THE HEP STARS
Recording years |
Main genre |
Music sample |
1964–1989 |
Pop rock |
Sunny Girl (1966) |
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Album
released: September 1965 |
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Tracks: 1) Cadillac; 2) Be My Baby; 3)
That’s When Your Heartaches Begin; 4) Send Me Some Lovin’; 5) Young And
Beautiful; 6) Rockin’ Love; 7) No Response; 8) I’ll Never Quite Get Over You;
9) Sweet Little Sixteen; 10) Oh! Carol; 11) Then She (He) Kissed Me; 12) Bald
Headed Woman. |
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REVIEW Of
the two principal Swedish bands to form in the wake of the British Invasion
(and by «principal» I mean «known at least a little outside of their home
country»), Tages was unquestionably the more musically interesting and
important one, if only because its members showed a strong interest in
original songwriting right from the get-go. However, The Hep Stars got a bit
of a time jump on them when it came to actual recordings — which seems only
too appropriate, since The Hep Stars were based in Stockholm, while Tages
came from Gothenburg; after all, the capital will always have its way, want
it or not. And somehow, too, through the earliest years of their existence,
The Hep Stars managed to quite handily outsell Tages — indicating that young
Swedes were a bit more willing to enjoy native covers of their favorite US
and UK artists rather than attempts by their own countrymen to find their own
Svenkst way of doing things. |
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The Hep Stars’ first minor appearance on the charts,
though, was not even with a US or UK cover. Recorded in late 1964 with the
band’s original keyboard player Hans Östlund and released on Åke
Gerhard’s independent Olga label, it was ‘Kana Kapila’ — a cover of a minor
1961 success by the Belgian band The Continental Cousins (or simply The
Cousins) from the height of the twist craze. ‘Kana Kapila’ is in itself a
corrupted spelling of Hawaiian kanikapila
"violin sound", a relatively free-form style of homebrewn
Polynesian improvisation — and the quirky little ditty was probably the
result of free-style associative thinking, from twisting to surfing to Hawaiian; apparently, the syllabic
structure of Hawaiian works pretty damn well for a novelty approach to dance
music in 1961, like when you make a rapid fire delivery of wiki wiki wiki wiki ("quickly,
quickly!") that really brings out the inner kid in your twistin’
persona. Why The Hep Stars thought, three years later, that it would make for
a good artistic choice in the era of The Beatles is anybody’s guess — especially
since none of their other early covers went that far into the direction of silly kitsch. They did have a
pretty tight rhythm section, I’ll admit: Lelle Hegland on bass and Chrille
Pettersson on drums drive this thing more steadily and assuredly than The
Continental Cousins ever did, though probably still a few notches below The
Ventures, had the latter ever tried it out. Starting already with the B-side of ‘Kana Kapila’ —
a cover of Ray Charles’ ‘I Got A Woman’ — the band asserted its predilection
for the OG school of rock’n’roll and R&B: in addition to Ray Charles,
their early singles honor the Everly Brothers (‘Bird Dog’), Eddie Cochran
(‘Summertime Blues’), Ritchie Valens (‘Donna’), and Buddy Holly, though in an
indirect fashion — through the cover of Mike Berry’s heartfelt, but musically
and lyrically lame ‘Tribute To Buddy Holly’. All of these imitations are
listenable, but all of them also make clear that The Hep Stars, from the
beginning and until the very end, would be careful to present themselves as
wholesome family entertainment — maybe just one step away from quintessential
«bubblegum rock» (a notion that did not yet exist in 1965, but its roots
certainly lie in bands like these). Admittedly, this is something one might
probably come to expect from a band that reared Benny Andersson — who
replaced Östlund at the end of 1964 and whose quiet, appropriately
funereal organ playing on ‘A Tribute To Buddy Holly’ is, unless I’m mistaken,
the first officially issued evidence of Benny as a keyboard player. (What a
long, strange trip, eh?). A fairly weak link in The Hep Stars was their lead
singer, Svenne Hedlund (he takes the lead on about 75% or so of all the
recordings, with lead guitar player Janne Frisk occasionally stepping in for
the sake of diversity). Unfortunately, as it sometimes happens with
non-native English speakers, his chief focus in the studio too often seems to
be on striving to sing in English with as little Swedish accent as possible.
He achieves a pretty impressive result — though still betrayed quite a bit
with the inability to control his palatal affricates ("Farmer Y-yohn, I’m in love with your daughter") — but this is about as far
as his talent reaches, judging both by the tepid take on teen angst
(‘Summertime Blues’) and the plastic soul take on teen serenading (‘Donna’).
