Year: 2008

Eddie Holland – “Leaving Here”

by thedailyrecord, posted in Motown

Eddie Holland – “Leaving Here,” Pop #76

A lot changed for Eddie Holland in the two years between “Jamie” and “Leaving Here.” Holland went from reluctant (and struggling) Motown vocalist to key member of soul’s hottest songwriting team, Holland-Dozier-Holland.

After “Leaving Here” failed to find major chart success, Holland released just two more singles before permanently retreating behind his notepad. It’s just as well – the songs Holland helped write had far more success and impact than anything he performed.

Surprisingly, “Leaving Here” has had more influence as a garage rock song than a soul number. The Who recorded a smoking cover for the BBC in 1965, Motorhead released a version their debut single and Pearl Jam recorded it in the 1996 as a tribute to The Who. “Leaving Here” is one of the few songs that sounds good in the hands of almost anyone. If you find this title buried in on an obscure album, you’re guaranteed to have at least one good number. — by Joel Francis

The Miracles – “Mickey’s Monkey”

by thedailyrecord, posted in Motown

The Miracles – “Mickey’s Monkey,” Pop #8, R&B #3

One of the most infectious and upbeat singles in the Motown catalog is unique in two ways. First, it was not written by main Miracle Smokey Robinson, but by the hot house songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland. Second, it is one of few Motown songs to appropriate the Bo Diddley beat.

As Robinson’s voice joyously soars over the Funk Brothers groove, the Miracles, Martha and the Vandellas and members of the Supremes, Temptations and Marvellettes chip in on backing vocals.

The HDH production team did a great job of capturing a live sound that, like “Do You Love Me,” sounds like it was beamed directly from the greatest party in the world. Robinson’s multi-octave range is a marvel, but honestly anything over that groove would have been a hit.

“Mickey’s Monkey” was one of the Miracles biggest hits. Unsurprisingly, Berry Gordy tried to bottle lightning a second time by having Martha and the Vandellas cut a version, but neither their cover nor subsequent readings by The Rascals, The Hollies or John Cougar Mellencamp made an impact.

The “cat named Mickey from out of town” was based on Motown’s A&R director Mickey Stevenson. Stevenson wrote several Motown hits with Marvin Gaye, including “Beechwood 4-5789,” “Pride and Joy” and “Dancing in the Street.” — by Joel Francis

Springsteen in the waiting room: Drop the needle and pray

by thedailyrecord, posted in Grandma


“This too shall pass, I’m gonna pray
Right now all I got’s this lonesome day”

By Joel Francis

I didn’t make it to Bruce Springsteen’s concert at the Sprint Center Sunday night. Around the time he was going onstage – about 8:50 – most of my extended family was leaving the hospital. It had been a long day. Grandma started aspirating about noon, and for the third time that week we all descended upon her intensive care room. At 10:30, about the time Bruce was ripping into “Spirit in the Night,” the nurse told us Grandma’s heart was working harder because her oxygen levels were falling. It didn’t look good. The nurse said it was unlikely Grandma would survive the night.

“Hard times baby, well they come to tell us all
Sure as the tickin’ of the clock on the wall
Sure as the turnin’ of the night into day
Your smile girl, brings the mornin’ light to my eyes
Lifts away the blues when I rise
I hope that you’re coming to stay”

Even before he took the stage, Springsteen was my release. My wife and I saw him last March in Omaha, so we didn’t buy tickets when this show was announced. Even so, the possibility of grabbing tickets from a scalper just before showtime was always open. I even bought a pair of earplugs to the hospital with me, just in case. I pulled them out of my pocket every so often and wondered “Where would the band eat dinner?” Knowing this was the final concert of the tour I imagined how long they’d play. “Hey,” I’d say to no one in particular, “what song are they going to open with?” or, later, “What song do you think they are playing right now?”

“A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancin’ on the end of the line”

Helen Kelley was born in Minneapolis in 1920. The sixth of seven children, she met my grandpa at church. After Grandpa returned from World War II they moved to Manhattan, Kan. where he attended Kansas State on the G.I. Bill. After earning his doctor of veterinary medicine the couple and their young daughter, my mother, relocated to Independence, Mo., where he opened a pet hospital on 23rd Street.

