The epitome of deep Memphis soul. The hurt evident in Carr's voice is absolutely unimaginable. Carr's story is a strange one. He is best known for recording the original version of the Penn-Moman composition "At the Dark End of the Street", a song which comes as close as possible to being considered a soul "standard", and of course, his version is the one by which all others are measured. His vocal range and intensity is comparable only to Otis Redding and Percy Sledge, and in my opinion, completely surpasses both of them. He suffered from a mental illness that on one hand allowed him to channel pain like few others have ever been able to. On the other, it led to serious instability and crippling stage fright which buried his career before it ever really started. He was also functionally illiterate, but you'd never know it based on the raw emotion he put forth in his recordings. On this song, he pleads with a lover to stay with him so that he won't have to try and forget her. Absolutely heartwrenching stuff. "I've done you wrong/now you are gone/but what can I do?/Don't make me live/the rest of my life/forgetting you."

I first heard this song on MTV, back when nobody knew who Longview were. The music (guitar, bass, drums) is great and the melody is awesome. The lyrics are simple and poetic at the same time and I get really nice images in my head when I hear this song, partly because it's very vivid and also due to the fact that they made a really cool video for it. Some people think this is a religious song just because it mentions God, but that's completely irrelevant. I can't say I know what it's about but I know it's a good listen.

beautiful and vivid. compelling with swells and drops in volume.

A sad situation but a fine, positive song. Joe Strummer recorded this as a demo for Johnny Cash, I guess with a view to it being recorded for one of the 'American' records.

Within a couple of years both had passed on.

The song is classic Strummer though - upbeat, with vivid words (as usually laying it on with a trowel), the chorus being 'You cast a long shadow' - I hear it as a tribute to Johnny Cash. It finishes off with the words 'there's always rock and ROLL!', which is kind of fitting.

I've only got this on a freebie with Uncut magazine - I dunno if its commercially available or not.

A tinny drum machine, a big slab of discordant fuzz guitar and a droney voice. Fabulous. Making music in your bedroom has never sounded so fabulous.

Another Brazil '66 knockoff band, maybe not as solid as the Mendes-endorsed Bossa Rio, but they did do a nice version of the Roger Nichols track "love so fine". More importantly, they did this, a cover of one of the Drifter's less memorable hits, done over with a very punchy, immediate arrangement. More aggressive than most of Sergio's stuff. Nice Peanuts, Guaraldi/Schroeder style piano intro! Recorded in L.A. with a few studio guns on board. (added later) Maybe I have velveeta pumping through my heart, but I do enjoy this whole album, even the pretty bad version of turn, turn, turn.

Genre: Folk. An anti-war song written by a real craftsman. The lyrics vividly describe one man's experience at and after Gallipoli in WW1.

plaintive introspective personal rumblings. her lyrics, at least on the first disc Little Earthquakes, were like stumbling across someone's open diary. from the B-Side of the Silent All These Years cassette single that i wore out on the bus rides to junior high and high school. many other tori songs are incredible. this one cemented her in my psyche long before Under The Pink ever came out.

I still find this song as compelling as I did ten years ago. It's simple, crisp, and beautiful, opening with an other-worldly high-pitched vocal hum which is soon joined by a picked electric guitar sound and some tight drums. It's really nothing like anything else I like, but somehow the shouted vocals and indie-rock setting really appeal to me on this track. One of 20 or 30 songs which transport me back to my late teens amazingly vividly.

By 1965, Brian Wilson's professional and personal lives were in such a state of constant panic that it was almost inevitable that he would turn to readily available forms of rock star relief. While his self-medication (and underlying mental illness) would ultimately render him into a poster boy for an imaginary DARE campaign, the early, merely marijuanic phase of his regimen yielded a brief but vivid string of almost absurdly gorgeous pop masterpieces. While a couple of these are permanently stamped into the forebrains of all radio listeners over a certain age ("God Only Knows," "Good Vibrations"), some remain almost unknown. Which brings us to "Wonderful," found on the Beach Boys box set, and remade a few years ago as part of the Don Was hagiography. It is a curious, brief (2 minutes) tune, austere in production (harpsichord and vocal) but staggeringly rich in harmonic interest. The melody evokes pure serenity and has no noticeable roots in any previous American pop style. Van Dyke Park's lyric is typically insane; what little one can make of it seems to dovetail with Wilson's growing religiousity, yet feels entirely physical, even pagan -- a sort of boy-loves-wood sprite nature idyll making the first movement of a really great ballet with set design by Maurice Sendak. Or something.