He did have the required dashing looks, though, which was probably what kept
him so steady in the frontman’s seat for all that time. The first big break for the band came with
‘Cadillac’, which was in itself a Renegades cover of Vince Taylor’s ‘Brand
New Cadillac’ — apparently, The Hep Stars were never even aware of the
original rocking version, having only been exposed to the Renegades’
slowed-down and «moodified» cover through a radio broadcast (which just might
have something to do with The Renegades being much bigger in Finland at the
time than in their home country — and, by radio-wave extension, through the
rest of Scandinavia as well; not coincidentally, the song was also recorded,
in a slightly harder version, by The Shamrocks, another popular Swedish band
from the same era that never reached the Hep Stars’ level of notoriety). Even
if you’re cool with the idea of turning this original blast of teen rage
(which would further be amplified all the way up to eleven by The Clash
fifteen years later) into a slow, somber, stop-and-start mood swing spectacle
— and I’m not sure I am totally cool with this myself — it still has to be
admitted that The Hep Stars do fairly little with this song that The
Renegades had not already done; the only notable difference is that the
garage-rock guitar solo on the original is replaced by Benny Andersson’s less
furious, but technically more accomplished organ break — clearly showing who,
already in those earliest days, was really the heart and soul of every band
he’d been in. (Note: to hear that
properly, you need to listen to the more widely circulated album release of
the song, not the original single release
on which Benny plays both keyboards and rhythm guitar — the organ solo is
almost inaudible on that one). One thing that the commercial success of ‘Cadillac’
in both Sweden and Norway showed is that audiences were clearly hungry for
more contemporary material; Buddy Holly and Eddie Cochran did not work as
well for young Scandinavians in the early Sixties as did The Renegades and
The Premiers, which meant that the band had to expand its horizons. They
probably got the idea to cover ‘Farmer John’ from The Searchers rather than
The Premiers, but one album which they clearly latched on to quite heavily
was the Kinks’ self-titled debut: two of their mid-’65 A-sides were ‘Bald
Headed Woman’ (in its Shel Talmy / Kinks incarnation) and Ray Davies’ own ‘So
Mystifying’ — apparently, ‘You Really Got Me’ was way too heavy for those
degenerated softies, so totally unworthy of their glorious Viking past! —
and, as with everything else, they do half-decent jobs here, never quite
making us understand why we should listen to this stuff instead of the
originals but providing an okayish substitute in case you get a craving for a
«different take» on some early Kinks. When the time came to reward the fans with an entire
LP, both of these trends — nostalgia for pre-Beatles rock’n’roll and
necessity to incorporate some modern ideas — were continued in near-equal
measure. On the memory lane side, The Hep Stars cover more Buddy (‘Send Me
Some Lovin’), a little Chuck (‘Sweet Little Sixteen’), and even do a lengthy,
faithful rendition of ‘That’s When Your Heartaches Begin’, replete with the
entire spoken part — no fear of dethroning Elvis or The Ink Spots, though,
what with Hedlund’s sweet and sincere, but totally karaoke-style delivery;
the best thing about the song is Benny’s quiet, restrained, sublimely
beautiful piano part in the background, almost making me wish they’d simply
recorded it as an instrumental — but then it wouldn’t be all that sublime,
would it? As for the more contemporary stuff, the band shows
quite an affection for Phil Spector, covering both ‘Be My Baby’ and ‘Then She
Kissed Me’; again, no serious need to bother, but even without the ability to
reproduce the Wall-of-Sound, these songs work better for the band than ‘Sweet
Little Sixteen’, with decent group harmonies (Frisk takes the lead on both of
these and arguably does a better job than Hedlund) and Benny’s organ work
once again stealing the ground from under everybody else’s feet. On one
occasion, The Hep Stars even manage to predate their idols: ‘I’ll Never Quite
Get Over You’, a catchy melancholic folk-pop ballad, written by the trio of
Arnold, Martin, and Morrow (eventually to be known in the UK as
«Butterscotch» of ‘Don’t You Know (She Said Hello)’ fame), would become one
of the last charting singles for Billy Fury in early 1966 — but not before it
was actually discovered and tapped into by these Swedish lads; and, for the
record, their stripped down version, with Benny’s sweet piano all over it, is
better than Billy’s overblown arrangement — in all respects other than the
vocals. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to just let Billy Fury
audition for The Hep Stars and kill two birds with one single stone, flung
directly across the North Sea! The most historically important song on the album,
however, was ‘No Response’, the very first composition to be publically
presented by the young fledgling genius mind of Benny Andersson — allegedly,
he himself does not hold a particularly high opinion of it in retrospect, and
status-wise, it probably occupies about the same place on his musical legacy
shelf as Paul McCartney’s ‘In Spite Of All The Danger’, but it’s quite a
