The Sugarlumps - Sugar Sugar/ Can't We Be Friends

 

Reggae cover of The Archies mega-hit? Oh go on then.

Label: Jay Boy

Year of Release: 1969

You all know the drill by now - if there's a massive hit, someone, somewhere has done a reggae cover version of it. Sometimes they'll be slow off the mark, issuing contemplative dub excursions of Kenny Rogers songs decades after they first hit big. On other occasions, they'll strike while the iron is hot and snatch the big pop hit of the day from the writer's hands within moments of its descent down the Top 40.

The Sugarlumps, whoever they may be (a studio group, I assume?) barely let the charts cool down from The Archies dominance at number one before rushing this one into the shops, and it has to be said, its a strong take. Chirpy, homespun and apparently sincere, it seems they were able to look beyond the sneering and scoffing about the "bubblegum" hit and hear it for what it was; a bona fide great pop song. The song lilts, bounces and skips its way from beginning to end with an enjoyable respect; if this was a cynical attempt to sell a lot of records, the group have managed to disguise their motivations well. That said, anyone expecting to hear deep, heavy reggae here is obviously going to be disappointed. 

Sadly, there's no dub version on the flip and we're left with the strangely rough and ready original track "Can't We Be Friends" instead, which sounds like a one-take effort to get the thing down on tape. Nonetheless, it's got quite a few fans online. 

Reupload - Izzy Royal - Coronation Street/ Dub

 

Proof, if proof were needed, that there's been a reggae cover version of everything...

Label: WEA
Year of Release: 1985

I don't know why so many reggae artists have a penchant for covering well-known but unlikely songs, but the habit runs deep. Beatles fans will be aware of the Trojan box-set of reggae Fabs covers, and readers of this blog will doubtless remember such gems as "Rupert The Bear" and "Space Oddity".

To say I was surprised by the existence of this 45 would be an understatement, however. The soap opera "Coronation Street" is familiar to just about anyone with a British birth certificate, but its bluesy, world-weary instrumental theme - perfect for singing "Oh Coronation Street" along to over and over again if you're that way inclined - wouldn't seem to translate well to any other genre at all.

This single proves that a lilting reggae beat was just waiting to be dropped on to the song after all, as the whole thing hangs together astonishingly well. The cheeky dub version on the flipside even manages to give it a thunderous, clattering, stoned atmosphere.

Reupload - Next of Kin - Merry Christmas/ Sunday Children Sunday Morning

 

Interesting attempt at festive ska from Mitch Murray and friends

Label: MCA

Year of Release: 1969

Well, ho ho ho, what have we here in Santa's sack? Blow me down if it isn't a bit of cod-ska co-written by the songwriter Mitch Murray, of "How Do You Do It?", "Bonnie and Clyde" and "Is This The Way To Amarillo?" fame. Ho ho ho, off you go young man, get off my knee, there are others waiting, this record didn't bloody sell and I've got tons to get rid of, you know.

Mitch was, it's safe to say, not a man who had probably even holidayed in the Caribbean, much less been a member of a ska band. The Mike Leander production credit also indicates that there wasn't somebody from that background present to steer the ship towards those waters, so by rights, this disc should be a hopeless shambles.

It's interesting to find out that it's not terrible, then. It wouldn't pass muster with the average sixties skin who would almost certainly sniff out the distinctly Ob-La-Di-Ob-La-Da styled fake accents, but those cheap brass sounds, the raw production and the repetitive nature of the tune make it a strong parody of a late sixties ska track at the very least. It's unquestionably a cynical cash-in on a "current sound", but the attention to detail is impressive.

Reupload - Rudy Grant - Space Oddity/ Every Step I Made

 

Reggae cover of David Bowie's classic. It works slightly better than you'd suppose.

Label: Ensign

Year of Release: 1981

It never ceases to amaze me how many unexpected and ambitious reggae cover versions there are out there. Some work, whereas others set their sights high and miss by miles.

In 1981, Eddy Grant's brother Rudy, not content with stopping at one or two singles, decided to record an entire album of covers which contained some unusual but generally workable choices, such as John Lennon's "Woman", Simon and Garfunkel's "Sound of Silence", and Stevie Wonder's "Lately". All of these attempts hang together well, and in the case of the Simon and Garfunkel classic, amazingly so.

