Strung Out on Music

S - Sam the Sham & the Pharoahs - "Li'l Red Riding Hood"

2010-01-03T18:12:00.009-06:00

You may not believe this, but there is more to Sam the Sham & the Pharoahs than "Wooly Bully" & the title cut of this record. Maybe not much more, but enough that it's a shame to see them relegated into two hit wonder status.

Like you, I was convinced that on the times that I did think of Sam & his buddies, I ended up more annoyed than anything, for, with the exception of "Stand by Me", are there any other 60's classics as overplayed as "Wooly Bully"? Sure it's a fun song and all, but you can't always be drunk (you may not believe that either, but it's because you're drunk). What changed my mind about Sam's relevance was the release of "Turban Renewal", the greatest tribute record of all time, brought to you by the benevolent souls at Norton Records. Remember in the 90's when tribute records were all the rage? Any artist of relevance had to be canonized with a cd full of their work being ruined by flavor of the month bands? Everyone had one - even cult artists like Syd Barrett & Skip Spence, as well as industry giants like Led Zeppelin & Leonard Cohen! And they all SUCKED!! Cheaply recorded, cheaply performed, cheaply packaged, they all reeked of ripoff (okay, the Skip Spence one was not too bad). But "Turban Renewal"? Excellent. The lineup was stellar, featuring some of the greats of low-fi garage punk (Untamed Youth, Devil Dogs, Nine Pound Hammer, the A Bones, Teengenerate) as well as underground legends (Hasil Adkins, the Lyres, Handsome Dick Manitoba, Roy Loney) performing the suprisingly awesome catalog of this "one hit wonder". True, some of these versions are, to my ears, a lot better than the originals due to the increased energy & volume, but certainly I realized Sam the Sham deserved a second hearing.

So I got this, their second record. And it's...okay. Never less than pleasant, but not some lost classic either. If you know "Wooly Bully" (and who doesn't), you know their sound: garagey cheesy organ-driven pop tunes with Tejano overtones. The Pharoahs are pictured on the record, but not identified, so I have no idea who's playing what, or if anyone from the band wrote these songs (singer/leader Sam Samudio co-wrote only 2 songs on this disc; one of them, "Pharoah A Go Go", is simply "Wooly Bully" without lyrics.) Most of the songs are somewhat humorous (the title track (obviously the best song on the record), "Deputy Dawg", "Green'ich Grendel", "The Phantom"), with only a couple of flat out lemons (due to "...Riding Hood" hit status, maybe they thought they could duplicate its success with junk like "Mary is My Little Lamb" & "Little Miss Muffet". Bad idea. Jeans. Plus I'm not sure if this version of "Hanky Panky" came out before Tommy James' better known classic, but it's absolutely rotten.) The record ends with its second best track, the goofy frat-rock of "Grasshopper" ("if she was a bottle, I'd want to be the stopper / I'm so glad she's not a blade of grass / cause that would make me be / a little grasshopper". That's actually pretty cute.)

VERDICT: go buy "Turban Renewal" here!!!!
VIDEO: I don't know if this is awesome or awful: it's certainly awkward when Ed Sullivan calls them all over then sends them away just as quickly. That said, "Ring Dang Doo" isn't on the album I just reviewed, but it was that or "Wooly Bully" again. Last plug for "Turban Renewal": listen to the Devil Dogs' cover of "Don't Try It". It SMOKES!

R - The Ramones - "Leave Home"

2010-01-02T21:59:00.006-06:00

Ah, sweet sweet Ramones, wash over me and beat me senseless.

Said it before, will say it ad infinitum: had the Ramones broken up after their third record, they would go down in history as the greatest rock and roll band of all time. Not one artist or band can match the mind blowing greatness of "The Ramones", "Leave Home", & "Rocket to Russia". They were perfect: perfect sound (both retro & futuristic), perfect songs (right to the point, catchy as bubblegum and adrenalized as punk), perfect image (da brudders!), even perfect song introduction (there's nothing that prepares you for some intense jumping up & down better than Dee Dee Ramone yelling "onetwofreefaw!") You simply can't claim to like rock & roll without embracing these three records as tightly as you would your best girl or guy. Fanfreakintastic.

The Ramones's sophomore effort sometimes gets short shifted as the middle child in their holy trinity of goodness, which is wholly unfair, as it easily equals the first in songwriting and easily surpasses it in execution (the songs are tighter & faster, & the production is WAY better (like adding the sound effects on "Pinhead" & the backing vocals on "You're Gonna Kill That Girl"). It's really hard to write about this record, as I can't readily think of as many synonyms for "perfect" as needed without grabbing a thesaurus. Difficult to see how songs this melodic & well crafted failed to make a dent on the charts, yet obvious that they didn't stand a chance in the discofied pop charts, The Ramones really should've had their own cartoon ala the Beatles: imagine the plot lines to accompany songs like "Suzy is a Headbanger" or "Beat on the Brat" - truly a missed opportunity by Hanna-Barbera.

Anyway, if you hadn't already guessed, I love this record. 14 songs with a total running time under 30 minutes (the longest song, "Pinhead" at 2:42, is shorter than David Freidberg's bass solo on the previously reviewed Quicksilver record), you are truly left wanting much much more, but it's better that way. The Ramones weren't into padding this early in their career. All four Ramones (Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee, & Tommy) are all on top of their game, & it's a fun, FUNNY listen. Though sometimes flirting with bad taste ("Glad to See You Go"'s " shout-out to Charles Manson, or "Commando" flirting with Naziism), they don't go too far over the edge to get the laugh, & mostly it's at their own expense ("Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment" or "Carbona Not Glue"). On top of that, "Leave Home" has, in my opinion, their greatest cover: "California Sun". Their version makes the original totally obsolete, and even blows away the Dictators' hysterical cover from two years earlier. When side two fades out, you can't help wanting to turn the record over and play it again. So you do!