creative little ditty all the same. The verse is based on the bassline of
‘Don’t Be Cruel’, on top of which it plants a well-mannered English verse meter,
sung somewhat Peter, Paul & Mary style; then the chorus unexpectedly
transitions into ‘Memphis, Tennessee’, while the vocals switch into full-on
pop mode, resolving into a nifty, decisive hook at the end. I’m not sure it
all really makes much emotional sense, and there are too few original ideas
in this odd hybridization to allow you to see the seedlings of ABBA — but
there is a sense of genuine attempt at creativity here, unlike in so many
early «originals» from second- and third-rate British Invasion bands that
merely consisted of writing new lyrics over wholesale-stolen melodies. Apparently, the biggest problem Benny had with the
song is finding the right words; he admits to have been using an English
dictionary, but it did not help him much. "I don’t see through it, not a bit / Someone has found your heart to
pieces (?) / I try to take it as a whit (!!!) / I had to make another reason
(????)" is fairly thought-provoking, to put it mildly. At least the
chorus — "But the expression in
your eyes / Is like a big black curtain in my mind" — offers a bit
of redemption for lines like "you’ll
never make me to retire" (somehow this started out as an angry
tirade against a cold bitch but then transitioned into criticism of the
Swedish pension system). Accustomed as we are, though, to occasional slip-ups
on the part of even the best ABBA songs, Benny’s problems with the English
language are probably the least significant issues one might have with We And Our Cadillac. Certainly the
Swedes themselves thought nothing of them when they happily sent the song
into their national Top 10. In the end, We
And Our Cadillac, like so many other debut records by so many young bands
outside the major hubs of the rock’n’roll universe, is not a record you
listen to in order to happily enjoy it or to viciously put it down — more
like a record you listen to to be mildly amused and to be reminded that, no
matter how simple that old rock’n’roll may be, getting it right is far from an easy chore,
impossible to complete on the strength of mere passion and adoration. In this
particular case, though, it is also a good reminder that great artistry
rarely appears overnight, and that everybody deserves a second, third, and
maybe even fourth and fifth chance before they finally come into their own.
There’s quite an overwhelming distance between ‘No Response’ and ‘Dancing
Queen’ or ‘Eagle’, and back in 1965, there was even hardly any guarantee that
this distance would ever be traveled; in fact, Benny’s 10-year journey (!) on
the road to wholesome artistic success is, to my mind, one of the longest in
the history of youth-oriented popular music (he was 28 in the year of
‘Waterloo’ — the age of Paul McCartney upon the split of the Beatles). But as we see, it’s quite a possible
situation all the same, even if I’m not at all sure that any sound
conclusions can be drawn from it to apply to the circumstances of the 2020s. |
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Album
released: November 1965 |
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Tracks: 1) Cadillac; 2) What’d I Say; 3)
Donna; 4) What Do You Want To Make Those Eyes At Me For!; 5) So Mystifying;
6) Only You; 7) Wear My Ring Around Your Neck; 8) Surfin’ Bird; 9) Talahassie
Lassie; 10) No Response; 11) If You Need Me; 12) Farmer John; 13) Bald Headed
Woman; 14) Whole Lot-ta Shak-in’ Goin’ On. |
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REVIEW "KRIL-LE! JAN-NE! LEL-LE! BEN-NE! SVEN-NE!"
— that’s the band’s manager Lennart Fernholm shouting at the top of his lungs
through a seemingly distorted microphone, and the way he goes at it, you’re
almost certain he is going to end this up with a "FIVE LIVE HEP STARS!", but an unseen barrier still prevents
him from going all the way to plagiarize the Yardbirds, so he just ends it
with a simpler, more predictable "THE
HEP STAAAARS!" Nevertheless, the slight nod to Five Live Yardbirds is unmistakable: just like that album made a subtle point about
how the most exciting, penetrating, and relevant way to experience a modern
rhythm’n’blues band in a spontaneous live setting, so were The Hep Stars chosen
to symbolize the same meaning for the local Swedish scene. Unlike Giorgio Gomelsky
with the Yardbirds, Fernholm came up with the idea a little too late — the very
first Hep Stars LP was recorded in the studio — but Hep Stars On Stage was
the very first live album by a Swedish rock’n’roll band, and although it did
not even properly hit the Scandinavian LP charts, from what I hear, it did
acquire a certain cult status in the mid-Sixties. |
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Which is, allegedly, somewhat hard to grasp in
retrospect, and probably even harder if you are not Swedish, because there is
really very little in common between the Hep Stars and the Yardbirds. The
latter, after all, were a «rave-up» band in their early years, whose primary
task was to gradually boil up their audiences’ blood through the primal power
of the African-cum-American-cum-Crawdaddy tribal groove. The Hep Stars, in
comparison, were a pop band that mainly played two and a half minute-long