This, however, is on dangerous territory. While the original version of "Space Oddity" may have a catchy melody at its centre, it's filled with odd fits and starts and instrumental diversions - which is what elevated the song above the mere 'novelty' tag some felt keen to give it during its initial chart run. It's an enormously sprawling, filmic sounding track with each flourish adding drama to the lyrical storyline. As such, it's a very tricky song to tack a steady reggae beat on to, and the way Rudy sidesteps this is quite interesting.

Reupload - The Magnificent Seven - Reggae Bagpipes/ Roll Out The Barrel

 

If you like a bit of reggae with your bagpipes, join our blog

Label: Decca

Year of Release: 1972

Pop and rock, of course, have continually evolved as they've adopted and mixed and meshed various apparently conflicting styles. If during the sixties British groups hadn't had one eye on music hall ditties and the other on rhythm and blues, so much interesting material might never have been written and released.

But a combination of reggae and the sound of the bagpipes? Really? Never has the Simpsons slogan "Nuts and Gum, together at last!" felt more applicable. It's not as if "Reggae Bagpipes" is a mess, which is to the credit of everyone involved. While it doesn't have a particularly authentic production or arrangement going on, it would be just about credible enough to pass were it not for those droning great pipes playing "Scotland the Brave" throughout. 

K Creation - Chariots of Fire/ Charmers Mood

 

Crude reggae veteran Charmers tackles Vangelis

Label: KR

Year of Release: 1982

On many occasions I've posited the theory that if a song is popular enough - whether as a hit single, part of a soundtrack or even a television theme - there's probably a reggae cover version of it somewhere out there. The list of examples is absurd and endless, from television soap themes (such as Coronation Street and Neighbours) to Elvis Costello tracks. The genre has a flexibility it's seldom given credit for and can absorb anything in its path, transforming any unlikely idea into a lush Jamaican soundscape. 

In this respect, Vangelis's theme to "Chariots of Fire" is perhaps not as ridiculous an example as it sounds. The track already dripped with honeyed sophistry so it's not as if any DJ or reggae artist stepping into its orbit really needed to do much beyond add some sweet skanking; and that's exactly what happens here. This isn't a radical reworking, just a reggae rhythm screwed on to the theme, with some lilting female vocalists (needlessly, in my opinion) singing the title being the only truly surprising addition.

What is alarming is the name of the artist behind the idea, the veteran (and oftentimes Lee "Scratch" Perry collaborator) Lloyd Charmers whose other reggae classics have included graphic titles such as "Yum Yum Pussy", "Bang Bang Lulu", "Red Bum  Ball", and plenty more besides. His output was mountainous, though, and included many numbers which didn't have adult themes, so it would be wrong to suggest that this record is exactly like Judge Dredd taking on Jean Michel Jarre - it's just slightly like that.

Tree Man Army - Pass The Turkey On The Right Hand Side/ Turkey On Toast

Have yourself a dub and reggae Christmas

Label: Pinnacle
Year of (non) release: 1982

I couldn't let the 2021 festive season disappear without uploading at least one new Christmas non-hit, and this is as lost and obscure as things can possibly get. Not only is it not clear who Tree Man Army were (they never committed anything else to vinyl to the best of my knowledge) but this never got a proper release, emerging as a white label and then disappearing without offering an explanation for its existence. 

The idea was simple enough and certainly in tune with a current phenomenon. 1982 was a huge breakthrough year for Musical Youth, a group who - for the benefit of the very few young and uninitiated readers of this blog - were school-age reggae performers from Birmingham. Their 1981 debut single "Generals" was issued by the local label 021 and produced by the Saltley Music Workshop, a local project designed to develop the skills of non-musicians in the community. John Peel promptly picked up on the single and brought the group to national attention, and "Pass the Dutchie" eventually followed on the major label MCA a year later, vaulting from number 26 to number one in the charts in October, remaining one of the biggest single week climbs to the top of all time. 

The group were ideal television fodder for awhile, taking their sounds on to children's television and early evening entertainment shows, and the exposure sustained their success for a brief period. It quickly became clear that something was afoot, however, as interviews began to emerge from the camp containing grumbles about "being stereotyped as a novelty group". Young they may have been, but the band were not naive and seemed quick to understand the mechanisations of the music industry of the time. They were not being given the attention, PR or budget of an act MCA had any long-term faith in, and were instead treated as a short-term gamble - a group whose fame was likely to have come and gone before they'd even finished school.

