The first day of July always carries a shadow. 1st July 1916 — the Somme — a day so brutal it still echoes. Nearly 57,500 British casualties before nightfall, 19,000 of them never coming home. The French lost over 1,500. Germany around 6,000. A century later, the numbers still feel obscene and carry a genetic impact we still feel the effect of.
From that solemn ground we step into music — the sublime, the ridiculous, and everything in between. July deserves range.
Nicola Benedetti – Spiegel im Spiegel
Arvo Pärt’s minimalist meditation, played with Benedetti’s trademark stillness. Written in 1978, it’s one of those pieces that seems to suspend time — a single line unfolding like breath, or prayer, or memory.
The Pipes & Drums of The Black Watch – Wha’ Saw the 42nd?
A regimental march with centuries behind it. The 42nd Highlanders — later The Black Watch — carried this tune across continents. It’s brisk, proud, and impossible not to straighten your back to.
Cockney Rejects – Police Car
East End punk at full throttle. Released in 1980, the Rejects were never subtle — and that’s the charm. A raw snapshot of street-level Britain before the decade turned sour.
Didi Dubbeldam & Jan van der Plas – Choo Choo Wa
Pure silliness. A children’s party favourite from the Netherlands that somehow became a global earworm. Proof that music doesn’t always need meaning — sometimes it just needs movement.
Amy MacDonald – Born to Run
MacDonald’s folk-rock energy meets Springsteen’s myth-making title. Not a cover — her own song — but carrying that same restless spirit she’s been bottling since This Is the Life.
John Mayer – Free Fallin’
A gentle, live reimagining of Tom Petty’s classic. Mayer strips it back to open chords and soft phrasing, turning a highway anthem into something closer to confession.
Gary Moore – Still Got The Blues
Moore’s Belfast fire meets American blues tradition. Released in 1990, it’s the track that cemented his reputation beyond hard rock — a slow-burn solo that still floors guitar players.
Randy & The Rainbows – Denise
Early‑60s doo‑wop sunshine. Blondie later reinvented it as Denis, flipping gender and adding French flair, but the original has that unmistakable Brill Building innocence.
Status Quo – Whatever You Want
The Quo at their most Quo. 1979. Denim. Telecasters. A riff that could power a small town. British boogie rock distilled to its purest form.
Al Stewart – The Year of the Cat
A soft-rock travelogue from 1976, wrapped in cinematic storytelling. Stewart’s lyrics wander through markets, strangers, and chance encounters — all carried by that unmistakable sax line.
Taylor Swift – I Can Do It With a Broken Heart
From The Tortured Poets Department. Swift at her most self-aware: glitter, exhaustion, and the pressure to perform even when life is cracking underneath.
Warning – Watching From a Distance
British doom metal at its most desolate. Released in 2006, Warning’s slow, aching chords and Patrick Walker’s vocals create a kind of emotional gravity few bands manage.
The Last Song List of June already. The month has vanished in a blur of heat, headlines and half‑finished to‑do lists. At this rate we’ll be carving pumpkins, then turkeys, before we’ve even caught our breath. Still — if the calendar insists on hurtling forward, we may as well soundtrack the journey.
This week’s dozen tracks span Glam, Punk, Rock, Soft Rock and a few glorious outliers. As ever, the joy is in the contrasts: theatrical glitter, snarling punk reportage, Celtic‑tinged rock, and a couple of songs that simply refuse to age.
THE ADVERTS – Gary Gilmore’s Eyes
Written in 1977 at the height of punk’s moral panic era, this remains one of the movement’s most unsettling and brilliant pieces of social commentary. TV Smith took the real‑life story of US murderer Gary Gilmore donating his organs after execution and flipped it into a first‑person shock narrative. The Adverts’ version is the definitive one: brittle, urgent, and utterly uninterested in subtlety. Punk doing what punk does best — forcing you to look.
ANONYMOUS ULSTER – I Can’t Breathe (A Song for Henry Nowak)
Anonymous Ulster has carved out a niche for songs rooted in place, politics and people. This track sits firmly in that tradition — a modern folk lament with a documentary instinct. Musically it draws on the long lineage of protest ballads; lyrically it’s very much of the present moment.
LARKIN POE – Black Betty
“Black Betty” began life as an African‑American work song, first recorded by Lead Belly in the 1930s. Larkin Poe’s version is a ferocious, slide‑driven reinvention — Southern Gothic blues filtered through modern swagger. They don’t just cover the song; they reclaim its rawness.
THE MONKEES – I’m A Believer
Neil Diamond wrote it, the Monkees turned it into a global pop phenomenon in 1966, and it remains one of the most perfect three‑minute singles ever recorded. This version captures the band at their peak: sunshine harmonies, jangling optimism, and a melody that refuses to leave your head.
DEATH IN ROME – Wrecking Ball
Death in Rome specialise in neo‑folk reinterpretations of modern pop, and their take on Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” is one of their most striking. Stripped of its pop‑anthem sheen, the song becomes something darker, more fragile, almost liturgical. A reminder that a strong melody can survive any genre migration.
GARY GLITTER – The Wanderer
Originally recorded by Dion in 1961, “The Wanderer” is one of early rock ’n’ roll’s great swaggering struts. Glitter’s 1970s glam‑rock cover transforms it into a theatrical stomp — all glitter suits, platform boots and exaggerated bravado. Whatever one thinks of the man (and there is plenty to think), this version is a fascinating example of how glam repurposed 1950s rock tropes into something bigger, brasher and knowingly artificial.
KAISER CHIEFS – I Predict A Riot
A mid‑2000s indie anthem that captured the chaos, humour and low‑level menace of British nightlife. Released in 2004, it helped launch the Kaiser Chiefs into the mainstream. The version here shows why: sharp, punchy, and delivered with a wink.
