The Who was a mass of contradictions. Were they pure pop purists? Were they revolutionaries? Well yes and no, they were many things besides, but first and foremost they were angry agitators and the first Heavy Metal band, who literally punched their instruments to death. Whilst ‘My generation’ was an important song of the 60’s, it could have been written at any point in musical history, close your eyes and you can imagine The Sex Pistols singing it. ‘Can’t Explain’ was their defining moment of the 60’s. It was an incredibly important because of the music, a short, sharp punchy three chord trick, inspired the dancing scene of Mod culture and tapped into the spirit of Northern Soul. And then the words, aloof, confused yet defiant. Within its three minutes, it defined an attitude, spirit, and beat that showed how mod music should be delivered. There are lots of drugs references for different types of 60’s music, and for Mods, the drug of choice was most definitely speed. With Can’t Explain, The Who tried to capture this, and define the Mod sensibility, tight, sharp, intense, narcissistic and wide-eyed with a love of life and music. It’s not typical dance music, but as soon as Pete Townsend, John Entwistle and Keith Moon kick into the riff it’s impossible not to try a shake a leg to it.
No article of landmark songs from the 60’s could possibly be complete without the behemoth that was Motown records, the hit factory that defined the rules of songwriting for both bands and songwriters. The mission statement was simple, to craft tunes and lyrics that people connected with, providing them with connection and catharsis, the ‘that’s exactly how I feel’ moment. Motown was the master of this because they didn’t have the distractions of having to think about a bands identity, they were focussed on the songs, which in turn became the bedrock of their artist’s identity. So picking a landmark from what they did from the 60’s is a task equal to doing the same for The Beatles and The Stones, but there is a clear winner here, and that’s ‘Where did our love go?’ by The Supremes. If there was an examiners checklist for a Motown song then this ticks all the boxes. Within these golden three minutes there is a lyric to die for, three sassy divas delivering the vocals, which are of Olympic standard, a tune you can’t get out of your head and an arrangement that sounds ridiculously simple, but that on closer inspection is as complex as anything The Beatles or The Beach Boys served up. But the key strength is this, the words. The utter pleading, misery, and desperation of what The Supremes are singing should knock your socks off. Rarely has a song of heartbreak sounded so happy, but that’s what makes it a genius composition.
The Beach Boys were a perfect example of the construction that took place in the 60’s, starting out as clean-cut, West Coast surfer boys, they quickly moved with the changes that were taking place to create some of the most out their compositions of the era. Legend has it that when The Beatles released their two masterpieces, ‘Rubber Soul’ and ‘Revolver’, Brian Wilson decided to match them punch for punch and wrote ‘Pet Sounds’, from which ‘God only knows’ emerged as their piece de resistance. Lennon and McCartney, realizing that they were in a title fight, hit back with ‘Sgt Peppers Lonely Heart Club Band’. This delivered the metaphorical uppercut to Wilson, whose attempt to fight back hit the ropes when he couldn’t finish the ‘Smile’ album. But that’s the end of the story, and here’s the start, ‘God only knows’ is one of the most wondrous songs you will ever hear, a total declaration of love with some of the sweetest words ever written. Going against the emerging hippy chic of ‘I love everyone’, this is very much a story of ‘I love you’. With lines as humble as “I may not always love you, but as long as there are stars above you, you need not ever doubt it, I’ll make you so sure about it.” Not only did they raise the bar for production, vocal harmonies, and baroque arrangements, they laid down a statement of intent that The Beatles themselves felt that they had to raise their game to surpass. How many songs can say that?
Well, we couldn’t have an article about landmark songs from the 60’s without including Andy Warhol’s Velvets, a band who took one look at pop in the 60’s and decided one thing, which was ‘Here’s how it’s done’. To make their seduction of the listener they realised that they had to play the game to an extent, songs such as ‘There she goes again’ which were borne from Lou Reeds’ previous day job as a songwriter for hire, but it was ‘Venus in Furs’ that really set them apart from the competition and would be an everlasting influence for the more outré guitar bands up to the current day. There are so many things to say about this song and the first thing is that is it incredibly vicious. As a paean to S&M, it has no peers, John Cale’s viola sounds like a whip to the back and the drone of the other instruments makes the experience sound arduous and unpleasant, whilst its compelling it’s a story you want to hear about, not experience. What made this such a landmark was that it showed that the musicianship didn’t need to be masterful, but have the requisite raw power to blow the listener away, Lou Reed’s voice bears no comparison to Scott Walker on a technical level, but it doesn’t need to. Without this song, most of the guitar bands that you love wouldn’t exist.
This is one of the coolest, kick-ass moments in musical TV history, where a tribute blows the idol of affection not just out of the park, but off the planet. This is an amazing example of what Jimi Hendrix could do with six strings, holding the groove down with simple rhythm playing and that amazing blues/soul voice and an unbelievably tight rhythm section. But what made this so inspiring is when he said ‘”We’re going to stop playing this rubbish…” and breaks into an instrumental of ‘Sunshine of your love’ by the recently defunct Cream. Can you imagine a band doing that today? Because ‘Hey Joe’ was the song that announced him, and whilst he had a string of other classics, ‘Hey Joe’ was so important because it was the antithesis of what was to become guitar hero culture of the 60’s and 70’s, this was a storyteller who used the guitar to help him tell the tale Whilst ‘, Purple Haze’ and ‘Fire’ were tremendous examples of his ability as a player, this song and ‘The wind cries Mary’is the real breakthroughs, no one this macho had unleashed such femininity to their playing before. And lest we forget, what a voice.
Credits: whatculture.com
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