For once, it's easy to see MCA's point of view - most of Musical Youth's strengths lay in their child-like innocence, and once that was lost they would have probably just have become another niche, hard-to-sell reggae act (and what would they have called themselves, even?) Some acts are harder to develop than others. 

Still, the initial Musical Youth phenomenon cannot be understated. The group seemed to be absolutely bloody everywhere in late 1982, and enjoyed an extraordinarily diverse range of public appreciation from Peel listeners to pensioners who just liked seeing some cute, wide-eyed children performing distinctly adult-sounding pop. And this is where Tree Man Army come in, presumably seeking to cash in on one of the biggest reggae tracks since Althea and Donna's "Up Town Top Ranking".

Fuze - Falklands/ Follow Me Home

 

Lo-fi party sounds from Manchester

Label: Relentless

Year of Release: 1982

Weird, under-produced lo-fi singles were two a penny by the eighties, of course, and the indie underground was so huge by the middle of the decade that for a brief period 7" singles with folded paper sleeves were all over the mainstream press. 

By 1982, the DIY punk attitude to be found on many of these releases had evolved into something slightly more challenging, and numerous bands were producing music which was somewhat more forward-thinking. Fuze seem to sit in the early eighties crossfire between dancefloor friendly rhythms and post-punk awkwardness, with "Falklands" on the A-side here sounding like a spotty herbert's conga in a Manchester squat. 

The B-side is slightly more interesting, with the group trying their hand at reggae and actually managing to sound very deep and dubby in the process. While both sides are slightly disadvantaged by a very cheap production and questionable vinyl pressing quality, with a better budget "Follow Me Home" in particular could have been a serious winner.

Honeyboy - Heart of Gold/ Version

Beautiful reggae take on Neil Young classic

Label: Penguin

Year of Release: 1977

Reggae's ability to plunder the classic songbook, take any song from any genre (within reason) and reappropriate it for its own purposes is enviable. Of the thousands of Jamaican singles churned out each year throughout the seventies and eighties, some top flight covers can be found for your delight.

This Neil Young cover has been a lot more buried than it deserves to be, however. The gentle, yearning "Heart of Gold" probably feels more of an obvious candidate for the Lover's Rock treatment than it initially appears, and the treatment here is respectful, faithful and yet somehow - as bafflingly contradictory as it sounds - entirely its own sound. It manages to make you believe that Neil Young's original vision was always for this track to be heard by lovelorn rude boys everywhere. 

The dub version on the B-side isn't the most adventurous you'll hear but also spikes the song into new and interesting shapes.

Dolphin - Hey Joe/ Dubby Dubby

Mellow reggae take on the Hendrix/ Leaves classic

Label: Gale

Year of Release: 1980

The enigmatic Dolphin - essentially a solo project by songwriter Paul Carman given a group name - are one of those obscure seventies groups whose work hasn't yet excited the average record collector. Releasing smooth, FM radio takes on Byrds and Spector classics such as "Goin Back" and "And Then I Kissed Her", their earliest 1976 releases on Private Stock landed at a time when increasingly few people gave a damn for such sophisticated fare. 

A shame, as those singles would have been pretty enough to have reached a larger section of the public a few years previously. Despite their no-show on the charts, the project continued with gusto with a total of six singles on Private Stock, one LP ("Goodbye") and then finally this 45 and another LP on the small Gale label. 

"Hey Joe" is the one that seems to be picking up a little bit more attention now. While it's a reggae take on the Hendrix classic, inevitably it is somewhat inauthentic - try to push it on the nearest skinhead or dancehall DJ and you're likely to be publicly mocked. It is a smooth and lilting attempt, though, taking The Leaves and Hendrix's wrath and angst and turning it into a despondent, low skank (can you actually skank despondently?) The passing of time has allowed the origins of this one to be forgotten and a few listeners to prick up their ears.