My favorite memories of Grandma take place in the children’s clothing store she opened next door to Grandpa’s pet hospital. Ostensibly hired to help with inventory, she grew to appreciate the Beatles, B.B. King and Ray Charles CDs I brought along. We would talk for hours, solving all the world’s problems before taking the obligatory break for “Oprah.”

“I got a picture of you in my locket
I keep it close to my heart
A light shining in my breast
Leading me through the dark
Seven days, seven candles
In my window light your way
Your favorite record’s on the turntable
I drop the needle and pray”

On the trips back and forth from the hospital in the week leading up to Grandma’s death Springsteen was my passenger. The titles alone were testimonies: “Reason to Believe,” “Counting on a Miracle,” “Land of Hope and Dreams,” “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day,” “The Promised Land,” “Lift Me Up,” “Lonesome Day.”

We finally left the hospital Sunday night after Grandma’s condition had plateaued and we had collected promises of a phone call if anything changed. As we sailed up U.S. 71 I rolled down the windows and gave the speakers a workout. “Rosalita,” “Backstreets” and “Thunder Road” from the 1975 Hammersmith Odeon concert. When we arrived at the house around midnight, the E Street Band was finally leaving the Sprint Center stage after a three-hour marathon set.

“May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love”

Grandma died shortly after 8 p.m. Monday. Her family huddled around the hospital bed and sang the old hymns she loved so much. I doubt she heard them, but if she did, one of the last sounds Grandma would have heard was “Jacob’s Ladder.” This 19th century hymn has its origins in the slave churches, but was popularized by Paul Robeson in the 1920s and Pete Seeger in the 1950s. Springsteen recorded it on his “Seeger Sessions” album. Another of Grandma’s favorite hymns came from those same sessions.

I got into Springsteen too late to share him with Grandma, but I think she would have enjoyed him. If not, she would see how happy his songs made me and gamely smile along. As I made my final trip home from the hospital, I knew Grandma was enjoying the Boss’ performance of “How Can I Keep From Singing.”

“My life flows on in endless song
Above earth’s lamentation…
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I’m clinging.
Since love is lord of Heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?”

Stax vs. Motown (part two)

by thedailyrecord, posted in Motown, Stax

The second of three installments in my conversation about the golden era of Stax and Motown with soul music fan and Stax afficiando Brad. Don’t forget to check out part one.

Brad S.: I have to admit, when I think of Motown, I almost only associate it with the ‘64-‘65 period. Although I know, to cite one example, one of my old favorites, “Reflections” incorporates just enough psychedelica to distinguish it from what I consider Motown to sound like.

So what are some of those Motown songs that brought you back in?

Joel Francis: For a label so reliant upon singles, it was the albums that drew me back into Motown. “What’s Going On” made me realize there was more to Marvin Gaye than “It Takes Two.” Stevie Wonder’s “Talking Book” and “Songs in the Key of Life” and The Temptation’s “Cloud Nine.”
These albums showed more depth, emotion and creativity than the monotonous parade of mid-60s oldies radio staples would have you believe. Motown may have made its name with its assembly line parade of hits in the first half of the ’60s when it set the agenda, but its output gets more interesting to me in the second half of the decade as it responds to the Beatles, psychedelica, the civil rights movement, etc. That’s when the artists and songwriters really started to grow.

Getting back to Stax I don’t think it ever really recovered from the death of Otis Redding. The near-simultaneous loss of its biggest star in a plane crash and back catalog to Atlantic records was the beginning of the end. I know they regrouped and had massive success with Isaac Hayes, the Staple Singers and Wattstax, but the Stax I enjoy most – Otis, Sam and Dave, Rufus Thomas, Booker T and the MGs, sessions with Wilson Pickett, Solomon Burke, Aretha – was never entirely recaptured.

BS: I hear you with the post-Otis era of Stax, but that also begs this question: What were the true prime lifespans of these labels? I’m not talking about the point at which they continued only in name. The other question that comes to mind is how much of the label’s success is because of a fortunate luck of the draw with artists or is it because of the efforts of record owner or signature producer? Or to put it another way, is there an equivalent to (Motown founder and visionary) Berry Gordy on the Stax side?

JF: For me, Motown loses its luster when it relocated to Los Angeles. There are two reasons for this decline. The first factor is the rise of disco, which practically killed soul music until the neo-soul rebirth of the late-’80s. Second, Berry Gordy’s ambition to branch out into movies and television scattered the label’s focus and brought “mission creep” into his boardroom.

