Song of the Week – The World’s Biggest Paving Slab, English Teacher

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One of the contemporary groups I’ve been listening to lately is the British indie rock band English Teacher.  Their debut full-length album, This Could Be Texas, was released this past April.

Today’s SotW is one of the singles released from the album – “The World’s Biggest Paving Slab.”

This is a sharp, emotionally layered track that balances jangle-pop textures with post-punk grit. It stands out for its blend of wiry, math-rock-inspired guitar work, rhythmically propulsive bass, and frontwoman Lily Fontaine’s emotionally nuanced vocal delivery.

I am the world’s biggest paving slab
But no one can walk over me
I am the Pendle Witches, John Simm
And I am Lee Ingleby
I am the Bank of Dave, Golden Postbox
And the festival of R&B
And I’m not the terrorist of Talbot Street
But I have apocalyptic dreams

You should see my armoury

So, what are all those namechecks — Pendle Witches, John Simm, Lee Ingleby, the Bank of Dave, the golden postbox — threaded through Lily Fontaine’s lyrics?

They may seem cryptic at first but, after some research, they appear to form a tightly woven map of Northern England identity.  These aren’t random cultural ephemera; they’re landmarks in a specific psychic landscape: Burnley, Lancashire, and the wider, often-overlooked North of England.  The Pendle Witches evoke a legacy of persecution and outsider status, while actors Simm and Ingleby represent local talent that’s slipped quietly into the national consciousness.  Dave Fishwick’s grassroots financial rebellion and the Olympic postbox gilded for civic pride round out a portrait of a region that celebrates both the mythic and the modest in equal measure.

Fontaine isn’t just listing trivialities — she’s capturing the strange folklore of her own upbringing, where the surreal and the everyday coexist on the same street.  These references become signposts in a song about stasis and disconnection, grounding its themes in real places and faces that feel half-remembered, half-legend.  The metaphor of the “world’s biggest paving slab” suggests feeling pinneddown — as if a literal weight is holding the narrator in place.  It’s a powerful image of emotional inertia: being crushed not by drama or trauma, but by the slow, suffocating weight of the ordinary.

If you dig indie rock, I urge you to give This Could Be Texas a full listen – more than once.  It is one of those rare albums that reveals more with every listening.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – The Wheel, Jerry Garcia

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Today marks the 30th anniversary of the passing of Jerry Garcia — singer, songwriter, master guitarist, and founding member of the Grateful Dead.  Garcia was so central to the band’s identity that, after his death on August 9, 1995, the surviving members chose to retire the Grateful Dead name rather than continue without him.

Yet, the Grateful Dead’s popularity endures. Dead & Company — featuring former Dead members Bob Weir, Mickey Hart, and (until 2023) Bill Kreutzmann, along with John Mayer, Jeff Chimenti, and Jay Lane — draw massive audiences performing a setlist steeped in Grateful Dead classics.

The group played 30 mostly sold-out shows at the Las Vegas Sphere in 2024, followed by another 18 in 2025.  Just last weekend, they drew about 60,000 fans each night for three shows in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park — a testament to the music’s ongoing cultural pull.

Beyond Dead & Company, countless Grateful Dead tribute bands perform in the U.S., filling theaters, clubs, and festival stages with devoted fans eager to keep the music alive.

In tribute to Garcia, today’s SotW is “The Wheel” from his debut solo album Garcia (1972).

Although released on a solo record, “The Wheel” became a Deadhead favorite, performed by the band more than 250 times.  Closing Side Two of Garcia, the track showcases Garcia in his pedal steel guitar period.  On the studio version, he played all instruments except the drums, which were handled by Kreutzmann.

The lyrics — penned by Garcia’s longtime collaborator Robert Hunter (with Kreutzmann also receiving a co-writer credit) — reflect the free-flowing, life-embracing ethos that runs through much of the Dead’s best work:

The wheel is turning and you can’t slow down
You can’t let go and you can’t hold on
You can’t go back and you can’t stand still
If the thunder don’t get you then the lightning will

In a 1981 interview with music journalist Ken Hunt, Garcia explained:

“The Wheel was the least formed of any of them [songs on Garcia]. I really just improvised the changes, and the way it came out is a tribute to Hunter’s tremendous skill because I set up those chord changes, explained it, and he just listened to it, worked out some couplets, a few stanzas here and there, and I fooled around with them and it ended up being that nice little tune. But to start with it was only a set of chord changes. Nothing else.”

