Written By Lucien Drake
Deep Cuts Metals Hidden Gems – The Lost Albums Edition. October 21st 2023
You don’t find these songs, you dig them out. The basements, the mislabeled tapes, the bootlegs passed secretly between friends who knew better than to let them die. Every one of them carries a low hum, that strange frequency that only lives in music made for no audience and all eternity at once.
This time, Metal Lair’s Deep Cuts isn’t about singles or scenes. It’s about the albums that never were. The fragments locked in vaults, lost in lawsuits, or traded like holy relics through the underground. Some were too strange for the labels that paid for them. Some were abandoned mid-breath. Some were finished, then buried alive.
From Jeff Beck’s Motown detour to Lemmy’s unfinished solo odyssey, from the Sex Pistols’ forbidden debut to Soundgarden’s silenced finale. These are the ghosts of the record bins, the art that almost slipped out of history.
Dust off the deck. Press play. The past is calling from the underground again and this time, it brought the albums the world never got to hear.
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Deep Cuts: Jeff Beck: Unreleased Detroit sessions with Cozy Powell (1970 Motown Recordings)
There’s an alternate universe where Jeff Beck plugged his Marshall stack straight into the heart of Motown and rewrote rock-soul fusion history. In 1970, freshly split from the Jeff Beck Group and itching to experiment, Beck hauled himself and future Rainbow drummer Cozy Powell to Detroit to cut tracks with Motown’s legendary house musicians. The idea was bold: blend the raw, improvisational fire of British blues-rock with the groove and precision of Hitsville’s finest.
The result, by most insider accounts, was electric. Fuzz-drenched riffs tangled with horn sections. Beck’s searing guitar licks danced over pocket-tight rhythm lines. It was the kind of sound that could have bridged two musical worlds that rarely collided so directly. And then… it vanished. The sessions were shelved without explanation, left to gather dust in the vaults, and Motown never released a note.
For decades, rumors have swirled, test pressings whispered about, a handful of reels allegedly locked in a tape archive somewhere in Detroit but nothing’s ever surfaced. All we’re left with is the tantalizing idea of what might’ve been: Jeff Beck channeling soul’s heartbeat through a rock amplifier, a fusion that could have changed the 1970s before it even began.
What makes this one maddening is it’s not a lost album like Smile or Verse Chorus Verse where demos circulate, this thing basically evaporated. There’s no known bootleg, no studio rough mix, no cover art mockups, nothing. Just scraps of oral history from the people who were almost there.
Lost in The Vaults
What is known comes from a few scattered interviews and memoir asides. Despite no surviving music, track list, or artwork, Beck and drummer Cozy Powell both confirmed they spent about 10 days in Detroit in 1970 cutting roughly nine or ten instrumental tracks with Motown’s legendary house musicians. Powell later recalled attempts to rework classics like “Reach Out I’ll Be There” and “Losing You” with Beck’s heavy guitar layered over tight R&B grooves, an idea Motown ultimately shelved as too unconventional. A 1971 Rolling Stone piece even noted the existence of a “Motown album” that was never released. The tapes have never resurfaced, leaving only hints and hearsay of one of the strangest genre collisions in rock history.
There’s also some speculation and this part’s murkier, that Berry Gordy simply buried the tapes. Motown was about to relocate to Los Angeles, and anything that didn’t fit the new, more commercial vision was quietly boxed up and forgotten. Some insiders swear those reels still sit in a vault, mislabeled or lost in the shuffle of the company’s massive archive.
So yeah, this one’s not a “heard by five collectors on cassette” type. It’s a ghost story. The idea existed, the sessions happened, and then history swallowed them whole.
Lemmy Kilmister: Unfinished Solo Album (2003–2015)
Even while Motörhead roared at full throttle, Lemmy was quietly building something on the side, a solo record that was supposed to be his wild, whiskey-stained victory lap. A chance to stretch beyond the band’s template and pay tribute to the roots that shaped him.
