Something Following Me

The Secrets of the Hive
by Larry Pennisi / Cerdes

Extracting the Honey
by Clyde ‘AJ’ Johnson

Something Following Me

Until recently, legend had it that Something Following Me was the first song written out of the initial batch of early Brooker-Reid songs. Supposedly, Gary found a packet of Keith's words in a cupboard several months after a "particularly heavy night." Lately, it seems that it may not have been the seminal composition after all. Salad Days was the song that Gary and Keith premiered for Matthew when they visited him the first time. Though not an indicator of sequence, something tells me that it just may not have been the very first song. Additionally, Brooker had co-writing credit on Don't You Want My Love, a Paramounts song written with Robin Trower somewhere around 1965.Be that as it may or may not, it is this song that follows chronologically on Pandora's Box. It is important to mention that, unlike Conquistador, this is exactly the same performance as is featured on the original album. All parts are identical to the original, as only the stereo mix is dissimilar.

Paul Williams noted, in that classic 1967 Crawdaddy review, that it begins with "innocent country chords." Seemingly so, the very fundamental major triad structuring of G major, F major and C major / F major / C7th doesn't seem very bluesy at first glance. Nonetheless, the song does the preponderance of its work in a fundamentally blues cadence. Almost alarmingly complex for a "blues" song, the track has three distinct sections. There is the introductory section mentioned above, there is an intermediary section that starts on an E minor and is the first hint of any traditional blues posturing before it leads us to a B major ('I hear a weird noise, take a look up and down, yeah') It's that initial "yeah", so balefully enunciated by Brooker in a most resigning style that gives us a hint as to its real character as a song styling. Finally there is the stereotypical blues decline starting on E Minor as Brooker invites us to 'imagine my surprise, thought I'd left it at home ...'

Departing from compositional configuration, the real plus about this true stereo version is the doleful organ of Matthew Fisher, now brought further up front in the mix. My first interface with this song was in the latter part of the seventh decade of the last century. I was never pleased with the dreadfully unhinged, "reprocessed for stereo" Deram release. I actually never even heard Matthew's organ at all until a friend noted, after listening to it with headphones several weeks after we began our exploration of the record, that he was comping chords way back in the mix. I heard as if renewed but was still rather dissatisfied with the obscure placement of the organ at the hand of Denny Cordell. One needed to strain to really hear it. This version features Matthew, rather prominently, playing full backing chords using what appears to be his flat 6886, AWSoP, no chorus, no Leslie tremolo, setting. Percussion is on but muted; it’s perfect harmonically with judicious tab selection. Full, rich, and encompassing, it perfectly augments the sparse atmosphere as our sorry protagonist faces all and sundry manner of discomfort while being unremittingly pursued by a pebble, or his own tombstone.

Paul Williams stated that the track is, "too comic book-like to be scary." I don't believe that it was Keith's intention to be scary. It feels more tongue-in-cheek and resolutely droll than horrific. Its meandering cadence is abruptly interrupted by Robin Trower's first real shriek on the album. Now thicker and broader in tone, that guitar sound is still the most unsatisfying timbre of all of Robin's first-album solos. While I know that it really doesn't sound like a kazoo, that overly fuzzed setting always reminded me of a kazoo put through a fuzz box and 5 Marshall stacks on 14.

Needless to say, Barrie Wilson turns in a typically inventive drum performance that transcends what the vast majority of players would execute during a "blues" number. I may be partial, but I find most "rock" drummers, while often technically endowed, bereft of creative energy and tediously vapid ... pedestrian if you will? The garbage-pail banging oaf in Metallica comes to mind along with several other 'notables." Conversely, Levon Helm, though technically very limited, would have done a lovely job, with his taut, workaday punctuations. John Hiseman would have been interesting as well. Andy McCullough, of King Crimson's Lizard period and Greenslade lore, a sadly unsung, creative yet technical player, would have been most curious too. I never liked Keith Moon myself but that's an invective for another day.

