Bend Me, Shape Me - The Models

The opening thirty seconds of The Models 'Bend Me, Shape Me' (which should only ever be listened to through headphones- loudly) are the equivalent of drowning in a bath tub made of gelatin guitars while drums implode like bubbles. The song is so drenched in reverb and echo that it sounds more like a bacchanalian transmission from another dimension than a pop song.

'Bend Me, Shape Me' was initially a track by the group The Outsiders (though some claim The Models put their version out first), but only became a hit in 1967 when the so soporific-it-rivals-valium American Breed cover hit the airwaves.

There's not a great deal of information available amount The Models. They were part of the growing army of Sixties Garage girl groups and supposedly were made up of Vogue magazine models. The latter part is a little hard to verify but it's a striking image especially when placed against the sound of the song.

Unlike their contemporaries, such as The Shangri-Las, The Models didn't fully embrace pop. 'Bend Me, Shape Me,' with it's effects heavy production (courtesy of Tom Wilson) and stop'n'start rhythms is both hypnotically groovy and icily alienating. There's an edge of unease, like you're hearing music made by doppleganger Garage girls in a concrete bunker.

Season of the Witch (Alternate Version) - Donovan

When Donovan put out his third album Sunshine Superman, the sound was largely a radical departure from what had come before. The finger picked folk ballads were still present, but they rested alongside swirling colourful giants of psychedelia and pop. Amongst these more rocking numbers was the song Season of the Witch. The song meditated on identity, the selling out of beatnik counter culture, paranoia and of course, Witches.

And it's good! That is it's good when you ignore Donovan's ridiculous Jeeves via David Bowie vocal performance. If you're happy living life at a six out of ten, then maybe you should just embrace this version.

But wait! Did you know Donovan recorded an alternate version of the song years later that's only appeared on a single UK-only greatest hits album? And that it's better in just about every way? You didn't? Well let's have a listen.

You can hear the shift from the opening notes. Gone are the semi-acoustic echoes, replaced with snaking whips of icy electric guitar. The drums (especially on those choruses) pound like a sorcery induced heart attack. The new backing vocals scream like a choir of witches. Donovan growls and pounces upon every word like a cat eviscerating an army of mice.

Older and wiser, Donovan brings a new confidence to this performance that destroys the original. Artists rarely re-record songs and make them better. One get's the feeling that Donovan knew the first time round was just the season of the crappy-decorative-Mum-bought-it-at-Asda-for-a-fiver-witch. This time, it would be the real Season of the Witch.

BONUS TRACK: !Aaah- ah yawa em ekat ot gnimoc er'yeht - Napoleon XIV

Simultaneously winning the awards for both Best and Most Obnoxious B-Side ever, this was the second side of They're Coming To Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa! when it was first released. If you couldn't tell, it's the entire A-Side played backwards. Couldn't resist sharing it.

They're Coming To Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa! - Napoleon XIV

Would you believe this was a Top 5 hit when it first came out?

Napoleon XIV is Jerry Samuels, a record producer and songwriter chiefly active throughout the 1960's. In 1966 Samuels was working as a recording engineer at Associated Recording Studios in New York. It was during this period, using both experimental techniques and technology, that he recorded They're Coming To Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!

Amongst these new techniques was a machine called the Variable Frequency Oscillator (or VFO) which allowed Samuel to create the sped up Chipmunk-esque vocal pitch changes with out actually changing the tempo of the song.

The track also features what's one of the first uses of a drum loop. Apparently the unnamed percussionist couldn't hold a beat for much longer than seven seconds. To get around this, Samuels took those seven seconds, chopped them up, and looped it into the backing track appearing in the final song. On top of this he added hand claps (he'd initially tried to convince the musicians to take off their trousers and slap their thighs, but no dice) and the creeping VFO effected klaxons which signal the choruses.

Finally Samuels recorded lyrics he'd written over nine months (apparently he couldn't decide if the song was actually good or just a sick joke). The song might be about a man who's lost his wife, or about a man who's lost his dog, but it's definitely about a man who's lost his mind.

The song's structure is fairly simple, but through it's repetition allows the listener to descend into ever increasing anxiety. Novelty song though it is, it perfectly captures the feeling of unpleasant thought spirals that everyone is held victim to at one point or another; and the slow, steady overtake of unease that this results in. It's the scratched record ticking away at the back of you skull.

Not bad for a song built on Chipmunk voices and tambourines.