VERDICT: GABBA GABBA HEY! Long Live the Ramones!!!
VIDEO: from London at the end of 1977, this video truly captures the Ramones at their peak, right before the departure of Tommy (Marky, his replacement, played far too fast, which undercut the melodies of the songs). Watch how Johnny & Dee Dee are in constant motion, with Joey a truly commanding presence at the center. The last three songs in this video are from "Leave Home", but just go ahead and listen to the whole thing: 5 great songs in 10 minutes from a white hot band, what more could you want?

Q - Quicksilver Messenger Service - "Happy Trails"

2010-01-01T16:56:00.015-06:00

As a musician, I.....

Sorry, I crack myself up sometimes - gotta start over.

As someone who has created noise with a musical instrument, I understand the attractiveness of "jamming". Playing music with another person or people can sometimes be a very rewarding & entertaining experience, especially when you encounter those happy mistakes or missteps that deviate from your normal playing and lead you someplace totally new. Though with my band, the legendary "Plastic Experience", we did our darndest to play cover versions as close to the original as possible; more often than not, we lacked the talent & musical knowledge to do so, and, in failing to play "correctly", what came out was something quirkier and often a lot more fun. So, yes, truth be told, I do like "jamming" (and hope YOU like "jamming", too!)

That said, as someone who has listened to "jamming" as a third party, there is seldom anything more boring in the galaxy than the song that never seems to end (even if it's only 5 minutes long). I understand that the "jammers" are discovering some of the same enthusiasm I described in the paragraph; for them, it's a rush of creativity and wonder. For me, it's time out of my life that is pretty much wasted. (I'm not saying the Plastics' "jamming" is any better; in fact, it would be best described as "can you put on something else, please?") Come on, give me a melody, a good chorus, solo, and end. All killer, no filler - say whatcha came to say, and get the hell out - that's my idea of a good tune.

Quicksilver Messenger Service came out of the San Fransisco scene that spit out the Dead, Big Brother, Jefferson Airplane, Moby Grape, etc. An standard 4 piece band who were just alright at best (just like Jesus!) with a lineup that fluctuated regularly, the most notable player was guitarist John Cipollina, whose tone & whammy-bar use stood out among other SF players. He was a much more methodical player, not particarly flashy or speed oriented, but his solos had dramatic impact and made a point. But you can't build a band on a dramatic guitar - you gotta have songs. Quicksilver weren't much at the writing game, so what did you get? Jamming. Lots and lots of jamming. Ugh.

So "Happy Trails" is their second record and is mostly live. Side One is nothing but an extended version of Bo Diddley's "Who Do You Love". TWENTY FIVE AND A HALF MINUTES, which is WAY too long. HOWEVER -

However...it's not that bad. Really. First off, instead of Bo's hard fast beat, they slow the groove down, perfect for hippie dancing. I'M not dancing, but I dig this alot more than the more often played hard rock version that George Thorogood recorded 10 years later. Second guitarist Gary Duncan sings lead - not all that well, he's got a very limited range and does that annoying white-soul guy holler too often, but, as the vocal portion of the 25 minutes is maybe 3 minutes, you don't have to tolerate it too much. Cippolina plays some stinging punctuations before Duncan takes a solo over jazzy backing. His playing is fine but fairly non-descript, and goes on, as you may have guessed, a bit too long. Then the music dies down to a beat, and they start farting around, making pops & scratchy noises on their guitars while the audience starts clapping and yelling, either out of boredom or because the drugs have finally kicked in. Finally the drums lead back into a screaming Cipollina solo which, ironically, is far too SHORT. All the more unfortunate, because bassist David Friedberg is up next with a 3 & a half minute plod that destroys all the momentum they just built up. Luckily, they return to the song before everyone falls asleep (and before drummer Greg Elmore takes a solo), and the song finds its way to an ending (even the ending drags on and on. Come on, it's Bo Diddley - just go "duh duh duh...duhduh" and finish, already). So yeah, it could've been cut by half and still been too long, but I've sat through way worse Grateful Dead nonsense, and, unlike the Dead's epics, I can appreciate this without being high.

Side Two begins with 7 minutes of "Mona", ANOTHER Bo Diddley song! If they had just marketed themselves as a stoner version of a Bo cover band, I'd like them so much more, because judging on these two tries, they did it pretty well. Sure, the vocals are still boring, and the beat's a little too lazy on this one, but it's got a good feel to it otherwise, with Cipollina's guitar being reverbed from here to Hades (but, again, why is Duncan getting more solo time than Cipollina???) At some point, "Mona" ends and segues into "Maiden of the Cancer Moon", which segues into "Calvary", both songs by Duncan that are simply excuses for "jamming". As a Gary Duncan cover band, Quicksilver are awful, as both of these "tunes" go nowhere and stay there. A useless tuneless cover of the Dale Evans title track (only 47 seconds! They DO know restraint! or at least someone knows how to edit!) finishes out the side.

VERDICT: shave and a haircut - this sucks! Well, not totally. Don't go out of your way for it, though.
VIDEO: this catches Quicksilver right after original lead singer and super tool Dino Valente rejoined, which ended up taking the band in a much more commercial, but not necessarily better, direction. Lots of stoned hippies dancing, eh?

P -Tav Falco's Panther Burns - "Behind the Magnolia Curtain"

2010-01-01T13:02:00.005-06:00

You know, I love sloppy, half-assed rockabilly played by what sounds like 12 year olds churning out a gurgling mess that can only be charitably called "music" using the most broad definition of the term as much as the next guy, but, really, this is too much.

