Archive for Music

Counter Culture – Midweek Song List (169)

One of the pleasures of putting together the Midweek Song List is never knowing quite where the music will take us. This week we’re travelling from the ancient landscapes of English folk mythology to the industrial might of German metal, with stops along the way for 1950s-inspired rockabilly, American punk, classical light music and some intriguing cover versions.

That’s quite a journey, but variety has always been the point. There’s no reason why someone who enjoys Queen shouldn’t also discover the unsettling world of Flipper, or why a fan of hard rock shouldn’t find something to appreciate in the gentle orchestral beauty of Ronald Binge’s Sailing By. Good music doesn’t recognise the artificial boundaries we sometimes impose upon it.

There are also some interesting stories behind this week’s selections. We’ve got a song that became world-famous only after another singer recorded it, a Motörhead classic performed by an unlikely collection of rock celebrities, and a Roy Orbison hit given a new interpretation more than half a century after its original release.

And for anyone who has wondered what Rammstein are actually singing about, we’ll attempt to shed a little light on that as well.

So put aside your musical prejudices, turn up the volume and see where this week’s selection takes you.

Albion – Witch of the Westmorland

We begin with a song steeped in mystery and folklore. The Witch of the Westmorland was written by Scottish singer-songwriter Archie Fisher and has been interpreted by numerous folk performers over the years.

The story concerns a wounded knight seeking the help of a mysterious woman whose supernatural powers offer the possibility of healing. It draws upon the atmosphere and imagery of traditional British balladry, even though the composition itself is comparatively modern.

Albion bring a heavier approach to the material, blending folk melodies with rock and metal instrumentation. The result has much of the atmosphere of an ancient tale being told around a fire, but with considerably more amplification.

It’s a good example of how traditional storytelling can survive quite happily within contemporary musical forms.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PHiZnRI3Rk

Artillery – Turn Up the Rage

Denmark has produced some formidable heavy metal bands, and Artillery have been among its most enduring contributions to the genre.

Formed in the early 1980s, the group became associated with the European thrash metal movement, developing a style built around aggressive guitar riffs, rapid rhythms and technically demanding musicianship.

Turn Up the Rage comes from their 2021 album X, released in May that year. The title reflects the fact that it was their tenth studio album.

The track demonstrates that thrash doesn’t necessarily have to sacrifice melody in pursuit of speed. There’s precision behind the aggression, with tightly controlled guitar passages and a powerful rhythmic foundation.

Not exactly suitable for a quiet Sunday afternoon, perhaps, but there’s something refreshing about music that makes absolutely no apology for its intensity.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1yVzWY4scY

Around About Dusk – Without You

Time for a change of pace.

Around About Dusk offer a very different musical atmosphere from the thunderous approach of Artillery. Without You takes us into a more intimate world, where melody, mood and musical texture matter more than volume.

What appeals here is the way the performance allows the song room to develop. Rather than relying on spectacular production or sheer force, the arrangement invites the listener to pay attention to the interplay between the instruments and the emotional quality of the delivery.

It’s also the sort of selection that illustrates why we try to feature less familiar performers alongside established names.

There is always something satisfying about discovering music without the baggage of reputation or commercial expectations. Sometimes the best approach is simply to listen and decide for yourself.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0k0bt_4WuxA

Ronald Binge – Sailing By

For many British listeners, this piece will be instantly familiar even if the composer’s name isn’t.

Ronald Binge composed Sailing By in 1963. The gentle orchestral waltz became closely associated with BBC Radio 4’s late-night Shipping Forecast, where it has provided an unmistakable musical introduction to reports of weather conditions around the British coastline.

Binge was an accomplished composer and arranger associated with the British light-music tradition. His best-known compositions also include Elizabethan Serenade.

There’s something peculiarly comforting about Sailing By. Its graceful melody and unhurried movement seem to belong to a world in which life proceeds at a more civilised pace.

For generations of listeners, its association with the Shipping Forecast has given it an almost ritual significance.

You don’t need any knowledge of classical music to appreciate it. Sometimes a beautiful tune is enough.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Nea287VfmU

Flipper – Ha Ha Ha

And now we abandon tranquillity altogether.

Flipper emerged from San Francisco’s punk underground around 1979 and developed a sound that was deliberately awkward, abrasive and resistant to the conventions of mainstream rock.

Where many punk bands relied upon speed, Flipper often favoured repetitive bass lines, discordant guitars and a slow, grinding intensity.

Ha Ha Ha captures their confrontational spirit particularly well. The humour is bitter, the sound deliberately rough and the performance seems almost designed to irritate anyone expecting conventional musical entertainment.

Yet Flipper’s influence extended well beyond their original underground audience. Their unconventional approach helped shape elements of American alternative rock, and Kurt Cobain was famously photographed wearing a homemade Flipper T-shirt.

This is music that challenges rather than reassures. Whether you love it or hate it, indifference seems an unlikely response.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6PNmvio1GM

Hollywood Vampires – Ace of Spades

Few rock songs announce themselves quite as dramatically as Motörhead’s Ace of Spades.

Originally released in 1980, it became the group’s defining anthem, driven by Lemmy Kilmister’s unmistakable vocals, Phil Taylor’s relentless drumming and Eddie Clarke’s ferocious guitar work.

Hollywood Vampires approach the song as a tribute to Lemmy and his contribution to rock music.

The supergroup features Alice Cooper, Johnny Depp, Joe Perry and Tommy Henriksen. This performance was recorded at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 2018, with bassist Chris Wyse handling lead vocals, and was released in 2026 as part of the group’s live-album project.

Covering something so closely identified with its original performer is always risky. Fortunately, Hollywood Vampires understand that the answer isn’t to imitate Lemmy.

Instead, they celebrate the sheer excitement of the song.

There’s no attempt to reinvent the wheel. Just loud guitars, tremendous energy and an affectionate salute to one of rock’s great characters.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIJth479y4w

Mark James – Suspicious Minds

Here’s a reminder that a great song doesn’t always become a hit the first time somebody records it.

Most people associate Suspicious Minds with Elvis Presley, whose 1969 recording became one of his greatest successes. But the song was written and originally recorded by American singer-songwriter Mark James in 1968.

James, whose real name was Francis Rodney Zambon, recorded the song at Chips Moman’s American Sound Studio in Memphis. His version was released on the Scepter label but failed to make a commercial impact.

Elvis recorded it the following year, using many of the same studio musicians and retaining much of the original arrangement. His performance transformed the song into a major international hit and gave him his first American number one single in seven years.

There’s an interesting story behind the recording, too. Producer Chips Moman resisted attempts by Elvis’s management to claim a share of the publishing rights, and the dispute nearly prevented the record from being completed.

Listening to the Mark James original is a fascinating experience. You can hear just how much of the famous arrangement was already there. What Elvis brought was a particular vocal intensity and dramatic authority.

It raises a question worth considering: how many other brilliant songs were originally recorded by someone other than the performer who made them famous?

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFP0EP-Oi2I

John Mayer – Free Fallin’

Originally written by Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne, Free Fallin’ appeared on Petty’s enormously successful 1989 solo album Full Moon Fever.

The original recording is one of those deceptively simple songs that seems effortless, although its combination of melody, atmosphere and carefully judged production reveals considerable craftsmanship.

John Mayer’s interpretation takes a different approach.

His acoustic performance, recorded at the Nokia Theatre in Los Angeles in December 2007 and released on the 2008 concert album Where the Light Is, strips the song back to its essentials. Accompanied by fellow guitarists, Mayer allows the melody and lyrics to carry the emotional weight.

There’s a vulnerability in this version that contrasts with the expansive, radio-friendly sound of Petty’s recording.

A good cover version should bring something new to the material without losing what made the original special. Mayer manages that rather well.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLihs7GFSP4

Morrissey – It’s Over

Roy Orbison possessed one of the most remarkable voices in popular music. His ability to move from restrained melancholy to soaring emotional intensity was almost unmatched.

It’s Over, written by Orbison and Bill Dees, was released in 1964 and reached number one in Britain.

The song’s dramatic structure is particularly interesting. Rather than relying on a conventional upbeat chorus, it builds gradually towards a devastating emotional climax.

Morrissey’s interpretation appeared on his 2019 covers album California Son, which featured songs originally associated with performers including Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Phil Ochs. His recording of It’s Over also features guest vocals from American singer LP.

Morrissey has never made a secret of his admiration for Orbison, and this version makes that affection apparent.

His distinctive vocal style brings a different kind of melancholy to the song. Where Orbison sounds almost operatic in his despair, Morrissey gives the material a more theatrical and sometimes fragile quality.

Whether it improves upon the original is another matter. Orbison set an extraordinarily high standard.

But it’s certainly worth hearing.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3yNAg67u_c

Queen – Seven Seas of Rhye

Before Bohemian Rhapsody, before the stadium anthems and before Queen became one of the biggest bands in the world, there was Seven Seas of Rhye.

Written principally by Freddie Mercury, the song first appeared as a short instrumental on Queen’s self-titled debut album in 1973.

The fully developed version appeared on Queen II the following year and became the band’s first British Top Ten single, reaching number ten.

It also helped establish Queen’s extraordinary musical ambition. The combination of Mercury’s commanding vocals, Brian May’s layered guitars and the group’s elaborate harmonies gave the song a theatrical quality that distinguished them from many contemporary rock acts.

The mysterious kingdom of Rhye was part of Mercury’s imaginative fantasy world, which also influenced other early Queen compositions.

There’s something wonderfully extravagant about the whole enterprise. Even at this early stage, Queen were clearly uninterested in doing things by halves.

The song also provided an early indication of Mercury’s extraordinary ability to make the fantastic sound completely convincing.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prIK-inpWGk

Rammstein – Was Ich Liebe

German industrial metal band Rammstein have built an international reputation on thunderous music, provocative imagery and spectacular stage performances.

Their concerts are famous for elaborate theatrical effects, particularly their extensive use of fire and pyrotechnics.

Was Ich Liebe, which translates as What I Love, appeared on the band’s untitled 2019 album.

The song explores a distinctly unsettling idea: that love and happiness contain the seeds of suffering, and that attachment inevitably creates the possibility of loss.

In other words, this is not exactly a cheerful romantic ballad.

Musically, however, it is magnificent.

Rammstein’s combination of crushing guitar riffs, controlled rhythms and Till Lindemann’s distinctive baritone creates an atmosphere that is both threatening and strangely majestic.

There’s an almost ceremonial quality to the performance. The music builds with deliberate precision, producing something closer to industrial theatre than conventional heavy metal.

And perhaps that’s part of the fascination of Rammstein. Even listeners who understand little German can appreciate the drama, power and extraordinary attention to presentation.

As for the lyrics, they’re considerably more philosophical than an homage to chocolate teapots.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI-fPa4jwRc

Stray Cats – Rock This Town

We’ll finish with something guaranteed to get your feet moving.