Stax golden years for me are its time with Atlantic when the late Jerry Wexler was helping run the studio. With the exception of Isaac Hayes and the Staple Singers (who were signed later), no one performed as well after the split as they did before. That said, it’s important to remember Stax two big ’70s non-soul successes bluesman Albert King and power pop rock combo Big Star. Many of today’s indie rock bands owe a huge debt to Alex Chilton and Chris Bell’s fantastic Big Star.

If there was a Berry Gordy figure at Stax, I would say it was Wexler in the early days and Al Bell in the later period. Not only was Wexler involved with much of Stax material, but he was also the person responsible for bringing other Atlantic artists, like Wilson Pickett, Aretha Franklin and Solomon Burke, to record at Stax.

After Wexler left, Bell assumed more production duties and became Stax co-owner. Bell patterned his business model off of Gordy. Bell was the person responsible for getting Stax into the soundtrack business (think “Shaft”) and movie business (think “Wattstax”). Ironically, after Stax bankruptcy and demise, Bell worked with Gordy at Motown in the ’80s.

To answer your question, though, I’d say both Motown and Stax’ success came because they were great at identifying talent – be it the songwriting teams of Holland-Dozier-Holland or Hayes-Porter or the raw talents of Mary Wells and Carla Thomas – and had a great business plan for delivering that talent out to the masses. Success breeds success and once those initial singles broke the charts, other artists wanted in.

Continue to part three.

The Temptations – “The Way You Do The Things You Do”

by thedailyrecord, posted in Motown
The Temptations – “The Way You Do The Things You Do,” Pop #11
Several Motown songwriters had tried to write a hit for The Temptations before Smokey Robinson teamed with fellow Miracle Bobby Rogers to pen this gem.
Sung by high tenor Eddie Kendricks, the lyrics are equal parts pick-up lines and nursery rhyme. Few could rhyme “candle” with “handle” and “money” with “honey” without sounding trite and cliched, but somehow Robinson and Kendricks pulled it off.
Whatever worked in the song then, still holds up today. UB40 released a reggae-tinged cover 35 years after the Temptations and bettered the original by five spots (No. 6) on the charts. Radio Disney performer Jordan Pruitt — who wasn’t even born when UB40’s version was released — is scheduled to include a version on her second album later this year. — By Joel Francis

Martha and the Vandellas – “(Love is Like A) Heat Wave”

by thedailyrecord, posted in Motown

Martha and the Vandellas – “(Love is Like A) Heat Wave,” Pop #4, R&B #1

When the mercury starts pushing past the century mark my first inclinations are to shave my head and hibernate near the air conditioning. If actual heat waves were more like this song, I’d be dancing in the streets.

Holland-Dozier-Holland wrote it and Martha Reeves sang the heck out of it, but the real credit should go to the Funk Brothers, Motown’s stable of uber-talented, under-recognized musicians. The drums open the song with the buoyancy of an oceanic wave, while a swiftly strummed guitar tells your feet when to move. Add a spritely horn section and peppy piano and you’ve got a hit before Reeves nails the first note.
With so many upbeat elements it’s easy to miss the pain in the lyrics. “Whenever he calls my name/Sounds so soft sweet and plain/Right then, right there/I feel this burning pain/This high blood pressure’s got a hold on me/I said this ain’t the way love’s supposed to be/It’s like a heatwave burning in my heart/I can’t keep from crying/Tearing me apart.” Divorced from the melody and arrangement and the words have the same longing and pain as Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m On Fire.” But together bad love and frustration never felt so good.
Berry Gordy tried to replicate his success by lending the number to the Supremes in 1967. A year earlier The Who covered it a for their second album, but neither version measured up. How could it? Stick “Heat Wave” in your summer cookout playlist alongside Sly and the Family Stone’s “Hot Fun in the Summertime” and any number of Beach Boys tunes and you’ve got a recipe for success. — By Joel Francis

Stax vs. Motown (part one)

by thedailyrecord, posted in Motown, Stax

With the recent passings of Jerry Wexler and Isaac Hayes and The Daily Record’s ongoing walk through the Hitsville U.S.A. box set, I thought this would be a good time to examine the histories of the twin titans of soul music, Stax and Motown. Joining me in this conversation is Brad, friend of the blog and the man who puts the “B” in “R&B.” This is part one of three in the series.

