Rod Stewart - "Cut Across Shorty" (1970)

I'm a huge fan of prime Stewart, by which I mean his first four solo albums. A cocky, womanizing mod out to conquer the world, with a sensitive eye for detail and that famous, grainy voice as well as the intelligence and intuition to apply it and sound knowing, wily and vital, as soulful as his idol Sam Cooke. Not to mention, he put together this amazing band. Not the Faces, which were okay but somehow never excited me, but the band he built around Ron Wood, Martin Quittenton and Mick Waller for his solo albums. Like Cooke, what he was really after was fame, fortune and pussy - which he eventually got - and like Cooke, he sang his heart out on the way and for a while, it seemed he could do no wrong.

He was an underrated songwriter in those days, sometimes on his own, usually in musical collaboration with Wood or Quittenton but he also had a penchant for either choosing unlikely songs to cover or going after a classic and making it his own. Even when he covered Dylan he reinvented forgotten gems, and how many singers could have eked out meaning and class out of an Elton John song (cf. "Country Comfort")?. Here he covers an Eddie Cochran oldie though in his hands and mouth it sounds like a re-discovered folk song, a hairy dog story about a rich dude racing a poor guy for the right to marry the woman both men covet, who of course proceeds to help the poor guy cheat and win the race.

As usual, Rod sings the song with a merry cackle that invests the story with far more meaning than it rightfully deserves. It's as obvious as a sledgehammer who he's bet his shillings on but there's really no reason to search for any deeper meaning beyond his sly delivery edging the band towards an acoustic-rock majesty as he rides their groove as effortlessly as Cooke and Elvis did in their heyday.

Despite the presence of bass, acoustic guitars, mandolin and a fiddle, it is Mick Waller's drumkit that somehow winds up being the lead instrument, sort of like Keith Moon in the Who, except Waller's drumwork has a sense of space and timing that owes a lot more to California sessionman Hal Blaine. Here he sounds like he's keeping time with an internal clock no one else can hear but him, raw, tribal thumps booming out of his subconscious in the most unlikely moments. It's one of my favorite drum parts of all time and is the key ingredient in Stewart's magical stew.

Lou Reed - "Hooky Wooky" (1996)

Lou Reed's albums have been too wordy since 1988's New York (which at least was more than redeemed by the guitar work) but once in a decade he can come up with a catchy pop number which recalls his early days as a sweatshop songwriter. Here he mixes 50's rock and roll and doo-wop to capture the essance of Manhatten street life in a song wrongly overlooked in 1996's Set The Twilight Reeling. It's the album's loosest and best track and Lou probably hasn't had this much fun since the days of "Sweet Jane".

Van Morrison - "Crazy Love" (1970)

I hadn't listened to this song in years but it was a favorite of mine some twenty years ago and it was always fairly successful for me in romantic situations. It comes from 1969's Moondance, y'know, the album with the schmaltzy, jazzy title track, which was one of Van's few commercial successes.

Morrison usually sings in a gruff, soulful voice but here he is actually reminiscent of Smokey Robinson more than anything else, crooning softly in falsetto, which is an approach he didn't attempt very often. Despite the acoustic guitar settings, somewhere between folk and country blues, the changes and atmosphere recalls late sixties Motown ballads, especially the inventive, melodic bass part and the subtle vibes.

What I really love about the performance - and this is something I wasn't sensitive enough to notice in my early twenties - is how despite the crooning, laid back, relaxed vocals, Van can hardly contain his excitement and enthusiasm as he describes his woman's love.

Jerry Lee Lewis - "Money" (1964)

This was already a classic when Jerry Lee Lewis cut it live in 1964 in Germany (on Live At The Star Club, Hamburg, you can thank me later for the recommendation). Since the Barrett Strong's original single kicked off Berry Gordy's Motown empire in 1960, just about everyone covered it from the Rolling Stones to the Kingsmen to the Beatles, who cut the definitive version. Until Jerry Lee came along, anyway. I still think the Beatles' version is the classic, but Lewis manages to dig a new groove and drenge new meanings and transforms into it into virtually a new song by making the familiar piano riff even more desperate, every drawl and lewd breath describing exactly what kind of freedom he seeks.

