Have you ever wondered what Erik & Weldon do when they sign off? They keep drinking and talking about music!! That's what we did right after we recorded our latest episode, on Bob Dylan's "Girl From The North Country." We had a folk cover left over, by a mysterious troubador named Hamilton Camp, and we decided to press "play" on the proceedings.  We discovered something very exciting about the man, especially if you grew up watching syndicated TV in the 80s - listen and learn!!

This week we're staying in the world of the Big B's of the 60s - but now it's Bob Dylan and his achingly beautiful 1963  ballad "Girl from the North Country" (3:07).  Erik thinks it's a meditation on being forgotten, written at a time before Bob was famous. We get deep into the song, including the lyrics, the "place" of the song, and the moaning mouth organ! Then, in 1965, Link Wray did the song! (1:18:59). This one rawks. 'Nuff said. The third version is by Kansas kids The Blue Things (1:39:19). Weldon thinks the galloping drumbeat here takes the song to the American West. Oh, and it's also a stomper.  Finally, there's some real obscuros, The Plymouth Rockers, who had We Five on their mind with their rendition of Dylan's ditty (2:01:29). It's jangly, we like it! And Bob's yer uncle!!

If Bug Music gives you the horrors, stay away from this one! An early slice of Beatlemania, "She Loves You", is on the docket this week (2:11). We discuss why people don't really rate The Beatles of this period: is it the "yeah yeah yeah"'s? Is it because it's a single and not really an "album track"? After you hear this, you're going to go full mop-top! Version two is by Patron Saint of the Podcast, Mary Wells (1:09:12). Sadly not arranged by Sonny Sanders, but we like the wood block in this one. The third version is the Hatrock's revenge, courtesy of Homer & Jethro (1:27:57). Possibly the only Beatles cover with turkey sounds in it! Fourth are some Finnish freaks, Ernos, who explore the prog possibilities of the song, but most importantly, add some Beach Boys bounce to the outro (1:47:20). The fifth and final Fab Four forgery is from Sweden: the new wave-alicious Go / No Go (2:07:47). We go / go off on some crucial digressions, including jumpsuits and 80s videos where bands were running for some reason. You know it can't be bad!!!

We're re-doing an episode from the very early days of the podcast, when we didn't have our snappy patter & schtick down like we do now - the folk-punk classic "My Flash on You"! All versions are from 1966 : the original by Love is at 1:25, and we focus on FUZZ and Fashion (the drummer Snoopy's short-sleeved shirts). Thee Sixpence (soon to become The Strawberry Alarm Clock) play it FASTER at 55:58. And The Menerals from Texas add even more FLASH at 1:20:00!

This episode is bigger than bubblegum! We chew on Tommy Roe's 1966 hit, "Sweet Pea" and we find it both delicious and diatonic (2:19). It has that wicked drum break, but the jangly guitar and bright organ also make the song POP! The second stick comes from Mexico's great girl garagers, Las Chic's (40:16). This is one of them refritos which we talked about long ago ... they make a cute song even cuter, and Weldon thinks they sound a bit like Shonen Knife or Trixie's Big Red Motorbike. Manfred Mann literally turn the song into a jazzy jingle for candy in 1967 (1:00:08). Don't get into the van with this band, kiddos, you'll know when you hear Klaus Voorman deliver the "lyrics" to the song!! Do bubblegum music and acid mix? You bet it does, when Friar Tuck & his Psychedelic Guitar gets his sticky hands on Tommy's tune (1:15:47). This song is, in effect, Mike Deasy "playing with himself," since he was the guitar player on the original, and he overdubs some wild wailing on it. We empty the pack with a track from the Golden Year of 1989 - lots of hip-hop heads sampled the famous drum break, but DJ Chuck Chillout and Kool Chip's "I'm Large"  added the iconic Vic Flick "James Bond" riff to boost the boom-box bravado (1:36:43) ! Come on and dance with us!!!!

We're back in the Garage Studies classroom to discuss the poetic masterpiece, "Just Like Me"! The first version by The Wilde Knights (1:25) gets us talking about iambic dimeter, and the poetry of John Skelton & Robert Frost. As one does. More importantly, the song has a mmmarvelous, Mike Mitchell-esque guitar solo. In late 1965, Paul Revere & The Raiders made the song a hit (44:28).  They slow the song down, cut the bridge, and replace the strange, clipped enunciation of the original with the breathy, growly, sexually "desparate" vocals of Mark Lindsay. It also features a famously freaky double-tracked solo by Drake Levin. Fast forward to 1967, and The Poverty Five kept the spirit of '65 alive (1:31:31). This one is wiiiiild - the shrillest garage screams ever, and tambourine that'll give you tetanus!! Finally, in 1981, Pat Benatar and her band took the song on, but they didn't exactly hit it with their best shot (1:53:13). If you love the original, you better run from this version, because it's a heartbreaker. Now leave us alone to cry!!