The Stray Cats emerged from New York at the end of the 1970s, but it was in Britain that they first achieved major commercial success.

The trio consisted of Brian Setzer on guitar and vocals, Lee Rocker on double bass and Slim Jim Phantom on drums.

Inspired by the rockabilly music of the 1950s, they combined the energy of early rock ‘n’ roll with the attitude and visual style of the punk era.

Rock This Town, written by Setzer and produced by Dave Edmunds, became a British hit in 1981, reaching number nine. It subsequently enjoyed similar success in America in 1982.

The song is a joyous celebration of rock ‘n’ roll.

Setzer’s lightning-fast guitar playing is particularly impressive, drawing upon the influence of performers such as Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent without sounding like a museum-piece imitation.

The rhythm section is equally important. Rocker’s slap-bass technique and Phantom’s stripped-down drumming give the performance its infectious momentum.

It’s a splendid reminder that musical revivalism doesn’t have to mean simply copying the past. The Stray Cats took an established style and made it exciting for a new generation.

And what better way to finish this week’s selection?

YouTube: https://youtu.be/QCK0N-kkDrU?si=IwXVwGpxxEc3lP-s


A final thought

One of the recurring themes this week has been the relationship between original recordings and cover versions.

Mark James wrote and recorded Suspicious Minds before Elvis Presley turned it into a worldwide hit. John Mayer brought a new intimacy to Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’, while Morrissey tackled the considerable challenge of interpreting a Roy Orbison classic.

Then there’s Hollywood Vampires paying tribute to Motörhead.

All of which raises an interesting question.

Can you think of a song that became much more successful in someone else’s hands than it was for the original performer?

One example that immediately springs to mind is I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll. Originally recorded by the Arrows in 1975, it became an enormous hit for Joan Jett and the Blackhearts in 1982.

There must be plenty more.

Let us know your suggestions, along with your favourites from this week’s selection.

 

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Counter Culture – Midweek Song List (168)

As regular readers will know, the Midweek Song List isn’t just about throwing together a random batch of songs. We like to explore the stories behind the music, the artists, and the genres that helped shape them. This week’s selection takes us from the Celtic traditions of north-west Spain to classic American soul, from alternative rock to Japanese Oi, and from Woodstock-era legends to contemporary underground artists.


Breo – Alumea-Lo Pan

YouTube: Watch here

Galicia, in Spain’s north-west corner, is one of Europe’s most distinctive Celtic regions. Breo draw heavily on the area’s folk traditions, blending traditional instrumentation with modern arrangements. “Alumea-Lo Pan” showcases the strong Celtic influence still found in Galicia, sharing musical roots with parts of Ireland, Scotland and Brittany. The result is a haunting and atmospheric piece that reminds listeners that Celtic culture extends well beyond the British Isles.


Bronwyn – Virginia Gal

YouTube: Watch here

Bronwyn’s music draws upon American folk and country traditions that stretch back generations. Songs such as “Virginia Gal” reflect the storytelling heritage of Appalachia and the rural American South, where personal narratives, local history and everyday experiences have long been central themes. The track balances traditional influences with a contemporary presentation.


Defender – Follow The Flame

YouTube: Watch here

Defender are part of the continuing revival of traditional heavy metal, a movement that embraces the sound, imagery and spirit of classic bands from the late 1970s and 1980s. “Follow The Flame” features soaring vocals, driving guitar work and the kind of uplifting energy that helped establish heavy metal as a worldwide phenomenon.


Home Front – Eulogy

YouTube: Watch here

Canadian outfit Home Front have earned a reputation for combining post-punk, synth-driven melodies and elements of Oi and street punk. “Eulogy” reflects the band’s ability to blend dark, atmospheric sounds with infectious hooks. Their work demonstrates how traditional punk influences continue to evolve in new and unexpected directions.


Ikazuchi – The Way Of Destiny

YouTube: Watch here

Oi music is generally associated with Britain’s white working-class youth culture of the late 1970s and early 1980s. Japanese band Ikazuchi represent a fascinating example of how the genre spread internationally. While maintaining many of Oi’s defining musical characteristics, they bring their own cultural identity to the sound, illustrating the global reach of a genre many still regard as uniquely British.


Janis Joplin – Piece Of My Heart

YouTube: Watch here

Although originally recorded by Erma Franklin in 1967, it was Janis Joplin’s performance with Big Brother and the Holding Company that transformed “Piece Of My Heart” into a rock classic. Joplin’s raw, emotionally charged vocal style helped make her one of the defining figures of the late 1960s counter-culture movement. More than half a century later, her influence remains unmistakable.


Kongos – I’m Only Joking

YouTube: Watch here

Formed by four brothers of South African origin, Kongos achieved international success during the 2010s. “I’m Only Joking” is an excellent example of alternative rock’s ability to incorporate influences from multiple genres while maintaining a strong commercial appeal. The band’s use of accordion alongside more conventional rock instrumentation gives their music a distinctive identity.


Buzzy Lee – Strange Town

YouTube: Watch here

Buzzy Lee is the recording name of musician and songwriter Sasha Spielberg. Her music often blends indie-pop, alternative influences and introspective songwriting. “Strange Town” is a thoughtful, atmospheric track that demonstrates why she has gained a loyal following within contemporary independent music circles.


Nirvana – The Man Who Sold The World

YouTube: Watch here

Many younger listeners discovered this song through Nirvana’s famous MTV Unplugged performance in 1993. However, it was originally written and recorded by David Bowie for his 1970 album of the same name. There is a small nuance: producer Tony Visconti later noted that he and guitarist Mick Ronson helped shape and arrange the music, but Bowie remained the credited writer of the song.

Nirvana’s interpretation introduced the song to an entirely new generation and is widely regarded as one of the finest cover versions ever recorded.


Wilson Pickett – Hey Jude

YouTube: Watch here

In much the same way that The Beatles’ own recordings often found new life through reinterpretation, Hey Jude proved remarkably adaptable. While countless artists have tackled the song over the years, Wilson Pickett’s 1968 recording remains one of the most acclaimed and influential covers ever committed to vinyl. Where The Beatles delivered a reflective, slow-building anthem centred on reassurance and emotional release, Pickett transformed it into an electrifying soul performance driven by gospel energy, muscular rhythm and raw vocal intensity.

The recording is significant not only for Pickett’s powerhouse interpretation but also for introducing the wider music world to a then little-known guitarist named Duane Allman. His searing lead guitar work caught the attention of producer Jerry Wexler, who was so impressed that he later recommended Allman for further session work. That opportunity ultimately helped launch a career that would culminate in the formation of The Allman Brothers Band, one of the defining groups of Southern rock.

More than a simple cover version, Pickett’s Hey Jude demonstrates how a great song can cross genres without losing its emotional core. By reimagining The Beatles’ classic through the lens of Southern soul, he created a recording that stands on its own artistic merits, earning recognition not merely as a tribute to the original but as one of the finest reinventions of a Beatles song ever recorded.


Super Blue Moon – Fear

YouTube: Watch here

Super Blue Moon occupy territory somewhere between alternative rock and modern indie music. “Fear” explores darker emotional themes while maintaining strong melodic foundations. The track demonstrates how contemporary artists continue to blur the boundaries between traditional rock genres.


Stigma – Lies Of War

YouTube: Watch here

Dark rock and dark metal are notoriously difficult genres to define. What unites many artists associated with them is an interest in sombre subject matter and dramatic atmospheres. German band Stigma’s “Lies Of War” taps directly into those traditions, combining heavy instrumentation with reflections on conflict, power and human suffering.


This Week’s Standout

If we had to pick one track that best captures the spirit of this week’s list, it would probably be Ikazuchi’s “The Way Of Destiny.” Not because it is necessarily the strongest song musically, but because it demonstrates how a genre born among working-class youth in Britain travelled halfway around the world, was adopted by Japanese musicians, and evolved into something both familiar and unique. Music rarely stays within national borders, and Ikazuchi are proof of that.

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30/09/26 – Counter Culture – Midweek Song List (167)

We’ve recently  been looking at how our ancestors fought to secure the various civil and religious liberties that we enjoy today. We’ve noted that freedom should never be taken for granted and that we should be extremely wary of those, from both the left and the right, who would happily take such liberties away.

From a cultural perspective, artistic freedom must be defended at all costs. Art exists to challenge, provoke, entertain and inspire. The moment we start deciding what people are allowed to create, read, hear or perform, we begin travelling down a very dangerous road indeed.

Every Wednesday the Midweek Song List first appears on our Facebook page before making its way here to the Counter Culture website a little later. As always, we’ve cast our net far and wide. Punk sits alongside country. Glam rock rubs shoulders with indie. Established classics share space with newer discoveries. That’s exactly how we like it. Music should be an adventure rather than a comfort blanket.

This week’s selection includes songs about identity, celebration, perseverance and sheer theatricality. As ever, we hope something here sends you down a musical rabbit hole.


Cock Sparrer – England Belongs To Me

YouTube: Cock Sparrer – England Belongs To Me

Originally released in 1982 on the album Shock Troops, “England Belongs To Me” remains the song most closely associated with East London’s Cock Sparrer. Formed in 1972, the band predated the first wave of UK punk but found their audience when punk exploded later in the decade. Although frequently misunderstood by those unfamiliar with the lyrics, the song is less about exclusion and more about belonging, community and affection for one’s homeland.

The track has become one of the great football terrace anthems and is a fixture at Cock Sparrer concerts. It possesses that rare quality of sounding both intimate and communal. The audience invariably ends up singing as loudly as the band. Few songs invite participation as naturally as this one.

Several bands from the punk and Oi! scenes have covered or paid tribute to the song, but the original remains untouchable. Listening to it today, we’re reminded of a quote by George Lansbury, Labour Party leader from 1932 to 1935: “I love England more than I can say. As the years pass, my love has grown stronger. I think of this island as a jewel set in the sea.” Whatever your politics, there’s something undeniably human in that sentiment.


Billy Ray Cyrus – Achy Breaky Heart

YouTube: Billy Ray Cyrus – Achy Breaky Heart

Few songs have divided opinion as dramatically as “Achy Breaky Heart”. Released in 1992, it transformed Billy Ray Cyrus into an overnight superstar and helped ignite a worldwide line-dancing craze. Yet many of the people who claim to dislike it somehow know every word.

Interestingly, Cyrus didn’t write the song. It was penned by Don Von Tress and originally recorded as “Don’t Tell My Heart” by the Marcy Brothers. Billy Ray’s version became a global phenomenon, reaching the Top 10 in numerous countries and shifting millions of copies. At a time when country music was making major inroads into the mainstream, it arrived at precisely the right moment.

The song has been covered, parodied and referenced countless times over the last three decades. Weird Al Yankovic famously borrowed its melody for “Achy Breaky Song”, while everyone from country acts to novelty performers has taken a swing at it. Love it or loathe it, it remains one of the most recognisable country-pop recordings ever made. Not every song can claim to have entered popular culture to quite this extent.