Jerry Garcia’s artistry and vision make him one of the most significant figures in rock history — a musician whose influence continues to resonate, three decades after his passing.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Go Go Children, The Richard Kent Style

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The Richard Kent Style was a British Invasion-era beat group that released a string of energetic singles, mostly on the Columbia label, between 1966 and 1969.  Though largely forgotten today, the band carved out a niche with a handful of horn-driven floor-fillers back in the day.

One standout track is “Go Go Children,” the B-side to their 1966 single “No Matter What You Do”.

While the A-side is solid, it’s the flip that truly shines. “Go Go Children” opens with a raw, driving riff that sounds like it could’ve been lifted from The Troggs’ playbook.  The track blends garage grit with brassy R&B swagger — punctuated by sharp horn stabs and a punchy bridge that leads into a pleasantly dirty guitar solo.

The band hailed from Manchester, though, curiously, there was no one named Richard Kent among its members.  The name was likely chosen for style rather than identity — an affectation not uncommon among Mod-era groups who sought to project sophistication or mystery.

While their original recordings have largely slipped out of print, you can still track down their music on various Mod and Northern Soul compilations.  Collectors and DJs in the Mod revival scene have helped keep tracks like “Go Go Children” in circulation, recognizing their undeniable energy and dance-floor appeal.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Peek-A-Boo, Siouxsie + The Banshees

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Back in the ’80s, I was a terrible club DJ — mainly because I didn’t really like dance music.  That’s not to say I didn’t like dancing, or that I couldn’t enjoy a song with a good beat.  I just didn’t have much love for what was then considered “dance music”: Madonna, Michael Jackson, Taylor Dayne, Paula Abdul, and Wham!, along with a steady stream of one-hit wonders like MARRS and Technotronic.

The music I enjoyed spinning leaned more toward New Wave — bands like New Order, The Cure, and The Human League — or Urban Contemporary acts like Salt-N-Pepa, Neneh Cherry, and Keith Sweat.  I also couldn’t resist throwing in some classic rock staples like John Mellencamp and AC/DC.

Then there were the really offbeat tracks — the ones that made no sense for a dance floor, which is probably why I loved them.  One of my favorites was “Peek-A-Boo” by Siouxsie + The Banshees.

I gravitated to “Peek-A-Boo” because it didn’t sound like anything else at the time.  A review on postpunkmonk.com perfectly captures its essence:

“… a succinct 3:10 mix of reversed percussion loops, accordion, sampled piccolos, and almost binaural hard-gated panning of sound in the stereo field. The embittered look at a stripper’s lot became a psychedelic hip-hop freakout in the band’s hands. Even today, I marvel that something this left-field became The Banshees calling card in America…”

That kind of kooky, off-the-wall cut was exactly what could pull me onto the dance floor back in my twenties.

Siouxsie Sioux was married to her bandmate Budgie for about 15 years — a famously tumultuous relationship.  Budgie recently wrote a memoir titled The Absence: Memoirs of a Banshee Drummer, set for release this October.  I recently read an excerpt, and now I can’t wait to devour the entire book when it’s out.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Don’t Care, Klark Kent

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Back in 1980, an EP was released in the U.S. on clear green 10-inch vinyl by a band called Klark Kent. As it turned out, Klark Kent was a pseudonym for a solo project by Stewart Copeland, the powerhouse drummer of The Police.

At the time, The Police were riding high on the success of their third album, Zenyatta Mondatta. Copeland, wary of competing with his own band, initially denied any connection to the mysterious Klark Kent.

When the “band” performed the EP’s lead single, “Don’t Care,” on the British music program Top of the Pops, the lineup included Copeland, Sting, Andy Summers, Kim Turner, Florian Pilkington-Miksa, and Miles Copeland—all wearing masks to conceal their identities. The performance, delightfully bizarre and unmistakably tongue-in-cheek, is still available on YouTube.

