“Rain, rebellion, synthesisers and Southern swagger — your midweek cultural tonic.”
Many people regard June as the start of Summer, but so far the weather has been so relentlessly wet that even the ducks are filing formal complaints. The fish are threatening industrial action. And last week’s joke about Christmas stock appearing in Home Bargains? We said “August” — but given the rumours that they’re planning to rescue Denby pottery, perhaps we’ll forgive them if the baubles come early. If a major British ceramics brand and hundreds of jobs can be saved, that’s a Christmas miracle we’ll happily take in June.
But enough meteorology and retail speculation. Time to turn to the real business of the week: music.
This edition takes us from the snarling birth of punk to the shimmering synths of early New Wave, from Southern rock swagger to Californian sunshine pop, from communal singing to glam-rock provocation. A proper Counter Culture spread — eclectic, historically grounded, and always with an eye on the cultural currents beneath the tunes.
Let’s dive in.
GNARLS BARKLEY – Crazy
When Crazy landed in 2006, it felt like a song that had always existed — a modern standard arriving fully formed. CeeLo Green’s soulful, wounded vocal sits atop Danger Mouse’s cinematic production, built around a haunting sample from Gianfranco Reverberi’s 1968 spaghetti‑western score Nel Cimitero di Tucson. The track became the first ever UK No.1 based solely on downloads, signalling a shift in how music would be consumed.
It’s a song about losing your grip on reality, yet it’s delivered with such swagger that it feels liberating rather than despairing — a rare trick.
THE BEACH BOYS – Fun, Fun, Fun
Released in 1964, this is the Beach Boys at their most effervescent: teenage rebellion, fast cars, and harmonies so bright they could power the national grid. Brian Wilson’s arrangement is a masterclass in controlled exuberance — the opening guitar lick nods cheekily to Chuck Berry, while the vocal stack is pure California sunshine.
It’s also a sly little morality tale: girl borrows car, girl misbehaves, girl loses car. But with harmonies like these, who cares?
CHOIR! CHOIR! CHOIR! – Zombie
The Canadian collective Choir! Choir! Choir! specialise in turning pop songs into communal acts of catharsis. Their take on The Cranberries’ Zombie is especially powerful — a massed choir reclaiming Dolores O’Riordan’s protest song about the Troubles and the human cost of political violence.
What was once a howl of grief becomes, in their hands, a shared lament and a reminder of how music can bind people together in the face of tragedy.
ELTON JOHN & DUA LIPA – Cold Heart
A clever, shimmering hybrid: Pnau splice together fragments of Elton’s back catalogue (Rocket Man, Sacrifice, Kiss the Bride) and build a sleek, modern disco track around them. Dua Lipa’s cool, crystalline vocal contrasts beautifully with Elton’s warmth.
It’s a reminder that pop history isn’t a museum — it’s a living archive, constantly being reinterpreted and re‑energised.
GARY NUMAN – My Name is Ruin / Are Friends Electric?
Numan’s 2018 Old Grey Whistle Test performance is a fascinating bridge between eras. Are Friends Electric? (1979) was one of the first major UK hits built almost entirely on synthesizers — a stark, dystopian track that helped define early New Wave and electronic pop. Tubeway Army may have dissolved, but Numan’s influence only grew.
My Name is Ruin shows the evolution: darker, heavier, industrial‑tinged — and featuring his daughter Persia, whose ethereal high notes add an eerie, almost ritualistic quality. A family affair in the best possible way.
LYNYRD SKYNYRD – Sweet Home Alabama
A cornerstone of Southern rock, released in 1974 as a response to Neil Young’s critiques of the American South. The track’s breezy feel — those instantly recognisable opening chords — belies the cultural debate it sparked.
Musically, it’s irresistible: triple‑guitar attack, swaggering rhythm section, and Ronnie Van Zant’s laid‑back vocal. Whatever your view on the politics, it remains one of rock’s most enduring anthems.
MAGAZINE – Shot By Both Sides
Howard Devoto left the Buzzcocks because he wanted to explore something more angular, more cerebral — and Magazine was the result. Shot By Both Sides (1978) is a post‑punk landmark: jagged guitars, paranoid lyrics, and a sense of intellectual unease that set the template for countless bands to come.
It’s punk with a library card — and all the better for it.
MORRISSEY – The Monsters of Pig Alley
A later‑period Morrissey track that leans into noirish atmosphere and cinematic tension. The title references the 1912 D.W. Griffith film, one of the earliest gangster movies. Musically, it’s brooding and muscular, with Morrissey’s vocal weaving between menace and melancholy.
Whatever one thinks of the man, his ability to conjure mood remains intact.
ELVIS PRESLEY – Girl of My Best Friend
Recorded in 1960, this is Elvis in his early post‑Army period — smoother, more mature, and leaning into the pop‑ballad tradition. The song itself dates back to the late ’50s and has been covered many times, but Elvis gives it a tender, almost conversational quality.
It’s a snapshot of a transitional moment: the raw rock ’n’ roll rebel evolving into a polished mainstream star.
SEX PISTOLS – Pretty Vacant
If punk had a mission statement, this might be it. Released in 1977, Pretty Vacant is less overtly confrontational than God Save the Queen, but its sneer is just as potent. Steve Jones’ guitar is a wall of sound, Paul Cook’s drumming is tight and propulsive, and John Lydon’s vocal — especially the infamous pronunciation of “va‑CUNT” — is pure provocation.
It’s not just a song; it’s a cultural rupture. A reminder that punk wasn’t merely a genre — it was a demolition job on the complacency of the era.
THE STONE ROSES – I Am the Resurrection
The closing track of their 1989 debut album, and one of the great codas in British rock. The first half is a swaggering kiss‑off; the second half dissolves into a euphoric, extended instrumental jam that feels like a premonition of the Madchester rave‑rock fusion to come.
It’s the Roses at their most transcendent — a band briefly touching the divine.
SWEET – Blockbuster (Uncensored Version)
Ah, Steve Priest. Glam rock’s resident agent provocateur. His Top of the Pops appearance — Prussian helmet, swastika armband, silver platform boots, fake toothbrush moustache — was designed to wind up the BBC establishment, and it succeeded magnificently.
Today, in our era of humour‑averse pearl‑clutching, the clip is labelled “Uncensored Version,” which tells you everything about the cultural shift.
It raises a serious question: should artistic expression be constrained because someone, somewhere, might take offence?
Counter Culture’s answer is simple: art must be free to provoke, unsettle, and challenge — otherwise it’s not art.
AND FINALLY…
If you enjoy the Midweek Song List, remember we also produce:
- Culture Vulture — our weekly entertainment guide
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