Vanilla Fudge - You Keep Me Hanging On

While the rock and roll novelty bands of the 1950s didn’t last through the next decade, there were plenty of acts who picked up the guitar for the sake of a jape. Usually, you could see them a mile away when they did pop up; strange names (Pigmeat Markham, anyone?) not much in the way of original music (The Chipmunks), a kooky gimmick that set them aside from everyone else (The Chipmunks, again). This makes it all the stranger that a band named Vanilla Fudge, releasing an album made up of entirely half-tempo covers of popular hits, was somehow not a novelty act.

Now, that’s not to say that they weren’t a one-hit wonder. It’s just that the one hit was so big it could have kept a lesser band in hemp trousers forever. It was a strange time period; the band got reasonably lucky that the groove-laden psychedelia that was their specialty was just about coming into fashion as they released their self-titled debut album in 1967 because it propelled them into a spotlight they likely didn’t see coming. So yes, not a novelty act – but there was still plenty of head-turning stuff in the archives all the same, if you know where to look.

The band’s history feels even more like there should be a disclaimer when you start playing one of their records when you start to look at the little details of it. Renamed from The Pigeons to Vanilla Fudge, okay, that feels like a one-for-one goofy trade-off. But ties to organised crime through their management? Not quite as sweet as the name suggests. Oh, and a little old band named Led Zeppelin opening for them when they started on their very first US tours. By the time their second (and highly experimental) album The Beat Goes On came out in 1968 – a concept album based on Sonny Bono and, once again, I am not joking about that – the fire had begun to die down and the band split in 1970 after a handful more generally poorly received albums. However, they did go on to reform several times and are still active now, with three original members no less.

With remarkably impressive vocal performances and just dripping with that late sixties sound that is completely inseparable from the time period, this slow-burning rendition of You Keep Me Hanging On is a genuine delight. It also highlights just how sad this song is; the words still mean the same at double the speed, but the presentation reflects the tone of the whole affair. It’s brooding and fuzzy and full of character and it makes an excellent Rock Song of the Week pick, if we do say so ourselves. Go forth and vibe slowly with this one – it’s not much of a headbanger.