Panther Burns is a vanity project fronted by rockabilly devotee Tav Falco, who gathers whatever Memphis buddies he can wake up to back him as he hoots, hollers, and whoops his way through some obscure covers and a few derivative originals. His most notable co-hort has been ex-Box Top/Big Star frontman Alex Chilton: these recordings give him a chance to play guitar (occasionally drums) without having to expend any effort into creativity, originality, or listenability.

You can sense that the other instrumentalists on this 1981 debut record (Falco, Gun Club's drummer Jim Duckworth, & bassist Ron Miller) shared Chilton's deprivation of quality, as this is one piss-poor record. Proudly stating "all tracks recorded one-take", this might have been a fun listen if there was some kind of inspiration to make up for the lack of everything else, but, sadly, that's AWOL too.

It's interesting to compare this crap to Chilton's own home grown Memphis stew "Like Flies on Sherbet" recorded only a year earlier. Chilton's record is just as sloppy (perhaps even more so), & has the same Sun-style production (& also sounds like the band is made up of drunken teenagers) but there's a sense of abandon & joy in the 150 proof recordings. On top of that, the songs are catchy & memorable; enough so that even if they are ruined by questionable execution, at least they're still good songs. Even after listening to "Behind the Magnolia Curtain" twice (the anguish I put myself through for this blog that nobody reads, I tell ya...), only two songs stand out: "She's the One that Got It" has a dynamic call & response chorus, with Tav actually showing some kind of character in his voice, and RL Burnside's instrumental "Snake Drive" (honestly, even though it's his project, the less Falco, the better.) The rest of the covers, though written by some heavy hitters (Johnny Burnette, Jimmy Reed, Muddy Waters, Junior Wells, Leadbelly, Roy Orbison), just can't overcome the musical atrocities that are perpetuated against them.

VERDICT: crawl back into the swamp until you learn how to play, kids.
VIDEO: wow, this is a terrible version of a good song. And this is after SEVEN years of improvement??? Yipes.

O - Sinead O'Connor - "The Lion & the Cobra"

2009-12-07T20:55:00.004-06:00

I had started this review a host of times trying to draw a correlation between the spoiled bonkers nature of Americans to one of my favorite moments of the 80's: Frank Sinatra threatening to "kick her ass" after Sinead O'Connor refused to let the Star Spangled Banner be played before one of her concerts. It's not a worthwhile comparison, and who cares about politics anymore, anyway?

My first encounter with Sinead was probably like most folks: the transfixing video for her cover of Prince's "Nothing Compares 2 U". It remains a visually arresting video, though the song was always kind of a plodder. I prefered the follow-up, "The Emperor's New Clothes", though neither struck me enough to buy any of her albums until I found her first 2 records at Half Price Books for 50 cents each. Pretty good bargain.

Her debut, "The Lion & the Cobra", is flat out excellent, with only a couple of missteps. There's a ton of variety in the songs, & Sinead has a powerful voice (though she suffers from the vocal affliction of randomly going to falsetto in the middle of a phrase - occasionally irritating, but not enough to sink the songs.) Side one starts with the eerie gothic "Jackie" before switching into the pure pop of "Mandinka", which is fantastically catchy (guitars on this song are by Marco Pirroni, Adam Ant's co-conspirator). Sinead then shifts gears into the funk of "Jerusalem", affecting a rap of sorts (as Marco is not on this one, it is sadly not an Ant Rap) then sinks into the pleading "Just Like U Said It Would Be". Unfortunately, the side ends with the Celtic nonsense of "Never Get Old" (with guest rambling from Enya). Side Two is almost as good, with the emotionally bare "Troy" contrasting with the danceable rhythms of "I Want Your (Hands On Me)" & the moody "Drink Before the War". "Just Call Me Joe", though, once again ends the side on a down note: just call me bored.

Verdict: Though she still doesn't do much for me, I appreciate the hell out of this record.
Video: awesome live version of "Troy" - why didn't you just leave the lights on?? that said, THIS really caused quite the ruckus back in the day. NBC still won't let it be played.

N - The Nazz - "Nazz"

2009-11-20T20:13:00.003-06:00

Why has it taken five months to write this review?

The main reason is that my computer has been either sidelined with viruses (viri?) and/or unable to connect to the internet in that time. During the interim, I've had to use my brother's computer to check up on email etc., though it doesn't give me the opportunity to write, re-write, and re-rewrite these reviews.

That said, there has been ample opportunity to simply turn on my computer and write up a quick blurble, much as I'm doing now. In fact, I've re-listened to this record 4 or 5 times with the notion of getting back on that horse, spitting out some nonsense, and moving on to "O".But there's something about this record that has completely shut me down every time. It's not that bad of a record, especially in comparison with some of the drivel that I've suffered through. But the level of "....eh...." is high enough to make me want to put off reviewing it time and time again. Admittedly, it does deserve better.

This was the first big-time introduction of Todd Rundgren to the world, and he doesn't disappoint. The motto of my middle school (Humble Middle School, Humble, TX) was "What you are to be, you are now becoming" (I remember this saying dumbed down by someone during my first week at the school during gym: "so if you're going to be a bum, you're becoming one now". Despite my 3 years of consistent straight A's at that institution, something in the back of my mind said "bum, eh? hmmmm...." And now I'm 39 reviewing an album 5 months late that no one will read. Hmmmm indeed...) This rings true here: not only does Todd solely write 4/5ths of the record, it SOUNDS like Todd. Even on his first release, where HE'S NOT EVEN THE LEAD SINGER, it totally sounds like pure Rundgren.