REEF – Place Your Hands
Released in 1996, this is one of the great British rock singles of the decade. Reef fused grunge‑era heft with West Country warmth, and Gary Stringer’s voice — gravelly, elastic, instantly recognisable — remains the band’s secret weapon. A song built for festivals, car stereos and communal shouting.
ROXY MUSIC – Virginia Plain
Roxy Music’s 1972 debut single is a jolt of art‑rock electricity: no chorus, no repetition, just a glamorous sprint through Bryan Ferry’s pop‑surrealist imagination. The abrupt ending is part of its charm — a door slammed mid‑sentence. Few songs dare to stop so decisively.
THE SAW DOCTORS – I Useta Lover
A 1990 Irish classic that blends pub‑rock energy with wry storytelling. It became one of the biggest‑selling singles in Irish history. The Saw Doctors’ charm lies in their ability to make nostalgia feel rowdy rather than sentimental, and this track is Exhibit A.
SUTHERLAND BROTHERS & QUIVER – Arms of Mary
Soft Rock at its most tender. Released in 1976, the song became an international hit, though it never quite propelled the band to the fame they deserved. Its gentle harmonies and wistful melody have inspired multiple covers — but the original remains the gold standard.
U2 – Where The Streets Have No Name
The opening track of The Joshua Tree (1987) and one of U2’s defining statements. Built on The Edge’s cathedral‑like guitar delay, the song aimed for transcendence and — unusually for such ambition — achieved it. Live, it becomes a communal ritual.
YES – Owner of a Lonely Heart (Live)
The original 1983 studio version was Yes’s unexpected leap into synth‑rock modernity. This live performance shows how the band re‑engineered the track for the stage: sharper edges, more muscular instrumentation, and that unmistakable Trevor Rabin guitar tone.
AND OUR QUESTION OF THE WEEK
We adore the abrupt, almost mid‑air ending of Roxy Music’s Virginia Plain. What other tracks — in any genre — finish with that same sudden, glorious full‑stop?
HELLO — and welcome back to the weekly wander through the musical back‑alleys, neon-lit side streets and occasionally questionable cul‑de‑sacs of popular culture. This week’s list is a proper patchwork quilt: punk reworks, glam stompers, synth‑era paranoia, a detour through Oz, and one of the greatest acoustic reinterpretations ever committed to tape.
As always, the aim is simple: songs that spark something — memory, curiosity, argument, or just the urge to turn the volume up until the neighbours start Googling “noise complaint template”.Let’s begin.
THE SONGS
AGNOSTIC FRONT – “BLITZKRIEG BOP” (Ramones cover)
The Ramones’ 1976 original is the Big Bang of American punk — two minutes of down‑stroke guitar, bubblegum nihilism and the most famous “Hey! Ho!” in history. Agnostic Front’s version drags it forward into the New York hardcore era they helped define. Where the Ramones were bratty and pop‑leaning, Agnostic Front are all grit, concrete and sweat‑drenched basement shows. Their cover isn’t reverent — it’s a reclamation, a reminder that punk didn’t stay in CBGB’s; it mutated, toughened, and found new teeth.
THE ANIMALS – “HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN”
A folk standard with murky origins — possibly New Orleans, possibly England — but it was The Animals who electrified it in 1964 and turned it into a global phenomenon. Eric Burdon’s vocal is still astonishing: raw, haunted, almost sermon‑like. Alan Price’s organ part is one of the most recognisable in British rock history. Sixty years on, it hasn’t aged; it simply stands there, timeless, like a building you can’t believe humans ever managed to construct.
Depeche Mode’s 1989 original was all swaggering blues‑industrial minimalism. Broken Peach — Spain’s theatrical, Halloween‑costumed, cabaret‑punk collective — take it somewhere else entirely. Their version is part performance art, part rock revue, part fever dream. The harmonies are tight, the staging is knowingly eccentric, and the whole thing feels like Depeche Mode reimagined by Tim Burton after too much espresso.
NOEL GALLAGHER – “THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT” (The Smiths cover)
A bold move: covering one of the most beloved songs in the British indie canon. The Smiths’ 1986 original is all doomed romance and Mancunian melodrama. Noel doesn’t try to recreate that. Instead, he leans into a stripped‑back, orchestral hush — voice, guitar, and a soft swell of strings behind him. The result is unexpectedly tender. Without Marr’s shimmering arpeggios, the song feels more fragile, more human, almost confessional. A rare case of a cover that doesn’t compete with the original — it converses with it.
INXS – “NEVER TEAR US APART”
Released in 1987, this is INXS at their most cinematic. A slow‑burn ballad built on strings, saxophone and Michael Hutchence’s velvet‑and‑smoke vocal. It’s a song that feels like a memory even on first listen — a kind of widescreen romantic fatalism. Decades later, it remains one of the band’s defining moments, a reminder of Hutchence’s ability to make intimacy sound operatic.
METALLICA – “WHISKEY IN THE JAR”
A traditional Irish folk song, famously electrified by Thin Lizzy in 1973. Metallica’s 1998 version — from their covers album Garage Inc. — is heavier, chunkier, and unmistakably theirs. It’s Metallica having fun: big riffs, big drums, and James Hetfield leaning into the swagger. The song’s journey from folk ballad to hard‑rock anthem is a perfect example of how tradition survives by being reinvented.
NENA – “99 RED BALLOONS” (Long Version Mix)
Cold War paranoia wrapped in synth‑pop sugar. Released in 1983, “99 Luftballons” became a global hit in both German and English. The long version stretches out the tension — more synths, more atmosphere, more of that strangely upbeat dread. It’s a reminder of a time when nuclear anxiety sat right next to chart‑friendly pop, and nobody thought that was odd.
THE SOUND – “GLASS & SMOKE”
Adrian Borland’s band never got the recognition they deserved during their lifetime, but their influence has only grown. “Glass & Smoke” is quintessential post‑punk: brooding, melodic, emotionally flammable. Borland’s voice carries a kind of heroic vulnerability — the sound of someone trying to hold the world together with bare hands.