Joel Francis: To me, Motown and Stax are two sides of the same coin. Like most people born after the baby boom, I first heard Motown and Stax records on the oldies station. I didn’t know much about the artists, but I could tell that certain songs sounded similar and stood apart. It wasn’t until college that I could differentiate the Temptations from the Four Tops. Around the same time, I learned that the Booker T and the MGs were the backing band for most of the Stax singles I loved. Brad, as a fellow soul music fan, tell me about how you were introduced to Stax and Motown and why Stax holds ultimate appeal for you.

Brad S.: In my hometown, we had the Top 40 station, the country station, the “background music” station, the “farm report” station and static. So it took a little bit of work to discover soul music beyond the omnipresent James Brown “I Got You (I Feel Good).” But being a child of the 80’s, a few factors put soul on my radar:

(1) Some soul classics came along with the oldies music that came out of a Hollywood retro trend – “Dirty Dancing,” “The Big Chill,” “Peggy Sue Got Married,” “Back to the Future,” etc.

(2) The baffling cultural mini-phenomenon of the California Raisins advertising campaign.

(3) Being a Hall & Oates fan, who followed their popular “Big Bam Boom” album with “Live at the Apollo with David Ruffin and Eddie Kendrick.”

(4) Discovering the Blues Brothers movie.

This last factor was the most significant. That musical stew of blues,R&B and soul – featuring Stax alums Steve Cropper and Donald “Duck” Dunn – really drew me in. The music was a blend of classic and re-recorded numbers that enabled it to sit alongside of contemporary rock without feeling diminished in comparison. It also had a gritty edginess that I felt the Motown stuff lacked. I perceived Stax to be the “rock” to Motown’s “pop.” Motown’s impeccable production sometimes felt “overproduced” to my sensibilities – like all the edges had been sanded down. It felt like it was trying to appeal to the “white” audience, and in that it was successful. But my personal preferences lie elsewhere.

I tend to oversimplify in the following way: Motown is sweet and smooth; Marvin Gaye is Motown’s archetypical vocalist. Stax is raw and gritty; Otis Redding is its archetypical vocalist. Beyond its oversimplification, I’m curious if you – being better-read on the matter – think my musical shorthand is accurate or not.

JF: Oh man, “The Blues Brothers.” What a cultural discovery that was. I think I first saw that movie my freshman year of high school. Like you, I knew several of the songs from oldies radio, but seeing them performed added a completely new dimension to the song.

Being a few years younger than you, I really got into the California Raisins. I saved up my allowance to buy their cassette, which featured “You Can’t Hurry Love” and a couple other Motown songs. I didn’t learn until recently that Buddy Miles, the great drummer in Jimi Hendrix’ Band of Gypsys, was the voice of the Raisins.

The prevalence of Motown on the oldies station – my mom’s favorite station – and the grit of the Blues Brothers drove me away from Motown for a while. The sweet strings just couldn’t match the punchy horns. That lasted until I went off-dial and discovered the Motown songs untouched by our microscopic oldies radio playlist. Songs from the late ’60s and early ’70s by Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye and the Temptations. That drove me right back in.

Continue on to part two.

Isaac Hayes: Forever a Soul Man

by thedailyrecord, posted in Stax

By Joel Francis

When Isaac Hayes played at the Voodoo Lounge last October, I jumped at the opportunity. Well, that’s not exactly true. My wife, who had been seduced by my Ultimate Isaac Hayes collection, was elated at the prospect and convinced me to buy tickets. I figured this might be our last chance to see him perform in Kansas City, but I didn’t think he’d be dead less than a year later. While the show was solid, Hayes looked shaky. Regardless of his health, or the reason for his frailty, it was still a treat to hear “Walk On By,” “Theme From Shaft” and “I Stand Accused” performed by many of the same men who recorded them over a generation ago.

More than even Booker T and MGs, Hayes was the backbone of Stax Records. In the ‘60s, Hayes and David Porter were the label’s go-to songwriter team, turning out hits like “Soul Man,” “Hold On, I’m Comin'” and “B-A-B-Y” for artists like Sam and Dave, Carla Thomas and Johnnie Taylor. After the near-simultaneous loss of Otis Redding in a plane crash and the label’s back catalog in a bad distribution contract with Atlantic Records, Hayes became the label’s biggest star.

