret them for yourself. Also, as their previous album starts with "Candy Says," opening this one with "Stephanie Says" makes for some conceptual continuity of sorts. Rock And Roll's first LP side is actually bookended with "says" songs. bandleader (and early trans chaser) Lou Reed rerecorded a number of songs on this album during his far more successful solo career, and this one was reworked into "Caroline Says I" and "II" on his miserable masterpiece Berlin (1973).
Anyhow, after that song fades to silence, a voice pops up saying "here we go, rolling on one," which is followed by some guitar licks. Then "Foggy Notion" kicks in, the six and a half-minute rocker that really gets this album up and running. It's featured here in its' original 1969 stereo mix, taken from The Velvet Underground 45th Anniversary boxed set. Lead singer, guitarist, and songwriter Lou Reed, who in this number has both a foggy notion and his calamine lotion, sings with sass when he's not taking solos over rythm guitarist Sterlin Morrison. The interplay between their two guitars is a central aspect of this album, something that the clarity of this album's mixes (compared to those of some of their earlier, lower-fidelity albums) helps to highlight. "Foggy Notion" also makes clear the direction the band is taking on this LP. While on The Velvet Underground the band softened their sound and made it really up-close and personal, and on 1970's Loaded (i.e., with hits) they went full commercial pop/rock despite a compromised band line-up, Rock And Roll finds them smack in the middle of that shift: drummer Mo Tucker (who has a simple and influential arms-only style) had not yet gone on maternity leave, but the songs are more commercial than before—the Velvet Underground play rock and roll. The tunes are, maybe as a result, more fun and less serious than ever before. It might be going too far, but I believe that had this double album been released in 1969, it could've been a big seller—maybe even their biggest. It's certainly the most commercial thing they did prior to Loaded the next year. But I digress.
Continuing onward, the listener arrives at "She's My Best Friend," one of the catchiest songs on the album, sung with the softer voice of multi-instrumentalist Doug Yule (who replaced John Cale). Reed, though, redid this one himself on his album Coney Island Baby (1975). Tucker's yells during the outro are fun. This one is also a '69 mix, as made evident by that good old vacuum tube-born vocal distortion. After it comes "Andy's Chest," another '69-mixed track with some interesting and silly lyrics along with a short, delectable guitar solo that ends quite abruptly. Evidence of Lou Reed's B.A. in English and his resulting mastery of the language comes with the lines, "'cause you know what they say about honey bears/when you shave off all their baby hair/you have a hairy-minded pink bare bear." This one was also rerecorded by Reed, on his breakthrough David Bowie-produced classic Transformer (1972). Side one draws to a close with "Lisa Says." Unlike all the previous guitar-dominated tracks, this one softens things up with a piano high in the mix. It's also the first modern mix on the album; luckily, these aren't drastically different beyond increased clarity and reduced vocal distortion. Reed also later rerecorded this one on his commercially-flopping self-titled solo debut, where he was backed by a portion of the prog-rock band Yes. That album is actually contains the first official releases of four of this album's songs, including its' opener...
"I Can't Stand It." Side two opens with the count-in that precedes this rocker which picks the energy back up again. It's one of my favourites, with its' memorable lyrics such as "she used to hit me with a mop" and an interesting guitar solo, during the middle of which Reed builds tension by way of a countdown from eight to one. It's is featured here in a 2014 mix, and after it comes the fantastically silly "Temptation Inside Your Heart," the second song here featuring John Cale. Along with almost everything else they recorded in early '68 before he was kicked out of the group, this number shows the less serious and somewhat more commercial direction the band was already headed in. Reed and Cale parrot strange and often funny (as well as third-wall-breaking) vocal lines at each other overtop an imitation-R&B backing track, ending in laughter and a bust of bongos or possibly a different type of hand drum.
