Category Archives: song of the week

Song of the Week – Armageddon It, Def Leppard; This guitar, Def Leppard ft. Alison Krauss

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When Alison Krauss teamed up with Led Zeppelin frontman Robert Plant to create the Grammy-winning album Raising Sand, the unexpected pairing raised eyebrows in the country/bluegrass community.  But for those who had followed Krauss’s eclectic career, the collaboration was less bewildering than it seemed.  Krauss has long embraced a diverse array of musical influences, consistently demonstrating an adventurous spirit and an open ear.

One particularly surprising influence? Her admiration for British rock titans Def Leppard.

In the June 2025 issue of MOJO, journalist Sylvie Simmons conducted an insightful, revealing interview with Krauss that shed light on this unlikely connection.

You and Def Leppard have something going.  Years ago you interviewed Joe Elliott for Q magazine.

It’s crazy.  I don’t remember how that came together but I do remember when the idea came up.  Union Station were making a record called So  Long So Wrong (1997) and around that same time I was listening to Def Leppard all the time – just the way that they do their harmonies.  Bluegrass people are crazy over Def Leppard.  Because bluegrass is a lot about harmonies.  Among other things, Def Leppard did the best harmony parts.

When asked which Def Leppard songs best resonate with the bluegrass crowd, Krauss didn’t hesitate.

The songs on Hysteria particularly, like Animal and Armageddon It.  All the parts where they do the high lead and they put what we call the baritone underneath the lead.  That’s a very kind of heroic sound for the bluegrass people.  Because when you have a high male lead, and you stack the parts underneath, it’s a real magical harmony stack that bluegrass people love.

Here’s “Armageddon It”.

Krauss took her passion for Def Leppard to a new level in 2022, when she recorded two emotionally rich tracks — “This Guitar” and “Lifeless” — for the band’s album Diamond Star Halos.

“This Guitar” stands out as a tender, wistful ballad. Krauss’s ethereal harmony with Joe Elliott, paired with a gently weeping slide guitar, allows the song to slip seamlessly into contemporary country playlists.

The moral of the story?  Stay curious.  Like Krauss, refuse to confine music into neat little boxes.  True artistry often lies where genres collide.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys, Traffic

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A few days ago, I stumbled upon a rare YouTube gem: the only known concert footage of the band Traffic.  Filmed at the Santa Monica Civic Center on February 21, 1972, the performance featured songs primarily from The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys — released just three months earlier — and John Barleycorn Must Die (1970).

The concert opens with the song “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys”, today’s SotW.

The studio version of “Low Spark…” showcased Traffic’s core lineup at the time: Steve Winwood (vocals, guitar, keyboards), Jim Capaldi (vocals, percussion) and Chris Wood (sax, flute).  They were joined by former Blind Faith bassist, Ric Grech, percussionist extraordinaire Rebop Kwaku Baah, and Zelig-like drummer Jim Gordon.

Wikipedia offers a vivid description of the track:

It begins with a gradual fade-in and ends with a slow fade-out. The signature two-chord piano vamp enters after the fade-in, cued by the dry rattle of a vibraslap.  Verses are sparsely arranged with a slow deliberate pace in D minor contrasting with double-time densely-layered pop choruses modulating to D major. The tune fades out with a dissonant, reverberating final chord sustained over the vamp.

So, what the hell is “the low spark of high heeled boys”?

Again, according to Wikipedia, co-writer Jim Capaldi once explained in an interview with WNEW radio that the phrase originated during a trip to Morocco with Oscar-nominated actor Michael J. Pollard (Bonnie and Clyde):

Pollard and I would sit around writing lyrics all day, talking about Bob Dylan and The Band, thinking up ridiculous plots for the movie. Before I left Morocco, Pollard wrote in my book ‘The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys’. For me, it summed him up. He had this tremendous rebel attitude. He walked around in his cowboy boots, his leather jacket. At the time he was a heavy little dude. It seemed to sum up all the people of that generation who were just rebels. The ‘Low Spark’, for me, was the spirit, high-spirited. You know, standing on a street corner. The low rider. The ‘Low Spark’ meaning that strong undercurrent at the street level.