He chipped away at it in bursts over more than a decade, calling in a who’s-who of friends and fellow misfits: Dave Grohl on drums, Reverend Horton Heat trading licks, members of The Damned dropping in with punk-snarl attitude.
It was meant to be eclectic, less a metal record than a jukebox of Lemmy’s obsessions: early rock ’n’ roll, old-school rhythm & blues, sleazy punk, and dirty bar-room boogie. He once described it as “all the stuff that doesn’t sound like Motörhead but still sounds like me.” A handful of tracks were finished. some sources say as many as a dozen demos exist but they never coalesced into a full album before his death in 2015.
In a November 2013 interview with Ultimate Classic Rock, Lemmy confirmed that his long-running solo project was “almost finished,” noting that recording was well underway and that several high profile guests, including Dave Grohl and members of The Damned had contributed.
Bits and pieces surfaced over the years: a duet with German rockabilly singer Nina C. Alice, a track with Grohl that leaked online, a few cuts played on radio specials. But the album itself remains in limbo. The tapes are believed to be sitting in various studios and label vaults, tangled up in rights issues and unfinished production work. There’s talk that Lemmy’s estate and his collaborators could one day compile and release them, but nothing’s been confirmed.
In a way, the unfinished nature of it feels fitting. Lemmy lived like he played, on his own terms, right up to the edge. And this orphaned solo record, scattered across hard drives and memories, is the perfect embodiment of that legacy: rough, defiant, and still waiting for the last drink before closing time.
Lemmy’s solo album exists in that weird purgatory between rumor and reality. Unlike the Jeff Beck Motown sessions, we know songs were finished but they were scattered, dribbled out, or quietly buried over time. Here’s what’s surfaced (or been confirmed by collaborators) so far:
“Born to Lose, Live to Win” (Grohl Sessions): A track Lemmy and Dave Grohl reportedly cut in the early 2000s during the Probot era. It was never officially released, but Grohl has mentioned it in interviews as one of their “extra jams” from those sessions.
“Stand by Me” (Reverend Horton Heat): Lemmy recorded a rockabilly-tinged cover with Horton Heat, which leaked as a bootleg clip online. It’s raw but unmistakably him and more 1950s swagger than Motörhead grit.
“Paradise” (with The Damned): Members of The Damned confirmed they tracked at least one song for the solo project, tentatively titled Paradise, though it’s never been released.
“Tie Your Mother Down” (Queen Cover): Lemmy and Grohl performed this live and discussed putting it on the solo album. The studio version’s fate is unknown, but the live rendition gives a glimpse of how loose and classic-rock-inspired the record would’ve been.
Nina C. Alice Duet: A sultry, bluesy collaboration with the Skew Siskin vocalist, often cited by Lemmy himself as a highlight. It’s surfaced in part on German radio specials but has never been released commercially.
The full tracklist was never announced and that’s part of the puzzle. Lemmy was never much for keeping meticulous notes, and his sessions were scattered across studios and years. After he died, the project didn’t have a single home base or label deal, so it just… sat.
Insiders say there are as many as 10–12 finished or near-finished tracks locked away but because they involve multiple guest artists, labels, and estates, the legal knots are hellish to untangle. Every so often, one of his collaborators hints that they want to finish and release it, but it’s been a decade now with no movement.
What makes this Deep Cut so haunting is that it’s probably the closest we’ll ever get to Lemmy’s personal jukebox. The music he loved before he turned the amps up to 11. It’s the sound of the kid who worshipped Little Richard and Chuck Berry… filtered through decades of cigarettes, Jack, and war stories.
No Known Official Artwork. The project never progressed beyond recording sessions. No title, no cover design, and no release plan were ever finalized, leaving fans with nothing but scattered demos and stories from the studio.
Bootleg Spotlight:
A fan-circulated cut believed to come from Lemmy’s unfinished solo sessions with Reverend Horton Heat. Never officially released, never confirmed — but a glimpse of the swaggering, rootsy record he was trying to make.
