Jan 282026
 

Not Like Everybody ElseThat the Damned should still be around, still plugging the same level of 2-D technicolor bombast, should be no surprise. Cartoon characters don’t age, so why should the Archies of Punk? But these are grown men, all approaching 70 from one direction or another, and nobody lives forever. Which is sort of the point and the purpose of Not Like Everybody Else.

This is a true tribute album, a celebration both of the band’s influences and of their bandmate Brian James, who died last March. James was the catalyst who pulled this motley crew of reprobates together, back in the dim and distant 1970s, writing the vast bulk of songs on their first two albums, cementing their name and reputation as trailblazers in the emergent punk scene. With chaotic and rabid live performances their calling card, this first iteration of the band burned at both ends, lasting barely a couple of years.

In the fifty years since, there have been innumerable variations and versions of the band, stumbling from lineup to lineup, label to label, yet always guaranteed to kick up a skirmish live, with a slow and steady trickle of singles to keep them in the public eye. With, as always, Dave Vanian at the helm, on vocals and Dracula impersonations, there have been upward of 20 members, yet it is that earliest line up that is inked in most indelibly: Vanian, James, Rat Scabies on drums, and Captain Sensible on bass and then guitar. So much so that, in 2024, that lineup convened for a sellout tour. With James already ill, that was as much as anything a means to give him a financial leg up, but it was nonetheless triumphant.

Now, with his death, the band celebrate his life with this set of covers, the sort of songs that inspired them back in the day, and probably still do. Possibly a surprising selection, but then, they were never really hardwired for punk, with always a love of psychedelic garage rock coursing through their veins, and a good touch of goth for good measure. The omnipresent Vanian leads from the front, with Captain Sensible on guitar. Having patched up their differences on the re-union tour, Rat Scabies has stayed on behind the  drum kit. Paul Gray, on and off bassist since 1980, makes up the quartet, abetted by Monty Oxymoron, a permanent fixture since 1986, if curiously always absent from publicity shots, on keyboards.
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Nov 042025
 

Cover Classics takes a closer look at all-cover albums of the past, their genesis, and their legacy.

Joe Cocker OrganicTo celebrate the entry of Joe Cocker into the Rock’n’Roll Hall Of Fame, possibly the only way to celebrate this sometimes consummate interpreter of song, is to drill down into one of his many albums. Organic was a bit different, even by his standards; as well as a selection of songs new to him, producer Don Was got him to revisit some of his earlier covers. Quite a risk, as the now 52-year-old singer was widely seen, by then, as merely functional, going through the motions with a gruff bluster and a camouflage of backing singers.

Rewind to 1969. Arms flailing and eyes tight shut, the sight of the ex-gas fitter as he transformed “With a Little Help From My Friends” from skip-over track, into a searing ceremony of the soul; it was an astonishing moment. It had already captured the hearts of listeners at home, a number one UK single in 1968. But, played out on stage to thousands at Woodstock, the film then made sure it was then seen by millions worldwide. Suddenly he was a star, seemingly from nowhere.

For a while he could do no wrong. Blessed by a crack team of London’s best session men, his first two albums are a remarkable salvo of intent, matching his sublime vocals, Ray Charles with a little more frailty, with some of the best playing of the day. He even wrote a bit back then, but it soon became far more apparent that his strength lay more in what he could bring to the songs of others. On the back of these albums, and buoyed by Woodstock, he hurtled next into the Leon Russell helmed Mad Dogs & Englishmen circus, a carnival of excesses that went on a 48-date tour. Cocker, already exhausted by his earlier whirlwind ascent to fame, self-medicated his way around America on pills and booze, became a wreck by the end of it.

That could have been that, and nearly was; he needed two years away from music to even begin to recover. However, good friend Chris Stainton lured him back to the limelight. The return to the treadmill, and all its attendant vices, nearly and should have killed him. So much so that, when Michael Lang agreed to become his manager, in 1976, this was only on the condition of his sobriety, a condition which, against both odds or expectation, he came to fulfill.

From that time, and almost up to the time of his death, his workload remained formidable. Dipping between styles, he would follow up an album with the Crusaders, heavy with horns, with a bevy of soundtrack anthems, to wave lighters in the sky to. Quality varied and it was hard to know quite to whom he was aiming his appeal. But, by and large, his bread and butter was in the melodic songs of the ’60s, songs by Dylan and the Beatles, who suited his soulful timbre. Retaining healthy audience numbers, they were forgiving his fraying range, right up until he died, aged 75.

So, back to Organic. Don Was, the maverick musician, record producer, music director, film composer and documentary filmmaker, had already shown a Midas touch with his ability to revitalise flagging careers and/or add new pep to those then needing a lift. Iggy Pop, Bonnie Raitt, Brian Wilson and the Rolling Stones can all owe a degree of debt to the bassist from Detroit, they all ahead of Cocker, with many more after. His idea was to revisit some of Cocker’s greatest moments, tacking on a few new songs to cover in addition. A veritable who’s who came out to add their instruments to the album, headed by the ever faithful Stanton, also including Billy Preston, Jim Keltner, Darryl Jones, and Greg Leisz, with even cameos from Randy Newman and Dean Parks. Additional, let’s say, buffering vocals came from the likes of Merry Clayton.

Sadly, at the time, the album did not fare well, and failed, at least in the U.S., to chart. Nonetheless, worldwide sales eventually exceeded the million mark, as it went gold in several European territories.  I think it has needed the sands of time to sift over it, ahead of this belated decontextualisation of its worth. Ready?
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