Given that Capaldi co-wrote the song with Winwood, that may be the definitive explanation. Still, other interpretations — such as those offered by the blog I’ve Got the Hippy Shakes — add intriguing layers:

  • One theory suggests the song is about drug culture, with “Low Spark” representing injection and the “High-Heeled Boy” symbolizing a speedball (a mix of cocaine and heroin). The verses supposedly chart the experience of a user, a dealer’s overdose, and a philosophical meditation on mortality.
  • Another posits that the song criticizes the music industry: “Low Spark” represents the creative energy of artists, while the “High-Heeled Boys” are agents or industry figures profiting off their clients’ dreams and living extravagantly on their backs.

In the end, the meaning is beside the point.  It’s simply a great song.

Though “Low Spark…” was never released as a single — likely due to its length — it has become a staple of Album-Oriented Rock (AOR) radio and remains one of Traffic’s most enduring tracks.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Monkey Man, Rolling Stones

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We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the Stones kicked in – “Monkey Man” roared through the speakers like a freight train full of mescaline and bad decisions.  Nicky Hopkins, God bless his ghostly British soul, hammered that piano line like a madman trying to summon Satan with eighty-eight keys and a jug of bourbon.  Suddenly, the whole trip made sense.  This wasn’t just music – it was gospel, prophecy, a searing manifesto of the damned.

Rock music wasn’t background noise for Hunter S. Thompson. It was blood in the ink, the sonic chaos that drove the typewriter at 3 a.m. while the walls breathed and the lizards danced.  He didn’t just listen to it — he inhaled it, snorted it, blasted it through his skull like auditory ether.  The man once called Herbie Mann’s Memphis Underground “the best album ever cut by anybody,” and who the hell are we to argue with that?

Far Out magazine, in a rare moment of journalistic clarity, unearthed the gospel according to Thompson: ten albums that lit his brain on fire during the so-called “rock age” – a time of beautiful noise and narcotic truth.  It wasn’t just a playlist. It was a manifesto.

Behold the holy relics:

Herbie Mann – Memphis Underground (absolutely filthy jazz-funk, pure American madness)

Bob Dylan – Bringing It All Back Home (a lyrical fever dream with a harmonica snarl)

Bob Dylan – Highway 61 Revisited (America on the verge, painted in amphetamine blues)

The Grateful Dead – Workingman’s Dead (acid-sweat Americana for the true believers)

The Rolling Stones – Let It Bleed (dirty, dangerous, and soaked in gin and blood)

Buffalo Springfield – Buffalo Springfield (flower-power on the edge of a nervous breakdown)

Jefferson Airplane – Surrealistic Pillow (psychedelic lullabies for the chemically unhinged)

Roland Kirk – Various Albums (the sound of a man strangling the cosmos with three horns at once)

Miles Davis – Sketches of Spain (matador jazz played in slow motion by a stone-cold killer)

Sandy Bull – Inventions (instrumental mysticism for interstellar cowboys)

These weren’t just albums.  They were tools – instruments of psychic warfare, necessary for surviving Nixon’s America and the corporate stranglehold of post-‘60s dream rot.  You had to have the soundtrack right, or the whole illusion fell apart.

And then – “Monkey Man.”  That’s not just a song. That’s the anthem for the freaks, the outcasts, the wide-eyed maniacs who chose not to play the game.  “I’m a monkey!” Jagger shrieks.  Yes.  Yes, we are.  All of us.  Scrambling through the ruins of the American Dream, chasing shadows, chewing through vinyl and broken glass just to feel something.  But it’s Nicky Hopkins’ piano that makes it immortal.  That intro doesn’t just open the song – it launches it, like a bullet from a gold-plated revolver fired in a jungle nightclub.

God bless the Stones.  God bless the chaos.  And God help anyone who tries to understand it without a damn good stereo and a suitcase full of dubious substances.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Revolution, The Beatles

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The Beatles’ “Revolution,” written by John Lennon but credited to the Lennon–McCartney songwriting partnership, stands out for having one of the most complex recording histories in the band’s catalog.

The song’s genesis traces back to early 1968, when the Beatles were in Rishikesh, India, studying Transcendental Meditation with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.  At the time, a growing youth movement was actively protesting the Vietnam War, and Lennon, increasingly politically conscious, sought to express his views more directly through music.  While much has been written about the political message of “Revolution” and the reactions it provoked among fans, this post will focus on the song’s unique and multifaceted recording history.