Elbow – One Day Like This

YouTube: Elbow – One Day Like This (Abbey Road)

When Elbow released “One Day Like This” in 2008, few could have predicted the extraordinary journey that lay ahead. Appearing on the Mercury Prize-winning album The Seldom Seen Kid, it steadily evolved from a well-received single into one of Britain’s most beloved modern anthems.

Frontman Guy Garvey has often spoken about creating a song that celebrated optimism and possibility. The result was a soaring piece of songwriting built around a memorable string arrangement and a chorus that practically demands to be sung by thousands of voices simultaneously. Following its use during the London 2012 Olympics, the song became even more deeply embedded in the national consciousness.

The Corrs, who featured recently on the Song List, have produced a fine interpretation, while numerous orchestras, choirs and community groups have adopted the piece. This performance from Abbey Road captures all the qualities that made the song endure. Sometimes a record arrives at precisely the point people need it. “One Day Like This” feels very much like one of those records.


The Filthy Animals – Fox On The Run

YouTube: The Filthy Animals – Fox On The Run

Readers of this page will know we’re never far away from a discussion about glam rock. The Sweet remain one of the greatest singles bands Britain has ever produced and “Fox On The Run” stands among their finest achievements. Released in 1975, it was written by band members Brian Connolly, Steve Priest, Andy Scott and Mick Tucker, an important milestone as the group increasingly sought creative independence.

The original became an international hit and remains instantly recognisable thanks to its distinctive opening synthesiser riff. While many glam-era records are firmly tied to their period, “Fox On The Run” seems immune to ageing. It still sounds fresh, energetic and gloriously mischievous.

Over the years the song has been covered by numerous artists, ranging from Scorpions to country and hard rock acts. The Filthy Animals remain reasonably faithful to the spirit of the original while adding enough of their own character to justify the exercise. That balance is harder to achieve than many people realise.


Queen – Lap Of The Gods

YouTube: Queen – Lap Of The Gods (Live)

Before Queen conquered stadiums and became one of the biggest bands on the planet, they were already experimenting with ambitious arrangements and grand ideas. “Lap Of The Gods” appeared on the 1974 album Sheer Heart Attack, a record many fans consider the bridge between the band’s early work and the global success that followed.

The song is notable for Freddie Mercury’s remarkable vocal performance. Producer Roy Thomas Baker heavily manipulated parts of the original recording, creating an almost otherworldly sound. Even within Queen’s catalogue, it remains an unusual track. Its companion piece, “Lap Of The Gods… Revisited”, would later become a regular live showstopper.

Queen songs have been covered by hundreds of artists across every conceivable genre, from Metallica and Def Leppard to Elaine Paige and George Michael. Yet watching this early live footage reminds us why Queen became Queen. Long before the stadium spectacle, the moustaches and the mythology, there was simply a band overflowing with talent. Mercury’s range, confidence and stage presence were already there for all to see.


Until next week, keep listening widely, questioning freely and defending artistic freedom wherever you find it. The world would be a far poorer place without it.

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23/09/26 – Counter Culture – Midweek Song List (166)

A regular reader has been in touch to tell us about the Wigan Diggers’ Festival, held on Saturday 12th September. It’s one of those quietly brilliant community events: free music, poetry, films, talks — all celebrating Gerrard Winstanley (1609–1676) and the 17th‑century True Levellers, better known as the Diggers.

For anyone unfamiliar, Winstanley was a Wigan-born religious reformer, political philosopher and activist. He and his followers occupied common land that had been enclosed and planted crops to feed local people. Their belief was simple and radical: private property should be abolished and land held in common. Winstanley famously declared that “The earth was made a common treasury for all!” — a line that still resonates today.

From redistributing land, we move on to redistributing genres. This week’s list ranges from classical to rockabilly, folk-bluegrass to Hawaiian, and a few stops in between. As always, a version of this Song List goes out every Wednesday on Facebook, with a slightly later posting on this website.

We begin with Beethoven — and end with The Skids — with plenty of musical detours along the way.

Ludwig Van Beethoven – ‘Piano Sonata No. 14 “Moonlight” In C Sharp Minor’

Beethoven wrote this in 1801 and dedicated it to his pupil Countess Giulietta Guicciardi. The nickname “Moonlight” wasn’t Beethoven’s — it came later, from critic Ludwig Rellstab, who said the first movement sounded like moonlight on Lake Lucerne.

Black Cat Trio & Donna – ‘Roll Over Beethoven’

Chuck Berry’s 1956 original was a rock ’n’ roll landmark, famously telling classical purists to “roll over Beethoven and tell Tchaikovsky the news.” This cover leans into rockabilly energy, keeping Berry’s rebellious spirit intact.

Lou Deleuze – ‘Ce Monde’

A modern chanson track with a reflective, almost philosophical tone. Deleuze’s work often blends French pop with folk influences, and this song sits firmly in that tradition — melodic, melancholic, and quietly political.

Fu Manchu – ‘Blue Tile Fever’

From the Californian stoner‑rock veterans. Fu Manchu’s sound is rooted in fuzzed‑out guitars, desert‑rock grooves and surf‑skate culture. ‘Blue Tile Fever’ is a nod to pool‑skating — a subculture they’ve always championed.

Buddy Holly – ‘Heartbeat’

Released in 1958, this was one of Holly’s last singles before his tragic death in 1959. It didn’t chart highly at the time, but it’s become a staple of early rock ’n’ roll — simple, catchy, and unmistakably Buddy.

Indigo Girls – ‘Galileo’

A 1992 folk-rock classic exploring reincarnation, self‑reflection and the idea of learning across lifetimes. The title references the astronomer Galileo Galilei, used as a metaphor for questioning and enlightenment.

Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole – ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’

Recorded in one take in 1988, IZ’s medley of ‘Over the Rainbow’ and ‘What a Wonderful World’ became globally beloved. His gentle ukulele and warm vocal delivery turned a familiar song into something timeless and deeply emotional.

Elvis Presley – ‘Suspicious Minds’

Written and first released by Mark James in 1968, but it was Elvis’s 1969 version that became a worldwide hit. James’s original lacked the punch and arrangement that Elvis — and producer Chips Moman — brought to it.

Rollins Band – ‘Move Right In’

Henry Rollins’ post‑Black Flag outfit specialised in muscular, groove‑driven rock. ‘Move Right In’ showcases their heavier, more aggressive side — tight rhythms, spoken‑word intensity, and Rollins’ trademark confrontational delivery.

The Dead South – ‘These Boots’

Canadian folk‑bluegrass with a gothic twist. The Dead South mix banjo, cello and dark humour, and ‘These Boots’ is a great example of their storytelling style — rustic, rhythmic, and slightly mischievous.

Bob Seger – ‘Wait For Me’

Seger, best known for his work with the Silver Bullet Band, has a knack for reflective ballads. ‘Wait For Me’ is one of his later-career gems — understated, heartfelt, and beautifully sung.

The Skids – ‘A Woman In Winter’

From the Scottish post‑punk band’s 1981 album Joy. The Skids blended punk energy with art‑rock ambition, and this track shows their melodic, atmospheric side — a wintery, dramatic piece with Stuart Adamson’s unmistakable guitar  work.

 

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Nowhere Boy Review: Inside the Turbulent Childhood That Shaped John Lennon

There’s a point early in Nowhere Boy when you realise the film isn’t interested in burnishing the Lennon myth. It’s not a Beatles origin story. It’s a study of a boy whose life was shaped by emotional fault lines long before fame ever entered the picture. What emerges is a portrait of a childhood that could have fractured in a dozen directions, most of them far from greatness.

The Household of Cold Fronts and Warm Rooms

John’s upbringing is a patchwork of contradictions. He grows up in Mimi’s house—tidy, ordered, emotionally airtight. She loves him, but in a way that never quite reaches him. She is reserved, cool, and the kind of guardian who keeps her feelings under lock and key. She’s the stable parent figure, but not a comforting one.

And then there’s Uncle George.

David Threlfall plays him with a warmth that feels like sunlight in a house otherwise kept at a brisk temperature. He’s playful, spontaneous, and the closest thing John has to uncomplicated affection. George’s presence brings a looseness to the household, a small “club” between the two males that offsets Mimi’s rigidity. When George dies suddenly, John collapses under the weight of grief, and Mimi’s inability to respond with anything resembling softness becomes one of the film’s quiet heartbreaks.

It’s the first major rupture in a life full of them.

Julia: The Storm That Breaks the Weather

John’s reintroduction to his mother Julia is where the film’s emotional voltage spikes. Anne‑Marie Duff plays her as a woman who feels everything at full volume—impulsive, affectionate, unpredictable. She is someone who greets John with immediate, overwhelming warmth, in stark contrast to Mimi’s emotional reserve .

Julia is intoxicating to him. She’s the one who teaches him banjo, who opens the door to Elvis, who gives him the first taste of artistic possibility. But she’s also unstable, swinging between exuberance and despair. The film hints at a deeper psychological turbulence, and because mother and son barely know each other, their bond carries a strange, uneasy intensity .

John is starved of affection from one mother figure and overwhelmed by it from the other. No wonder he turns to girls his own age with a kind of desperate urgency—he’s trying to locate a version of affection that doesn’t confuse or consume him.

The Emotional Blueprint of a Songwriter

The screenplay, drawn from Julia Baird’s memoir, gives us glimpses of the nightmares John carries — memories of separation, of love abruptly cut off, of connections that never had time to settle. Those early losses shape the emotional undercurrents in his later music.

This is where Nowhere Boy becomes more than a biopic. It becomes a key to understanding Lennon’s songwriting.

You see the origins of the duality in his lyrics—the clear surface meaning and the shadow beneath it. His songs often contain a second emotional layer, something felt rather than stated . That’s the residue of this childhood: joy and sorrow coexisting, affection and abandonment intertwined.

It’s there in ‘Julia.’ It’s there in ‘Mother.’ And you can hear it in the way Lennon could write something uplifting that still carried a bruise.

The Roads Not Taken

One of the film’s most striking themes is how easily Lennon’s life could have gone another way. His father nearly took him to New Zealand. His mother’s instability could have swallowed him. His aunt’s emotional distance could have hardened him. The film shows a boy whose future was never guaranteed, whose genius emerged not from stability but from surviving instability.

If Julia had been consistently present, Lennon might not have become the artist he did . It’s not a comfortable thought, but it’s an honest one. Creativity often grows in the cracks.

Performances That Carry the Weight

Aaron Taylor‑Johnson doesn’t imitate Lennon; he channels him. His face does the emotional heavy lifting—hurt, defiance, longing flickering behind the eyes. Thomas Brodie‑Sangster’s Paul McCartney is a quieter revelation, playing Paul as a boy already sharpening his musical instincts, already aware of Lennon’s brilliance and volatility.

Together, they create a dynamic that feels authentic: admiration, rivalry, and the beginnings of a partnership that would change the world.

