(Before you ask, the title comes from a Misfits bootleg and the bootlegger responsible says: "One of the worst release[s] in regards of artistic merit...was my absolute biggest seller: The Misfits' If You Don't Know The Song... - I didn't know the names of the songs, that's why I called the album that. - Heylin, 2003)
In an age where practically anything and everything can be downloaded onto your computer with little to no effort being exerted, we are already losing the thrill and exoticism of encountering bootleg records in the wild.

For a more in-depth look at this whole phenomena (as well a handy way of compiling a shopping list), I would strongly suggest purchasing Clinton Heylin’s thorough and entertaining book Bootleg! The Rise & Fall Of The Secret Recording Industry (Omnibus Press, 2003) for a more insightful overview, replete with juicy anecdotes from the people behind these artistic labours and the major events that unfolded. For the purpose of this article, I am merely going to tell my own story with a personal combination of favouritism and some dice.


Cut to a few years later, I was doing voluntary work for a local company, which had its own in-house radio station (yes, yours truly had a show there for a number of years). Bruce, the boss of the organisation (and former member of noise-rockers Tender Lugers and Earth Mother Fucker) tolerated my new found love for obscure post-punk and he introduced me to a number of bands and artists that I only had a passing knowledge of. He let me borrow his exhaustive collection of original Stooges vinyl (including the death throes encapsulated on the 1974 live offering Metallic K.O.) as well as his well-worn copy of MC5’s Back In The USA. Having also discovered the majesty of The Velvet Underground at around the same time, he lent me his horde of Velvets bootlegs too. I didn’t have to beg because once I gave back the current trove of goodies, these mysterious bootlegs were now mine to hear too.
First on the turntable were two late 70s bootlegs originating from Australia, Etc. plus And So On. What a revelation! The first side of Etc. was devoted entirely to a pre-VU Lou Reed’s tenure at the cheap and cheerful Pickwick International, cutting cash-in ditties such as 'Cycle Annie' and 'The Ostrich'. Not only were they fascinating, they were also really good, especially 'The Ostrich'. There were also rare outtakes such as 'Foggy Notion' which, although it sounded cruddier, sounded more authentic than the horrid 80s remix on my Peel Slowly And See CD boxset. There were also the some 1969-era live cuts and a couple of John Cale solo experiments that were quite tough on my teenage ears.
Next up was the jewel in the crown: Sweet Sister Ray. Described in Heylin’s book as “perhaps the most avant-garde vinyl statement ever made on behalf of the Velvets”, the double album is a hymn of praise to 'Sister Ray', the final cut on their White Light/White Heat platter which still sounds incredibly powerful, demolishing and ear-splitting after 50 years. Sweet Sister Ray consists of the 40-minute title track followed by two separate performances of “Sister Ray” by the Doug Yule line-up.
Recorded live in April 1968 shortly before Cale was asked to leave, 'Sweet Sister Ray' is a 40-minute meditative preamble which has an almost ethereal folky atmosphere to it before Lou “I’m sorry I was a cunt to you but I am on a diet of wheat husks” Reed stomps on the distortion box to let some holy feedback consume itself before punctuating the organ-dominated swirl with sharp intermittent barks. The nearest comparison point to this track is Fred Frith’s 'No Birds' from the free-form yet magical Guitar Solos album from 1974. Both tracks are in the same key of C and maintain the same manifesto: improvisation isn’t the name of the game but conjuring an atmosphere and a presence is the primary reason for being.
Onto LP 2 and the previously described run throughs of 'Sister Ray'. Side 3 is not as aggressive or attention grabbing as you would expect but still has an insistent and borderline swing to it. If you want assorted electronic shrieks and howls, Side 4 is the place to go. Taken from a source known as the 'guitar amp tape’ because it’s dominated by Lou’s guitar to the detriment of everything else, it is still a wonderful righteous howl. No legitimate record company would ever dare to put this stuff out, but you’ve got to hand it to the bootleggers to throw some interesting and compelling stuff out there. From hereon in, I picked up a copy of Heylin’s book and made a note of what seemed like the most interesting platters to track down.