Stax may have expected more sharp, pop hits when Hayes finally started producing his own albums, but he went the opposite way, transforming unlikely covers into epic slabs of funk and soul. With a deep voice, second only to Barry White as the definitive baby-making crooner, Hayes took left-field selections like Bread’s “Baby I’m-A Want You” to a black audience.

The songs may have not been Hayes originals, but the arrangements were. Burt Bacharach’s “Walk on By” ran past 12 minutes with a stirring string arrangement in its first half and stinging guitar and organ interplay in the second half. Running times of more than 10 minutes had become a Hayes trademark. The seminal “Hot Buttered Soul” album had just four tracks and clocked in at 45:05.

Even though edited versions were released for radio play, these sweeping performances could not be contained on a 45 and, for the first time, urban audiences started buying albums over singles. And not only were they buying albums, but many of Hayes’ releases were double-LP sets.

In the early 1970s, Hayes was the Soul Man. Adorned in gold chains, he was Black Moses. Standing alongside labelmates the Staple Singers, he headlined the 1972 Wattstax Concert, performing in front of a crowd of 100,000 fans. A few months after Wattstax, Hayes received the best song Oscar for “Theme From Shaft.” He was at the pinnacle of his artistry.

His success continued, but by 1975 he was a shadow of his artistic and commercial success. Although Hayes continued making albums at his regular pace, disco and bankruptcy hurt his music career. By the ‘80s, Hayes put music on the back burner so he could focus on acting. He popped up on “The Rockford Files,” “The A-Team” and “Miami Vice” and had supporting roles in Mel Brooks’ “Robin Hood: Men In Tights” and “Escape from New York.”

In 1988 he helped the pre-“In Living Color” Wayans brothers lampoon the blaxploitation genre he helped define, as Hammer in “I’m Gonna Git You Sucka.” Hammer meets an untimely and hilarious demise when, after gearing up with an obscene amount of guns, ammo and grenades, he trips and falls on a stray bullet and is consumed by his own arsenal.

Today, Hayes is best known from “Shaft” and his role as Chef on “South Park,” but thanks to sampling, his radio presence hasn’t diminished. Jay-Z’s debut album, “Reasonable Doubt,” could still have been a classic without “Can I Live.” However, it is telling that this song, supported by a sample of Hayes’ arrangement of “The Look of Love,” is the only number from this album that Jay-Z regularly performs.

A proud legacy? You’re damn right.

Review: Jill Scott at Starlight

by thedailyrecord, posted in Kansas City Star, review

By Joel Francis
The Kansas City Star

As her 11-piece band vamped, Jill Scott casually walked onstage Thursday night at Starlight, a notebook tucked under her arm, like she was a guest on a talk show. The crowd greeted her like she was Oprah.

It was an appropriate introduction for a show that was equal parts Apollo Theater and confessional conversation. The two-hour setlist leaned heavily on Scott’s most recent album, “The Real Thing,” which documents the end of Scott’s 12-year relationship with ex-husband Lyzel Williams.

For someone delivering the 21st century edition of “Here My Dear,” Scott was surprisingly exuberant. The album’s title song is built on an arena rock guitar riff and ‘80s drum sound, and was so important to Scott that she repeated the second verse a capella after the song was over and brought the full band back in for a reprise.

For songs from her first album, most of which were written about her love for Williams, Scott relied on the audience to carry her.  She introduced “A Long Walk” as a tribute to Roy Ayers before a sing-along erupted so forcefully that Scott relinquished the mic and let the crowd take over. It was a pattern repeated on much of her earlier material.

Scott is less a soul diva than a poet with pipes. Her spoken-word background shone when she would break a song down to discuss its themes. Scott is so comfortable talking with the audience that the moments chatting about relationships, sandals and women in music videos felt like friends dropping by for a living room chat.

She paused during “All I” to lament radio’s definition of old school – anything recorded between 1998 and 2004 – and showcase her backup singers with a medley of true old school classics: the Isley Brothers’ “Between the Sheets,” Teena Marie’s “Portuguese Love” and Prince’s “Do Me Baby.” Scott later started the encore set with “Gimme,” her version of old school, complete with a Kool and the Gang bassline and “sock it to ya” backing vocals.