Misfits – 12 Hits From Hell (1980)
Imagine a full-length Misfits album from their prime that was recorded, mastered, even pressed, that never officially saw daylight. That’s 12 Hits From Hell, a ghost record so infamous it’s practically punk folklore.
In August 1980, Glenn Danzig, Jerry Only, Doyle, and Arthur Googy hit the studio with producer Robbie Alter to lay down what was meant to be the definitive Misfits statement of their early era. The sessions crackled with raw energy: Halloween, London Dungeon, Horror Hotel and Vampira. All the classics, tracked with the same feral intensity that made their singles cult treasures. It was heavier, tighter, and nastier than Static Age, and poised to become their breakout full-length.
And then… it died.
Internal band tensions were already boiling. Danzig and Only were barely speaking and by the time the record was mixed, the Misfits were splintering. The tapes were shelved, the band lurched on through a chaotic 1981–83, and 12 Hits became just another whispered “what if.”
Fast-forward to 2001: Caroline Records suddenly announced a long-overdue release, complete with remastered tracks and liner notes.
Promo CDs were pressed, review copies mailed out and then Jerry Only and Glenn Danzig stepped in together (a rare alliance) to kill it. Their reasons were never fully spelled out – they cited “mix issues” and…
“unfinished production” – but insiders say legal squabbles and creative disagreements made release impossible. Caroline pulled it within days. The few promos that escaped into the wild are now collector holy grails, trading hands for hundreds of dollars.
Since then, most of the songs have surfaced elsewhere (Walk Among Us, Collection / & II, etc.), but never in their original 12 Hits From Hell sequence or mix. It remains the Misfits‘ most notorious “lost album,” a perfect snapshot of the band’s horror-punk prime, locked away forever by the people who made it.
Bootleg Promo Track — A fan-ripped version of a session from the cancelled 12 Hits From Hell album (Aug 1980). Not officially released. Audio quality may vary and authenticity isn’t fully confirmed.
https://youtu.be/AmU4N14jefY?si=HDP5FPi3jnkjBLU4
Mötley Crüe: Personality #9 1996)
After the commercial disappointment of Motley Crüe (1994) – their first and only album with John Corabi on vocals, the band started writing a follow-up. This wasn’t a half-hearted experiment; it was supposed to be the record that redefined the band’s sound. Corabi had proven himself as a far more dynamic singer than Vince Neil, and the band was leaning into heavier, darker, more intricate songwriting as part of the grunge-era grit, part classic hard rock muscle.
Those sessions became known under the working title Personality #9. By all accounts, the demos were intense: groove-driven riffs, layered harmonies, and Corabi’s soulful roar over a band finally stretching beyond their Sunset Strip sleaze formula. Industry insiders who heard the rough cuts described them as the most musically mature thing Mötley ever wrote.
And then the label killed it.
Elektra, panicking over sales, pushed for a return to the “classic” Crüe lineup. Vince Neil was brought back in 1997, the Corabi sessions were shelved, and the album was buried.
Some of its DNA was later cannibalized for 1997’s Generation Swine – with Neil re-recording vocals over tracks that were originally written for Corabi. But the original Personality #9 versions remain locked away.
Only a handful of demos have leaked over the years with gritty board mixes passed around among collectors. Fans who’ve heard them swear they’re miles ahead of the released versions: heavier, more cohesive, and closer to what Mötley could have become if they’d stuck with Corabi.
The name Personality #9 itself is part of the lore, never confirmed as the official title, but scribbled in studio notes and mentioned in a few interviews. It’s become shorthand among diehards for the “lost chapter” in the band’s evolution. The one where they stopped chasing the past and started building a future that was cut short.
In hindsight, Personality #9 wasn’t undone by its music but by the storm around it. According to Nikki Sixx’s memoirs, fan backlash to the Corabi era was fierce. Ticket sales slumped, albums stalled, and Elektra panicked. The label pushed for a reunion with Vince Neil, who was both resentful and wary, while Corabi says he was quietly pushed out without warning. The project was shelved before it had a chance to fight for itself, making it less a creative failure than a casualty of nostalgia and business panic.