T. REX – “TELEGRAM SAM”
Marc Bolan at full glam‑strut. Released in 1972, “Telegram Sam” is all swaggering riffs, nonsense poetry and glitter‑dusted attitude. It’s not trying to be profound — it’s trying to be irresistible. And it succeeds. A reminder that glam rock, at its best, was both utterly ridiculous and utterly brilliant.
TIFFANY – “I THINK WE’RE ALONE NOW”
Originally a 1967 hit for Tommy James & The Shondells, Tiffany’s 1987 cover turned it into a mall‑pop juggernaut. Her version is pure late‑80s: synths, drum machines, teenage yearning. It’s impossible to hear without picturing denim jackets, food courts and the last golden age of bubblegum pop.
THE WIZARD OF OZ – “IF I ONLY HAD A HEART”
From the 1939 film that practically invented modern cinematic fantasy. The Tin Man’s song is whimsical on the surface, but there’s a melancholy undercurrent — a character longing for something he believes he lacks. It’s one of those rare musical numbers that has lived far beyond its film, becoming part of the cultural bloodstream.
NEIL YOUNG – “HEART OF GOLD”
Released in 1972 on Harvest, this is Neil Young’s only US No.1 single — a fact that still surprises people. It’s folk‑rock perfection: harmonica, acoustic guitar, and Young’s unmistakable high, quivering vocal. A song about searching — for meaning, for goodness, for something unspoiled. Half a century later, the search still resonates.
And that’s your lot for this week — a playlist that zig‑zags across decades, genres and emotional weather systems. If one of these tracks sends you down a rabbit hole, mission accomplished. If several do, even better.
As always, we end with a question — and this week it’s an easy one to argue about:
Which cover version in this list improves most boldly on the original?
See you next week for more cultural excavation and sonic archaeology.
“Rain, rebellion, synthesisers and Southern swagger — your midweek cultural tonic.”
Many people regard June as the start of Summer, but so far the weather has been so relentlessly wet that even the ducks are filing formal complaints. The fish are threatening industrial action. And last week’s joke about Christmas stock appearing in Home Bargains? We said “August” — but given the rumours that they’re planning to rescue Denby pottery, perhaps we’ll forgive them if the baubles come early. If a major British ceramics brand and hundreds of jobs can be saved, that’s a Christmas miracle we’ll happily take in June.
But enough meteorology and retail speculation. Time to turn to the real business of the week: music.
This edition takes us from the snarling birth of punk to the shimmering synths of early New Wave, from Southern rock swagger to Californian sunshine pop, from communal singing to glam-rock provocation. A proper Counter Culture spread — eclectic, historically grounded, and always with an eye on the cultural currents beneath the tunes.
Let’s dive in.
GNARLS BARKLEY – Crazy
When Crazy landed in 2006, it felt like a song that had always existed — a modern standard arriving fully formed. CeeLo Green’s soulful, wounded vocal sits atop Danger Mouse’s cinematic production, built around a haunting sample from Gianfranco Reverberi’s 1968 spaghetti‑western score Nel Cimitero di Tucson. The track became the first ever UK No.1 based solely on downloads, signalling a shift in how music would be consumed.
It’s a song about losing your grip on reality, yet it’s delivered with such swagger that it feels liberating rather than despairing — a rare trick.
THE BEACH BOYS – Fun, Fun, Fun
Released in 1964, this is the Beach Boys at their most effervescent: teenage rebellion, fast cars, and harmonies so bright they could power the national grid. Brian Wilson’s arrangement is a masterclass in controlled exuberance — the opening guitar lick nods cheekily to Chuck Berry, while the vocal stack is pure California sunshine.
It’s also a sly little morality tale: girl borrows car, girl misbehaves, girl loses car. But with harmonies like these, who cares?
CHOIR! CHOIR! CHOIR! – Zombie
The Canadian collective Choir! Choir! Choir! specialise in turning pop songs into communal acts of catharsis. Their take on The Cranberries’ Zombie is especially powerful — a massed choir reclaiming Dolores O’Riordan’s protest song about the Troubles and the human cost of political violence.
What was once a howl of grief becomes, in their hands, a shared lament and a reminder of how music can bind people together in the face of tragedy.
ELTON JOHN & DUA LIPA – Cold Heart
A clever, shimmering hybrid: Pnau splice together fragments of Elton’s back catalogue (Rocket Man, Sacrifice, Kiss the Bride) and build a sleek, modern disco track around them. Dua Lipa’s cool, crystalline vocal contrasts beautifully with Elton’s warmth.
It’s a reminder that pop history isn’t a museum — it’s a living archive, constantly being reinterpreted and re‑energised.
GARY NUMAN – My Name is Ruin / Are Friends Electric?
Numan’s 2018 Old Grey Whistle Test performance is a fascinating bridge between eras. Are Friends Electric? (1979) was one of the first major UK hits built almost entirely on synthesizers — a stark, dystopian track that helped define early New Wave and electronic pop. Tubeway Army may have dissolved, but Numan’s influence only grew. My Name is Ruin shows the evolution: darker, heavier, industrial‑tinged — and featuring his daughter Persia, whose ethereal high notes add an eerie, almost ritualistic quality. A family affair in the best possible way.
LYNYRD SKYNYRD – Sweet Home Alabama
A cornerstone of Southern rock, released in 1974 as a response to Neil Young’s critiques of the American South. The track’s breezy feel — those instantly recognisable opening chords — belies the cultural debate it sparked.
Musically, it’s irresistible: triple‑guitar attack, swaggering rhythm section, and Ronnie Van Zant’s laid‑back vocal. Whatever your view on the politics, it remains one of rock’s most enduring anthems.