Offered With Very Little Comment #6 - Dora Hall, Dick James, Afro Akino, Tony Hatch, Chamber of Kommerce

Five 45s from the back of the box

Once again, readers, it's time to delve deep into the dusty crevices of my 45 collection and focus on a load of weird and occasionally wonderful cuts.

As usual, I've uploaded these en masse purely because I've ummed and ahhed over the contents of the recordings and researched the groups in question and can't really think of much to say beyond the observations you see below. Sometimes less is more (and anyway, you didn't seriously expect me to write a sixth Dora Hall blog entry, did you? I really don't want any of my friends to feel they need to stage an intervention).

If any of you feel you want to discuss the contents in more depth or highlight something I might not know, feel free to comment away.

(And remember, readers - simply refresh the page if Box is deciding to be an arse today).

Izzy Royal - Coronation Street/ Dub

Proof, if proof were needed, that there's been a reggae cover version of everything...

Label: WEA
Year of Release: 1985

I don't know why so many reggae artists have a penchant for covering well-known but unlikely songs, but the habit runs deep. Beatles fans will be aware of the Trojan box-set of reggae Fabs covers, and readers of this blog will doubtless remember such gems as "Rupert The Bear" and "Space Oddity".

To say I was surprised by the existence of this 45 would be an understatement, however. The soap opera "Coronation Street" is familiar to just about anyone with a British birth certificate, but its bluesy, world-weary instrumental theme - perfect for singing "Oh Coronation Street" along to over and over again if you're that way inclined - wouldn't seem to translate well to any other genre at all.

This single proves that a lilting reggae beat was just waiting to be dropped on to the song after all, as the whole thing hangs together astonishingly well. The cheeky dub version on the flipside even manages to give it a thunderous, clattering, stoned atmosphere.

Offered With Very Little Comment #5 - Nanette Workman, The Odd, The Memories, Dane Hunter, Soft Sensation

Some regular readers will be aware of the fact that from time to time, I throw a whole batch of singles up on to this blog in one swoop while writing very little about them.

This is usually for one of a few very simple reasons:

• I know virtually nothing about the artist(s) in question
• I have very little to say about the music
• The record in question didn't really seem to me to warrant a lot of dissection. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes things just are what they are. 

So then, with no apologies offered for the lack of background reading, and with no expectations raised, please see the latest batch behind the link.

Next of Kin - Merry Christmas/ Sunday Children Sunday Morning

Interesting attempt at festive ska from Mitch Murray and friends

Label: MCA

Year of Release: 1969

Well, ho ho ho, what have we here in Santa's sack? Blow me down if it isn't a bit of cod-ska co-written by the songwriter Mitch Murray, of "How Do You Do It?", "Bonnie and Clyde" and "Is This The Way To Amarillo?" fame. Ho ho ho, off you go young man, get off my knee, there are others waiting, this record didn't bloody sell and I've got tons to get rid of, you know.

Mitch was, it's safe to say, not a man who had probably even holidayed in the Caribbean, much less been a member of a ska band. The Mike Leander production credit also indicates that there wasn't somebody from that background present to steer the ship towards those waters, so by rights, this disc should be a hopeless shambles.

It's interesting to find out that it's not terrible, then. It wouldn't pass muster with the average sixties skin who would almost certainly sniff out the distinctly Ob-La-Di-Ob-La-Da styled fake accents, but those cheap brass sounds, the raw production and the repetitive nature of the tune make it a strong parody of a late sixties ska track at the very least. It's unquestionably a cynical cash-in on a "current sound", but the attention to detail is impressive.

Rudy Grant - Space Oddity/ Every Step I Made

Reggae cover of David Bowie's classic. It works slightly better than you'd suppose.

Label: Ensign

Year of Release: 1981

It never ceases to amaze me how many unexpected and ambitious reggae cover versions there are out there. Some work, whereas others set their sights high and miss by miles.

In 1981, Eddy Grant's brother Rudy, not content with stopping at one or two singles, decided to record an entire album of covers which contained some unusual but generally workable choices, such as John Lennon's "Woman", Simon and Garfunkel's "Sound of Silence", and Stevie Wonder's "Lately". All of these attempts hang together well, and in the case of the Simon and Garfunkel classic, amazingly so.