“Don’t Care” is a classic Stewart Copeland track: fast-paced, punchy, and bursting with energy. It climbed to #48 on the UK Singles Chart. Remarkably, Copeland played all the instruments on the Klark Kent disc himself.

The name Klark Kent was a clever nod to Superman’s mild-mannered alter ego, a fitting disguise for a rock star moonlighting as his own one-man band.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Street Walker, The Bar-Kays

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If you listen to “Street Walker” for the first time, you might think it was recorded by one of the late ‘60s psychedelic rock bands like Steppenwolf.

So, let’s talk about “Street Walker,” the second cut off the Gotta Groove album the Bar‑Kays dropped in ’69 – released just two years after their world got turned inside out.  It was the first record from the reformed Bar‑Kays following the tragic 1967 plane crash in Wisconsin that took Otis Redding and much of the original band.

What rises from the ashes is a record like Gotta Groove, and smack in the middle of it is “Street Walker,” a three-minute burner that doesn’t just walk — it glides through a shadowy, psychedelic back alley with fuzzed-up guitar, swirling organ, and a horn section that sounds like it’s been up all-night smoking with Sly Stone’s rhythm section.  (The alum even kicks off with a “tribute” to Sly called “Don’t Stop the Dancing (To the Music)”.)

Gotta Groove reached No. 40 on the Billboard R&B LP chart and stayed there for four weeks, though it didn’t cross over to the pop charts.  While “Street Walker” wasn’t released as a hit single, it played a key role in helping the album gain traction and establish the band’s post-reformation identity.  It was probably too weird, too moody, too sideways. But that’s what makes it special. It wasn’t trying to sell — it was trying to explore.

And this is where you’ve gotta give the Bar‑Kays credit. They could’ve played it safe. They had the Stax name, they had the chops.  But instead, “Street Walker” is steeped in a moody, fuzz-toned atmosphere: swirling organ riffs, distorted guitar licks, and a slightly off-kilter groove that gives it a late-night, acid-funk edge.  The song’s instrumental layering — particularly its use of wah-wah guitar, echo-drenched horns, and droning rhythmic repetitions — recalls elements of psychedelic rock as heard in bands like Iron Butterfly, The Electric Flag, or even early Funkadelic, who were also blending soul with distorted, psychedelic textures.

“Street Walker” stands as a defining early statement from the reborn Bar‑Kays, melding psychedelic soul, incendiary funk, and jazzy sophistication into a compact 3-minute groove. It captures a band in transition, honoring their Stax past while pushing toward the richer, funk-infused future.

Dig it late at night with the lights low. Or better yet, spin it between “Dance to the Music” and “I Wanna Take You Higher” and watch the floor tilt sideways.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Waiting on a Friend, Rolling Stones; Shipbuilding, Elvis Costello; Aja, Steely Dan; Just the Way You Are, Billy Joel

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On October 3, 2015, I published a post to pay tribute to jazz greats Wilton Felder and Phil Woods, both of whom had passed away the previous month.  I noted a curious coincidence: both had contributed to Steely Dan’s album Katy Lied.  Felder played bass on “Chain Lightning,” while Woods delivered a memorable sax solo on “Doctor Wu.”

Over the years, many rock musicians have turned to jazz legends to infuse their recordings with sophistication, soul, and swing.  Today, let’s spotlight a few of those memorable collaborations.  But first, a simple ground rule: the featured jazz artists must have been born before 1940.

This eliminates many exceptional, yet more “contemporary,” jazz-fusion and smooth jazz icons such as Randy Brecker (Bruce Springsteen), Michael Brecker (Paul Simon), David Sanborn (David Bowie), Jaco Pastorius (Joni Mitchell), Branford Marsalis (Sting and the Grateful Dead), Tom Scott (Paul McCartney), and Larry Carlton (Steely Dan).

Interestingly, some of them had early career breaks in rock bands.  The Brecker Brothers, for instance, played in the original Al Kooper-led version of Blood, Sweat & Tears (Child Is Father to the Man, 1968), while Sanborn spent five years (1967–1971) with The Butterfield Blues Band.

So, who’s left under our ground rule? Quite a few, as it turns out.