MAGAZINE – Shot By Both Sides
Howard Devoto left the Buzzcocks because he wanted to explore something more angular, more cerebral — and Magazine was the result. Shot By Both Sides (1978) is a post‑punk landmark: jagged guitars, paranoid lyrics, and a sense of intellectual unease that set the template for countless bands to come.
It’s punk with a library card — and all the better for it.
MORRISSEY – The Monsters of Pig Alley
A later‑period Morrissey track that leans into noirish atmosphere and cinematic tension. The title references the 1912 D.W. Griffith film, one of the earliest gangster movies. Musically, it’s brooding and muscular, with Morrissey’s vocal weaving between menace and melancholy.
Whatever one thinks of the man, his ability to conjure mood remains intact.
ELVIS PRESLEY – Girl of My Best Friend
Recorded in 1960, this is Elvis in his early post‑Army period — smoother, more mature, and leaning into the pop‑ballad tradition. The song itself dates back to the late ’50s and has been covered many times, but Elvis gives it a tender, almost conversational quality.
It’s a snapshot of a transitional moment: the raw rock ’n’ roll rebel evolving into a polished mainstream star.
SEX PISTOLS – Pretty Vacant
If punk had a mission statement, this might be it. Released in 1977, Pretty Vacant is less overtly confrontational than God Save the Queen, but its sneer is just as potent. Steve Jones’ guitar is a wall of sound, Paul Cook’s drumming is tight and propulsive, and John Lydon’s vocal — especially the infamous pronunciation of “va‑CUNT” — is pure provocation.
It’s not just a song; it’s a cultural rupture. A reminder that punk wasn’t merely a genre — it was a demolition job on the complacency of the era.
THE STONE ROSES – I Am the Resurrection
The closing track of their 1989 debut album, and one of the great codas in British rock. The first half is a swaggering kiss‑off; the second half dissolves into a euphoric, extended instrumental jam that feels like a premonition of the Madchester rave‑rock fusion to come.
It’s the Roses at their most transcendent — a band briefly touching the divine.
SWEET – Blockbuster (Uncensored Version)
Ah, Steve Priest. Glam rock’s resident agent provocateur. His Top of the Pops appearance — Prussian helmet, swastika armband, silver platform boots, fake toothbrush moustache — was designed to wind up the BBC establishment, and it succeeded magnificently.
Today, in our era of humour‑averse pearl‑clutching, the clip is labelled “Uncensored Version,” which tells you everything about the cultural shift.
It raises a serious question: should artistic expression be constrained because someone, somewhere, might take offence?
Counter Culture’s answer is simple: art must be free to provoke, unsettle, and challenge — otherwise it’s not art.
AND FINALLY…
If you enjoy the Midweek Song List, remember we also produce:
Welcome to the first Midweek Song List of June — that curious stretch of the calendar when the weather can’t make up its mind, the festivals begin to stir, and Home Bargains quietly prepares its first wave of Christmas stock. Brace yourselves.
As ever, today’s selection is gloriously eclectic. Only here would you find Motörhead rubbing shoulders with Mozart, or a Canadian post‑punk upstart sharing space with a 1960s dance‑floor classic. It’s the sort of musical chaos we’ve come to cherish.
Before we dive in, a quick thank‑you to the reader who sent us Home Front’s ‘Light Sleeper’ (above). They’re convinced the band is Canada’s next major export. We’re keeping an open mind — but the track certainly has a restless, synth‑driven energy that’s hard to ignore. Let us know what you think.
We’re long‑standing admirers of Blondie. ‘Denis’ (above) remains one of our favourites. A reimagining of Randy & The Rainbows’ ‘Denise’, it introduced Blondie to the UK in 1978. Deborah Harry even added a verse in French to justify the name and gender switch. Punk roots, new‑wave sheen — and, dare we say it, a whisper of glam. Not the glitter‑bomb kind, but something ineffable that made them stand out.
From there we shift to Green Day’s ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’, one of the defining tracks of American Idiot. It’s a lonely‑walk anthem wrapped in post‑punk melancholy — a song that captured the disillusionment of the early 2000s with a melody that still hits like a punch to the ribs.
We then head back to the 60s with Little Eva’s ‘The Loco‑Motion’. Joyous, bouncy, and utterly irresistible, it’s a dance‑floor classic whose hand‑clap rhythm and locomotive swing have kept it alive through countless revivals. If anyone has stories about seeing Little Eva live, we’d love to hear them.
Merle Haggard’s ‘America First’ brings us something more reflective. A late‑career track with Haggard’s trademark Bakersfield warmth, it’s understated, melodic, and plainspoken — a reminder of his ability to capture the mood of ordinary people with unvarnished clarity.
Then we slam the throttle forward with Motörhead’s ‘Bomber’ . Fast, loud, and unapologetically raw, it’s Lemmy and co. in full flight — a low‑flying riff that feels like it’s skimming the treetops.
From there, a sharp left turn into classical elegance with Mozart’s ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusik’. Bright, precise, and instantly recognisable, it’s the musical equivalent of a perfectly cut diamond — timeless and sparkling.
Today also marks the end of our mini‑series commemorating the centenary of the 1926 General Strike. We close with ‘Solidarity Forever’ — not the Pete Seeger version, but the stark, resonant interpretation by The Nightwatchman, Tom Morello’s politically charged solo project. A fitting tribute to collective struggle.
Speaking of reinterpretations, have a listen to Wilson Pickett’s version of ‘Hey Jude’ The Beatles’ original is so familiar it’s practically part of our DNA, but Pickett drenches it in soul, pushing the song into raw, emotional territory. We’re torn — but what’s your verdict?
We also revisit Fergal Sharkey’s ‘A Good Heart’, an 80s pop gem powered by Sharkey’s unmistakable quiver of a voice. Glossy, heartfelt, and surprisingly bittersweet beneath the synth sheen.
