Were the improbable question, “Who’s your favorite cover band?” to be asked of me, the instant answer would be: “The Vanilla Fudge and The Residents,” for I love each band equally and cannot narrow my choice between them. In fairness to others, nearly all artists at all levels of accomplishment have covered another’s composition. Among my favorites, The Beatles, The Stones, Frank Zappa, John Coltrane, The Smothers Brothers, etc., some have cranked out fine covers at various times throughout their careers (The Stones covered The Beatles’, I Wanna Be Your Man, early on, and many, mostly R&B remakes, throughout), others only in the beginning. Artists at times stick closely to some parent arrangement and adding stylistic elements that identifies them, while others may totally reinvent an arrangement to go with a peculiar style. What’s so special about The Fudge and Residents is that they don’t just cover structures, licks, and inflections of the songs they redo, but they also, in ways few ever have, cover, structurally, instrumentally, and vocally, the psychological aspects of the songs’ contents.
The first Fudge album landed on the beachhead of psychedelia in late 1967, as ready for the Fall of Love as were The Beatles for the Summer of the same. In fact, the opening song from Vanilla Fudge was a cover of Ticket to Ride, and the closer a cover of Eleanor Rigby (ending with the quote, “Nothing is real/Nothing to get hung about.”). What’s different about these covers (and they are all covers except for three short mood pieces entitled Illusions of My Childhood, parts 1—3, which introduce the three songs on Side Two) is the deconstructive arrangements of the song forms. While The Beatles begin Ticket with a six note guitar motive, Fudge organist/vocalist Mark Stein opens from a growling Hammond with two successive left-hand notes a perfect fourth apart. His right hand plots several airy figures which increase in intensity and harmonic complexity as the other bandsmen saunter in one after another to form the groove, played in a more R&B style than The Beatles’ take. The vocal execution is just as iconoclastic as the instrumental arrangement. The Beatles sing about a girl cutting out; Tim Bogert, bass player/vocalist, and lead vocalist on Ticket, sings about a guy who’s about to have an emotional breakdown. He really lets fly a few times as the band heads into two dynamic instrumental interludes.
Perhaps the best known Vanilla Fudge song is the band’s cover of The Supremes’ You Keep Me Hanging On. Though the LP cut was listed as a little over seven minutes in length, the version I first heard was an edit of less than three minutes produced for radio. The song didn’t chart well, so I didn’t hear it often until a friend procured a copy of the single. Upon hearing the entire song in the summer of 1968, I was hot on buying the album (my parents bought it for me as a Christmas present that same year). Like other Fudge songs, Keep Me has a long introduction, and an incredible range of dynamic events within its structure. Dramatic (some have said, “melodramatic”) vocals from Mark Stein and the powerful drumming of Carmine Appice highlight the piece, but it is the band effort that makes it fly. Vince Martell, guitarist/vocalist, was able to fit some of R&R’s best faux raga into the frameworks of several songs.
From the Jr. Walker & the All Stars song Shotgun, to the old Lee and Nancy hit Some Velvet Morning, there are many other Fudge covers to experience. Original pieces also poured out of the band from the third album until the fifth and final LP, released in 1969. Around forty years ago a critic from Rolling Stone popularly put forth the notion that The Vanilla Fudge played everything real slow. I don’t know how much of The Fudge’s music the critic listened to, but the statement about the tempo misses the point. The music might have any number of dynamic ranges and tempo changes within a single song. Sounds like the RS critic listened to a couple of intros and skipped the rest. That’s a shame. Don’t make the same mistake.
Vanilla Fudge albums:
Vanilla Fudge: Iconoclastic debut. To be honest, there are a couple of duds in there, but overall, still a mindblower.
The Beat Goes On: The history of western music as filtered through The Vanilla Fudge. Some of this is quite silly, but mostly in a good natured way. I thought most of it to be very humorous, but I don’t know whether or not that was intentional. If you have to skip one, this is the one.
Renaissance: This is the first Fudge album composed, with the exception of two covers, by the band. Like all Fudge albums this one is uneven, but emotionally naked in an entirely new way. Forget the confessional folkists that came along a couple of years later, the guys in The Fudge went into the very belly of human insecurity.
Near the Beginning: After an explosive version of the afore-mentioned Shotgun, the angelic harmonies the band became known for soar through the rest of Side One over Some Velvet Morning and Where Is Happiness. Side Two is covered by a single 40 minute excursion into solo and lead playing called Break Song, which is somewhat interesting at times, but like I said, it’s 40 minutes long.
Rock & Roll: Some really odd stuff makes up this album. A couple of the songs are innocently goofy, and a couple are just plain bad. Overall, though, the album is worth it if just for Need Love and Street Walking Woman. Like the best Fudge assaults, these songs bulldoze everything in their ways. Look out!
Don’t take my word (ya wouldn’t anyway), go to Grooveshark or someplace where it is possible to listen to entire albums or playlists. The song titles I’ve mentioned represent The Fudge’s strongest works, so try one or two of those and see how you do.
Now for more discussion about the Residents!
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