No Official Artwork. The project was halted before it reached the design phase. Any cover art floating online is fan-made, adding to the album’s ghost-status mythology.
Bootleg Demo (Corabi era) — A fan-circulated board mix from the scrapped Personality #9 sessions (mid-’90s). Never officially released; sources and mixes vary. Closest we get to the heavy, more mature direction Mötley were chasing before the label forced a pivot.
Nirvana – Verse Chorus Verse (1994)
In early 1994, Nirvana were planning something that, on paper, looked like a perfect next chapter: a double live album called Verse Chorus Verse. The concept was simple but powerful, two discs showing the band’s dual nature. One would be raw and electric: explosive performances from their 1993 In Utero tour, complete with the chaotic energy and feedback-drenched catharsis that defined their shows. The other would be stripped bare: intimate acoustic sets, including their then-unreleased MTV Unplugged in New York performance.
It wasn’t just another live album. It was meant to be the band’s own narrative. A portrait of contrasts, capturing the violence and vulnerability that made Nirvana resonate far beyond grunge. Plans were moving fast: tracklists drafted, mixes compiled, artwork concepts discussed. DGC even penciled in a release window for late 1994.
And then Kurt died.
After his death in April, everything froze. The surviving members couldn’t bring themselves to finish the project. The idea of listening to hours of live tapes with Kurt’s voice still raw in their ears was unbearable. Dave Grohl later described trying to work on it as “like digging through someone’s grave.” The label shelved the album indefinitely.
Pieces of Verse Chorus Verse eventually surfaced elsewhere: the MTV Unplugged album was released on its own that November, and From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah (1996) compiled some of the planned electric disc’s highlights. But the original double album with its deliberate sequencing and emotional arc never happened.
It remains one of the most haunting “what ifs” in rock: not a project lost to business politics or fan backlash, but one stopped cold by grief.
No Official Artwork. The project was shelved before any design stage began. Any covers you see online are fan interpretations, adding to the myth of an album that was stopped before it even had a face.
Verse Chorus Verse – Proposed Tracklist (1994, Unreleased Double Live Album)
Disc 1 – Loud (Electric Tour Performances)
1.Drain You – Live in Amsterdam, 1991
2.School – Live in Seattle, 1992
3.Serve the Servants – Live in Rome, 1994
4.Breed – Live in Springfield, 1993
5.Smells Like Teen Spirit – Live in Reading, 1992
6.Negative Creep – Live in Buenos Aires, 1992
7.In Bloom – Live in Munich, 1994
8.Scentless Apprentice – Live in Rome, 1994
9. Territorial Pissings – Live in
Seattle, 1993
10. Lithium – Live in Rio, 1993
11. Tourette’s – Live in Springfield,
1993
12. Verse Chorus Verse – Live rehearsal version (planned title track)
Disc 2 – Quiet (Acoustic /
Unplugged)
1. About a Girl – MTV Unplugged,
1993
2. Come as You Are – MTV
Unplugged, 1993
3. Jesus Doesn’t Want Me for a
Sunbeam – MTV Unplugged, 1993
4. The Man Who Sold the World – MTV Unplugged, 1993
5. Dumb – Studio acoustic demo,
1993
6. All Apologies – MTV Unplugged,
1993
7. Pennyroyal Tea – Studio acoustic demo, 1994
8. Where Did You Sleep Last Night –
MTV Unplugged, 1993
Why it mattered: This wasn’t meant to be a greatest hits live record, it was meant to show Nirvana’s whole spectrum. Chaos and catharsis on one disc. Intimacy and heartbreak on the other. It would have been their definitive statement as a live band, not a posthumous compilation, but a living portrait of who they were at their peak.
Fan-Reconstructed Playlist. A sequence compiled by die-hard fans to approximate the shelved Verse Chorus Verse double-album. Based on live and acoustic recordings from 1993–94, this version imagines what Nirvana’s definitive live statement might have looked like.