A Film About Becoming

Ultimately, Nowhere Boy succeeds because it refuses to be a Beatles prequel. It’s not about destiny. It’s about contingency. It’s about a boy navigating emotional storms, finding refuge in music, and discovering that expression can be a lifeline.

It’s a film about becoming, not being. And that’s what makes it quietly extraordinary.

By Pat Harrington

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16/09/26 – COUNTER CULTURE – MIDWEEK SONG LIST (165)

There’s a thread that runs through British history — a reminder that the freedoms we enjoy weren’t handed out politely by benevolent elites. They were fought for, demanded, and in some cases paid for in blood. Last week we revisited the Peterloo Massacre of 16 August 1819, when cavalry charged into a peaceful crowd of 60,000 in Manchester. Eighteen people died, hundreds were maimed, and all because ordinary men and women dared to insist on the right to vote.

It’s worth repeating: civil and religious liberties are never guaranteed. They can be chipped away by those who claim to be “protecting” us from offence, discomfort, or ideas they don’t like. The arts — especially the awkward, challenging, non‑conformist bits — are often the first target. So, in the spirit of artistic freedom, curiosity and a refusal to be told what we should or shouldn’t listen to, here are the highlights of this week’s quirky Midweek Song List.

And yes — we’re indulging in cover versions. Three of them. Each one worth your time.

The Corrs – “One Day Like This”

Elbow released One Day Like This in 2008, and it quickly became one of those modern anthems that festivals, weddings and late‑night singalongs cling to. The Corrs strip it back entirely — no bombast, no orchestral swell, just a warm acoustic glow. Their version leans into intimacy rather than grandeur, giving the song a different emotional centre. It’s less “arms around strangers at Glastonbury” and more “quiet moment in the kitchen at midnight.” A lovely reinterpretation that shows how a song can breathe differently when handled with care.

The Regrettes – “Fox On The Run”

Sweet released Fox On The Run in 1975, during their glam‑rock pomp. It was the first A‑side written entirely by the band, hinting at the heavier, more muscular sound they’d later explore. The Regrettes take the track and inject it with youthful urgency. Their drummer, in particular, drives the whole thing forward with a kind of joyous insistence. The glam swagger is still there, but now it’s filtered through punk‑pop energy and a modern sense of fun. It’s a reminder that good songs survive reinvention — and sometimes thrive on it.

The Dead South – “People Are Strange”

The Doors released People Are Strange in 1967 — a psychedelic, slightly eerie meditation on alienation. The Dead South, a Canadian folk‑bluegrass outfit, take that strangeness and relocate it to the prairies. Their banjo‑driven version is playful, off‑kilter and oddly charming. Bluegrass is usually associated with Appalachia, but Canada has its own long tradition of folk, fiddle and acoustic storytelling. The Dead South grew out of that culture, blending it with Americana influences and a taste for the theatrical. Their cover keeps the song’s weirdness intact but gives it a new accent.

The Babbons – “Devil Moon”

A raw, atmospheric track with a moody pulse. The Babbons specialise in dark, rootsy rock with a hint of the occult. Devil Moon feels like a late‑night walk down a road you probably shouldn’t be on — but you keep going anyway.

Dif Juz – “No Motion”

Dif Juz were part of the early 80s 4AD orbit — instrumental, atmospheric, and quietly influential. No Motion is a drifting, echo‑laden piece that feels like a half‑remembered dream. A reminder that post‑punk wasn’t always about sharp edges; sometimes it was about space.

Fatal Blow – “Skinhead Attitude”

Fatal Blow channel the classic UK street‑punk tradition. Skinhead Attitude is loud, proud and unapologetic — a celebration of working‑class identity, defiance and community. Straightforward, punchy and built for live crowds.

José González – “Heartbeats”

Originally by The Knife, González’s acoustic version became the definitive one for many listeners. Sparse, delicate and haunting, it’s a masterclass in how stripping a song back can reveal its emotional core.

The Hawks – “Hana”

A shimmering indie track with a gentle melodic lift. The Hawks blend jangly guitars with wistful vocals, creating something both nostalgic and fresh.

Led Zeppelin – “Kashmir”

A titan of rock. Released in 1975, Kashmir is Zeppelin at their most expansive — orchestral, hypnotic and utterly commanding. A reminder of how far rock music can stretch when ambition meets talent.

Hazel O’Connor – “Will You”

From 1980’s Breaking Glass, Will You remains one of Hazel O’Connor’s most powerful performances. The sax solo alone is worth revisiting. Emotional, tense and beautifully delivered.

Primal Scream – “Rocks Off”

A swaggering, Stones‑infused slice of rock ’n’ roll. Released in 1994, it marked Primal Scream’s shift back toward guitars after their electronic phase. Pure attitude.

Retaliator – “Patriotic Alcoholic”

A raucous, tongue‑in‑cheek punk anthem. Retaliator specialise in rowdy, pub‑ready singalongs, and this one fits the mould perfectly.

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Counter Culture Peace Songlist 2

This second Peace Songlist gathers works that confront conflict from every angle: the soldier who came home broken, the one who never returned, the civilian who watched leaders march men into disaster, and the artist who refused to accept official narratives. Folk, punk, metal, and country all meet here with one shared purpose — to expose the human cost of war and the stories that survive long after the battles end.

THE SONGS

Broken Heroes – Saxon

A heavy‑metal lament for soldiers abandoned after conflict. Saxon confront the hypocrisy of governments that celebrate heroism but neglect the wounded and traumatised. Raw, direct, and unmistakably anti‑war.

Waist Deep in the Big Muddy – Pete Seeger

A Vietnam‑era parable about blind leadership. Seeger warns how obedience to authority can lead men into disaster, and how those in charge often insist everything is fine until it’s too late. Waist Deep in the Big Muddy is a parable about blind, authoritarian leadership—a captain who ignores warnings and leads his men into danger—used by Pete Seeger as a metaphor for Lyndon Johnson’s escalation of the Vietnam War. It’s about how nations get dragged into disaster when “the big fool says to push on.”

I Was Only Nineteen – Redgum

A stark, plainspoken account of the Vietnam war from an Australian perspective. Trauma, memory, and the long shadow of conflict are laid out without sentimentality, making it one of the most authentic anti‑war songs ever recorded.

Where Have All the Flowers Gone – Pete Seeger

A circular folk lament tracing the cycle of youth, war, and death. Its structure reinforces the idea that humanity keeps repeating the same mistakes, generation after generation.

And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda – The Pogues version

Shane MacGowan’s cracked, weary vocal adds a bruised edge to Bogle’s story. The Pogues turn the song into a bitter folk‑punk elegy for the forgotten wounded.

The Fighting 36th – Ruefrex

A Northern Irish punk track exposing the senselessness of violence and the emotional destruction it leaves behind. Its portrayal of conflict as dehumanising and pointless places it firmly in the anti‑war tradition.

What Is Truth – Johnny Cash

Cash challenges political hypocrisy and asks why society ignores young people who question war. A sharp, articulate protest song from the Vietnam era that still resonates.

I Don’t Believe in If Anymore – Roger Whittaker

A reflective critique of the comforting hypotheticals people use to rewrite the past. Whittaker rejects the idea that conflict can be justified by imagining different outcomes, even referencing “the one they call the foe” to highlight how societies manufacture enemies. Not a traditional anti‑war song, but a thoughtful challenge to fatalism and the narratives that sustain conflict, making it a fitting philosophical addition to the peace list. 

Writing and selections by Pat Harrington with contributions from the Counter Culture film discussion group.

Our Peace Song List 1 is here

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Culture Vulture 12–18 September 2026

There is plenty to get stuck into this week, but three things stand out. The Last Night of the Proms remains one of those great television occasions, even if you normally only dip into classical music. England Till I Die looks like the most potentially unsettling piece of factual television, following an East Sussex anti-immigration activist over nine months. And film-wise, it is hard to look past The Red Shoes, Powell and Pressburger’s extraordinary 1948 masterpiece, still looking and feeling unlike almost anything else.

There is strong music programming too, with Chaka Khan and Simple Minds headlining Radio 2 in the Park, while BBC Four gives Friday night over to the Rolling Stones. Film4 supplies plenty across the week, and the streaming services offer a mix of crime, dystopia, politics and dysfunctional spies.

Saturday 12 September

The Red Shoes — 9.50am, BBC Two (1948)

Powell and Pressburger at full voltage: colour as emotion, movement as destiny, and a story that understands, with unnerving clarity, the price artists sometimes pay for brilliance. The film opens with a kind of deceptive lightness — the bustle of students, the chatter of rehearsal rooms — but even in those early scenes there’s a sense of something larger gathering, a tension between ordinary life and the pull of the stage.

Moira Shearer’s Vicky Page is one of those performances that seems to glow from within. She’s young, ambitious, and utterly sincere, and the film treats her not as a symbol but as a person caught between two forces: the joy of creation and the demands of those who claim ownership over it. Anton Walbrook’s Lermontov, all icy poise and implacable will, becomes the gravitational centre of the film. He doesn’t shout, he doesn’t threaten; he simply expects the world to bend to his vision. And in the world of The Red Shoes, that expectation is almost enough to make it happen.

The famous ballet sequence — still astonishing, still unmatched — feels like cinema stepping into another dimension. It’s not a filmed performance; it’s a dream, a hallucination, a manifesto. Powell and Pressburger let the stage dissolve into pure imagination, and for a few minutes you’re watching something that doesn’t seem bound by the usual rules of filmmaking. It’s the moment where the film declares, without hesitation, that art can be overwhelming, intoxicating, and dangerous.

What follows is inevitable, tragic, and strangely beautiful. The film isn’t moralising; it isn’t wagging a finger about ambition. It’s simply honest about the cost. For some people, the choice between life and art isn’t a choice at all — and The Red Shoes understands that with a kind of terrible sympathy.

A masterpiece, yes, but more than that: a film that still feels alive, still capable of unsettling you, still able to make you think about the things you love and what they demand in return.

Lawrence of Arabia — 1.30pm, BBC Two (1962)

Lean’s desert epic isn’t just large‑scale cinema — it’s cinema that seems to expand as you watch it, pushing outward into myth, psychology and the uneasy glamour of heroism. The first thing that strikes you is the sheer physical beauty of it: the desert not as backdrop but as a kind of vast, indifferent character, swallowing men, ambitions and empires without distinction. Freddie Young’s cinematography gives the landscape a monumental stillness, and Lean lets that stillness interrogate the people moving through it.

At the centre is Peter O’Toole, incandescent and unsettling. His Lawrence is not a straightforward adventurer but a man drawn to extremes — extremes of courage, extremes of self‑invention, extremes of delusion. O’Toole plays him with a kind of brittle radiance, as if the performance itself is lit from inside. You see the charisma, the intelligence, the recklessness, and the slow, painful recognition that the legend he’s building is also consuming him.