Perhaps the most iconic jazz cameo in rock history is the sax solo Sonny Rollins played on the Rolling Stones’ “Waiting on a Friend.”  In fact, Rollins contributed to three tracks on Tattoo You (1981), though he was uncredited in the liner notes.  At the time, many saw this omission as a slight, but Rollins later explained that he had requested anonymity — fearing association with a rock record might damage his credibility in the jazz world.  Rollins, often hailed as one of the greatest tenor saxophonists in jazz history, rose to prominence in the 1950s alongside legends like Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, and Max Roach.  His landmark albums — Saxophone Colossus, Tenor Madness, and Way Out West — cemented his status as a titan of modern jazz.

Another poignant fusion came on Elvis Costello’s “Shipbuilding.”  Written by Clive Langer with lyrics by Costello, the song reflects on the bitter irony of war bringing economic revival to Britain’s shipyards during the 1982 Falklands War.  Originally recorded by Robert Wyatt, Costello later included his own version on Punch the Clock (1983), enlisting the great Chet Baker to deliver a haunting, elegiac trumpet solo.  Baker, a central figure in the West Coast “cool jazz” scene of the 1950s, became famous for his lyrical, introspective style.  Known equally for his trumpet playing and intimate vocals, Baker first gained national attention with Gerry Mulligan’s pianoless quartet, and went on to lead a storied — and often tumultuous — career that spanned decades.

Then there’s Wayne Shorter — legendary saxophonist with Miles Davis and Weather Report — who graced the title track of Steely Dan’s Aja (1977) with a transcendent solo.  Recording at the Village Recorder studio in Los Angeles, Steely Dan’s jazz-obsessed duo, Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, were determined to bring Shorter on board.  Through a connection with studio owner Dick LaPalm, a friend of Shorter’s, they got their wish. Reportedly, Shorter laid down six takes over roughly 35 minutes, and was gone!  What he left behind remains timeless.

And we circle back to Phil Woods — who earns a second mention for his gorgeous solo on Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are.”  Often referred to as the “New Bird” for his stylistic ties to Charlie Parker, Woods had played with jazz titans like Sonny Stitt, Cannonball Adderley, and Dizzy Gillespie.  His lyrical, yearning alto sax solo helped elevate Joel’s ballad to Grammy-winning heights in 1979, claiming both Record of the Year and Song of the Year.

These examples showcase how traditional jazz artists have not only crossed over into rock — they’ve enriched it. Their contributions remain some of the most expressive moments in rock music history.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Her Name Is Love, The Chains

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Back in the early oughts, a Montreal-based band called The Chains released a terrific album – On Top of Things! (2002) – a tight, energetic blend of power pop and garage rock.  At the time, the genre was enjoying a resurgence led by acts like The White Stripes (recently inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame), The Strokes out of New York, Sweden’s The Hives, and The Vines from Australia.  That whole scene was right up my alley!

Unfortunately, The Chains never achieved the recognition and status of those better known bands.  Following On Top of Things! they only managed one further release – the 2004 single Till You Come Back Home / The Boy Who Took My Place – before fading into obscurity.

Still, On Top of Things! holds up remarkably well. The opening track is “Her Name Is Love”.

It kicks off with a galloping rhythm that recalls the Count Five’s “Psychotic Reaction,” layered with touches of Rockpile-style neo-rockabilly. It’s a confident, hook-laden gem that sets the tone for the rest of the album.

It’s a shame this group didn’t receive more attention “back in the day” but their music hasn’t disappeared entirely. You can still catch a track or two on Little Steven’s Underground Garage — a fitting home for a band that deserved more love.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Song to the Siren, Tim Buckley

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In the late ’60s and early ’70s, Tim Buckley emerged as the avatar of daring, adventurous folk music.

His beautifully aching song “Morning Glory,” co-written with Larry Beckett, appeared on his second album Goodbye and Hello (1967) and was later covered by several artists, including Blood, Sweat & Tears.  However, the song was ultimately too conventional for Buckley, who felt compelled to keep pushing his music into new, uncharted territory.

By 1969, Buckley was embracing jazz influences, collaborating with vibraphonist David Friedman and conga player C.C. Collins on Happy Sad (1969).  His exploration of improvisational structures culminated in what many of his most devoted fans consider his masterpiece: Starsailor (1970).