The Nazz came outa Philly with a very fresh American take on British rock, melding psychodelic guitar & manic drumming with lush harmonies and melodic songs. This, my friends, is the origin of power-pop, and there is no better presentation of that genre than this LP's opening track, "Open My Eyes". Holy moloney, this is a crusher. Everything you could possibly want out of a great rock and roll classic is here. Beginnning with staggered organ chords & adding a clompy drum line, the fuzz guitar jumps in with a killer riff, soon doubled by a second guitar playing an octave higher, while one note on the organ holds on until the cymbals crash into the verse. And that's just the opening! The singer ("Stewkey") simmers during verses, the one down side of the song: "Stewkey" had no business being the singer: bland, no range, completely unable to bring any emotion whatsoever to this or the following songs. But right now it doesn't matter because here comes the chorus which is glorious - a sunburst of harmonies accompanied by Todd's stinging lead and Thom Mooney's Moon-like drumming. After another verse/chorus, we're suddenly transported to a lounge somewhere: this bridge comes from nowhere, and is a Rundgren trademark. After the vocals peak, Todd's guitar takes over while the group wails for 2 beats, 4 beats, 6 beats, 8 beats, then suddenly we're back into the opening riff, with that lone organ note appearing again and holding on for an eternity as the music peaks and washes us back to the chorus.

Now THAT is a song. It rocks, it swings, it's catchy, it catches you off guard with its changes, it's fabulous. And sadly none of the nine songs that follows can touch it. The next song, "Back of Your Mind", features "Stewkey" and Todd trading off lines and, though "Stewkey" was no singer, at this point, Todd wasn't really either. He was more of a yeller here, which fits the songs, but if you took out "Stewkey"'s vocals on this LP and put in Todd's, it wouldn't have made any difference in the overall quality. Decent verses on this second track, but an absolutely KILLER chorus, and easily the second best thing about this record. After a relatively drab Rundren-y "See What You Can Be" comes their second single "Hello It's Me". Todd later re-recorded this for his landmark "Something/Anything" record, which deservedly became a hit. This is the original recording and it SUCKS. First off, the tempo is non-existent: it seems at least four times as long as its 4 minute length. There's tons of harmonies on it, but they're nothing but window dressing due to "Stewkey"'s tired, flat lead vocal. I love this song, but oh my LORD, this version is awful. And it kills the album dead.

Nothing else on the record is really that worth listening to, unless you're a Toddophile. If so, there is an admirable almost astonishing presentation on how fully formed his compositional skills were even this early on in his career. "If That's the Way You Feel" & "Lemming Song" may as well be solo tunes, as they clearly could come from no other composer. I'm not saying they're great or even that GOOD, but it's kinda fun to hear this budding songwriter already so individual. As for the drum solo on "She's Goin' Down", I can actually do without it.

VERDICT: I can listen to the first 6 minutes of this record for all eternity, but don't make me listen to the rest again. And I forgot to mention the bass player's name: Carson Van Osten. If names are any indication, he shoulda been in Krokus.
VIDEO: sweet power pop, wash over me.

M - Yngwie J. Malmsteen - "Rising Force"

2009-06-24T21:14:00.002-05:00

“I used to could listen for hours to records just for the guitar playing, but then I was dumb, because without an actual song or framework, its just somebody going doodly-doodly-doodly without rhyme or reason, and it bores me intensely (though I still own one Yngwie Malmsteen record, you’ll NEVER catch me actually listening to it).” – from my review of the Yardbirds’ “Roger the Engineer” record.

Whoops. Color me a fool.

So you know how I feel about flashy guitar players – no more needs to be said, though I’m sure I’ll end up saying it anyway.
Yngwie Malmsteen was THE hot new guitarist on the block in 1984-85. His calling card was speed: no one, and I mean NO ONE played faster than Yngwie. At a time when this kind of talent really seemed to matter, he not only sounded the part, but he looked it too: 21 years old, long hair, classic 80’s metal dude. Music magazines had this Swede plastered all over the place before his first solo record even came out (he first drew notice in the boring “Alcatrazz”). In interviews, he would position himself as the rightful heir of the musical throne of Bach, Paginnini, & Hendrix (though it’s obvious that he patterned himself after more recent players like Richie Blackmore of Deep Purple and Uli Jon Roth of the Scorpions.) At school, we’d look at pictures and wonder if his name was pronounced “yuh-NIG-wee” or “ING-wee” or “ING-vay” (the latter is correct). Finally the record came out. Yup, he sure was fast. Real fast. Faster than Van Halen, even. Problem was he couldn’t write. At all. No melodies, no lyrics, no nothing. But he played fast, alright. John became the Yngwie collector of the family: I think he bought the first 4 Yngwie records before losing interest. I never developed that interest myself, though I did have his picture on my wall for many years. He looked cooler than he sounded.

And how does it stack up today, you are asking yourself? Not well, matey. For one, it has the ABYSMAL sound of 80’s metal, especially the drums of ex-Jethro Tull member Barriemore Barlow (who happens to share my birthday – Virgos rule!) For another, as I mentioned, there’s not one memorable riff or melody on the whole record. You may as well listen to it with the sound off, because you’ll retain nothing. Lastly, his guitar playing…it IS superfast. Too fast. He plays 10 notes when 4 would suffice. There are endless descending and ascending runs – so many that you eventually tune them out, noticing only when he SLOWS DOWN (which isn’t too often). Seeing as he always claimed he was more than just another metal guitarist, (he is Yngwie “J.” Malmsteen, after all), he turns a Bach work into heavy metal drivel (this album came out around the same time Spinal Tap exposed so much of the rock & metal world for the sham it was, so it was passe upon release), has a harpsichord player on another song, and shows that he can play acoustic guitar and bass just as fast – yet for no real reason. A keyboard player appears on many of the cuts, sometimes dueling with Yngwie (sorry, Yngwie J.) on solos – hey buddy, I don’t care how fast YOU play, I didn’t buy this to hear fast keyboards, DUDE.) Plus there are two actual songs featuring vocalist Jeff Scott Soto, who must’ve been an old friend, because he has no business singing metal: on the first (“Now Your Ships Are Burned”), he sounds like a smoother James Hetfield of Metallica; on the second (“As Above, So Below”), he is the faceless metal singer that you imagine when you think of “generic”.