catchy singles (usually not of their own creation), without either the skills
or the desire to do anything unusual with them on stage. It’s hardly a crime,
but it does not exactly justify the need for a live album — or, at least, the
need for that live album to endure and still be considered «important» after
a while, even in its own native country. At the very least, there is not a lot of overlap
between On Stage and We And Our Cadillac, other than,
naturally, ‘Cadillac’ itself and a couple other tracks (‘No Response’, being
the band’s first original song, most certainly had to be played). They do, however, play a lot of ther non-LP
singles (‘Donna’, ‘So Mystifying’, ‘Farmer John’, ‘If You Need Me’) which you
already know if you have the modern expanded editions of the album, which
makes only about half of the live album formally «original» — and that
remaining half, of course, also exclusively consists of covers, though the
stylistic range is fairly impressive: everything from Ray Charles (‘What’d I Say’)
to Elvis (‘Wear My Ring Around Your Neck’) to doo-wop (‘Only You’, ‘What Do You
Wanna Make Those Eyes At Me For’) to joke-rock (‘Surfin’ Bird’). It is, however, notable that even in the
fall of 1965, with the musical world rapidly changing all over the planet,
the Hep Stars’ primary interests squarely remain in the past as they cover
one Fifties’ act after another — with the exception of the early Kinks, whom
they still take as their role model, pretty much everything is pre-British Invasion stuff. The sound quality of the experience is somewhat
average, which at least confirms that the album was probably a true live
recording (the proclaimed dates are August 7–8, 1965 from two separate Swedish
outdoor venues), but the audience screams (not Beatlemania level, yet still
loud enough to be annoying) and the heavy echo on Svenne’s lead vocals take
their toll; the worst side effect is that Benny’s organ, the most important
instrument of the entire lot, is heard quite poorly, except for when Benny
takes the lead — this is when the sound engineer pushes him up in the mix,
like on the ‘Cadillac’ solo — and overall, the band’s enthusiasm is much
easier to appreciate than their musicianship. That said, I’d be lying if I said there was no fun
quotient whatsoever on the album. The lads rip into ‘Surfin’ Bird’ with every
ounce of the expected Trashmen hooliganry, cook up a Southern-rock storm on ‘Tallahassee
Lassie’, and even show startling progress with their palatal affricates on
their rendition of ‘Farmer John’ which is just a bit more rambunctious than
on the studio version. But when they start playing with the loud-and-quiet
suspense dynamics on ‘Bald Headed Woman’, it is hard to find their style
mesmerizing — they are not doing «their thing», they are trying to adapt, and
their level of musicianship and theatricality just ain’t up to par, though I do appreciate Benny ripping into ‘Entry
Of The Gladiators’ for no reason whatsoever at the start of the song’s jam
part: he at least seems to know
that the Hep Stars can only earn the gratitude of future grumpy reviewers by
being as goofy as possible. Unfortunately, it gets even worse with the last
track, a nearly six-minute version of ‘Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On’ which
the band drags out so that Svenne can take his time toying and interacting
with the audience. Not even Jerry Lee himself ever took that much time with the song, and nobody in this band has even a
tenth part of the Killer’s showmanship, so it’s simply a bleeding disaster. We
must give the appropriate honors to Chrille Pettersson for trying to keep up
the energy with his athletic drumrolls throughout all the six minutes — at
least he’s got more stamina than all of his bandmates combined — but honestly,
I’d rather they gave him a proper five-minute drum solo than have him serve
as trusty backup for Svenne’s tired repetitive mantra of "shake baby shake it". Other than the band’s unconvincing attempts to exercize
their «trance power» over the crowds (well, unconvincing for me; judging by the enthusiastic
response from the crowds themselves, the Hep Stars did achieve their limited
goals for those particular days), On Stage
can certainly be a bit of nostalgic fun — but it does show how strangely out
of time Sweden’s leading pop-rock band was at the moment, almost symbolically
representing their country being so strangely behind-the-times at a pivotal
period in pop-rock history. (Not that Sweden was alone in this, as opposed to
the rest of continental Europe). Just as symbolic, for that matter, was the band’s
last studio single of 1965, found as the last of the bonus tracks on the CD
edition: ‘Should I’ — a cover of a pop-rocker by Chad & Jeremy, the
meekest couple in Britain’s contemporary musical business. They stick very
close to the original version (with its somewhat clever alternation between
folk-pop and rhythm’n’blues phrasing in the intro), predictably replacing the
harmonica solo with Benny’s organ but not managing to improve on the already
crystal-clean guitar sound of the original, so it’s mostly just an
interesting fact to me that of all the UK acts they were hearing on the radio
at the time, they decided to go with Chad & Jeremy. Well... I guess this
is why Benny Andersson ultimately ended up in ABBA rather than, say, Opeth. |