The Rolling Stones – Could You Walk on Water (1965)
Before Aftermath made them global icons, the Stones were plotting a very different record and it had a very different name. In late 1965, riding the high of “Satisfaction” and their first U.S. tours, they entered RCA Studios in Hollywood to cut what was meant to be their first all-original LP. The plan: a bold, swaggering, self-written statement that would shed their image as mere blues revivalists and cement them as peers to Lennon and McCartney.
They had the material. Jagger and Richards were writing at a fever pitch, pulling from Chicago blues, English R&B, Dylan’s sneer, and the sexual tension that would become their trademark. The sessions yielded songs like “Mother’s Little Helper,” “19th Nervous Breakdown,” and “Take It or Leave It.” The album’s working title? Could You Walk on Water. It was cheeky, blasphemous, and very Rolling Stones.
Then the label blinked. Decca and London Records were terrified the title would spark religious outrage (this was still 1965, the Beatles getting bigger than Jesus was a year away). They pushed the band to change course. The tracklist was reshuffled, sessions extended, and by the time the dust settled, the original album concept was abandoned. Many of the songs were repackaged into Aftermath (UK and US versions), while others trickled out on B-sides and later compilations.
The result is that Could You Walk on Water never technically existed but its DNA is everywhere. It marks the turning point where the Stones stopped being a blues cover band and started being The Rolling Stones™: self-mythologizing, provocative, unapologetically original.
Here’s the most widely accepted fan-reconstruction of what Could You Walk on Water likely looked like before the label killed it. It’s pieced together from recording dates, session logs, and Mick & Keith’s own notes from late ’65. It’s not definitive, but most Stones historians agree this is pretty close:
Could You Walk on Water – Proposed Tracklist (1965, Unreleased)
1. Mother’s Little Helper – Social commentary wrapped in a sly pop hook; written during the same RCA sessions.
2. 19th Nervous Breakdown – Originally slated as the album’s lead single before being repackaged.
3. Take It or Leave It – Jagger-Richards at their most bittersweet, later handed off to the Searchers.
4. Doncha Bother Me – Slide-driven swagger that previewed the Aftermath sound.
5. Think – Tight, garagey riffing and one of their most underrated early originals.
6. Ride On, Baby – A melodic deep cut written for Chris Farlowe but intended here originally.
7. Sad Day – B-side that many believe was meant to close side A.
8. Sittin’ on a Fence – Gentle acoustic ballad, shelved and later dropped onto a compilation.
9. Goin’ Home – The loose, jam-driven 11-minute closer that was way too bold for 1965 radio.
10. Looking Tired – Raw, blues-soaked outtake rumored to be part of the original lineup.
Why it matters: What’s striking here is how modern this sequence feels. It’s not a covers album. It’s not chasing trends. It’s the Stones writing every note themselves. Pushing lyrical boundaries, flirting with psychedelia, and injecting sly social commentary into their riffs. Had it been released under the provocative title they wanted, Could You Walk on Water might’ve hit the same cultural nerve as Rubber Soul or Highway 61 and possibly reshaped the mid-’60s British Invasion timeline.
No Official Artwork. Decca scrapped Could You Walk on Water before it reached the design phase. Any covers you see online are fan-made homages, adding to the album’s “what-if” mythology.
Fan Reconstruction Playlist. A carefully curated mix of tracks intended for the shelved “Could You Walk on Water?” album. Based on December 1965 sessions and mono masters as outlined by Stones historians
Could You Walk on Water? – Reconstruction (YouTube)
Soundgarden: The Unfinished Final Album (2016–2017)
When Chris Cornell died in May 2017, Soundgarden were deep into work on what was meant to be their seventh studio album. A heavy, experimental follow-up to King Animal that the band described as “distinctly Soundgarden.” The sessions weren’t just sketches; they were well underway. By early 2017, at least seven songs had completed vocals and were in the final stages of development.
