They didn't really have fancy names like Batman or The Flash. In fact, these two superheroes' exploits might not even merit inclusion in the ranks of crime-fighting. Yet, however modest in comparison, their efforts are no less impressive in importance.

This duo didn't foil a bank robbery or catch a killer. What they DID do however was establish respect for the fledgling Canadian recording industry in the late 1960s. They took on some heavyweights and came out champs more than once, earning some new found esteem for a country that had previously taken a back seat to their U.S. neighbors.

Randy Bachman and Burton Cummings were the Lennon and McCartney of the North. Their band, The Guess Who, seemingly came out of nowhere (apologies to Winnipeg, Manitoba) and put Canada on the world stage. So how do they warrant the moniker of Superheroes? Before they hit the scene, there was virtually no Canadian music industry, beyond the success of a select few. Combining some sterling songwriting, the nimble guitar work of Bachman with the world-class voice and stage presence of Cummings, people began to realize there was more to the frozen north than Anne Murray.

Hits like "These Eyes", "Laughing", "Undun" and of course, "American Woman" vaulted the band to superstar status. I remember reading somewhere that in 1970 or so, the band outsold The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Dave Clark Five and a few other big names COMBINED for that year, coincidentally eclipsing what the rest of Canada's musical artists had sold collectively up to that point. So small feat. Unabashedly patriotic, the band regularly performed in front of a back drop of a Canadian flag and celebrated their home country in songs like "Runnin' Back To Saskatoon".

Ever wonder how your favorite superheroes get their job done? What concoction Spiderman uses for his web-slinging? What dry cleaner does Superman use for his cape? Well, Randy and Burton have invited one and all briefly into their world to visit some of their original muses. Massive fans of early rock and roll, the pair have released a CD of covers with some of the music they say were hugely influential in their development as songwriters. It's kind of like a songwriters clinic via osmosis. Think of it as Batman giving you a guided tour of the Batcave. Imagine a teenager-ish Randy and Burton inspired by Cliff Richard or Fats Domino and then sitting down and writing a song, sparked by that inspiration.

The CD, Jukebox, was originally released last June but was just recently updated with an accompanying DVD. The 17 songs are split between Randy and Burton and each gets their moments to shine, with both sharing vocals. Most of the songs are faithful renditions of the originals, with a couple getting some unique treatments.

The CD starts off with a fairly by-the-book version of The Equals' "Baby Come Back", which is notable to me since I never knew that Eddy Grant of "Electric Avenue" fame was the singer for this band. An energetic "Who Do You Love", the Bo Diddley classic, is relentless as it snake-shimmies its way to the finish line.

In my opinion, there are four or five sweet spots on the record. The first is the awesome version of The Beatles' "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You". Randy sings lead and changes the whole vibe of this song giving it a coffee-house vibe with a more vulnerable vocal. The effect is stunning.

Upon hearing Burton's debut solo record, producer Richard Perry (Barbra Streisand, Rod Stewart) provided the perfect promo quote. He remarked something to the effect of "hearing Burton Cummings is like running into an old friend". And when you hear the cover of Cliff Richard & The Shadows "Don't Talk To Him", that quote is acutely accurate. Burton's voice can either cut like a razor or wrap around you like a Velcro hug and it's the latter that he employs here, giving the cut a much warmer vibe than the original.

Randy moves back into the spotlight with his mood-altering rendition of The Shadows' "Man of Mystery". You can really get into a '60s state of mind in no time with this cut. The difference sonically between the two is vast but even with the advantage of modern sound quality, Randy's version just has more feeling somehow. I listened to them both back to back and this one has a sparkle that radiates. Likewise, the steroid-powered version of the classic "Like a Rolling Stone" which has the exuberance of teenagers. There is an interesting "Wild Thing" riff to start it off as well.

Burton has rarely sounded as good as he does on Sam Cooke's "Good Times", which just strolls by with a real jauntiness. He is equal to the task on a fantastic take of Edwin Starr's "Double-O Soul" where his down and dirty rock side comes to the fore.

Throwing in some gritty guitar lines in place of the horn section of "The Letter" by The Box Tops takes this classic to a whole other level and Randy provides some impassioned vocals. This is almost like a BTO version of the song and for me, that's a very good thing.

The balance of the songs all make the grade as well, resulting in a package that is something to be treasured by any fans of either of these gentlemen or of music of the 1960s. As mentioned, there is also a DVD, filmed by Lil Sarafian, that contains some terrific in-studio segments of the pair, along with their band, The Carpet Frogs. My only complaint is that there could be a lot of more of these, where we discover how the pair learned certain song parts and their creative process as a whole.