Starlight was far from full – screens were placed across the back section of seats – and while the heavily female crowd was attentive, there were plenty of side conversations happening. Scott may have been Queen Bee for the night, but she still had to share time with other friends.

Scott’s singing is more Ella than Aretha. “He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat)” – a surprising selection given the subject matter – opened with a piano solo and a near-operatic delivery. The show should have ended there. Scott introduced her band, left the stage and the house lights came on. But as people were filing toward the exits, she returned to deliver “And I Heard,” a new number she had to get off her chest. Less a song than a poem set to melody, Scott had the audience singing like a gospel choir as her band quietly shuffled offstage again. It was an ending that affirmed the endurance of love, despite the pain it might bring.

Opening act Bilal took the stage at 7:30 sharp for a solid half-hour set that saw a lot of people still finding their seats. The high point was the keyboard/conga interplay topped with Bilal’s scat vocals that blurred the lines between jazz and soul and led into “Sometimes.” Bilal dedicated his song “Soul Sister” to the late record producer J. Dilla. 

Setlist:

The Rightness, Let It Be, The Real Thing, A Long Walk, Epiphany, Insomnia, Only You, Whenever You’re Around, Slowly Surely, Is It The Way, Do You Remember Me, How It Make You Feel, All I/Old School Medley, Come See Me, Imagination, Crown Royal (Encore:) Gimme, It’s Love, Golden, Hate On Me, He Loves Me (Encore 2:) And I Heard (new song)

Review: Cracker get on this (again) at Crossroads

by thedailyrecord, posted in Kansas City Star, review


Above: “The Man In Me,” honors the little Lebowski in all of us.

By Joel Francis
The Kansas City Star

Crossroads KC at Grinders plan last summer to harvest e-mail addresses in exchange for a free ticket to see Cracker went so well they decided to do it again. The pitch may have been déjà vu, but the shows were as different as night and day.

Cracker played a strong, satisfying set last summer, but the boys were on fire for the repeat performance Friday night. Opening number “One Fine Day” sounded like a lost Tom Petty track and stretched past the seven-minute mark as guitarist Johnny Hickman peeled off solo after solo. The performance was too good to end, so band leader David Lowery let go until it reached its natural conclusion.

That set the tone for the rest of the night: There was no letting up. The hilarious country send-up “Mr. Wrong” led into the epic travelogue “Euro-trash Girl,” which was framed with some Willie Nelson-style jazz guitar; the straight country of “Lonesome Johnny Blues” solidified the band’s Grand Ole Opry cred.

As the final notes of the wonderfully self-depreciative “Happy Birthday To Me” were still lingering, Lowery introduced the next number as “approximately the same song” and launched into “Take the Skinheads Bowling.” Although the song – Lowry’s most popular number from his pre-Cracker days in Camper Van Beethoven – was also in last summer’s set list, it was still a pleasant surprise.

If Lowery is the band’s heart then Hickman is its not-so-secret weapon. His guitar solos, high harmony backing vocals and turns as band leader stole the show. Case in point: Hickman’s surprising and outstanding cover of Bob Dylan’s “The Man In Me.”

Although the energy flagged a bit with the slow tempo of “Loser” and a reading of “Everybody Gets One For Free” that went on a bit too long, the night ended strong with crowd pleaser “Low.” Hickman again stepped behind the mic for the encore, “Another Song About the Rain.” The song from Cracker’s debut was the perfect capper to the evening: a slow builder that smoldered, then burned and showcased a smoking band.

First Friday and shows at the Sprint Center and River Market made for a competitive evening, which may explain why Crossroads KC was only about a quarter full. The 90-minute set may have been lighter on the hits than last summer’s show, but the faithful had had no room for complaint. Here’s looking to next August.

Setlist:

One Fine Day, Gimme One More Chance, The Riverside, Mr. Wrong, Euro-trash Girl, Lonesome Johnny Blues (Johnny Hickman – lead vocals), Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now), 100 Flower Power Maximum, How Can I Live Without You, The Man In Me (Bob Dylan cover, Johnny Hickman – lead vocals), Happy Birthday To Me, Take the Skinheads Bowling (Camper Van Beethoven cover), Loser, Everybody Gets One For Free, Low, Encore: Another Song About the Rain (Johnny Hickman – lead vocals)