The earliest known version of the song was a demo recorded at Kinfauns, George Harrison’s home in Esher.  These sessions previewed many of the tracks that would eventually appear on The Beatles (November 1968), commonly known as the White Album.  For years, the demos circulated unofficially among collectors and fans through bootlegs, but the “Revolution” demo was finally released officially on the White Album’s Super Deluxe Edition.

The version titled “Revolution 1” was recorded starting on May 30, 1968. Take 18, which runs over ten minutes, was chosen for further development.  This slower, blues-influenced rendition became the version included on the White Album.  It notably contains audio elements that were later manipulated and repurposed for the avant-garde, musique concrète, sound collage piece “Revolution 9.”

The full Take 18, once a coveted bootleg, was eventually made available on the White Album’s Super Deluxe Edition.  If you are familiar with “Revolution 9” and listen to Take 18 all the way through, you will recognize many of the snippets that were used.

During the “Revolution 1” sessions, Lennon famously recorded his lead vocals while lying on his back at Abbey Road Studios.  Overdubs, including electric guitar, horns, and the distinctive “shoo-bee-do-wop” backing vocals, were added later to arrive at the final White Album version.

“Revolution 9,” one of the most experimental tracks ever released by a major rock band, was heavily influenced by Yoko Ono’s avant-garde sensibilities on Lennon’s artistry and marked a significant departure from traditional song structure.  Though polarizing at the time, it has come to be appreciated for its innovation and its role in expanding the boundaries of what pop music could be.

Lennon had initially hoped to release “Revolution” as a single, but the other Beatles felt the original version was too slow and politically charged.  Undeterred, Lennon reworked the track into a faster, harder-rocking arrangement.  Though recorded after “Revolution 1” and “Revolution 9,” this up-tempo version was released first, as the B-side to the “Hey Jude” single in August 1968.

Music critic Richie Unterberger, writing for AllMusic, described the song’s electric guitar intro as “a startling machine-gun fuzz guitar riff.”  He noted its resemblance to the riff from Pee Wee Crayton’s 1954 recording “Do Unto Others.”  Unterberger leaves open the possibility that the similarity is coincidental. I think Lennon intentionally nicked it.

Like “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “A Day in the Life,” “Revolution” illustrates the Beatles’ creative ambition and the layered complexity of their recording process. The evolution of the track across its various incarnations underscores the restless experimentation that defined the band’s late 1960s output.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Dizzy, Wyldlife

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Recently, I was listening to Little Steven’s Underground Garage when I came across his pick for his Coolest Song in the World.  It was “Dizzy,” the latest single by the New York City-based post punk/power pop group, Wyldlife.

In an interview with Thrasher Magazine, lead singer Dave Feldman shared some insight into the band’s eclectic influences:

Someone said that Wyldlife was the sound of an infinite amount of influences. I think that’s a good way of putting it. We like Cheap Trick and The Raspberries and 20/20 but I don’t think we’re a power pop band. We love Johnny Thunders and The Dead Boys and The New York Dolls but I wouldn’t say we’re a punk band. I think you can take notes from all of those bands, you can be a little bit of everything, and you can keep people guessing and then not everybody has the same favorite song of yours. We don’t know what we are, but to say we’re a rock ‘n’ roll band is too vague. But I think the best NY bands are loud, slightly dirty, slightly sketchy and they look really fucking cool, so yeah, that’s us.

Their sound is a collision of styles, and I’d also throw in other bands like The Replacements, Oasis, and The Undertones as reference points.  It’s that blend — raw, catchy, and unpredictable — that gives Wyldlife their distinct vibe.

“Dizzy” will appear on the band’s upcoming album Sorted, but until the full release drops, at least we’ve got this high-energy single to hold us over.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Too Much Blood, Rolling Stones

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The Rolling Stones’ Undercover (1983) album is one that I never listened to very much.  But I dropped the needle on it a few nights ago and was drawn in by the raw energy of the track “Too Much Blood.”

Though credited to the classic Jagger/Richards duo, it was largely written by Mick Jagger and may have been recorded with little to no input from Keith Richards.