This, however, is on dangerous territory. While the original version of "Space Oddity" may have a catchy melody at its centre, it's filled with odd fits and starts and instrumental diversions - which is what elevated the song above the mere 'novelty' tag some felt keen to give it during its initial chart run. It's an enormously sprawling, filmic sounding track with each flourish adding drama to the lyrical storyline. As such, it's a very tricky song to tack a steady reggae beat on to, and the way Rudy sidesteps this is quite interesting.

Magnificent Seven - Reggae Bagpipes/ Roll Out The Barrel

If you like a bit of reggae with your bagpipes, join our blog

Label: Decca

Year of Release: 1972

Pop and rock, of course, have continually evolved as they've adopted and mixed and meshed various apparently conflicting styles. If during the sixties British groups hadn't had one eye on music hall ditties and the other on rhythm and blues, so much interesting material might never have been written and released.

But a combination of reggae and the sound of the bagpipes? Really? Never has the Simpsons slogan "Nuts and Gum, together at last!" felt more applicable. It's not as if "Reggae Bagpipes" is a mess, which is to the credit of everyone involved. While it doesn't have a particularly authentic production or arrangement going on, it would be just about credible enough to pass were it not for those droning great pipes playing "Scotland the Brave" throughout. 

Sydney Elliott - Who Dat Girl/ Strawberry Blonde

Label: Spark

Year of Release: 1969

In the late sixties, the sound known as reggae (or "The REGGAE, ow!" as Johnny Johnson and His Bandwagon confusingly referred to it) was scorchingly popular with crossover hits emerging left, right and centre. This led to numerous small British independent labels trying to sign whatever club acts were based in London at that time, with Beacon Records jumping on both a bunch of mysterious sorts called Brixton Market, and the initially ska influenced Black Velvet. A lot of this material was slightly popped up for mainstream consumption, to varying degrees of success.

Spark, on the other hand, had Sydney Elliott on their books, who turned out this cultishly popular little single in 1969. "Who Dat Girl?" isn't 100% authentic reggae either, having an overly strict arrangement which sounds very Anglicised. The track itself is a bouncy, joyful affair about women in miniskirts, though, which was an incredibly popular lyrical topic during this period. Sydney delivers it well, and while your classic reggae DJ probably isn't going to spin it, it's an interesting period piece. It throws a tiny chunk of bubblegum into the blender and sounds like a possible hit.

The flip "Strawberry Blonde" is, as you might have guessed, about the desirability of ladies with that particular colour of hair, even going as far as to praise their cooking abilities. I doubt he did a scientific study on their souffle making abilities before recording the track, so it's best to take his words with a large pinch of kitchen salt (while also hiding behind the excuse that this was 1969 and these ideas about women's roles in the home hadn't quite fallen out of fashion yet).

Sydney Elliott was a popular club draw in the sixties and seventies, issuing another record on Spark (the rather more soulful "If Music Be The Food Of Love") and another for CBS ("Desperation") before disappearing from the recording studio vocal booth. He later became the uncle of the considerably more successful Maxi Priest, and the father of Jacob Miller of the reggae group Inner Circle.

Reupload - Count Prince Miller - Rupert The Bear/ When We Were Children

Label: Penny Farthing

Year of Release: 1972

Proof is right here, if we really needed it, that no cover version has ever been considered too absurd or too outlandish for a reggae artist. For this is indeed the children's TV theme given a decidedly mellow feel, with high-pitched, screeching (and I presume studio-treated?) vocals delivering the chorus. Whilst sixties psychedelia played with the idea of fairytales and backgarden creatures being drug-influenced, I'd almost be tempted to say that this tackles the subject of everyone's favourite Nutwood dwelling bear from a stoned perspective.

The B-side "When We Were Children" even continues the theme gamely, referring to the songs mothers sing to their offspring and the simplicity of those comforting times, which lyrically is very close to the same under-explored topic as Pink Floyd's "Matilda Mother". It didn't seem as if anyone in 1972 was really ready for toytown reggae or twee reggae, though, but the thought of a gang of menacing looking skinheads grooving on down to the "Rupert The Bear" theme tune is an enticing one.

Count Prince Miller had a cult reggae hit the previous year with "Mule Train Parts One and Two", but is perhaps better remembered in mainstream society for his role as Vince in the eighties sitcom "Desmond's". Both these performances outshine "Rupert The Bear", but it's a peculiar career blip and anomaly I couldn't resist uploading here.

