The Last Song List of June already. The month has vanished in a blur of heat, headlines and half‑finished to‑do lists. At this rate we’ll be carving pumpkins, then turkeys, before we’ve even caught our breath. Still — if the calendar insists on hurtling forward, we may as well soundtrack the journey.
This week’s dozen tracks span Glam, Punk, Rock, Soft Rock and a few glorious outliers. As ever, the joy is in the contrasts: theatrical glitter, snarling punk reportage, Celtic‑tinged rock, and a couple of songs that simply refuse to age.
THE ADVERTS – Gary Gilmore’s Eyes
Written in 1977 at the height of punk’s moral panic era, this remains one of the movement’s most unsettling and brilliant pieces of social commentary. TV Smith took the real‑life story of US murderer Gary Gilmore donating his organs after execution and flipped it into a first‑person shock narrative. The Adverts’ version is the definitive one: brittle, urgent, and utterly uninterested in subtlety. Punk doing what punk does best — forcing you to look.
ANONYMOUS ULSTER – I Can’t Breathe (A Song for Henry Nowak)
Anonymous Ulster has carved out a niche for songs rooted in place, politics and people. This track sits firmly in that tradition — a modern folk lament with a documentary instinct. Musically it draws on the long lineage of protest ballads; lyrically it’s very much of the present moment.
LARKIN POE – Black Betty
“Black Betty” began life as an African‑American work song, first recorded by Lead Belly in the 1930s. Larkin Poe’s version is a ferocious, slide‑driven reinvention — Southern Gothic blues filtered through modern swagger. They don’t just cover the song; they reclaim its rawness.
THE MONKEES – I’m A Believer
Neil Diamond wrote it, the Monkees turned it into a global pop phenomenon in 1966, and it remains one of the most perfect three‑minute singles ever recorded. This version captures the band at their peak: sunshine harmonies, jangling optimism, and a melody that refuses to leave your head.
DEATH IN ROME – Wrecking Ball
Death in Rome specialise in neo‑folk reinterpretations of modern pop, and their take on Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” is one of their most striking. Stripped of its pop‑anthem sheen, the song becomes something darker, more fragile, almost liturgical. A reminder that a strong melody can survive any genre migration.
GARY GLITTER – The Wanderer
Originally recorded by Dion in 1961, “The Wanderer” is one of early rock ’n’ roll’s great swaggering struts. Glitter’s 1970s glam‑rock cover transforms it into a theatrical stomp — all glitter suits, platform boots and exaggerated bravado. Whatever one thinks of the man (and there is plenty to think), this version is a fascinating example of how glam repurposed 1950s rock tropes into something bigger, brasher and knowingly artificial.
KAISER CHIEFS – I Predict A Riot
A mid‑2000s indie anthem that captured the chaos, humour and low‑level menace of British nightlife. Released in 2004, it helped launch the Kaiser Chiefs into the mainstream. The version here shows why: sharp, punchy, and delivered with a wink.
REEF – Place Your Hands
Released in 1996, this is one of the great British rock singles of the decade. Reef fused grunge‑era heft with West Country warmth, and Gary Stringer’s voice — gravelly, elastic, instantly recognisable — remains the band’s secret weapon. A song built for festivals, car stereos and communal shouting.
ROXY MUSIC – Virginia Plain
Roxy Music’s 1972 debut single is a jolt of art‑rock electricity: no chorus, no repetition, just a glamorous sprint through Bryan Ferry’s pop‑surrealist imagination. The abrupt ending is part of its charm — a door slammed mid‑sentence. Few songs dare to stop so decisively.
THE SAW DOCTORS – I Useta Lover
A 1990 Irish classic that blends pub‑rock energy with wry storytelling. It became one of the biggest‑selling singles in Irish history. The Saw Doctors’ charm lies in their ability to make nostalgia feel rowdy rather than sentimental, and this track is Exhibit A.
SUTHERLAND BROTHERS & QUIVER – Arms of Mary
Soft Rock at its most tender. Released in 1976, the song became an international hit, though it never quite propelled the band to the fame they deserved. Its gentle harmonies and wistful melody have inspired multiple covers — but the original remains the gold standard.
U2 – Where The Streets Have No Name
The opening track of The Joshua Tree (1987) and one of U2’s defining statements. Built on The Edge’s cathedral‑like guitar delay, the song aimed for transcendence and — unusually for such ambition — achieved it. Live, it becomes a communal ritual.
YES – Owner of a Lonely Heart (Live)
The original 1983 studio version was Yes’s unexpected leap into synth‑rock modernity. This live performance shows how the band re‑engineered the track for the stage: sharper edges, more muscular instrumentation, and that unmistakable Trevor Rabin guitar tone.
AND OUR QUESTION OF THE WEEK
We adore the abrupt, almost mid‑air ending of Roxy Music’s Virginia Plain. What other tracks — in any genre — finish with that same sudden, glorious full‑stop?