Things get more artsy and serious after that with the pretty ballad (I may be wrong about that second descriptor) "Ocean." The fabulous Mo Tucker washes the listener with cymbals imitating waves, and this song was hypnotically extended when they played at the Matrix in '69 (those four sets are highly recommended by this author, who finds The Complete Matrix Tapes to be one of the best live rock albums by anybody). Featured in its' '69 mix, this song was re-recorded by the Velvets later in '70 but nonetheless went unreleased until Reed closed his debut record with an excellent version of it in '72. The ghostly "here come the waves" backing vocals are a real treat. After that, Rock And Roll moves onward with a catchy pop-rock song called "One Of These Days" (one of many songs with that title), the only track with lead guitar by Doug Yule. A 2014 mix, its' second half is an instrumental jam that segways nicely into the following track, "Guess I'm Falling In Love," the first instrumental. It's also a modern mix. Interestingly, all three of the instrumentals on this album are simply unfinished songs—all had lyrics when performed live, and they are included at the bottom of the essay. There's a decent recording of the song with Reed singing from their April '67 gig at the Gymnasium in the Big Apple: I based the lyrics off that performance, and it's available in the excellent White Light/White Heat 45th Anniversary box. Anyhow, this is the only track recorded in '67, either during or shortly after the White Light/White Heat sessions, and as a result is full of that album's distinctive highly distorted and gritty guitar. It chugs along nicely, and fortunately (in my opinion, at least) doesn't feel too out of place, coming after the previous track's jam section. And with that, the first half of the album comes to a close!
Opening the imaginary second LP is the album's intended lead single (according to Lou Reed), the intentionally-commercial "We're Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together." It has prominent handclaps, and I don't have much else to say about it besides it being both pretty fun and a modern mix. Following that comes a weirder one, "Ferryboat Bill." This song and the earlier "Ocean" are the only ones whose '60's mixes were included on VU and Another View. Same mix here. With swirling keys, offensive lyrics, and doo-doo-doo-doo backing vocals, this short number almost feels more like an interlude than a real and complete song. After it ends abruptly on the doo-doo-doo-doo's, the song "Hey Mr. Rain" kicks in. This is another of the ones recorded before John Cale was fired from the band, and that viola is very prominent here. There were two versions of the song recorded: the way I see it, vesion one is somewhat more pedestrian and gets dull as a result, whereas version two (the one included on Rock And Roll) remains interesting throughout despite getting a little weirder, with elements unique to it such as the guitar zaps (for lack of a better word) that take place several times over the course of its' runtime. That's why I picked version two. It's also a modern mix.
Continuing on through the third side of the imaginary vinyl record, the instrumental "I'm Gonna Move Right In" follows "Hey Mr. Rain." Churning live versions of the track had lyrics (see them at the bottom of the post, although I couldn't make out a few of the words due to the limitations of the low-fidelity audience recordings I found), but this studio recording, which was mixed at the time, for some reason don't. Wether it was considered finished or not is unclear (to the extent of my knowledge, at least), but this six and a half minute groove is a pleasant change of pace in for the album despite that. Closing out the penultimate side is a live recording of "Over You," a song never recorded in the studio. Luckily, two different versions were recorded to multitrack tape during their four sets at the Matrix in November '69. 1969: The Velvet Underground Live (1974), which is largely sourced from those shows, uses the faster and sloppier performance, whereas I have chosen to include the slower and more carefully-performed version. It's a wonderful-sounding modern mix, and luckily doesn't sound too out of place next to these studio recordings. Also, the great line "I keep chasing lesser, lesser rainbows" really shows Reed's skill in the economy of words. He can say lots with very, very little, and his 1972 masterpiece "Perfect Day" is a masterclass in exactly that.
After side three ends with applause from the tiny audience, side four matches that non-musical energy with a quiet count-in to "Beginning To See The Light." This particular recording was made while John Cale was still there (this is actually the final track which features him), some months before the more acoustic-leaning version was recorded with Doug Yule for The Velvet Underground. I judged it both good and different enough to be worth including, and also becase this final side needed a chugging opener to get things moving again: a job which this version executes perfectly. Both it and this following track, "Coney Island Steeplechase," are modern mixes. "Steeplechase" is fun and catchy, especially the part where Lou Reed counts down the days of the week. After that we arrive at the album's closing trio of songs. On the band's third album, drummer Mo Tucker sings lead vocals on its' excellent closer "After Hours." Here, near the very end of the album, she does it again, singing "I'm Sticking With You." This track was used in the soundtrack to a wonderful film about a teenage pregnancy called Juno (2007), after which Lou Reed began performing it live again. This one is a sweet and silly song, as much of this album seems to be, and is a 1969 mix.