I despise Gene Simmons as a human being, but he made a really good point in the “Kiss Extreme Close-Up” video (he was burying Mark St. John, their third guitar player who became disabled & had to leave the band after recording one album with them): he stated that he would rather hear a simple hard chord whose sound almost breaks your ribs than to hear a million notes that just sounds like an angry bee – so annoying that you want to shoot that thing (and if Gene Simmons gets in the way of the bullet, all the better).

VERDICT: listening to this record is like driving through the Midwest (say, Kansas) at full speed. When you look out the windows, everything is rushing by so fast that you can’t focus on anything (not that there’s anything of interest to focus on). You just want to get through it as quickly as possible and move on to something else.
VIDEO: here’s Yngwie J doing his thing in Japan. They seem to like him, though people probably didn’t care too much for him on a flight to Toyko in 2002. Apparently, another passenger spilled water on him after he wouldn’t shut up, and, drunken and beligerant, he went off: (not safe for work). I like this clip much more than any of his music.

shred THIS!

L - Led Zeppelin - "Led Zeppelin""

2009-06-21T14:32:00.000-05:00

Led Zeppelin changed my life.
They redefined in my mind what a rock group should be. They had the best of everything: best vocalist, best instrumentalists, best songs, best records, best album covers, best mystique - the list goes on (as does the beat, but that's a moot point). I started listening to them around 7th grade: by the time I was in high school, they were second only to AC/DC of my favorites (and that's only because AC/DC was more fun). Though it was more due to a general laziness than anything else, I still somewhat blame Led Zeppelin for taking away my focus (or even interest) in maintaining good grades at school. What would you, as a suburban kid, rather do: study algebra or rock to "The Immigrant Song" over and over again?

This was all when I was a teenager, though. I really don't listen to them much anymore, partly because of over-exposure (totally the fault of classic rock radio, by the way. I could go the rest of my life without ever needing to hear the following Zep songs again: Whole Lotta Love, Thank You, Living Loving Maid, Rock and Roll, Stairway to Heaven, Dancing Days, D'yer Mak'er (HATE that song), Trampled Underfoot, Fool in the Rain, & All My Love), partly because the initial buzz of discovery has been tempered by all the copycat bands that still pop up, and partly because my interest in the heavy blues rock genre is dead as a doornail. Though I still think very highly of John Bonham's drumming, Jimmy Page was talented but overrated and sloppy as hell on guitar, and Robert Plant got so much better when he wasn't shrieking (his recent work with Alison Krauss was REALLY good).

It was interesting to listen to this record in whole again after not having played it for years. Considering it was one of the regulars on my turntable, I remain very familiar with the songs, and wasn't surprised by anything. I got out of it what I expected: some of the songs are still really good (mostly the pop ones) and some are dreadful (mostly the blues ones).

· "Good Times Bad Times" - a great rocking way to kick off the record. Good vocals, bass, and drumming - and superb guitar playing. There are two awesome dramatic moments in the song: the first is the hesitation right before the first solo - it's a perfect moment because the solo comes roaring into a full speed gallop after the pause; the second is after the final chorus: as the bass plays through the bar unaccompanied, you hear the guitar pick chip at the strings, like Pagey can't wait to come back in, and when he does, it's this super speedy run. YEAH!!!!!

· "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" - one of Zep's trademarks was the light/heavy - acoustic/electric contrast. Sometimes it worked very well ("Ramble On"), other times not so good. Like this song, for instance. Musically, it just isn't very interesting, but it's the lyrics and vocals that totally sink it. I'm not sure what Plant is doing during this song. He starts out by declaring to "Babe" that, well, he was going to leave her: he even specifies that this event will happen in summer (Babe: "but it's October!"). In the second verse, he says that no, he doesn't REALLY want to leave – (pause) – just kidding, of course. Seriously, he's outa there (to "ramble", apparently.) He never specifies WHY it's so important that he leaves "Babe", but it's clearly starting to get him, because he starts SCREAMING apropos of nothing. When the verse finally comes back in, it seems like he's changed his mind YET AGAIN. So now they're staying together with the action plan for the future including daily trips to the park for walks (this kind of exercise must be a big part of Plant's regimen because he YELLS this at "Babe" as well.) Okay, they're fine now emotionally and physically (he even has changed his nickname for her to "WO-man"), he admits to being very happy to be with her, then hollers that he's "got to go away". At this point, "Babe" must be shrieking at HIM to make up his damn mind already, or, at the very least, shut the hell up. I guess he gets this message because he ends the song with a low moan, still indecisive. Believe me, “Babe”, I feel for you – I’m frustrated just having to sit through it. (Rip-off alert: the song is credited on the record to "Traditional, arranged by Jimmy Page", though the song was actually written in the 50's. Starting in the 90's, the composer finally received credit and back royalties.)

· "You Shook Me" - this song is a very good definition of the word "plodding". I'm sure in 1969, this kind of generic heavy blues impressed a lot of people, but man, it is dull, cliched, and goes on forever. Pure cock rock, with a decent electric piano solo, an awful harmonica solo, and more Plant screaming unnessarily. Instead of fading out, it leads right into

· "Dazed and Confused" - a super great descending bass/guitar riff leading into the first real classic of Zep's career. Plant is having girl trouble again and lashing out at women in general (“the soul of a woman was created below” - it was at this point that I became uncomfortable by how down on women (or maybe it was just "Babe") this record has been. Scanning side two, it doesn't get any better) but his overwrought vocals fit the song well. The quiet middle section featuring Page bowing his guitar strings is nice, but more for the actual usage of the bow rather than actual notes played. I like the speeding up the tempo before the guitar solo, and there's some cool ensemble playing before throwing on the brakes into the last verse. There's a good buildup at the end, then fade side one. (Rip-off alert: the song was written by a folksinger named Jake Holmes in the late 60's. The Yardbirds (featuring Jimmy Page) played the song often in their last year, though they never recorded it for release. For the first Zeppelin album, Page re-wrote the lyrics, and took full credit. To this day, he has not given Holmes even a co-writer credit. THEIF!)