The lyrics were inspired by the disturbing true-life story of Issei Sagawa, who murdered and cannibalized Renée Hartevelt in Paris in 1981.  The grisly details are best left to your own research — but suffice it to say, the subject matter is intense.

Jagger has described “Too Much Blood” as an anti-violence song and a critique of the media’s sensational coverage of such horrors.  But it isn’t the lyrics — or his somewhat cringey attempt to rap — that drew me to the song.  What hooked me was the music — the driving rhythm, punchy horn arrangement (featuring the late, great David Sanborn), and the primal, hypnotic percussion by Sly Dunbar.  This track puts the F in funky — it’s all about the groove.

“Too Much Blood” proves that even on one of the Stones’ most insignificant albums, there are still gems waiting to be discovered.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – New Girl Now, Honeymoon Suite

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“New Girl Now” was a power pop, one-hit wonder that burst onto MTV back in 1984.

Written by Canadian guitarist Derry Grehan and recorded by his band Honeymoon Suite, the track has become a quintessential slice of ’80s rock.  Like many bands of the era, Honeymoon Suite got their start playing covers in local Ontario venues.  But they weren’t just mimicking hits—they slipped in a few originals too, and “New Girl Now” was one of them.

When Toronto rock radio station Q107 announced a song contest, the band jumped at the chance.  They recorded a demo, sent it in, and—lo and behold—they won.

The 2 Loud 2 Old Music blog opined:

The song is pure 80’s cheese…and that isn’t a bad thing. It is about as AOR as you can get too. Crunchy guitar riffs, banging drums, stinging keyboards and a catchy chorus. Johnnie Dee has that high-pitched vocal of the time and of course there is a guitar solo. All the boxes are checked. With that being said, it is a great song as this was the sound of the time and Honeymoon Suite did it well. It is an earworm and will stick in your heard long after it is over.

I couldn’t agree more.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Mary, Mary; The Monkees, Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Run-D.M.C.

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The story of The Monkees is well-known. The “Prefab Four” — Michael Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, and Davy Jones — were a group of actors/musicians assembled to portray a band on the NBC television sitcom that aired from late 1966 to the spring of 1968.  Although each member possessed some musical talent, the group was initially prevented from playing their own instruments on their early recordings.  Instead, the famed Wrecking Crew, a collective of top session musicians, performed on their tracks.  Furthermore, many of their Top 40 hits were penned by renowned songwriters such as Neil Diamond, Carole King and Gerry Goffin, and Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. This arrangement was met with resistance, and in 1967, the band finally gained full control over their music.

From the beginning, Nesmith stood out as the most accomplished musician and songwriter.  He is widely recognized for composing “Different Drum” in 1967, which was released by the Stone Poneys and sung by Linda Ronstadt.  Ronstadt favored the country-tinged arrangement, which was inspired by the original version recorded in 1965 by the Greenbriar Boys.  However, producer Nick Venet preferred a more intricate, pop-oriented sound, complete with a distinctive harpsichord.  The result?  A hit — the Stone Poneys’ version peaked at #13 on the Billboard Hot 100.

Nesmith also contributed songs to The Monkees catalog, including “Mary, Mary,” which appeared on their second album, More of the Monkees (1967).

The track is a straightforward, upbeat rocker, featuring sharp guitar work from James Burton and Glen Campbell, and dynamic percussion by Hal Blaine and Jim Gordon — members of the Wrecking Crew.

However, you might not know that the Paul Butterfield Blues Band recorded a version of “Mary, Mary” before The Monkees did, for their East-West album in 1966.

The Butterfield group hoped the song would be a commercial success, but it was never released as a single.  Nevertheless, their rendition stands as a compelling interpretation, marked by a bluesy harmonica, keyboard flourishes, and a wild Mike Bloomfield guitar solo that brings the track to an exciting climax.

The song saw a resurgence in 1988, when producer Rick Rubin brought it to the hip-hop group Run-D.M.C.  It was recorded in the rap-rock style that yielded a massive hit in 1986 with their collaboration on Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way.”

Their version of “Mary, Mary” made a modest but noteworthy appearance on the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at #75.