A legal filing from the band’s lengthy court battle with Cornell’s estate revealed the full scope of the project:
1. Road Less Travelled
2. Orphans
3. At Ophian’s Door
4. Cancer
5. Ahead of the Dog
6. Merrmas
7. Stone Age Mind
Cornell had writing credits on all seven, Cameron contributed to three, and Thayil and Shepherd each to one. Together, they add up to a tight, 29-minute record. A final statement that never reached the finish line.
One detail from the lawsuit makes the story even more bittersweet. In an email dated March 3, 2017, Cornell wrote to his bandmates about “Stone Age Mind”: “Needs you guys for it to sound right… once I sang on the chorus I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Anyway, we will improve it when we get in a room.” That note, humble, collaborative, still dreaming forward, is proof this was never meant to be a solo detour. It was a Soundgarden album, full stop.
When Cornell passed, the “Album Files,” those seven songs plus countless overdubs, riffs, and jams, were stored on his personal devices, sparking a long legal battle over access. That fight ended in 2023, when a settlement gave the band rights to the recordings. And slowly, signs of life began to appear.
In 2025, bassist Ben Shepherd posted a deeply emotional tribute to Cornell on Soundgarden’s official Instagram, hinting that the long-buried record might finally see the light of day. He described hearing “The Road Less Travelled.” A song Cornell and Cameron wrote, and feeling “like a glacier fall away off your chest” as the music transformed into a full-blown Soundgarden song. “Hearing Chris singing from over that horizon,” he wrote, “is invigorating.” Read Soundgarden’s Instagram post here.
Then came the clearest signal yet. In a 2025 interview with VICE, drummer Matt Cameron confirmed the band are deliberately holding the album back until after their Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction. “There’s not a set release date or anything yet,” he explained. “We want the whole album finished before we release a single track.” It’s a deliberate choice and a sign that this isn’t a forgotten project gathering dust. It’s a chapter still being written. Read Soundgarden’s Vice Interview here.
What began as tragedy has evolved into one of rock’s most anticipated unfinished works. A rare case where the story isn’t over yet. The files exist. The vocals are done. The band is still at the helm. All that’s left is time and when that album finally lands, it won’t be an artifact. It’ll be a resurrection.
Sex Pistols: Spunk – Bootleg Demo Album (1977)
Before Never Mind the Bollocks changed punk forever, there was Spunk. A raw, snarling demo collection that hit the streets weeks before the official debut… and without the band or label’s permission.
Recorded in 1976 and early ’77 with producer Dave Goodman, these were the original studio takes of songs like “Anarchy in the U.K.,” “Pretty Vacant,” “Submission,” and “God Save the Queen” but nastier, looser, and far less polished than the versions Virgin Records would eventually release. Goodman had made the recordings as demo sessions, but someone (to this day no one’s fessed up) pressed them onto vinyl and leaked them September ’77, just as the Pistols’ official album was about to drop.
The timing was explosive. Punk was already a media firestorm, and now there was a competing Sex Pistols album, one many fans actually preferred. Some critics argued Spunk captured the band’s real essence: unfiltered, confrontational, and utterly chaotic, free from the studio gloss Malcolm McLaren and Chris Thomas added to Bollocks.
Virgin was furious, the band was split and conspiracy theories have swirled ever since. Goodman was long suspected of leaking the tapes himself to make a point (and a profit), while others think McLaren orchestrated the whole stunt as an anti-industry publicity bomb. The band has never confirmed either story.
Today, Spunk is widely regarded as one of punk’s most legendary bootlegs, rawer, dirtier, and more immediate than the canonical album it shadows. It’s also one of the only cases in rock history where the bootleg dropped before the official release and arguably stole some of its thunder.
Pressing:
Experts believe the first run was a small UK pressing, somewhere between 1,000 and 2,000 copies, likely cut at a small independent plant rather than any major label facility. There are minor label and matrix variations between copies, suggesting multiple pressings followed in quick succession but the original source remains uncredited.
Distribution:
Copies started quietly appearing in London indie shops in September 1977, before Never Mind the Bollocks hit shelves. Some distributors later claimed they “received them anonymously.” The bootleg’s packaging (a plain white sleeve with a simple label) suggests a DIY operation, but it was too widespread to be a one-off fan job.