Same goes for the next track, which is also the title track and the final track with singing, "Rock And Roll." Several of the songs that the Velvets put to tape in 1969 were rerecorded during and shortly after the band made their final album, Loaded, the following year, but this was the only one that actually made the cut onto the released LP (the others were "Ocean," "I'm Sticking With You," and "Ride Into The Sun" with vocals). Nonetheless, I decided to make "Rock And Roll" the title track here because, the way I see it, this song is the band's thesis statement on this album. They are making, generally, the shallowest and most commercial rock music that they had recorded up until that point (although a number of songs don't fit that description, especially the Cale ones that I have shoehorned snugly into this LP). "We're Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together" being planned as the lead single is a real statement of commerciality that this number further encapsulates. The Velvet Underground are making rock music to have fun and good times to—at least relative to what they were doing before. Apart from on "Ocean," they're really not taking themselves that seriously, and as a result, this is their lightest album before Loaded. It is for this precise reason that I chose the album cover that I did. It's an Andy Warhol imitation that was used as the cover to the Andy Warhol's Velvet Underground Featuring Nico compilation from 1971, an image commonly associated with the band that one of my friends even has on his wall as a poster. I see the lips sucking on soda as representing the commercial music (by their standards, it must be remembered) being listened to: in other words, feel-good product being consumed. Loaded with hits, but in different words and with a lot less in the hits department (not that Loaded charted much higher than their other stuff in the end). When, as the lyrics say, Jenny put on that New York station and heard fantastic rock music that saved her soul, she was listening to the Velvet Underground. That is why "Rock And Roll" is both the title and penultimate track on this album (and the last one with words). It's their statement about the music they were making—and is actually the polar opposite of the statement they were making with their second album White Light/White Heat, a monolith of uncommercial anti-beauty.
The album's musical journey ends, obviously, with its' final song: the beautiful cutrain-calling instrumental "Ride Into The Sun." Probably unlike the other instrumentals here, vocals were indeed recorded for this one in '69, but it seems the session tape with those and a pile of other overdubs dissapeared at some point before the song first got mixed for release in the '80s. This version with vocals still exists as a crappy-sounding acetate recording (for those who don't know, acetates are these records which degrade with each play but can be made very quickly, so were commonly taken home by artists at the end of sessions before cassettes replaced them), but I find most of the instruments in this modern remix relatively inaudible there, or at least the beauty of it is lost entirely to me (maybe or maybe not as a result of the serious loss in fidelity). It doesn't matter too much that the words are missing here because there are several later studio recordings of this song that include the full lyrics, so it's not like fans are really missing out on much. I find this song to be just so sublime, the audio equivalent of a sky-melting, blood-red, golden-violet sunset. It's the perfect playout music to this lovely album, in a way that makes it feel as if movie credits are rolling by. This is one of my very favourite song on the album, and by the band for that matter. And with its' fade out, Rock And Roll concludes.
So, to wrap things up nicely, here are the album's three sets of missing lyrics:
"Guess I'm Falling In Love"
I got fever in my pocket
You know I gotta move
Hey babe, I guess I'm falling in love
I got fever in my pocket
Down to my shoes
Oh babe, I guess I'm falling in love
I got in my pocket, hey babe
Everything that I can have
I've got things in my love life
It's gonna work out fine
It's gonna be alright
I gotta move
You got yours on your side
Hey now babe, I guess I'm falling in love
I got fever in my pocket
Down to my shoes
Oh babe, I guess I'm falling in love
You'd better move it on sweet babe
Hey, on down to your shoes
Things they're right, mama
You know it'll work out fine
Hey, you gotta lose
Got hand in my pocket
You know it's up your street
Oh babe, I guess I'm falling in love
I've got ankles in my braces
Find it's hard to lose
Oh babe, guess I'm falling in love
Oh babe, guess I'm falling in love
Oh babe, guess I'm falling in love
"I'm Gonna Move Right In"
Well she's straight and looks like a lot of fun
The bar is open I'm gonna go drink with everyone
Walking down main street with my hat [unintelligible]
I've got all this money and have to have a care
I'm gonna move right in
I'm gonna move right in
I'm gonna move right in
After we hang a little we'll have a little fun
Maybe go shoot and kill and knife everyone
The bar looks like fun gonna have myself a drink
Babe I seem to know myself, I ain't gonna think
I'm gonna move right in
I'm gonna move right in
I'm gonna move right in
I'm gonna pay and try get myself straight
Gonna have a last look at me, she's gonna be my date
Go down on Main Street [unintelligible] going to the wire
I'm saying I have to get get get my plane higher
"Ride Into The Sun"
Looking for another place
Somewhere else to be
Looking for another chance
To ride into the sun
Ride into the sun
Ride into the sun
Ride into the sun
Ride into the sun
Where everything seems to pretty
When you're lonely and tired of the city
Remember it's a flower made out of clay
To the city
Where everything seems to ugly
When you're sitting at home in self pity
Remember you're just one more person
Who's living there
It's hard to live in the city
It's hard to live in the city
It's hard to live in the city
The Rolling Stones - Confessin' The Blues (1964)
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