· “Your Time is Gonna Come” – beginning with a keyboard solo from John Paul Jones that pays tribute to (or rips off, depending on what side of the fence you’re on) the organ solos that Garth Hudson of the Band would play leading into their classic “Chest Fever”, the song settles into a mellow acoustic groove that sits there impotently, while Plant threatens “WO-man” with retribution for running around on him (can you blame her, though? First he’s staying, and then he’s going. First he’s happy with her, then he’s not. I’m guessing WO-man did not take his threats very seriously, cause he’s not going anywhere.) Page plays a pleasant steel guitar, but the song seems unfinished, and fades out.

· “Black Mountain Side” – starting in his Yardbird days, Page showed an affinity for middle-eastern or world music, as it came to be called. Thanks to George Harrison, Indian music still seemed the rage in 1969, even though generally Indian music played by white British rock stars tended to be simply pop music tarted up to sound foreign. On this short acoustic piece, Page is joined by an Indian tabla player. It’s okay: his acoustic compositions would be better in the future – this one is a little redundant, but it’s over soon enough.

· “Communication Breakdown” – the BEST song on the record: short, heavy, dramatic, excellent. Pagey firebombs the solo and Plant pitches a fit on vocals. The Dead Kennedy’s said it best in their song “Short Songs”: “I like short songs” repeated very fast 13 times. So do I.

· “I Can’t Quit You Baby” – another drab blues cover; like “You Shook Me”, written by Willie Dixon (perhaps Page had a dose of honesty and moral responsibility that week when he actually credited the correct songwriter. Or maybe he just had a lot of respect for the legendary Chicago bluesman. Of course, that respect must’ve drifted off by the next LP, as Willie himself was completely ripped off, as Page/Plant claimed they wrote “Whole Lotta Love”. Willie eventually got his credit years later.) This cover is better than it’s counterpart on side 1, but you can still pass over it without missing much. Luckily it leads into the skipping bass/drums beginning of

· “How Many More Times” – the second best song on the record, and one where the length actually benefits it. Yes, at its core, it’s just another blues song, but through its volume, dynamics, and killer heavy riff, it becomes something very different – heavy metal. Though I would not want to listen to it for days, I think I actually could. The whole band is on fire, and it swings AND it STOMPS. A phenomenal closer (despite being a RIP-OFF: blues icon Howlin’ Wolf (Chester Burnett) wrote a song called “How Many More Years” that Zep somehow figured they could call their own with a few lyric changes. Guess what? Howlin’ Wolf is now properly credited on Zeppelin re-releases. Totally shameless.)

They do look very cool on the back album cover, for a bunch of cheaters.

VERDICT: it meant a whole lot more to me when I was younger, but I still like it. Mostly.
VIDEO

K - the Kasenetz-Katz Singing Orchestral Circus - "Original Cast Recording"

2009-06-20T17:08:00.003-05:00

You know, I go on and on and on about rock and roll, and how serious it should or shouldn't be. I admit that I have, at times, taken music WAY too seriously: perhaps because of the overwhelming influence music (particularly rock and roll) has had in my life, or perhaps because I don't often have a whole lot of other things going on. Whatever the case, there have been many times where I have been grossly unfair to music that doesn't strive to be more than simple pop fun. Bubblegum music. Music with no ulterior motive than to make the kids happy (and make disgusting amounts of money by knocking out assembly line material that has a couple great hooks and a spirited (if anonymous) performance.) Who cares if it ain't nothin' but a good time? (Poison was one of THE great bubblegum bands of all time, by the way.) There are times I don't want to think or sink into the intricacies of "art". I really really really just wanna zig-a-zig-AHHHH!

The heyday of bubblegum music was arguably in the late 60's, amid the backdrop of psychedelia, protest, and pot. The 60's changed not just pop music, but the BUSINESS of pop music: musicians and songwriters were taking their own reigns rather than letting the producers have all the fun. The Beatles, another of the great bubblegum acts, led the way. I put down Paul McCartney a lot (justifiably so), but MAN could he write a perfect pop song. The fact that they also had artistic integrity and talent made their career, even in the early stages, still more impressive. The youth market was booming, and the producers & record companies were pulling in huge amounts of dough. As the Beatles and others like them grew, their music became much more sophisticated (is it really possible that there was only 2 years between "She Loves You" & "Tomorrow Never Knows"? THAT is growth), but there were younger kids who were just now coming of age to buy the records, magazines, & paraphernalia of their siblings who didn't GET the new directions. No problem: record execs like Neil Bogart & Don Kirshner simply made up or took over bands to cater specifically to the kids. A lot of these songs are so sugary your teeth rot, but it's a good pain - like an ice cream headache; it HURTS, but you don't stop eating it, do you?

A few years ago, I began collecting some of these old bubblegum records as part of my "simplify" philosophy (inspired by "Walden" - yes, Thoreau motivated me to listen to the Archies.) I was already well familiar with the Monkees (my first concert), and some of the better-known gummy classics ("Sugar, Sugar", "Yummy Yummy Yummy", "Gimme Gimme Good Lovin'"), but didn't know anything about the bands that performed them. For good reason, it turns out. Generally, they didn't exist - or if they did, they would do shows and appearances to promote records that they mostly didn't write or play on. The house producers and songwriters were kings, and few were hotter than Jerry Kasenetz and Jeff Katz of Buddah records. Cranking out faceless hit after faceless hit, they specialized in simple, almost childish, singalongs filled with hooks (and, often, double entendres: I still feel a little queasy hearing "I got love in my tummy", but it's GREAT).