Pastronauts Rejoice! We're finally taking you to the Land of 1000 Dances! The first dance goes to Chris Kenner, the author and soulful belter of the original one-chord wonder (1:30). CK mixes the sacred and secular, and Allen Toussaint and the band give the song a swampy New Orleans groove. Next, we cut a rug with Cannibal & The Headhunters (30:05). Were these guys an actual band, or a vocal group?! These guys add the famous "na na na"'s - which gets us talkin' about the doo-wop influence on the song, AND we ask: did the Beatles steal said "na na na"'s for the end of "Hey Jude"?  Clear the dancefloor for Wilson Pickett's 1966 version - the one you all know (54:14).  The groove! The grunts! The drums! The screams! The man and the band really  take you to the Promised Land. The last dance goes to the Chants R&B from New Zealand (1:18:25). This one's a real garage version - wild, fast, savage, and listen to that ending! Watch us work, y'all!!

In this theme episode, we feature a trio of tunes with the proven percussive potency that makes you want to bash the nearest table like a raving Ringo … in fact, many of you tabletop thumpers have probably clattered the cutlery to at least one of these. First up is “Have I The Right” by The Honeycombs (4:57). The band is famous for having the hive-hairdo’d Honey Lantree as their drummer, but the whole band provides the backbeat on the chorus of this one. Wild, warbly guitar lines and Dennis D’Ell’s courtly vocals are extra condiments on said table. The second surface-smasher comes courtesy of In The Past patron saint Lynn Easton and the 1966 line-up of the fab-fun Kingsmen (48:52). Their cover of the 1963 Rocky Fellers hit, “Killer Joe” leaves the original Latin beat behind and the frat footstompin’ threatens to weaken the structural integrity of the dancefloor. The closing commotion is “Open Up Your Door” by Richard & The Young Lions (1:16:02). This garage classic has everything a Pastronaut needs: FUZZ, snotty vocals, full-throated screams, and a “knock knock” motif which has diegetic meaning -- oh, just listen in and you’ll find out what we’re bashing on about!!

This week's episode traces the evolution of one of the most beloved songs of the 60s: "Good Lovin'"! (A tune that should  have an exclamation mark in the title).  Lemme B. Good was the first to pitch woo in spring of 1965 (0:48). Exuberant vocals, crashing piano chords, horny horns & galloping drums will make your heart pitter patter. Rudy Clark wrote the original version's lyrics, but he decided he needed a Cyrano  to help him express his true feelings, so he turned to Artie Resnick to overhaul the words. This leads us to the version by The Olympics, which followed hot on the heels of LBG's original (28:11).  This one has a more pronounced Latin feel to it, harking back to the garage rock cha-cha's we used to moon over! But what other song does that horn section at 30:00 remind us of? The third's the charm, because The Young Rascals took the song all the way to #1 in 1966 (1:05:14) . Blue-eyed soul! Duet vocals!! Organ solo!!! False ending!!!!  All this and a personality profile of the band, courtesy of Flip's Groovy Guide.  After all this excitement, we cool it down a bit with our last date: Mary Wells ( 1:48:11 ). Another snappy arrangement by Sonny Sanders, just like her "Satisfaction," which we discussed in Episode 64. Eat your hearts out, Pastronauts!!

Our fifth edition of the ever-popular Better Than The Beatles series focuses on the first, and greatest, manufactured pop group: The Monkees.

Literally cast into the limelight of pop superstardom, The Monkees, at their peak, outsold the Beatles while simultaneously filming weekly episodes of their zany and ultra-hip eponymous hit TV series.

You’ll go bananas for our first foray: Last Train To Clarksville (2:19). This infectious oldies radio anthem leaves the station at Paperback Writer and jumps the track at the Vietnam war. Weldon identifies Mickey “Good Diction” Dolenz as rock’s greatest dramatic enunciator.

Next we go out of our tree for A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You (47:00), some bubblegum-dung that Weldon and Erik have been flinging at their ears for years, already.

The third instalment from our troublemaking troop is Pleasant Valley Sunday (1:17:25): a thinly veiled suburban sound-off. We go ape over the vocables before barbe-cueing up one of our most crucial digressions ever: the historical importance of Superchannel in Alberta.

Another tidy piece of Monkee business, Valleri (1:56:55), is our last song from the Monkees’ golden era. Weldon cracks the textbooks with his exploration of the Boom-Bip-Bip ending and Erik admires Mike Nesmith’s air guitar. And what’s this? Starry-eyed Davy Jones doing a classic American garage rock scream?!

Last but not least (Bo Diddley Award spoiler?), we listen to the apex-beautiful Me & Magdalena (2:18:12), zoological proof that the Monkees were still eating the Beatles lunch in 2016, long past their Hey! Hey!-day.

Due to their ensemble-cast approach to hit-making, the Monkees have been a polarizing entity in the rock pantheon for decades. Regardless, Weldon and Erik, the Dian-Fosseys-of-fake-phenomena, finally and conclusively determine, herein, that the Monkees are indeed more swinging, more rocking, more charming, cuter, and straight-up better than the Beatles. Welcome to the Jungle!