The Leak Nobody Would Own:
The real story behind Spunk is juicier than the grooves. All signs point to producer Dave Goodman. The guy with the master tapes and an axe to grind after Virgin binned his mixes. He swore he had nothing to do with the bootleg, then later half-confessed to “helping certain people get hold of the recordings,” which is about as subtle as Sid Vicious trying ballet. And then there’s Malcolm McLaren, punk’s own puppet-master, who some still believe orchestrated the whole stunt to stick it to the label and whip the press into a frenzy. Maybe it was sabotage. Maybe it was marketing. Maybe it was both. All we know is someone wanted to burn the system from the inside and Spunk was the match.
Bootleg Session Track — A raw demo of “Submission” recorded during the early Sex Pistols sessions with producer Dave Goodman; later surfaced on the bootleg Spunk. Quality’s rough, provenance murky but the attitude’s pure punk fire.
The Velvet Underground: The Lost Tapes and the Unmade Fourth Album (1965–1969)
The Velvet Underground left behind more ghosts than most bands leave songs. Between 1965 and 1969, they recorded enough material for at least two albums that never quite existed. Demos, acetates, and studio reels that slipped through decades like cigarette smoke.
Before The Velvet Underground & Nico, a young Lou Reed cut a batch of solo acoustic demos in 1965, fragile, basement-tape versions of songs that would later define the band: I’m Waiting for the Man, Heroin, Pale Blue Eyes. Those demos, rediscovered in the 2000s, are a revelation. Reed without Warhol, distortion, or attitude, just an anxious poet whispering into a cheap mic, already inventing modern rock.
Then came the Scepter Studios acetate. An early test pressing of the debut album discovered in 2002 at a New York flea market. It contains alternate mixes and rawer takes of classics that sound like the band playing with one foot in the gutter and one in the future. It’s the closest thing to hearing the Velvets before they learned to mythologize themselves.
But the real ghost is the so called “lost fourth album.” After The Velvet Underground (1969), the band recorded a set of intimate, late-night songs halfway between Candy Says and Loaded. They tracked them at the Record Plant Studios in New York, fully intending to release them in 1970. Then Reed quit, and the tapes were shelved.
Fragments of those sessions finally emerged on the archival albums VU (1985) and Another View (1986), and later in full on the 45th Anniversary Super Deluxe Edition of The Velvet Underground (2014). That box set compiles all 14 songs from the 1969 studio sessions. A document of what could have been the band’s quiet masterpiece.
Among the recovered tracks were “Foggy Notion,” “Andy’s Chest,” “I Can’t Stand It,” “Ocean,” “Rock and Roll,” “I’m Sticking With You,” and “Lisa Says.” Together they trace a strange transition. Lou Reed moving from art-damaged downtown minimalism toward the graceful, bruised pop he’d later perfect on Transformer.
The Matrix Tapes, recorded live in San Francisco in late ’69, fill in the blanks. They capture the band stretching out songs like Sister Ray and White Light/White Heat into half-hour experiments. The sound of a group dissolving beautifully, night by night.
No official “lost album” art exists, but fans often use a black-and-white photo of Lou and Sterling slumped in the studio, heads bowed over their instruments. It fits. These weren’t songs meant for mythmaking; they were songs about running out of myth.
From the Lost Sessions: Ride Into the Sun. A demo intended for the abandoned 1969 Velvet Underground album. Sparse, luminous, and unfinished which somehow makes it perfect.
Legacy
Back in their own time, the Velvet Underground were apparitions in plain sight. An art project disguised as a rock band. Their records barely sold, their shows emptied rooms, and their label didn’t know what to do with them. But the few who did listen never forgot. Brian Eno once said that while only thirty thousand people bought their first album, every single one of them started a band. That’s the Velvet Underground’s true legacy. A quiet detonation that still echoes through every basement, dive bar, and recording booth where someone thinks, “maybe we don’t need permission.”