Each of these versions offers a unique listening experience, making “Mary, Mary” a fascinating song to revisit across different genres and eras.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Why D’ya Do It, Marianne Faithfull & Carrie Anne, The Hollies

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WARNING:  Today’s first SotW contains explicit language that you may find to be offensive.

Marianne Faithfull tragically passed away on January 30th at the age of 78, leaving behind a legacy marked by striking contradictions.  Born into a highly educated family with notable ties to aristocracy, she was educated at the prestigious St. Joseph’s Roman Catholic Convent School.  As a teenager, she was famously “discovered” by Rolling Stones’ manager Andrew Loog Oldham, who infamously described her as “an angel with big tits.”

Faithfull’s debut recording, the timeless hit “As Tears Go By,” was penned by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards after Oldham locked them in a room, declaring they could not leave until they had composed a song for her.

Throughout the late 60s and early 70s, Faithfull succumbed to the turbulent haze of drug addiction, yet remarkably, she managed to survive. During this tumultuous period, she became the muse for several iconic Rolling Stones tracks — “She Smiled Sweetly,” “Let’s Spend the Night Together,” “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” “Live With Me,” and “Wild Horses.”  Faithfull also channeled her own painful experiences into writing the raw and unforgettable lyrics of “Sister Morphine” (though the band denied her credit for many years).

In the late 70s, she staged a monumental and defiant comeback with her groundbreaking album Broken English (1979).  Inspired by the explosive punk rock movement that was sweeping the music scene, Faithfull boldly embraced a new, rebellious sound.

The album’s final track, “Why D’Ya Do It,” is a searing, intense confession.

Over a gripping quasi-reggae rhythm, Faithfull recites the dark, biting words of a poem by Heathcote Williams. As MOJO writes:

“… ‘sing’ barely describes the haunting, raw, ravaged keen that characterises her delivery throughout, and which contrasts so startlingly with the folky warble of her 60s recordings.”

And,

[The song] “is a torrent of foul-mouthed abuse aimed fairly obviously at inconstant lover Ben Brierley, which makes that turmoil all-too plain…”

In stark contrast, another song inspired by Faithfull is The Hollies’ cheerful pop tune “Carrie Ann.”

This lighthearted, upbeat track seems to reflect the many layers of Faithfull’s multifaceted life and public persona — a portrait of a woman whose experiences, both soaring and heartbreaking, shaped her extraordinary journey.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Who’s Behind the Door, Zebra

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Zebra, the hard rock band that soared to stardom in the 80s, isn’t typically my cup of tea.  However, I like to maintain an open mind when it comes to all types of music, and I must admit that I’m deeply fond of their epic song “Who’s Behind the Door?”.  The track is featured on the band’s debut eponymous album (1983), which unexpectedly peaked at #29 on the Billboard 200 albums chart and was certified Gold.

I was initially drawn to the song by its powerful and dynamic music. “…Door” is clearly inspired by the legendary Led Zeppelin, who crafted numerous iconic songs that begin with delicate acoustic guitar riffs and dramatically explode into thunderous electric hard rock. Singer/songwriter Randy Jackson’s raw, high-pitched voice also bears a striking resemblance to Zep’s Robert Plant.

The lyrics delve into profound existential questions, exploring how one might find answers to life’s mystical mysteries. The identity of the enigmatic “they” remains obscure — they could be gods, or perhaps otherworldly highly intelligent alien beings.

In an intriguing interview with Casey Chambers of thecollegecrowddigsme.com, Jackson described his inspiration for the song:

“…I was in Texas at my grandparent’s farm, which is isolated right outside of Dallas. I had some guitar parts that I had written in open tuning… in open G. Just a whole bunch of rough ideas scattered across different cassette tapes. I’ve always been a huge fan of visionary films like 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The farm was quiet and remote, with no phone, no distractions. The song carries a spiritual air in places, and that religious undertone, in a roundabout way, was one of the biggest influences on the song. I think the combination of the open tuning, melody ideas, and the mysterious theme from 2001 led me to create ‘Who’s Behind The Door?’.”

Though many may find the lyrics slightly hokey, I understand how the mesmerizing combination of moving music and intricate words made it such a chart-topping hit in the 80s.

Enjoy… until next week.