In 1968, Buddah decided to have a big bubblegum show at Carnegie Hall featuring their "superstar groups" like the 1910 Fruitgum Company, the Ohio Players, and the Music Explosion, along with other less known (ie non-existent) bands like the 1989 Musical Marching Zoo & J.C.W. Rat Finks, under the title "the Kasenetz-Katz Singing Orchestral Circus". This record is purported to be the "original cast recording" of the event - like it's the soundtrack to a play or something. Unfortunately, it's a sham: a pure studio creation labeled to mislead its underage audience. I absolutely do not understand the purpose of this record other than to make a fast buck. Even more confusing is that much of the record isn't even K-K material: there are unbelievably bland versions of "You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling", "We Can Work it Out", "A Place in the Sun", "Yesterday", and "Hey Joe" - none of which comes anywhere close to being even a fraction as enjoyable as the originals. There are a couple of insultingly fake "live" introductions, purportedly by members of the aforementioned bands, but more likely to be the recording engineer or the guy who happened to deliver lunch to the recording studio that day. Side Two features "live" versions of previous K-K hits "Little Bit of Soul", "Simon Says", and "Latin Shake"; over pre-recorded audience screaming, some guy exhorts the crowd to sing along, so they do: the "audience" clap and sing over the ORIGINAL songs - like if you were in your car and singing along to the radio. It's pathetic. (That said, I'd never heard "Latin Shake" before (originally by Lt. Garcia's Magic Music Box - uh huh), and I'd like to hear it without these phony overdubs.) K-K add a couple slower, Kinks-style story songs which aren't very good, and the only other original "Down in Tennessee" is more of an excuse to name drop the bands again rather than to get your heart a-pumpin’ and your feet a-jumpin’.

VERDICT: ever get the feeling you've been cheated?
VIDEO: this is FANTASTIC in so many ways: the phenomenally nerdy group, the stoned guitar player who clearly hated the camera being in his face, the silhouettes of I’m guessing one of the band member’s parents in the “audience”. I LOVE it.

J - Michael Jackson - "Off the Wall"

2009-06-18T20:19:00.004-05:00

Whew…it took a couple of days to get the stink of patchouli from the steaming pile of hippie crap called the Incredible String Band off of my turntable long enough to change records, where it was replaced by the sweet sweet smell of a 21 year old Michael Jackson funkin’ it up somethin’ fierce. Yet it’s not as good as I’d hoped.

(During this note, I will not be reviewing his status as an unconvicted child molester. He is innocent until proven guilty, and, luckily for him, he had enough money to throw around to keep this a moot issue. The world has always had its fair share of creeps, sickos, and perverts – the entertainment arena has never cornered the market on them. Can artistic milestones sometimes trump moral depravity? Yup. History has shown us that time does separate the art from the fart. Can Michael hope for a future where his music is more resonant than his freakishness? Nope. Because even “Thriller”, as great a record as it is, isn’t really all that. “The Girl is Mine” is NOT art.)

Anyway…

As you may have guessed, my opinion of Michael Jackson as an entertainer isn’t super high. There are a few things that he deserves huge amounts of credit (or blame) for: certainly defining music video; for creating, controlling, and manipulating a public persona that was unparalleled; and, through a combination of talent, drive, and ambition, being the catalyst that broke open the music world of the 80’s, leading to popular music and culture becoming more racially diverse than ever before. Michael did some great music prior to “adulthood” (because who doesn’t like the Jackson 5? Let me re-state the question: who doesn’t like the Jackson 5 songs sung by Michael?) and did some fine work after “Michael Jackson the myth” started crumbling (post-“Dangerous” – though I will always question the dubious distinction of having MacCauley Culkin strike a gangsta pose in the “Black and White” video), but his career as a mega-star will always be defined by 2 records – “Thriller” and “Bad” – which spanned an 8 year period. Not a whole lot of productivity in 8 years really (and I don’t include the Jacksons reunion albums or things like “We Are the World”, which together took him about 10 minutes of inspiration.)

“Off the Wall” is his first full exhale of creative control, and it’s very good. Michael’s performances are definitely terrific – his voice is extremely nimble and expressive, and it sounds like he’s having a blast with this material. As well it should, because this is a dance record first and foremost. The songs are primarily either about dancing (“Get on the Floor”, “Burn This Disco Out”), use dance metaphors (“Rock with You”, “Off the Wall”) or are get-it-on tunes with a dance floor beat (“Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough”, “Working Day and Night”). Side One is a nonstop funk fest, and is fully enjoyable; Michael gets extra credit for writing 3 of the 4 songs, including the stone classic “Don’t Stop…”. This is not only the best song on the record, but one of the true classics of R&B, and is, in my opinion, only matched in his career by “Wanna Be Starting Something”. In fact, I think the weakest part of this record is the material on side two written by the proven pop songwriters: neither Carole Bayer Sager, Stevie Wonder, or Paul McCartney (ESPECIALLY Paul McCartney’s) contributions hold a candle to either Michael or Rod Temperton’s compositions. The only exception to this is the heartbreaker “She’s Out of My Life” written by some guy named Tom Bahler. (Sorry, Paulie, that song (and the hankie-wringing performance Michael delivers) blows away ANYTHING you did in the 80’s or 90’s. “Biker Like an Icon”, indeed.)