The Pacesetters - Cool Coffee/ The Israelites

Label: Saga Big Chief

Year of Release: 1970

Saga was one of the earliest budget record labels to be launched in the UK, beginning in the late fifties as an outlet for cut-price classical music albums. The success of that venture caused Saga to dip its toes into other waters, sometimes with results that caused them to scurry back to the shore in a gibbering panic (the relative failure of Joe Meek's Triumph label, a subsidiary of Saga, is the stuff of collector's legends) and on other occasions with modest success. Perhaps the label's management also took their cues from Meek when they began shoving promising young bands in the unlikely environment of a North London infant school hall at night to cheaply record the results as rush-released bargain basement LPs. Do check out The Magic Mixture's "This Is The Magic Mixture" if you get the chance - despite the lo fidelity nature of the work, it contains some fine work, not least the haunting, empty school assembly hall echo of "Moonbeams".

The "Big Chief" offshoot appears to have been the label's experimental foray into the territory of reggae, and lasted for a handful of releases before disappearing. The instrumental "Cool Coffee" is sharp enough that it's still talked about fondly by collectors and DJs now - it's roughly recorded and sounds a couple of years older than its release date, but contains an insistent, nagging keyboard line and throbbing bassline.

The B-side is a quickie cover of "The Israelites" featuring Al Barnett on lead vocals. This copy is horribly scuffed and scratched, I'm sorry to say, but I doubt that anyone will think it's an essential addition to their mp3 folder.

As for Saga's excursions into reggae, they continued again in 1975 when they successfully took over the Trojan group of labels, getting seriously involved in the business of marketing the genre as opposed to attempting low-budget cash-ins.

Avenue AVE 76 - The Beatles, Desmond Dekker, John Lennon, Cilla Black, Beach Boys, Thunderclap Newman

Label: Avenue
Year of Release: 1969

It's been a long while since "Left and to the Back" last focussed on the thrills you can have whilst listening to budget priced "not the work of the original artists!" pop party records.  These discs were actually bought in large numbers and tend to turn up all over the place, but finding one that's both in good condition and either unintentionally funny or admirably well handled is hard work.

This 1969 example does, on the surface, seem to contain plenty of tripwires for unsuspecting session musicians, containing as it does reggae (always a problem for jobbing musos in the sixties, as the Top of the Pops orchestra proved time and time again), counter-cultural commentary, and West Coast harmonies.  It's disappointing to note that in the vast majority of cases, these are handled fairly well.  It seems ridiculous listening to somebody who isn't John Lennon singing about the trials and tribulations of being John Lennon on "Ballad of John and Yoko", but beyond a certain politeness to the vocal delivery there aren't many stumbles apparent.

"It Mek" is probably too polished and clean to sell itself authentically as genuine sixties reggae, but irrespective of that isn't terribly embarrassing, "Give Peace A Chance" sounds like it always did (someone ranting tediously over a bunch of individuals kicking around the contents of a broom cupboard - that can hardly have presented a challenge to everyone at Avenue House), and "Conversations" was never an impressive Cilla Black track in the first place.

It's left up to "Breakaway" before we start to notice serious floundering.  "Breakaway" was never the Beach Boys most heavily produced and arranged track, but when it's left in the hands of anonymous session musicians you are left appreciating the original a great deal more.  The harmonies are strained, and the musicians are very clearly struggling to replicate the Wilson sound here - you can almost hear the strain and panic.  It sounds as if the backing vocalist handling the "doos" is almost sobbing during the intro, while the others contemplate freedom and release in the style of a wedding service hymn sung by a church filled with atheists.  There really is a sense of resentment about the delivery here, as if everyone involved was handed a difficult job and asked to deliver it against an impossible deadline - the net result is a total disaster.  Phil Spector has gone on record as saying that Brian Wilson sent himself mad "trying to become me".  The Avenue jobbers here sound as if they went fairly close to the edge of sanity attempting to ape Wilson.

"Something In The Air" restores some balance at the end of side two by being a fair facsimile, although again lacks conviction given the subject matter.  In summary - bar one appalling stinker on this record, I've heard worse.  Oh yeah, and sorry about some of the pops and clicks and surface noise.