From there, something more off‑kilter: The Smashing Pumpkins’ ‘Jellybaby’. A lesser‑known cut that blends fuzzed‑out guitars with dreamy sweetness — a glimpse of the band’s more playful side.
And finally, we close with The Undertones’ ‘Teenage Kicks’. Two minutes of pure pop‑punk perfection. Energetic, innocent, and bursting with adolescent longing, it remains one of the most beloved singles ever recorded — and John Peel’s all‑time favourite for good reason.
OTHER COUNTER CULTURE FEATURES
We’ve also begun producing Songlist Specials. Our first celebrated the Old Grey Whistle Test. Our second and third explored early West Coast punk.
Welcome to Issue 150 of the Midweek Song List — a small landmark, and a reminder of how broad the musical world becomes when you let instinct, memory and cultural history guide the choices. This week’s list ranges from New Wave to Bluegrass, from Glam’s theatrical swagger to Punk’s stripped‑back honesty. Blondie, Modern Lovers, Social Distortion and The Who all make an appearance, alongside a few surprises.
As regular readers know, we’ve been marking the centenary of the 1926 UK General Strike, highlighting original and cover versions of pro‑union songs. Today’s choice is a strong one: a modern cover of Worker’s Song, first recorded by the Dropkick Murphys on their 2003 album Blackout. It remains one of the most direct, plain‑spoken working‑class anthems of the last generation.
Our recent forays into Glam Rock have sparked interest, so this week we revisit the genre with Wizzard’s Ball Park Incident. Roy Wood — already a veteran from The Move and co‑founder of ELO — embraced Glam with absolute commitment. The hair, the makeup, the theatricality: it’s all there. Ball Park Incident captures the sheer exuberance of the movement.
The “blast from the past” slot goes to Sad Café’s Everyday Hurts (1979), a track that manages to be both laid‑back and emotionally piercing. It’s one of those songs that lingers long after it ends. And yes — we were genuinely surprised to discover the band is still active. Their website is worth a look: https://www.sadcafe.co.uk
As this is our 150th issue, we’re allowing ourselves a brief pause. If all goes to plan, the Midweek Song List will return on Wednesday 6th June.
We’ll end with a question. The artist known as Anonymous Ulster is steadily building a reputation for thoughtful, positive portrayals of his nation and its people. Are there others — based in the British Isles — who you feel are doing similar cultural work?
This Week’s Tracks — with brief notes
Anonymous Ulster – Rednecks And Hillbillys
A sharp, good‑humoured portrait of rural identity, delivered with the clarity and confidence that has become Anonymous Ulster’s signature.
PP Arnold – The First Cut Is The Deepest
Originally written by Cat Stevens, PP Arnold’s 1967 version is arguably the definitive one — a soul‑infused reading that helped cement her status as one of the great voices of the era.
Blondie – Maria
Released in 1999, Maria marked Blondie’s triumphant comeback after a 17‑year gap. A perfect slice of late‑90s power‑pop with Debbie Harry in commanding form.
Emmylou Harris – Bad Moon Rising
A beautifully restrained cover of the Creedence Clearwater Revival classic. Harris brings a country‑folk stillness to a song usually driven by urgency.
Modern Lovers – Roadrunner
Jonathan Richman’s proto‑punk hymn to driving, youth and the American night. Recorded in the early 70s, it became a foundational influence on Punk and Indie alike.
Oak Hill Road – Worker’s Song
A contemporary, roots‑inflected take on the Dropkick Murphys’ modern labour anthem — a reminder that class struggle remains a living, breathing subject.
Sad Café – Everyday Hurts
A 1979 soft‑rock classic that blends smooth production with genuine emotional weight. One of the band’s biggest hits and still quietly devastating.
Social Distortion – Born To Kill
From their 1992 album Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, this track captures Social Distortion’s trademark blend of punk grit and rockabilly swagger.
The Tennessee Bluegrass Band – Tall Weeds and Rust
A modern Bluegrass outfit with deep respect for tradition. This track showcases tight harmonies, crisp instrumentation and a sense of place that feels lived‑in.
The Who – I Can’t Explain
The Who’s 1965 debut single — a sharp, nervy burst of Mod‑era energy that hinted at the explosive creativity to come.
Lainey Wilson – Can’t Sit Still
A contemporary country track with Wilson’s trademark blend of swagger, groove and Southern storytelling.
Wizzard – Ball Park Incident
A 1972 Glam Rock gem. Roy Wood’s eccentric brilliance is on full display — big hooks, big harmonies, big attitude.
A wander back through the smoke‑hazed studio lights of The Old Grey Whistle Test — the BBC’s great cathedral of musical seriousness. No gimmicks, no pyrotechnics, no forced smiles. Just musicianship, mood, and the quiet confidence of artists who knew that a single well‑placed note could say more than a stadium’s worth of lasers.
Intro
This week’s list gathers songs that embody the OGWT ethos: unvarnished, emotionally literate, and played with the kind of conviction that doesn’t need gloss to land its punch. These are tracks that reward close listening — songs built from grain, grit, melancholy, and the occasional flash of eccentric brilliance. The sort of music that feels like it’s happening in the room with you.
THE SONGS
The Pogues – Dirty Old Town
A song that feels like it was designed for the OGWT’s stripped‑back stage: no gloss, no pretence, just the raw grain of lived experience. MacGowan’s voice — cracked, human, defiant — turns the industrial melancholy of Ewan MacColl’s lyric into something both intimate and communal. It’s reportage set to melody, a reminder that folk‑punk at its best is a witness statement.
Al Stewart – Year of the Cat
Elegant, literate, and quietly cinematic. Stewart writes like a novelist who happens to have a guitar within reach. The arrangement unfurls like a long exhale — saxophone, piano, and narrative all blooming in slow, confident arcs. OGWT always made room for musicians who treated songwriting as storytelling, and this track remains one of the great examples.