A chapter in Bootleg! Covered the nefarious and godlike activities of Richard,
whose finest work toed dangerously close to piracy, but these were not the Dictaphone-pointed-at-an-Edison-photograph
scams of the 747 variety, this was Wild Geese-style rescue shit. First on the block is Michigan Nuggets (aka Michigan
Brand Nuggets). Featuring a
mocked-up cereal box featuring Iggy Pop on the cover (but not amongst the track
listing), this double LP set scoops some of the finest 7” jewels unleashed
between 1966-1970 by the likes of Bob Seger & The Last Heard, The
Rationals, Terry Knight & The Pack and MC5.
It’s pretty hectic non-stop fuzzed up bangers, although they could have
included 'Mona' by The Iguanas (featuring Iggy) in place of 'The Ballad Of The Yellow
Beret'.

It's because of Michigan Nuggets, my wife became a devout
fan of Bob Seger’s flawless streak of late 60s stripy-shirt garage stompers,
thankfully unaware of his overall career of mellow brunch jams. In fact, my wife could easily write her own
piece on all these grey-area psych and garage comps, as she owns an enviable
amount of them (The Pebbles Box, Girls In
The Garage) as well as three instalments of Las Vegas Grind.



Television’s Double Exposure is another release that we should all be thankful for. It combines the rare Eno demos cut with the Richard Hell line-up, replete with that oh-so-familiar bouncy bass work that belongs to the Blank Generation, plus a few cuts from Terry Ork's apartment (exit Richard, enter pock-marked Fred Smith on bass duties) perfecting that Television precision on the same tape that the awe-inspiring 'Little Johnny Jewel' single may have sprung forth from.
Finally, as I cannot think of a good way to round up this piece, I have to highly recommend the thoroughly dubious and illegal-right-from-the-start Spanish LP Los Exitos De Sex Pistols por Los Punk Rockers. The story goes that a Spanish record label were too cheap to license Never Mind The Bollocks by The Sex Pistols for general release in Post-Franco Spain, so they simply corralled a local band (who may or may not have the horrific prog band Asfalto) to re-record it in what sounds like a lathe cut on one of those Russian x-ray flexidiscs. As far as I can remember, the official record itself did not come with a lyric sheet so the leader of Los Punk Rockers gives it a shot, with as much of an approximation of snotty nosed Lydon-isms as much as possible. As writer Taylor Parkes remarked on an episode of the Chart Music podcast, the vocalist obviously knows a little bit of English as words appear that didn’t appear on the Sex Pistols record, as well as sounding like the Great Cornholio from Beavis & Butthead. Needless to say the results are pretty much indescribable and the album is quite easy to find on things like Soulseek and it may have to stay this way as there’s pretty much no chance of this ever getting an official release. Then again, you have to wonder whether Los Exitos De Sex Pistols Por Los Punk Rockers was ever legitimate to begin with.

I love the fact that I have the complete 35-minute version of Can’s 'Doko E' (of which only roughly a minute is out there in remastered form) or that I can throw a rock anywhere and hit an excellent live soundboard recording by the Miles Davis Ensemble circa 1965-1975. As a Stooges fan, there are countless grey-area releases and outright bootlegs in varying quality – I am a sucker for rare live recordings where you can practically feel the tension in the room and the sound of Iggy literally spitting teeth, or perhaps crooning 'The Shadow Of Your Smile' before launching into 'New York Pussy Smells Like Dog Shit' (Easy Action released this 1971 audience tape, so go listen for proof). They may not have been perfect but if you’re not fussed about the packaging and only care about the contents, most of this is easy to find in the right places and at least you don’t have to pay extortionate prices for something which may or may not be cat shit.
Finally, here’s a short film from 1971 highlighting the bootleg phenomenon in its early days. The morals of this story are: Yoko is the only one who’s got it right and don’t fuck with Peter Grant. Also keep an eye out for Rick Wright’s expression when they are treated to their very own illegal platter (belly laughs ahoy!)

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