This is one of only four known versions of the song. The first version is the Deram / Regal Zonophone mono mix. There is this revealing stereo mix. There is a live version on Technical Blind Alleys (bootleg from 1967 Fillmore West). And there exists one other live version: it predates TBA by several months and dwells contentedly and evermore in that sonorous part of the time-space continuum that makes up one of those never-again moments ... somewhere in the late summer of 1967, in an outdoor park in Sweden ... somewhere Outside the Gates of Cerdes.

Ok, here we go.

The take that's on the original first PH album is the same take with a lot of difference sonically indeed. We can now really hear the organ ... how jolly. Let's remember this was 1967 and when I now hear the Robin Trower guitar riffs it only reminds me that he was on to what George Harrison was over at that OTHER studio. It isn't a guitar part as we knew them at the time. A rock rhythm guitar part never sounded like this. As a matter of fact now that you have it on its own separate track like the organ we can hear the sonic chops that are precise but spaced in a way that only complements the droning of the keyboards until the solo stuff ,and just listen to how up-front the vocals are in this stereo mix ... amazing and wonderfully strange at the same time.

The piano, bass, drums are stuffed on one track here. I get the feeling this album was recorded live of course but the guitar and organ had separate tracks to redo later. Also I am very sure most songs had a guide track for Gary's vocals: that is to say he probably sang lead live in the studio along with every take even if Robin or MAF were
off to the lavatory to powder their nose. Makes one wonder which vocals are first takes that were kept and which ones were re-dubbed ... which would have been the way it was done by rule of thumb to isolate it from ambient
sounds ... like the piano, heehee.

Back then they had great mics (that are still used today for 90% of all great vocals and instrument miking like the U47 and U87 which had just been introduced to England via Germany) and could still isolate the vocals enough from other sounds so if a take had a great vocal first take or whatever ... well, "if it ain't broke why fix it?", right?

When I first heard this track I didn't think it 'was' the same take since it sounds to my ears cleaner and wider. More separation. Organ breathes here again like the first track, unlike the original, and the bass and piano isn't in your face like the compressed monographic original mix. Not that it's a bad thing. The whole charm of the original mix is the drums ,bass and piano carrying things up front. Very rock'n'roll and that original mix would have made the perfect single, an why not! It should have been!

At this point I'll say this uncompressed stereo version is what they call in the studio biz 'soft knee' compression in production. It is present in its execution and softer than the harder in-your-face, could and should have been a single version. A good lounge-lizard mix here in the WESTSIDE version.

Ok, for those who are scratching their heads and asking 'What IS this compression thing he is talking about?' Well it is a very simple but sometimes complicated tool of the trade and is misused often . Compression and 'compressors' like the ones found in a studio or in the old days were built into the boards which were run with tubes ['valves' in the UK]. So were the recording machines ... tubes. Vacuum tubes played a big part in the sound of those old 60s' recordings and the English boards were the crème de la crème of boards. Still are. Anyway compression does two thing. First it makes things LOUDER. Second it levels the sound in that say a vocalist who maybe sings from a whisper to screaming like Little Richard and then goes back to whisper mode can be controlled so all comes out at about the same volume ... or even level. A lot of engineers use actually use the word levelling a lot and rightly so.

Many LA studios became famous for their 'levelling' devices. The most famous and copied is the infamous Lavalier which is similar to a real compressor but let's not get too technical. I've made my point about these wonderful machines I do believe. Without them you wouldn't hear the softer passages in a song and the louder ones at the same level, in other words you would have to get up and turn down the stereo when the screaming begins all the time , it would be too much of a jump in volume for comfort or fidelity. This goes for any instrument, not just a vocal. When used right it can make the difference between a good recording and a great recording. When abused recordings sound squashed and muddy. Listen to some loud Rap records s and you'll hear what I'm talking about.

In closing this track is a revelation for anyone who wanted to hear the details behind Robin's guitar and a decent take on the organ and vocal. It does not have the impact of the original, IMO, but like I said it's the lounge lizard mix and very relaxing at the end of the day.

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