The film’s sweep is extraordinary, but what makes it endure is its ambivalence. It understands the seduction of grand narratives — the lone visionary, the desert campaign, the forging of alliances — but it also understands the cost. Lean never lets the spectacle drown out the politics or the psychology. The triumphs feel real, but so do the fractures, the betrayals, the dawning sense that Lawrence’s story is as much about the limits of empire as the possibilities of individual will.

Long, certainly. Magnificent, unquestionably. But more than that: a film that still feels like a challenge — to the viewer, to history, and to the idea of heroism itself.

Rosaline — 3pm, Film4 (2022)

A playful spin on Romeo and Juliet, yes, but what makes Rosaline interesting is the way it quietly punctures the solemnity that usually clings to Verona. By shifting the frame to Romeo’s overlooked ex, the film exposes the fragile architecture of the “great romance” — how much of it is timing, how much is teenage melodrama, and how much is simply who gets written into the centre of the story.

Kaitlyn Dever’s Rosaline is sharp, wounded, and wonderfully unimpressed by the myth-making around her. Through her eyes, the familiar beats of Shakespeare’s tragedy become something closer to a comedy of misplaced certainty. The film doesn’t mock the original; it just recognises that the intensity of first love can look very different once you’re no longer the one swept up in it.

There’s a breezy confidence to the whole thing — modern without being smug, affectionate without being reverent. And beneath the jokes, there’s a small but sincere point: change the narrator, and the legend shifts. The story you thought you knew becomes something else entirely.

Vera Cruz — 6.35pm, 5 Action (1954)

Aldrich’s Vera Cruz is one of those westerns that feels like it’s already leaning toward the genre’s darker future — cynical, sharp‑edged, and amused by its own ruthlessness. Gary Cooper and Burt Lancaster make a terrific, uneasy pairing: Cooper with that worn, moral gravity he carried so naturally, Lancaster all swagger, teeth and opportunism. They’re heading south not for honour or destiny but for profit, and the film never pretends otherwise.

What’s striking is how modern the tone feels. The Mexican setting isn’t treated as exotic backdrop; it’s a political landscape full of shifting loyalties, revolutionaries, mercenaries and people trying to survive the chaos. Aldrich shoots it with a kind of muscular clarity — dust, sweat, sudden violence — and lets the humour bubble up from the characters’ sheer audacity. Lancaster in particular seems to enjoy every moment of being a charming bastard.

The film’s cynicism isn’t bleak; it’s invigorating. You can see the seeds of the spaghetti western here, the move away from clean moral lines and toward something more ambiguous, more dangerous, more fun. Vera Cruz knows exactly what it is: a tough, stylish adventure where trust is a luxury and everyone’s playing an angle.

Last Night of the Proms — 7.10pm, BBC Two; 9pm, BBC One. Catch up via BBC iPlayer.

One of those fixtures in the television calendar that needs little introduction, beginning on BBC Two before moving across to BBC One for the climax of the evening.

Avengers: Endgame — 8.15pm, Channel 4 (2019)

A film built as a finale and delivered as an event. Endgame arrives carrying the weight of a decade’s worth of Marvel storytelling, and it doesn’t shy away from the scale of that responsibility. It’s unabashedly big, unabashedly emotional, and determined to give every character and every long‑running thread its moment.

The opening stretch is unexpectedly quiet, almost reflective, before the film swings into its playful time‑heist detour — a victory lap through the MCU’s own history. Then comes the vast, operatic climax, a sequence so crowded with heroes and spectacle that the screen feels barely able to contain it.

What keeps the film grounded is its sincerity. Beneath the CGI and the noise, there’s a clear understanding that endings matter. Some arcs close gently, others with thunderous fanfare, but each feels like part of a story finally being tied off.

Long, loud and built for maximum impact — but also surprisingly heartfelt. A blockbuster that knows exactly what it means to its audience.

Radio 2 in the Park: Chaka Khan — from 9pm, BBC Two. Catch up via BBC iPlayer.

Chaka Khan, the soul, funk and disco queen, is the headline draw on day one of the annual shindig. Her set, shown in full from 10pm, should be a crowd-pleaser.

Before that comes an hour of highlights from Stirling City Park, including performances from ABC, Lulu, Emeli Sandé and Texas.

The evening then heads into the archives, with Chaka Khan at the BBC at 11pm, followed by Texas at the BBC at 11.40pm.

Saint Omer — 1.50am, BBC Two (2022)

Alice Diop’s Saint Omer is a courtroom drama in form but something far more unsettling in effect. Inspired by a real case, the film approaches its subject with a calm, almost forensic stillness, refusing melodrama and letting the details speak for themselves. That restraint is precisely what makes it so gripping. Every pause, every hesitation, every quiet admission seems to echo in the room.

Diop isn’t interested in easy judgments. She’s interested in the uncomfortable territory where empathy, horror and uncertainty overlap. Through the eyes of Rama, a novelist observing the trial, the film becomes a study of how we try — and often fail — to understand the inner lives of others. The performances are extraordinary in their understatement; nothing is pushed, nothing is embellished, and the result is a kind of emotional slow burn that’s far more powerful than a conventional courtroom thriller.

Demanding, yes. You have to meet the film on its own terms. But the reward is a drama that lingers long after it ends — precise, unsettling, and quietly devastating.

Sunday 13 September

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral — 2.55pm, 5 Action (1957)

A western cut from the old studio cloth, polished, purposeful and carried by the sheer presence of its stars. Burt Lancaster’s Wyatt Earp is all upright resolve, a man who seems carved out of frontier duty, while Kirk Douglas’s Doc Holliday brings the volatility — charm, danger, and that flicker of self‑destruction that Douglas could summon so effortlessly. Together they give the film its spine: one steady, one unpredictable, both irresistible to watch.

Robert Aldrich directs with a kind of muscular classicism. The film isn’t trying to reinvent the genre; it’s honouring it. Wide streets, dusty saloons, men circling each other with the knowledge that violence is both inevitable and absurd. The build‑up to the famous showdown is deliberate, almost ritualistic, and when the bullets finally fly, it feels less like action and more like the fulfilment of a legend Hollywood had been polishing for decades.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s — 8pm, Sky Arts (1961)

A film wrapped in charm, glamour and that unmistakable early‑60s sheen, yet one that carries a complicated legacy. Audrey Hepburn’s Holly Golightly remains the centre of gravity — a performance so light it almost floats, yet anchored by a melancholy the film never fully names. She gives Holly a kind of shimmering fragility: a woman performing freedom while quietly terrified of what real closeness might demand. It’s one of cinema’s defining turns, and still astonishing in its precision.

George Peppard provides the steadier counterpoint, all quiet observation and gentle exasperation, while Henry Mancini’s score does half the emotional work — Moon River drifting through the film like a memory you’re not quite ready to confront. The elegance is undeniable.

But the film’s dated elements are impossible to ignore, and rightly so. Some choices now land with a thud, reminders of an era Hollywood preferred to gloss over. Acknowledging that doesn’t diminish Hepburn’s achievement; if anything, it sharpens it. Her Holly survives the film’s flaws and transcends them, becoming one of those rare characters who feels both iconic and strangely intimate.

A classic with caveats, but Hepburn’s performance remains untouchable.

Unmissable Moments at the BBC Proms 2026 — 8pm, BBC Four. Catch up via BBC iPlayer.

Two hours of mixed delights from this year’s Proms.

Radio 2 in the Park: Simple Minds — 10pm, BBC Two. Catch up via BBC iPlayer.

Simple Minds take centre stage for the second night of Radio 2 in the Park, bringing a formidable catalogue of songs with them.

Vesper — 11.10pm, Film4 (2022)

A striking piece of European science fiction that proves ambition isn’t measured in budget. Vesper imagines a future ravaged by ecological collapse, but it does so with a painter’s eye — damp forests, biotechnological oddities, and a world where every living thing seems half‑engineered and half‑feral. It’s grim, but not in the usual dystopian way; the film’s bleakness feels organic, lived‑in, almost mournful.

Raffiella Chapman gives the story its pulse. Her Vesper is resourceful, wary, and quietly determined, navigating a landscape where survival depends on ingenuity rather than firepower. The film’s strength lies in its restraint: no bombastic action, no glossy spectacle, just a slow, unsettling immersion in a future where nature has mutated beyond human control.

For a low‑budget production, it’s visually bold — intricate world‑building, strange textures, and a sense of scale achieved through imagination rather than money. The result is a sci‑fi film that feels genuinely otherworldly.

Ambitious, atmospheric and far more memorable than many bigger, louder dystopias.

Monday 14 September

Oliver! — 6.05pm, Film4 (1968)

Carol Reed’s lavish musical takes Oliver Twist and turns it into a full‑throated spectacle — big sets, big choruses, and Lionel Bart’s songs delivered with absolute gusto. It’s the kind of production that wears its scale proudly, every frame polished, every number staged to fill the screen. The story’s darker edges are softened, of course, but they’re still there if you look: the poverty, the fear, the precariousness of Oliver’s world.

What stands out now is how the film handles the women of Dickens’ novel, especially Nancy. Her arc gives the musical its emotional weight, a reminder that beneath the bright tunes lies a story shaped by sacrifice and danger. Counter Culture recently explored this in our piece on the women of Oliver Twist, and Reed’s version of Nancy carries that same tragic force — a character who anchors the film even as the spectacle swirls around her.

As a musical, though, Oliver! remains irresistible. Big tunes, big performances, and an Oscar‑winning production that still knows exactly how to entertain.

Epstein: Money, Power and Abuse — Panorama Special — 8pm, BBC One.

A Panorama special examining Jeffrey Epstein, the money and influence surrounding him, and the abuse at the heart of the story.

The Thin Blue Line — 10pm, Sky Documentaries (1988)

Errol Morris’s landmark documentary remains one of the clearest examples of non‑fiction cinema changing the real world. Through meticulous interviews and stylised reconstructions, Morris dismantles the official story surrounding the murder of Dallas police officer Robert W. Wood, exposing contradictions, coached testimony and a prosecution more interested in a conviction than the truth. The film’s impact wasn’t theoretical: Randall Dale Adams, the man at the centre of the case, had his conviction overturned in 1989 after twelve years behind bars, with prosecutors declining to retry him. Adams walked free, while the evidence increasingly pointed toward David Ray Harris — who later ended up on death row for an unrelated killing.

Calm, precise and quietly devastating, The Thin Blue Line shows how a documentary can do more than illuminate a case; it can correct one.

Get Carter — 11.05pm, BBC Two (1971)

Jack Carter returns to Newcastle for his brother’s funeral and quickly realises the official story doesn’t add up. What begins as a family obligation turns into a cold, methodical hunt for the truth, dragging him through a city where every door he opens reveals something more rotten than the last.