Blondie – (I’m Always Touched by Your) Presence, Dear
Before the iconography, before the stadiums, Blondie were a tight, clever New York band with a gift for melody and emotional precision. Debbie Harry’s cool, crystalline delivery gives the song its telepathic shimmer — intimate, stylish, and effortlessly poised. Exactly the kind of performance OGWT would have lingered on.
Focus – Hocus Pocus
A joyous, unhinged burst of virtuosity. Yodelling, shredding, flute runs, rhythmic acrobatics — all colliding in a way that only Focus could make coherent. OGWT had a soft spot for the eccentric and the technically fearless, and this track remains a reminder that musicianship can be both serious and absurd at the same time.
Dr Feelgood – Roxette
Pub‑rock stripped to the bone: tight, sweaty, and utterly committed. Wilko Johnson’s staccato guitar style — all attack, no indulgence — is the kind of performance OGWT treated as a craft demonstration. A masterclass in economy, intent, and the power of leaving space.
The Bangles – Walk Like an Egyptian
A pop song with sly intelligence beneath the surface. The harmonies, the rhythmic snap, the sense of playful detachment — all of it delivered with a precision that belies the song’s breezy exterior. OGWT always appreciated pop that was built like architecture, and this track is a perfect example.
Gary Numan – Are ‘Friends’ Electric?
Minimalist, icy, and epoch‑shifting. Numan’s stillness-as-theatre performance style was exactly the kind of boundary‑pushing OGWT championed. The track remains a landmark in British electronic music — alienation rendered as architecture and pulse, with a kind of emotional distance that becomes its own form of intimacy.
Ultravox – Hiroshima Mon Amour
European, atmospheric, and steeped in cinematic melancholy. OGWT gravitated toward bands who treated the stage as a place for mood rather than spectacle, and this track — all cold‑wave textures and emotional restraint — feels like it was made for that dimly lit studio.
Madness – Time
Behind the humour and the ska‑pop bounce, Madness always had a deep melodic intelligence. Time shows their reflective side — wistful, observational, quietly affecting. OGWT would have leaned into the musicianship rather than the caricature, letting the song’s emotional clarity speak for itself.
Janis Ian – At Seventeen
One of the great confessional songs of the 20th century. Ian’s delivery — vulnerable but unflinching — embodies the OGWT tradition of spotlighting artists who could silence a room with a single line. It still feels like a private admission whispered into the dark, decades later.
Nils Lofgren – Goin’ Back
A musician’s musician: precise, soulful, technically immaculate without ever losing emotional clarity. OGWT often showcased players like Lofgren — artists whose craft spoke louder than any hype machine. This track is a beautifully phrased homage to memory, return, and the quiet ache of looking back.
GLAM ROCK HAS BEEN getting a bit of a re‑evaluation lately, and rightly so. We’ve already spotlighted T. Rex’s ‘Ride A White Swan’ and ‘Hot Love’—two records that didn’t just chart well, but changed the temperature of British pop. They were the spark that lit the fuse.
This week we turn to another band who helped define the era: The Sweet, a group who combined bubblegum pop, heavy riffs, and a theatricality that pushed at the edges of what the Establishment thought acceptable. Steve Priest, in particular, delighted in winding up the moral guardians of the day. Their 1973 hit ‘The Ballroom Blitz’ is pure adrenaline—born from a real incident in which the band were bottled offstage in Scotland. They turned chaos into art, as glam bands so often did.
We’ve also been marking the centenary of the 1926 UK General Strike, and last time featured Billy Bragg’s take on ‘Which Side Are You On?’—a song originally written by Florence Reece during the brutal 1931 Harlan County coal wars. Bragg connected the American struggle to the UK miners’ strike of 1984–85, showing how these battles echo across generations.
Since then we’ve come across Natalie Merchant’s version. Merchant—best known from 10,000 Maniacs—approaches the song with a slow‑burn intensity. It starts almost as a whisper and builds into something resolute and defiant. It’s a reminder that protest songs don’t need to shout to hit hard.
There’s also something for the Bowie devotees. ‘Sorrow’, released in 1973, comes from Bowie’s Pin Ups album—a collection of covers paying tribute to the bands he loved as a teenager. The song itself began life with The McCoys in 1965 before being picked up by The Merseys. Bowie’s version is the definitive one: a lush, soulful vocal with that unmistakable sax weaving through it. Glam Rock may have been his aesthetic at the time, but this track shows how deep his musical vocabulary already was.
And as always, we end with a question. The final track this week is U2’s ‘With Or Without You’. Without looking it up, which album did it originally appear on?
THIS WEEK’S TRACKLIST
David Bowie – ‘Sorrow’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nTmPFtJS4c Bowie takes a mid‑60s pop tune and transforms it into a smoky, melancholic masterclass. The arrangement is deceptively simple, but the vocal phrasing is pure Bowie—elegant, yearning, and unmistakably his.
Emma Bunton – ‘What Took You So Long’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yX1Df_sjdzY A bright, early‑2000s slice of pop with a Motown‑tinged bounce. Bunton leans into a warm, melodic vocal that shows why she was always the most quietly versatile of the Spice Girls.
Johnny Cash & Joe Strummer – ‘Redemption Song’
https://youtu.be/C7nFi2Lbq24?si=sUVuzEqIyl-SDwpG Two giants of music—country and punk—meeting on common ground. Their version of Marley’s classic is stripped back, raw, and deeply human. A late‑career highlight for both men.
Dave Edmunds – ‘Girls Talk’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uEXJNS1llg Written by Elvis Costello, Edmunds’ version is punchier and more polished. A perfect example of the late‑70s moment when pub rock, new wave, and power pop all overlapped.