Now you could call him a showoff when he goes into his patented stomps on the piano, bullheaded, orgasmic, flashing piano keys like jacknives, confident his talent and charisma will win him the world. Yeah, it's true he tried to transform every song he performed in the fifties and early sixties into "Whole Lotta Shaking" and that not every song could withstand that treatment. But when it works it's because he manages to find Jerry Lee inside the song and his utter self-belief wore true: others mastered the style, even the swagger, none could muster quite the same self-confidence.

Big Star - "September Gurls" (1973)

Alex Chilton's story is one of the off-beat tales of the Deep South. As a gravel-voiced teenager, he fronted the Box Tops, a blue-eyed soul group that hit with "The Letter", "Soul Deep" and "Cry Like A Baby". When the Box Tops broke up, Chilton formed Big Star with Chris Bell, Andy Hummel and Jody Stephens. And his voice, whether by nature or cunning design, lost its soulful, hoarse overtones.

As Big Star's story is often recounted, they were an oddity on the faltering Stax label by being a throwback to British Invasion pop harmonies and power chords. Except that, to my ears, tracks like "Feel" and "O My Soul" show a brazen, rebel assault whose accent is Southern on the fringes. Their local roots were more obvious on their their album, Sister Lovers, which is really an Alex Chilton solo project which featured the likes of Steve Cropper as guest musicians. Sister Lovers would later indirectly resusciate Alex Chilton's cachet (which he single-handedly destroyed with willful, ornery acts of self-loathing and destruction) when British New Wave super-group This Mortal Coil covered "Kangaroo" and "Holocaust". Although Big Star's best known song these days is "In The Street" from their first album, which served as the theme song for "That 70's Show".

Halfway in Chilton's erratic odessey comes this perfect pop song, from Big Star's second album, Radio City. The melodic hooks, chord changes and harmonies are all Beatles, "I Feel Fine" married with Abbey Road polish, though the instrumentation owes a lot of to early Kinks singles, albeit slowed to a jog rather than a sprint. But the crisp snap of the lead fills recalls Steve Cropper and his Memphis brethern while Jody Stephens' drumming sounds like Keith Moon auditioning for a session gig at Muscle Shoals Studios.

The Rolling Stones - "Stuck Out All Alone" (1969)

Between 1968 and 1972, the Stones were greater than the Beatles had ever been. Who else could have come up with a bluesy soul groove as deep as this outtake bootleg and never release it. But then the Stones were quite notorious for throwing away beautiful unfinished tracks, such as "Waiting On A Friend", which they apparently never got around to completing for Goat's Head Soup in 1973 ,when the original backing tracks were cut, where it might have offended such stellar songs as "Dancing With Mr. D".

But "Stuck Out All Alone" is fully realized, an almost perfect cut. Keith Richards plays like he heard "(Sitting On The) Dock Of The Bay" in a dream, woke up, went out to find Steve Cropper's muse and found the ghost of Robert Johnson instead. Bill Wyman supplies a fat bass line that guards Keith's heels, while Charlie Watts does just what he does so well, swinging and tapping modestly and winningly.

To make a case for the Stones editorial wisdom, the fragile angularity of the song might have just barely fit on Let It Bleed and I have to admit it would have been out of place on Sticky Fingers. Yet Mick Jagger sings so soulfully you have to wonder whether the real reason this track was never released because it plain scared the shit out of him.

The Minutemen - "King Of The Hill" (1985)

This is a great political song that served as my soundtrack during the early days of the second Intifada. D. Boon's mini-parable may seem naive at first but in the end, all wars and political struggles are just a bunch of bullies playing king of the hill.

But the song wouldn't have worked at all if Boon hadn't come up with a terrific, quirky riff and wacky little solos that ended as soon as his restless mind moved on to a new idea. And the trumpet part seamlessly takes the Minutemen sound on an unexpected tangent.

Ah, progress. It warmed my heart to learn there are actually Minutemen videos on YouTube. Check out the clip for King Of The Hill. The visualization of the song may too obvious but there is great charm in its silliness.