Caine plays Carter with unnerving stillness — a man who already knows the world is corrupt and is simply confirming the details. The violence is abrupt, the humour dry enough to sting, and the landscape itself feels complicit: terraces, slag heaps, concrete estates, all part of the film’s bleak moral weather. Mike Hodges strips away glamour until only cause, effect and consequence remain.

Brutal, unsentimental and still one of the finest British crime films ever made.

Tuesday 15 September

Garbo: Where Did You Go? — 8pm, Sky Arts.

Noomi Rapace narrates a portrait of the enigmatic Greta Garbo, one of cinema’s most famous and famously elusive stars.

The Royals: Time to Go? — 9pm, Channel 4. Catch up via Channel 4 Streaming.

A look at the monarchy and the increasingly familiar question of what place, if any, the institution should have in modern Britain.

Sicario — 10.40pm, BBC One (2015)

Denis Villeneuve’s border thriller is tense, morally murky and superbly controlled, with Emily Blunt, Benicio del Toro and Josh Brolin all excellent.

The Proposition — 11.35pm, Talking Pictures TV (2004)

A brutal, sun‑blasted Australian western built on a screenplay by Nick Cave — and if you know his work, the fingerprints are unmistakable. Violence, guilt, family, the harsh indifference of the landscape: Cave threads all of it through a story that feels both mythic and painfully human. As a big admirer of Cave, it’s hard not to relish how his sensibility shapes the film’s rhythm — the dialogue spare, the atmosphere heavy, the morality scorched at the edges.

The plot is simple and savage. Captain Stanley offers outlaw Charlie Burns an impossible bargain: hunt down and kill his older brother Arthur, a man responsible for atrocities, in exchange for the freedom of their youngest sibling. What follows is a slow, grim march through dust, heat and conscience. John Hillcoat directs with a stark, unblinking eye, letting the landscape do half the storytelling — a place where civilisation is a thin veneer and violence feels almost elemental.

Performances are flinty and lived‑in. Guy Pearce’s Charlie is a man hollowed out by loyalty and dread, while Danny Huston’s Arthur moves with the unsettling calm of someone who has already accepted damnation. The film’s brutality isn’t gratuitous; it’s part of the moral weather Cave and Hillcoat conjure so effectively.

Bleak, poetic and unforgettable — a western that feels like a ballad written in blood and dust.

You Were Never Really Here — 12.40am, Film4 (2017)

Lynne Ramsay and Joaquin Phoenix deliver a bruising, fragmented revenge film that is far more interested in trauma than conventional action.

Wednesday 16 September

Greed — 9pm, Film4 (2019)

Michael Winterbottom takes aim at obscene wealth, fast fashion and self-satisfied celebrity culture, with Steve Coogan doing what Steve Coogan does very well.

A River Runs Through It — 9pm, GREAT! TV (1992)

Robert Redford’s beautifully photographed drama follows two brothers growing up in early‑20th‑century Montana, their lives shaped by family, faith and the quiet rituals of fly‑fishing. What begins as a simple coming‑of‑age story deepens into something far more reflective: a film about the ties that bind, the choices that break us, and the things we can never quite say to the people we love.

The landscapes are extraordinary — rivers, forests, long summer light — all captured with a painterly calm that mirrors the film’s emotional restraint. Brad Pitt and Craig Sheffer give quietly affecting performances, their characters drifting together and apart as adulthood complicates the certainties of childhood. Redford’s narration adds a gentle melancholy, turning the film into a kind of elegy for a time, a place and a family that can’t be held onto.

Graceful, contemplative and deeply felt. A film that moves like the river at its centre: steady, luminous and quietly unforgettable.

England Till I Die — 10pm, Channel 4. Catch up via Channel 4 Streaming.

A sharp and unsettling slice of reportage. Filmmaker Jamie Roberts follows Liam, an East Sussex anti-immigration activist, over nine months.

Sicario 2: Soldado — 10.40pm, BBC One (2018)

The follow-up drops Emily Blunt and doubles down on Brolin and del Toro. Darker, harsher and less subtle than the original, but still gripping.

Our Ladies — 1.45am, Film4 (2019)

A group of Catholic schoolgirls descend on Edinburgh for a choir competition and immediately discover they’re far more interested in freedom, mischief and possibility than in hitting the right notes. What follows is a chaotic, funny and unexpectedly tender day out, as friendships shift, loyalties wobble and each girl tests the limits of who she might become once the school walls aren’t around her.

The film’s strength is its honesty. It doesn’t romanticise teenage rebellion, but it doesn’t scold it either. The humour is sharp, the dialogue rings true, and the performances capture that mix of bravado and vulnerability that defines being young and desperate to escape the version of yourself adults insist on seeing. Edinburgh becomes part of the adventure — messy, tempting, full of corners where trouble and opportunity blur together.

Funny, warm and considerably less pious than their teachers might like. A small gem of a coming‑of‑age film.

Thursday 17 September

The Secret Life of Bees — 7pm, Channel 5.

A look at the extraordinary variety of Britain’s bees — some 270 species — exploring their history, science and habitats. It begins with a visit to King Charles III’s bees at Highgrove.

Heatwaves & Food Prices: Saving on Your Supermarket Shop? — Tonight — 7.30pm, ITV1/STV.

Kate Quilton explores how the UK’s heatwaves have affected farmers and food prices.

The Theory of Everything — 9pm, Film4 (2014)

Eddie Redmayne won the Oscar for his portrayal of Stephen Hawking, with Felicity Jones equally impressive as Jane Hawking.

RED — 10.45pm, ITV1 (2010)

A slick, tongue‑in‑cheek action comedy built around the idea that the world’s most dangerous operatives are now supposed to be enjoying quiet retirement — and are utterly incapable of it. Bruce Willis’s Frank Moses is dragged back into the chaos when his past resurfaces, and he promptly reunites with a motley crew of former colleagues who are even less suited to domestic tranquillity than he is.

Helen Mirren is a delight as a refined assassin who still misses the adrenaline; John Malkovich steals scenes as a paranoid wildcard who’s usually right; and Morgan Freeman brings the easy charm of someone who’s seen everything and is still amused by most of it. The chemistry is the film’s real engine — older, sharper, funnier performers having a ball with material that lets them be both dangerous and daft.

Light, breezy and knowingly ridiculous, RED proves that retirement and tranquillity do not necessarily go together — especially when your old friends are armed to the teeth.

Io Capitano — 11.25pm, Film4 (2023)

Matteo Garrone’s migration drama follows two Senegalese teenagers, Seydou and Moussa, as they attempt the dangerous, often deadly journey to Europe — a route that promises opportunity but delivers exploitation, violence and unimaginable risk. What begins as a hopeful adventure quickly becomes a test of endurance, as the boys move through deserts, detention centres and the brutal economics of human trafficking.

Garrone films their odyssey with a stark, unblinking honesty. There’s no melodrama, no sensationalism, just the steady accumulation of hardship and small, fragile moments of kindness. The performances are remarkable in their simplicity: two boys trying to stay human in circumstances designed to strip that humanity away. The film’s power lies in its refusal to look away, and in its insistence that migration is not an abstract debate but a lived experience carried by real people with real dreams.

Tough, humane and quietly devastating — a story told with clarity, compassion and a refusal to simplify the truth.

Talking Pictures: David Lean — 11.30pm, BBC Four.

Following our Saturday selection of Lawrence of Arabia, this is a welcome opportunity to learn more about the man behind it. An archive-based insight into the life and career of director David Lean.

Friday 18 September

Shadow of a Doubt — 11am, Film4 (1943)

One of Hitchcock’s own favourites. Joseph Cotten brings menace into small-town America as Uncle Charlie, and the darkness gradually seeps through the respectable surface.

Coastal Unit — 9pm, More4. Walter Presents.

A French cop drama with a breezier touch than the genre usually allows. Brilliant rookie Lucia Passente is paired with jaded, old‑school veteran Victor Bruno Salomone, and the show leans into the fun of that mismatch — her sharp instincts and modern methods colliding with his weary pragmatism and “seen it all” attitude. The cases are serious enough, but the tone is lighter, warmer, more character‑led than the average procedural.

The coastal setting helps. Sun, sea and small‑town tensions give the series a relaxed rhythm, even when the investigations turn knotty. What keeps it engaging is the dynamic between the leads: Lucia’s energy pushing against Victor’s cynicism, each quietly learning from the other as they navigate crimes, colleagues and the odd personal complication.

Philadelphia — 9pm, GREAT! TV (1993)

Tom Hanks won his first Oscar for this landmark mainstream drama about AIDS, discrimination and dignity, with Denzel Washington alongside him.

Rolling Stones Night — from 10.10pm, BBC Four. Catch up via BBC iPlayer.

Unbelievably, the Rolling Stones are now up to their 25th studio album, and BBC Four marks their extraordinary longevity with an evening devoted to the band.

First up is a 2015 concert recorded at Hollywood’s Fonda Theatre, where the Stones performed their classic 1971 album Sticky Fingers in its entirety for the first — and, to date, only — time.

That is followed by two episodes of the 2022 series My Life as a Rolling Stone: Mick at 11.35pm, followed by Ronnie at 12.35am.

Starve Acre — 11pm, BBC Two (2023)

Matt Smith and Morfydd Clark anchor this bleak folk‑horror tale set in a Yorkshire landscape that seems determined to smother any hope. The story begins with a family grieving the loss of their young son, trying to hold themselves together in an isolated farmhouse where silence feels heavier than comfort. As Smith’s character becomes obsessed with the land’s strange history — old rituals, older stories, and something buried that should have stayed buried — the film shifts from domestic sorrow into something far more unsettling.

What makes Starve Acre effective is its restraint. The horror isn’t loud; it creeps. The countryside is shot not as pastoral beauty but as a place where ancient forces linger just out of sight, waiting for grief to weaken the boundary between the living and whatever came before. Clark brings a brittle, aching vulnerability, while Smith’s slow slide into obsession gives the film its unnerving pulse.

Bleak, atmospheric and quietly chilling — a folk‑horror story where the land itself feels like the antagonist.

Moonage Daydream — 1.20am, Channel 4 (2022)

Brett Morgen’s kaleidoscopic David Bowie documentary is less biography than sensory experience, making extensive use of Bowie’s own words, music and archive material. Take a look at the review I wrote when it was out at the cinema.

Streaming

Netflix

The Doll — all six episodes available from Wednesday 16 September.

A Polish drama centred on the ambitious Stanisław, a man determined to climb the social ladder while becoming increasingly consumed by his infatuation with Isabella.

Teenage Wasteland — available now.

Set in 1991 in blue-collar Middletown, New York, this tells the story of a teacher who creates a class called Electronic English in an attempt to connect with and engage his students.

Prime Video

You and Me Against the World — available from Friday 18 September.

Student Alma Lancaster is hiding rather a lot from her family. She is supposed to be studying law but is actually taking a filmmaking course. As if that were not enough, she is also involved with the rebellious Vadim, another part of her life unlikely to meet with family approval.

MobLand — Season 2 — episodes released weekly from Friday 18 September.