Buckley understood that this shift in musical direction would likely alienate his core fanbase, but he was determined to follow his artistic instincts.  He toured the album in small jazz clubs, often to indifferent or confused audiences.

The standout track from Starsailor is “Song to the Siren,” also co-written with Beckett.

The song draws on Greek mythology, referencing the sirens who lured sailors to their doom.  Its poetic lyrics reflect Beckett’s literary sensibilities, offering a stark contrast to Buckley’s more emotionally direct songwriting style.

The arrangement is minimal — anchored by a reverb-drenched guitar that perfectly frames Buckley’s extraordinary five-octave vocal range.

“Song to the Siren” found new life in 1983 through a haunting cover by This Mortal Coil, which has since been featured in numerous film and television soundtracks.

Buckley died 50 years ago of an accidental drug overdose. He was 28. His friend and drug dealer, Richard Keeling, had given him heroin the night he died. On the advice of Keeling’s lawyer, he pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter, and served four months in jail. Today, he says he regrets that decision and wishes he had fought the charge.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Stand!, Sly and the Family Stone; God Only Knows, The Beach Boys

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This past week has been heartbreaking for those of us who love music — especially if you grew up on the sounds of the ’60s and ’70s.  We lost two absolute legends of Rock and Soul: Sly Stone and Brian Wilson, both coincidentally at the age of 82.

If you’ve read my missives before, you already know the major milestones of their lives and careers.  But if you’re still hungry for more, I recommend their New York Times obituaries:

So much has already been said about them this week that I’ll keep this post short and sweet.

While There’s a Riot Goin’ On (1971) is widely considered Stone’s masterpiece, I’ve always had a soft spot for his earlier release of new material, Stand! (1969).

The album’s title track, “Stand!”, cracked the Billboard Hot 100 Top 40 — an impressive feat for a song that doubled as a subtle civil rights anthem. Its message of empowerment resonated broadly, not just with Black Americans, but with all underrepresented groups — including hippies.  Maybe that’s part of why it struck such a chord.  That, and its absolutely infectious melody.

As for Brian Wilson, his masterpiece is Pet Sounds (1966) — and you won’t hear any argument from me.  Just look at how it’s fared in critical rankings over the years:

YearOrganizationAccoladeRank
1993The TimesThe 100 Best Albums of All Time[522]1
New Musical ExpressNew Musical Express Writers Top 100 Albums[521]1
1995MojoMojo’s 100 Greatest Albums of All Time[572]1
1997The Guardian100 Best Albums Ever[573]6
Channel 4The 100 Greatest Albums[574]33
2000VirginThe Virgin Top 100 Albums[575]18
2001VH1VH1’s Greatest Albums Ever[576]3
2002BBCBBC 6 Music: Best Albums of All Time[577]11
2003Rolling StoneThe 500 Greatest Albums of All Time2
2006QQ Magazine’s 100 Greatest Albums Ever[578]12
The ObserverThe 50 Albums That Changed Music[579]10
2012Rolling StoneThe 500 Greatest Albums of All Time[580]2
2015PlatendraaierTop 30 Albums of the 60s[581]7
2016Uncut200 Greatest Albums of All Time[523]1
2017PitchforkThe 200 Best Albums of the 1960s[582]2
2020Rolling StoneThe 500 Greatest Albums of All Time[583]2
2023Rolling StoneThe 500 Greatest Albums of All Time[584]2
2024PasteThe 300 Greatest Albums of All Time[585]10

The standout track? “God Only Knows.”

It’s the most perfect pop song ever written and recorded.  The lead vocal is stunning, the harmonies are flawless, and the instrumentation—courtesy of the legendary Wrecking Crew — is nothing short of sublime.  Wilson, as producer, guided it all.  The Baroque stylings complement the lyrics beautifully, and small touches — like Hal Blaine’s use of sleigh bells (who uses sleigh bells outside of Christmas music?) — elevate it to something transcendent.  It’s one of the few songs that can still bring me to tears.

Even Paul McCartney, no slouch in the songwriting department himself, has often named “God Only Knows” as the greatest song ever written.

As the week winds down, let’s take a moment to honor Sly Stone and Brian Wilson — for making this world a better, more soulful, more beautiful place through their music.

Enjoy… until next week.