Eurythmics – ‘Here Comes The Rain Again’ (Live)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ko8Ec7ojahU Annie Lennox at her most commanding. The song blends synth melancholy with orchestral drama, and in live form it becomes even more atmospheric.
Led Zeppelin – ‘Immigrant Song’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XO9RAkURQw... A thunderous two‑minute blast inspired by the band’s tour of Iceland. Robert Plant’s Viking‑war‑cry vocal and Jimmy Page’s relentless riffing make it one of rock’s most recognisable openers.
Natalie Merchant – ‘Which Side Are You On?’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcaPvCLue7g... Merchant’s interpretation honours the song’s roots while giving it a haunting, contemporary edge. A reminder that the labour struggles of the past are never as distant as we think.
The Sabrejets – ‘Lightnin’’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cU6x4oFDt0g... Belfast rockabilly with bite. The Sabrejets channel the spirit of 1950s rebel music but with a modern ferocity that keeps it from ever feeling nostalgic.
The Smashing Pumpkins – ‘Tonight, Tonight’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOG3eus4ZSo A sweeping, orchestral anthem from the Mellon Collie era. The strings elevate it into something cinematic, while Billy Corgan’s vocal gives it emotional weight.
The Sweet – ‘The Ballroom Blitz’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7lTwA5xMeTM... A glam classic born from real‑life mayhem. The Sweet turn a hostile gig into a high‑energy, tongue‑in‑cheek celebration of rock‑and‑roll chaos.
The Tourists – ‘So Good to Be Back Home Again’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWaFcZGp-2c... Before Eurythmics, Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart were part of The Tourists. This track is pure new‑wave sunshine—jangly guitars, bright harmonies, and a melody that sticks.
U2 – ‘With Or Without You’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXL2nYTNvyc One of U2’s defining songs. Built around the then‑new Infinite Guitar, it’s a slow, atmospheric build that captures longing, tension, and release.
The first Midweek Song List of May arrives with a mix that wanders from union anthems to Glam Rock debates and a closing question for Bowie loyalists. A regular reader asked us to mark May Day retrospectively with Revolution Song—we’ve obliged, though information on it remains elusive. If anyone knows more, do get in touch. We stay with the labour theme for a moment, picking up the thread from March’s nod to the General Strike with another version of We Belong to the Union!—this time delivered with gusto by Australian comedian Robin Roberts. From there we drift into Glam territory, comparing Hot Love with last week’s Ride a White Swan to see which one truly set the template. Bastille’s acoustic Pompeii brings a modern lift, Wilson Pickett reminds us what a real voice sounds like, and we close with Lulu’s take on The Man Who Sold the World. Bowie fans, your verdict is needed. The songlist appears every week on Wednesday but sometimes later on the web!
Amelia – ‘Pathways’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2pio7RzNjU A drifting, quietly determined track that moves like someone walking through a half‑lit city at their own pace, Pathways builds its mood through soft synth washes and Amelia’s calm, clear vocal. There’s a sense of someone sorting through choices without rushing, letting the melody breathe while the rhythm nudges things forward. It’s understated but not slight, the kind of song that rewards a second listen because the emotional weight sits just beneath the surface rather than shouting for attention.
Joan Baez – ‘House Of The Rising Sun’
https://youtu.be/rD80eZ6Gxz0?si=RvRkwZEndP4SqIZO Baez approaches this folk standard with the poise and clarity that made her such a defining voice of the 60s. Her version strips away the grit of later rock interpretations and replaces it with something colder and more fateful, as if she’s recounting a story she already knows ends badly. The guitar is crisp, the vocal unwavering, and the whole thing feels like a reminder that the song’s roots lie in warning, not swagger.
Bastille – ‘Pompeii’ (Acoustic)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytie995zY-Q The acoustic take on Pompeii shows just how strong the bones of the song really are. Dan Smith’s voice carries a mix of urgency and melancholy, and without the big production behind him the lyrics land with more force. There’s a warmth to the stripped‑back arrangement that makes the chorus feel almost communal, as though the band are playing in a small room rather than a festival field. It’s a reminder of how good they were at crafting melodies that stick.
The Cult – ‘Spiritwalker’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uod2gdVKP6c A blast of early Cult energy, Spiritwalker mixes post‑punk edges with the beginnings of the widescreen rock they’d later embrace. Ian Astbury’s vocal has that shamanic, incantatory quality he was leaning into at the time, while the guitars churn and shimmer in equal measure. The track feels like a bridge between scenes—too atmospheric to be straightforward rock, too muscular to be goth—and that tension gives it its bite.
Lulu – ‘The Man Who Sold The World’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQARz_7uo_g Lulu’s version remains one of the more divisive Bowie covers, partly because she leans into the theatricality rather than the unease. Her voice is bold, polished, and confident, which shifts the song’s meaning; instead of a haunted confession, it becomes something closer to a dramatic monologue. The arrangement is unmistakably of its era, but there’s a strange charm in hearing such a polished pop voice tackle something so shadowed. Whether it works is another matter entirely.
Magazine – ‘The Light Pours Out Of Me’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFGA2HbCa0A Howard Devoto delivers this with the cool detachment that made Magazine so distinctive. The track pulses forward on a taut rhythm section while the guitars slice through with angular precision. It’s art‑rock with a sneer, but also with a sense of purpose—every part feels sharpened, deliberate, and slightly dangerous. Devoto’s vocal sits just above the fray, sounding like someone observing the world from a slight height and not entirely impressed.
Alexander Nikolov – ‘Revolution Song’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrknnBTJU20 A curious piece, partly because so little is known about it. The song has a homemade, rough‑edged quality that gives it an earnest charm, as though it was recorded with more conviction than resources. There’s a sense of someone trying to capture a moment of political feeling without worrying about polish. If anyone knows more about Nikolov or the origins of this track, we’d genuinely like to hear from you.