The criminal clans are back, including the Harrigans, with rivalries, alliances and family loyalties once again at the centre of things.

The Wizard of the Kremlin — available now.

A drama about the rise of Vladimir Putin and the political world surrounding his ascent to power.

Apple TV+

Slow Horses — Season 6, Episode 1 — available Wednesday 16 September.

Jackson Lamb and the dysfunctional inhabitants of Slough House return for another series.

Disney+

City of Blood — all eight episodes available Wednesday 16 September.

In a dystopian Berlin ruthlessly divided between rich and poor, sisters Phoebe, Soma, Paisa and Bea find themselves on opposite sides of the class divide. As they dig into the city’s criminal networks, they discover who is really pulling the strings.

Vampires.

Leaving Soon

Brassed Off — available on Channel 4 until Wednesday 16 September.

The Yorkshire mining community rallies around its colliery brass band against a backdrop of threatened pit closures, redundancies and a way of life being dismantled.

Coming Soon

The Diplomat — Series 4 — Netflix, available 15 October.

Radio

Saturday 12 September

The Bayeux Tapestry — 6am, 11am and 5pm, Radio 4 Extra.

An unusual recording from 1944 taking listeners through the story told by the Bayeux Tapestry.

Archive on 4: First Contact — 8pm, Radio 4.

A fascinating and difficult subject: indigenous peoples who remain uncontacted by the outside world. Survival International estimated in a November 2025 report that there are 196 uncontacted peoples around the world, chiefly in the Amazon basin.

Sunday 13 September

Between the Ears: A Circular History of the Loop — 7pm, Radio 3.

The loop — the repeated phrase, drum beat, guitar riff or fragment of sound — has become fundamental to modern music. This explores its history, including the wonderfully inventive methods of BBC Radiophonic Workshop composer Delia Derbyshire, for whom even tapping a metal lampshade with a small hammer could become raw musical material.

Monday 14–Friday 18 September

The Essay: In Voice — 9.45pm, Radio 3.

With the help of ear, nose and throat specialist Declan Costello, tenor Nicky Spence investigates how the human voice actually works. A week of essays looking at that most familiar, personal and surprisingly complicated of instruments.

Tuesday 15 September

Life as a Muse — 4pm, Radio 4.

Does the muse still have a place in the way we think about art and creativity? This considers the traditional idea of the muse while challenging some of the assumptions — and power relationships — that have come with it.

Selections and reviews by Pat Harrington

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Counter Culture Song List Special — Peace

Across the world, conflicts grind on — Ukraine, Gaza, the West Bank, Yemen, Sudan, the Caucasus, and the quieter wars that never make headlines but still take lives. Every generation inherits a fresh set of battlefields, as if violence were a tradition rather than a failure. What’s striking, and desperately sad, is how little we seem to learn. We have prophets and poets — not in robes or temples, but in studios, rehearsal rooms and cramped flats with battered guitars — who keep trying to tell us the same thing: force doesn’t liberate, it isn’t the answer it only repeats itself bringing more misery.

Songwriters have become the spiritual messengers of our age. They don’t preach; they remind. They warn. They plead. They hold up a mirror to the madness and ask why we keep choosing the same path. And when you look at the peace songs we’ve gathered, the message is remarkably consistent.

Cat Stevens’ Peace Train carries the optimism of a generation that believed humanity could redirect its own future . Buffy Sainte‑Marie’s Universal Soldier strips war down to its most uncomfortable truth: conflict survives because ordinary people agree to fight it . Lennon’s Give Peace a Chance turns protest into communal ritual — a chant meant to drown out the drums of war . Edwin Starr’s War refuses subtlety; it names militarism for what it is and demands we stop pretending otherwise . Kate Bush’s Army Dreamers shows the cost not in geopolitics but in a mother’s grief — the smallest unit of tragedy in any conflict . Marley’s Redemption Song reminds us that liberation begins in the mind, long before it reaches the streets or the borders .

These artists aren’t offering policy. They’re offering clarity. They’re trying to break the spell — the ancient lie that violence is a tool for change rather than a guarantee of more suffering. And yet here we are, still repeating the same cycles, still ignoring the people who’ve been singing the escape route for decades.

This week’s selection isn’t just a playlist. It’s a reminder that a belief in peace isn’t naïve — it’s necessary. And that the voices urging us toward it have been right all along.

1. Peace Train — Cat Stevens (1971)

Cat Stevens (now Yusuf Islam) wrote Peace Train at the height of the Vietnam War and during a period of global protest movements. The song channels the optimism of early‑70s counterculture — a belief that collective human will could redirect history. Its gentle folk melody and spiritual tone made it an anthem for peace rallies, and Stevens’ later conversion to Islam gave the song an added layer of interfaith resonance. It remains one of the most recognisable calls for unity in popular music.

2. Universal Soldier — Buffy Sainte‑Marie (1964) / Donovan (1965)

Buffy Sainte‑Marie’s original is the true genesis of this song — a stark, minimalist indictment of the individual’s role in perpetuating war. Donovan’s cover brought it into the mainstream, turning it into a global anti‑war anthem. The song’s argument is radical: war is not only the fault of governments but of ordinary people who agree to fight. Its relevance has endured through Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and today’s conflicts, where conscription, fake nationalism and propaganda continue to shape human choices.

3. Give Peace a Chance — John Lennon & Yoko Ono (1969)

Recorded during Lennon and Ono’s famous “Bed‑In for Peace” in Montreal, this became the unofficial soundtrack of the anti‑Vietnam movement. Its chant‑like simplicity was deliberate — Lennon wanted a phrase that could be sung by crowds, not just fans. It was adopted by demonstrators worldwide, including the 1971 Washington DC rally of 250,000 people. The song’s power lies in its communal repetition: a slogan turned into a cultural force.

4. War — Edwin Starr (1970)

Few songs express anti‑war sentiment with such blunt force. Originally recorded by The Temptations, Motown reassigned it to Edwin Starr, whose raw, urgent vocal transformed it into a protest classic. Released during the Vietnam War, it became a number‑one hit and a defining moment in soul music’s political awakening. Starr’s delivery — fierce, uncompromising — made the song an enduring critique of militarism and political hypocrisy.

5. Army Dreamers — Kate Bush (1980)

Bush’s anti‑war song is deceptively soft: a waltz about a young soldier killed before adulthood. Rather than polemic, Bush uses domestic detail — a mother’s grief, wasted potential — to expose the human cost of military recruitment. Released during rising tensions in Northern Ireland and Cold War anxieties, it stands out for its emotional precision. Bush’s ability to communicate a political message through intimate storytelling makes Army Dreamers one of the most quietly devastating anti‑war songs ever written.

6. Peace, Love and Understanding — Nick Lowe / Elvis Costello (1974 / 1979)

Nick Lowe’s original was a pub‑rock curiosity, but Elvis Costello’s cover turned it into a modern classic. Released at the end of the 1970s — a decade marked by political violence, recession and cultural fragmentation — the song asks a simple question: “Where are the strong, who are the trusted?” It’s not naïve; it’s a plea for sanity in a world losing its bearings. Costello’s version remains one of the great British contributions to peace‑themed music.

7. Redemption Song — Bob Marley & The Wailers (1980)

Marley wrote this near the end of his life, distilling Rastafarian philosophy, anti‑colonial politics and human liberation into a stark acoustic performance. While not a “peace song” in the protest‑chant sense, it is fundamentally about freeing the mind from oppression — the root cause of conflict. Its line about “emancipating yourself from mental slavery” has become one of the most quoted in modern music. A global hymn for dignity and non‑violent resistance.

8. Imagine — John Lennon (1971)

Perhaps the most famous peace song ever written. Lennon’s utopian vision — a world without borders, religion or possessions — was shaped by Ono’s conceptual art and the pacifist movements of the era. Critics have called it naïve, but its cultural impact is undeniable: it is sung at vigils, protests, memorials and global events. The song’s simplicity is its strength, offering a blueprint for peace that is both idealistic and provocative.

9. Blowin’ in the Wind — Bob Dylan (1962)

Written during the Civil Rights era, Dylan’s song became a universal anthem for justice and peace. Its rhetorical questions — “How many times…?” — frame war, racism and inequality as moral failures that society refuses to confront. The song’s folk roots connect it to earlier protest traditions, while its adoption by activists cemented Dylan’s role as the voice of a generation. It remains one of the most important songs ever written about human responsibility.

10. Peacekeeper — Fleetwood Mac (2003)

A later entry in the peace‑song canon, released during the Iraq War. Lindsey Buckingham’s lyrics critique the language of modern conflict — the way governments sanitise war through euphemism. The song’s polished production contrasts with its message: peace cannot be achieved through force, and “keeping the peace” often means sustaining violence. It’s a sharp, contemporary take on the politics of war in the 21st century.

Selections and writing by Pat Harrington
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Counter Culture – Midweek Song Special (02/09/26)

A week like this deserves something a bit more reflective. Dolly Parton’s passing has left a strange quiet in the cultural landscape — the kind that follows the loss of someone whose work seeped into every corner of popular music. So this midweek selection leans into lineage, influence, and the odd, unexpected connections between artists who would never have shared a stage but somehow share a spirit. Think of it as a small musical map: country royalty, bluegrass revivalists, glam survivors, punk upstarts, metal pioneers, and a few outliers who simply refused to fit neatly into any box.

Dolly Parton – “Jolene”

“Jolene” is one of those songs that feels like it has always existed. Dolly wrote it in 1973, pulling together two real-life inspirations: a red‑haired bank clerk who flirted with her husband, and a young fan whose name — Jolene — struck her as too good not to use. What makes the song endure isn’t jealousy; it’s vulnerability. Dolly doesn’t threaten Jolene, she pleads with her. That emotional honesty was unusual in country music at the time, which often favoured stoicism over confession.

The track’s minimalist arrangement — just guitar, voice, and a heartbeat rhythm — gives Dolly nowhere to hide. Her vocal line circles the same melodic shape, tightening the tension with each repetition of the name. It’s hypnotic, almost incantatory. The song became a crossover hit, climbing charts in the US, UK, and beyond, and has since been covered in almost every genre imaginable.

“Jolene” also marks a turning point in Dolly’s career. It’s the moment she stepped out from behind the Nashville machine and asserted her own songwriting identity. The track’s simplicity is deceptive; beneath it lies a masterclass in emotional storytelling. It remains one of the most covered songs in modern music for a reason — it’s universal, raw, and utterly unforgettable.

Eric Burdon & War – “Paint It Black” (Live)

Eric Burdon has always had a knack for taking other people’s songs and dragging them somewhere darker, stranger, and more theatrical. His live version of “Paint It Black” with War is a perfect example. The Rolling Stones’ original is already steeped in dread, but Burdon pushes it further into psychedelic territory, stretching the song out and letting it breathe in long, smoky phrases. It becomes less a rock anthem and more a ritual — a performance that feels like it’s happening in real time, on the edge of chaos.