Ride Into the Sun” (1969 Demo)
This version is the closest glimpse of that lost fourth album feeling. Lou’s voice barely awake, Sterling’s guitar almost polite, the song suspended between dream and exhaustion. It’s the Velvets without a mask, caught in the act of disappearing.
Led Zeppelin: The Bombay Sessions (1972)
In 1972, at the height of their thunder-god fame, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant flew to Bombay chasing something quieter. They met Indian classical musicians at EMI Studios and cut re-imagined versions of “Friends” and “Four Sticks.” Tabla, sitar, bansuri, and modal drones replaced Bonham’s kick drum and Page’s Les Paul. It was Zeppelin stripped to rhythm, air and blues dissolving into raga.
The recordings were meant for a world-music side project that never happened. The tapes vanished into archives for decades, whispered about in collector circles until fragments surfaced in 2015 on the deluxe Coda reissue. Even then, we only got two rough mixes, hiss intact, no polish, no ceremony. Just proof that Zeppelin briefly stepped outside the Western scale and touched the cosmic. The sessions feel like a mirage: East meeting West, genius meeting discipline, never repeated.
Other Lost Corners of the Zeppelin Map
“Blueberry Hill” (L.A. Forum 1970): The first great rock-bootleg. Audienc recorded chaos that captured the band’s live ferocity better than any official release.
The 1978–80 Outtakes: Reels from In Through the Out Door and Coda sessions still rumored to exist with half-songs and jams from a band unraveling but still burning.
The Bombay Sessions: The rarest of all. The sound of Led Zeppelin leaving Earth for a few hours and returning changed.
Legacy
Most bands chase perfection, Zeppelin chased possibility. The Bombay tapes prove that even gods of volume sometimes went looking for silence.
Listen: “Friends (Bombay Orchestra 1972)” — official release on Led Zeppelin’s YouTube channel
Listen: “Four Sticks (Bombay Orchestra 1972)” — Led Zeppelin – Official
As the last raga drone of Zeppelin’s Bombay sessions fades, the hum lingers. The same hum that runs through every lost album in this set. From Beck’s Motown ghosts to Soundgarden’s unreleased requiem, all these stories prove the same thing: the underground never stops breathing, even when it’s buried.
Deep Cuts Metal s Hidden Gems isn’t just a playlist, it’s an act of resurrection. These albums that never surfaced, the demos that vanished into vaults, the rough takes traded hand-to-hand, they’re proof that creation doesn’t need permission to matter. The underground doesn’t die, it just waits, humming in the dark, until someone presses play again.
If you want more discovery, dive into our latest Seven Deadly Songs for the week’s freshest riffs, or head over to our Metalhead Horoscopes where every sign gets its own riff-fueled forecast and lucky song of the week. For deep dives into today’s releases. And go here if you missed the last edition of Deep Cuts Metals Hidden Gems.
FAQ – Deep Cuts: Metals Hidden Gems
Q: What is Metal Lair’s Deep Cuts Metals Hidden Gems series?
A: It’s a feature uncovering forgotten demos, overlooked tracks, and underground metal relics. We highlight songs and bands that shaped heavy music but slipped through the cracks.
Q: Which bands are featured in this week’s Deep Cuts?
A: This weeks edition includes Jeff Beck, Lemmy Kilmister, Mötley Crüe, Nirvana, Sex Pistols, Soundgarden, The Velvet Underground, Misfits, Led Zeppelin.
Q: Why focus on demos and obscure tracks instead of albums?
A: Demos and deep cuts often capture raw energy and pivotal moments in a band’s evolution. They offer insight into how metal scenes grew outside the mainstream spotlight.
Q: Where can I listen to these hidden gems?
A: Many of the featured tracks are preserved on YouTube, Discogs, Metal Archives, or official reissues through varius record labels like Season of Mist.
About The Author
Lucien Drake is the voice behind Deep Cuts Metals Hidden Gems at Metal Lair digging up the rare riffs, lost demos, and overlooked tracks that prove the underground always runs deeper.