Wilson Pickett – ‘In The Midnight Hour’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGVGFfj7POA Pickett’s voice hits with the force of someone who means every word, and the groove behind him is pure 60s soul—tight, confident, and built for movement. There’s a rawness in his delivery that hints at gospel roots, but the arrangement keeps things firmly on the dancefloor. Listening now, it’s easy to imagine how electrifying this must have been live, with that horn section punching through the mix and Pickett working the room.
Robin Roberts – ‘We Belong to the Union!’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vptDwRrOw3g Roberts brings a lively, almost cheeky energy to this union anthem, delivering it with the enthusiasm of someone who knows the value of solidarity and isn’t afraid to shout about it. The performance has a music‑hall bounce that makes the message feel celebratory rather than solemn. It’s spirited, good‑humoured, and clearly made to be sung loudly in company.
Shakespears Sister – ‘Stay’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zb_Z4F0Z0fc Few songs shift gears as dramatically as Stay. Siobhan Fahey and Marcella Detroit create a strange, theatrical tension—first with the fragile, almost celestial opening, then with the sudden plunge into something darker and more commanding. The contrast still lands after all these years. It’s a track that feels like a miniature drama, complete with a twist in the middle.
Siouxsie & The Banshees – ‘Hong Kong Garden’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyA-G_zYuKA A burst of colour and sharp edges, Hong Kong Garden captures the Banshees at their most immediate. The guitar line is bright and insistent, almost playful, while Siouxsie’s vocal cuts through with that unmistakable mix of cool distance and pointed intent. It’s punk filtered through something more stylish and self‑aware, and it still sounds fresh.
T. Rex – ‘Hot Love’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kqbpbHbqm0 If Ride a White Swan hinted at what Glam could become, Hot Love pushes things further into the glitter‑dusted territory that would soon define the genre. Bolan’s voice has that lazy, feline swagger, and the rhythm has a looseness that feels both casual and utterly assured. You can hear the blueprint forming—stomp, strut, sparkle—and it’s easy to see why some argue this is where Glam truly took shape.
WELCOME TO the final Midweek Song List of April—hard to believe we’re here already. Before we dive into today’s selections, a few updates from recent weeks.
Last time we dipped our toes into the glitter‑dusted world of Glam Rock. Today we return to the source with T. Rex’s ‘Ride a White Swan’, the 1970 single that effectively invented the genre. Marc Bolan—equal parts mystic poet and rock ’n’ roll sprite—crafted a sound that would soon define an entire movement. A year later came ‘Hot Love’, another early Glam anthem, and suddenly Britain was knee‑deep in platform boots and cosmic swagger.
Back in February we featured ‘Dump the Bosses Off Your Back’ by Joe Glazer as part of our nod to the 100th anniversary of the UK General Strike. Today we revisit it through a superb cover by John Brill, who gives the labour classic a fresh, heartfelt lift.
Now—on to this week’s music.
Many listeners associate ‘Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)’ solely with the Buzzcocks. Released in 1978, it’s one of the defining tracks of British punk: urgent, melodic, and emotionally sharp. But the song has travelled far beyond its origins. It’s been covered repeatedly, even becoming an Amnesty International charity single. Today we’re spotlighting the Fine Young Cannibals’ 1986 version—laid‑back, soulful, and carried by Roland Gift’s unmistakable voice.
Then we have Death In Rome, a band unlike any other. Their speciality is transforming well‑known songs into brooding neo‑folk reinterpretations. Their take on ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’—Joy Division’s 1980 post‑punk masterpiece—is haunting, elegant, and arguably one of the most striking covers ever recorded.
John Brill – ‘Dump the Bosses Off Your Back’ A modern, earnest rendition of a classic labour anthem originally sung on picket lines and union halls. https://youtu.be/gH96zYGD8jQ?si=2dorg8Xln-wX8rxV
Jimmy Cliff – ‘Wonderful World, Beautiful People’ Released in 1969, this reggae classic radiates optimism and global unity—one of Cliff’s early international hits. https://youtu.be/zCJYl9Irayk?si=XIfjVqGz77feAhS0
Fine Young Cannibals – ‘Ever Fallen In Love’ A smooth, soulful reinterpretation of the Buzzcocks’ punk classic—released in 1986 with Roland Gift’s velvet‑edged vocals. https://youtu.be/-cri0cFonBk?si=qTtT0bau6tn0ZwWP
Madness – ‘Night Boat to Cairo’ A 1979 ska favourite, instantly recognisable for its manic energy, iconic sax riff, and tongue‑in‑cheek storytelling. https://youtu.be/lLLL1KxpYMA?si=YwS_MA80XZvATDPC
John Mayer – ‘Free Fallin’’ Mayer’s live acoustic cover of Tom Petty’s 1989 hit—gentle, warm, and widely considered one of his best reinterpretations. https://youtu.be/20Ov0cDPZy8?si=z4z2Chb6zQ75qotS
Simple Minds – ‘Chelsea Girl’ A 1979 post‑punk gem from the band’s early catalogue—jangly, youthful, and inspired by Nico of Velvet Underground fame. https://youtu.be/nj7h70RdI_c?si=cdEbM-E2QPaszCnC
T. Rex – ‘Ride a White Swan’ The 1970 single that lit the fuse for Glam Rock—mystical lyrics, stomping rhythm, and Marc Bolan’s unmistakable charm. https://youtu.be/skjvDLpeh4c?si=oTTCK6sOksJSM8Ma
We close with a a question.
The question: Since we’re revisiting Glam Rock—who do you think was the greatest artist or band of the genre?
The first day of July always carries a shadow. 1st July 1916 — the Somme — a day so brutal it still echoes. Nearly 57,500 British casualties before nightfall, 19,000 of them never coming home. The French lost over 1,500. Germany around 6,000. A century later, the numbers still feel obscene and carry a genetic impact we still feel the effect of.