War’s presence transforms the track. Their jazz‑funk sensibilities give the song a rhythmic looseness that the Stones never aimed for. The percussion is restless, the bass lines coil around Burdon’s vocals, and the horns add flashes of colour that contrast sharply with the song’s bleak lyrics. It’s a collision of styles that shouldn’t work but absolutely does, precisely because neither side tries to dominate the other.

The result is a version that feels alive — unpredictable, raw, and defiantly unpolished. Burdon doesn’t just cover “Paint It Black”; he reimagines it as a sprawling, feverish performance piece. It’s one of those live recordings that reminds you how different a song can become when the right musicians get hold of it.

Generation X – “King Rocker”

“King Rocker” is Generation X at their most exuberant — a burst of late‑70s punk energy that refuses to be boxed into the genre’s usual nihilism. Billy Idol and Tony James wrote it as a kind of tongue‑in‑cheek tribute to rock mythology, but the song’s real charm lies in its sheer momentum. It’s fast, bright, and melodic, with a chorus built for shouting along in sweaty clubs. Punk was splintering into sub‑scenes by 1979, but Generation X were one of the few bands who kept the pop sensibility intact.

The track’s production is surprisingly clean for the era. Producer Ian Hunter (of Mott the Hoople fame) gave the band a bigger, more polished sound than most punk acts were willing to accept. Instead of muddy guitars and lo‑fi grit, “King Rocker” has crisp riffs, tight harmonies, and a rhythm section that drives the song forward like a runaway train. It’s punk with ambition — a sign of where Idol would eventually go as a solo artist.

What makes the song endure is its attitude. It’s cheeky without being smug, energetic without being chaotic, and catchy without sacrificing edge. “King Rocker” sits at the crossroads between punk and the emerging new wave movement, capturing a moment when British music was shifting gears. It still sounds fresh, and still makes you want to move.

Godflesh – “Like Rats”

“Like Rats” is one of the defining tracks of early industrial metal — a genre Godflesh didn’t just participate in, but effectively invented. Released in 1989, the song is built around crushing repetition: a drum machine pounding like factory machinery, guitars tuned so low they feel subterranean, and Justin Broadrick’s vocals delivered as a kind of distorted bark. It’s not meant to be pretty. It’s meant to overwhelm, to confront, to drag the listener into a world stripped of comfort.

The track’s power comes from its minimalism. Godflesh weren’t interested in speed or technical showmanship; they wanted weight. Every riff lands like a slab of concrete. The drum programming is deliberately mechanical, emphasising the dehumanisation at the heart of the band’s aesthetic. Broadrick’s lyrics — bleak, accusatory, almost abstract — reinforce the sense of alienation. It’s music that feels like it was built in a warehouse at 3am.

“Like Rats” became hugely influential, shaping the sound of bands from Nine Inch Nails to Fear Factory. But even decades later, the original still feels uniquely oppressive. It’s a reminder of how powerful simplicity can be when wielded with intent. Godflesh didn’t just play heavy music; they redefined what heaviness could mean.

Ikazuchi – “Violence Nocturne”

Ikazuchi operate in the extreme fringes of metal — a space where speed, intensity, and atmosphere collide. “Violence Nocturne” is a blistering example of their approach: a track that erupts immediately, offering no gentle introduction and no respite. The guitars are a blur, the drums sound like they’re trying to outrun themselves, and the vocals are delivered with a ferocity that borders on the ritualistic. It’s not music designed for casual listening; it’s music that demands surrender.

The song’s structure is surprisingly disciplined beneath the chaos. Ikazuchi weave melodic threads through the noise, creating moments of eerie clarity that flash by before being swallowed again. There’s a strong lineage to early Japanese black metal here — bands who fused Western influences with their own sense of theatricality and atmosphere. “Violence Nocturne” feels like a continuation of that tradition, but sharper and more modern.

What stands out most is the mood. The track feels nocturnal, feral, and strangely ceremonial. It’s the kind of song that creates its own environment — a dark, swirling space where speed becomes texture and aggression becomes art. Ikazuchi may not be widely known, but this track shows exactly why they have a cult following.

Demi Lovato – “Heart Attack”

“Heart Attack” marked a turning point for Demi Lovato, pushing her further into pop‑rock territory while showcasing the vocal power that would become her trademark. Released in 2013, the song is built around emotional tension: the fear of vulnerability, the instinct to armour oneself, and the explosive release that comes when those defences crack. It’s polished, radio‑ready pop — but with a rawness that sets it apart from many of its contemporaries.

The production leans heavily on contrast. The verses are tight and controlled, almost clipped, while the chorus erupts with layered vocals and sharp guitar accents. Lovato’s voice carries the song, shifting from breathy restraint to full‑throttle belting in seconds. It’s a performance that feels both technically impressive and emotionally honest, capturing the push‑and‑pull of the lyrics.

“Heart Attack” became one of Lovato’s biggest hits, cementing her place in the wave of early‑2010s pop artists who blended rock elements into mainstream production. It’s still one of her strongest singles — a track that balances vulnerability with power, and polish with personality.

Midnight Oil – “Beds Are Burning” (Live)

“Beds Are Burning” is one of the most politically charged songs to ever break into mainstream charts, and Midnight Oil’s live performances only amplify its urgency. Written as a protest against the treatment of Indigenous Australians, the song demands justice with a directness that few bands have ever matched. Peter Garrett’s stage presence — towering, intense, almost preacher‑like — turns the track into a rallying cry rather than a mere performance.

Live, the song gains a harder edge. The guitars bite more, the rhythm section hits with greater force, and the crowd’s energy becomes part of the arrangement. Midnight Oil were always a band who treated concerts as political gatherings, and “Beds Are Burning” is the moment where that ethos becomes unmistakable. The chorus lands like a chant, something meant to be shouted collectively rather than sung alone.

The song’s legacy is enormous. It remains one of the most recognisable protest songs of the 20th century, and its message hasn’t softened with time. In live form, it becomes even more potent — a reminder that music can be both entertainment and activism, and that Midnight Oil excelled at being both simultaneously.

Paradise Lost – “Embers Fire”

“Embers Fire” sits at a crucial moment in Paradise Lost’s evolution — the early‑90s period when they were transitioning from death‑doom pioneers into gothic metal innovators. Released in 1993, the track blends heaviness with melody in a way that would later define the genre. The guitars are thick and atmospheric, the tempo steady and deliberate, and Nick Holmes’ vocals carry a weary, almost resigned tone that fits the song’s themes perfectly.

The production is unmistakably early‑90s: dense, warm, and slightly murky, giving the track a sense of weight without sacrificing clarity. Paradise Lost were experimenting with more accessible structures at this point, and “Embers Fire” shows how effectively they could balance aggression with introspection. The chorus is surprisingly catchy, rising out of the gloom with a melodic hook that lingers long after the song ends.

The track’s influence is hard to overstate. Paradise Lost helped shape the sound of European gothic metal, and “Embers Fire” is one of the songs that cemented their reputation. It’s heavy, atmospheric, and emotionally rich — a perfect example of how metal can explore melancholy without losing its bite.

The Hawks – “Farther Up The Road”

The Hawks are one of those bands who seem to exist in the margins — half‑remembered, barely documented, yet unmistakably compelling. Their version of “Farther Up The Road” taps into the long lineage of blues standards that travelled from Texas roadhouses to British clubs and back again. The song itself dates to 1957, first recorded by Bobby “Blue” Bland, whose smooth phrasing helped define modern soul‑blues.

What The Hawks do is strip away the polish and push the track back toward its rougher roots. Their arrangement leans heavily on groove: a driving rhythm section, guitar lines that snap like live wires, and a vocal delivery that feels more like a barroom confession than a studio performance. There’s a looseness to it — not sloppy, but lived‑in — the kind of feel you only get from musicians who’ve spent years playing to half‑lit rooms.

The result is a version that doesn’t try to outshine Bland’s original but instead reframes it. It’s blues filtered through rock, filtered through instinct. You can hear the lineage, but you can also hear the band’s own personality pushing through. It’s impossible not to nod along.

The Dead South – “House of the Rising Sun”

“House of the Rising Sun” is one of those songs with a murky past — a folk standard with roots stretching back to the 19th century, passed from singer to singer until The Animals electrified it in 1964 and stamped it into rock history. The Dead South take it somewhere else entirely. Their Canadian bluegrass background gives the song a different kind of darkness: not urban grit, but rural fatalism.

Their arrangement leans on banjo, cello, and tight vocal harmonies, creating a sound that feels both old and strangely modern. The tempo is brisker than The Animals’ version, but the mood remains heavy. Instead of the famous organ line, we get strings that scrape and surge, giving the song a raw, almost Appalachian edge. It’s a reminder that folk songs are meant to be reshaped — they survive because they evolve.

What stands out most is the vocal delivery. The Dead South don’t imitate Eric Burdon; they inhabit the song’s narrative. The result is a cover that feels less like homage and more like reclamation. It’s a version that understands the song’s roots and digs deeper into them.

Dolores O’Riordan – “Go Your Own Way”

Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” is a breakup anthem forged in the emotional chaos of the Rumours sessions. Lindsey Buckingham wrote it with sharp edges — bitterness, frustration, and a kind of defiant swagger. Dolores O’Riordan’s cover softens none of that. Instead, she filters it through her unmistakable Irish phrasing, giving the song a new emotional texture.

Dolores had a gift for turning vulnerability into strength. Her voice, with its fragile upper register and sudden bursts of power, reshapes the song’s emotional landscape. Where Buckingham sounded accusatory, Dolores sounds resolute — not angry, but done. The Cranberries’ influence is audible in the arrangement: chiming guitars, open space, and a rhythm section that supports rather than dominates.

Her death in 2018 cast a long shadow over her catalogue, but this cover remains one of her most striking reinterpretations. It’s a reminder of how she could take a song everyone knew and make it feel personal, intimate, and unmistakably hers.

The Sweet – “The Six Teens”

By the mid‑70s, The Sweet were shedding their bubblegum skin and moving toward a heavier, more ambitious sound. “The Six Teens,” released in 1974, sits right at that crossroads. It’s glam, but not glittery; melodic, but not lightweight. The song tells the story of a generation caught between idealism and reality — teenagers growing up in a world that promised change but delivered compromise.

Andy Scott’s guitar work is superb here: sharp, controlled, and full of character. Brian Connolly’s vocal performance carries a kind of wistful urgency, as if he’s singing about people he actually knew. The harmonies — always The Sweet’s secret weapon — lift the chorus into something anthemic without tipping into bombast. It’s a song that feels both of its time and strangely timeless.

With only Andy Scott still alive, the track has taken on a bittersweet quality. But it also stands as proof of how good The Sweet really were once they took control of their own sound. “The Six Teens” isn’t just a great glam track; it’s one of the era’s most thoughtful pieces of songwriting.

 

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