That said, I kinda expected to like this record a lot more. Seeing as I prefer the 70’s Michael to the 80’s and beyond freak, I thought this would be a minor masterpiece that I could groove to while wondering what the hell went wrong. (“Thriller” is a fantastic record, but as music, it wasn’t good enough on its own to create the phenomenon that eventually unraveled his personal and professional life. Of course, neither was “Meet the Beatles”.) It’s just that the material is not quite there yet. The thing about “Thriller” was that it had such amazing crossover success: “Billie Jean”, “Beat It”, “Human Nature” and the appalling “The Girl is Mine” are all VERY different songs in different styles, yet all of them nail the sound they were going for perfectly. Though it also nails ITS sound, “Off the Wall” really only has one.

But it’s not fair to compare these two albums in that way, as they are so different. So fine, I won’t anymore. (And, um..regarding the picture of the album above...that's a camera flash. The actual front cover does not feature his glowing crotch.)

VERDICT: side one is excellent, side two is spotty with only one real gem. A very good dance record. And now I’m going to change records and listen to “Wanna Be Starting Something” again.
VIDEO: aw HELL YEAH!!!!

I - the Incredible String Band - "U"

2009-06-14T17:19:00.002-05:00

Dude…
If the first sound you hear when you drop the needle is a sitar twanging and bonging, you’re in for a rough ride.
When that sitar is kicking off a two record set of hippie nonsense subtitled “A surreal parable in song and dance”, you’re SERIOUSLY in trouble.

The lowdown: the Incredible String Band was primarily 2 Scottish folkies who frolicked in whimsy and truly symbolized 60’s love children taken to extremes. Like if Donovan was serious. (He was?? Oh…) Mike Heron (the lower voice, the more straightforward songs) and Robin Williamson (high voice, experimental instruments, compositions more free form) were earnestly (BOY are they earnest) trying to bring the British folk sound into the Summer of Love: while they could occasionally stumble over a good tune (Heron’s “You Get Brighter” & “China White”, Williamson’s “First Girl I Loved” & “Way Back in the 1960’s”), they were more apt to be precious – so precious you wanted to beat them senseless.

I was NOT looking forward to this record. I tried listening to it once when I first got it, and didn’t even get through side one (when I learned that the live presentation of “U” included mimes, I REALLY wanted nothing to do with it.) Yet here it is – “U” is the only other “I” in my collection, but unlike the other “I” (Michael Iceberg), I’m not actually angry having to hear it, but I AM annoyed and bored out of my gourd. AND I HAVEN’T EVEN GOTTEN TO THE SECOND RECORD YET.

Upon hearing the 8 ½ minute introductory song “El Wool Suite”, I was reminded why my initial impressions weren’t unfounded. But at least there’s no vocals on this one. The rest of side one is absolutely awful. Almost all Williamson songs (except for the cowboy parody “Bad Sadie Lee” done by someone named Janet Shankman), Robin is the kind of singer who doubles or triples the length of a two minute song by stretching one syllable words like “time” into about 15 syllables by trilling and scatting up and down his limited register. Have I mentioned that his songs are precious? Oh yes, they are. “The Juggler’s Song” (TERRIBLY sung, by the way) tries to use a juggler as an analogy for power, substance, and time, and fails miserably. Side one closer “Queen of Love” goes on FOREVER, with Tom Constanten’s (early experimental associate of the Grateful Dead) string arrangement being the only positive.

Side Two isn’t as rough, as it’s more Heron’s material (not that it’s GOOD, mind you, but it’s a far cry better than side one’s crap). Instrumentals kick off and close the side (with “Partial Belated Overture” sounding like something Mike Oldfield would later do, and the full band sound of “Bridge Theme” providing a nice contrast to all the acoustic noodling, respectively). In between, though - junk. I like Heron’s piano playing in “Light in Time of Darkness” but then he starts braying his vocals, and I try to tune it out as best I can. Throughout the record, the boys are accompanied by their girlfriends, Rose & Licorice. Rose plays a decent bass and sings poorly, and Licorice plays drums and, uh, spoons, and sings REALLY poorly. I fell asleep during the absurd “Hiren Pawnitof”, but woke up (heh – “I Woke Up” was the album they released prior to this one. It’s also the title of Jandek’s strangest release, but that’s for another review) when the electricity of “Bridge Theme” hit. Then I fell back asleep again.

I don’t want to finish listening to this. The first record sucked hard, and the second doesn’t look like its going to be better (side 3 is almost ALL Williamson songs) and the LP ends with a 15 minute thing called “Rainbow”. God help me in the future.

Okay, just finished. Was it as bad as I’d worried? Almost. The first song on side 3, “Bridge Song”, features some of the worst group vocals I’ve heard from any band. On lead vocals, Licorice sings in an ugly high registerr, matched only by Mike’s off-pitch howl. Following this time waster is an acoustic guitar solo from Robin that goes nowhere, and leads into the acapella “Invocation” that presents Robin at his absolute worst. But then a curious thing happens: the rest of the side is (comparatively) non-offensive. Sure, “Robot Blues” is just Robin banging away at the piano doing a “future blues” parody, but it’s much more tolerable than its immediate predecessor. The side 3 closer, “The Puppet Song”, is NOT BAD. The lyrics are as dippy as all those before, but a little more clever, and the music is quite nice. And this is from Robin – maybe I’ve misjudged him.

No I haven’t, because side four is abysmal. Beginning with Robin’s now patented shrill AAAAhhhhahAHHHHehhhhhAYYYYYY, moving through an inconsequential solo from Licorice (at least it’s not falsetto this time), and ending with the feel-good-send-the-hippies-back-to-the-park-happy “Rainbow”, I’m spent. I don’t want any more music today. Was this music? Was this supposed to be good? Am I just not getting it?

VERDICT: Netflix sent me all 3 discs of the “Macho Man” Randy Savage retrospective; I should’ve been watching that instead.
VIDEO: this is a lot more coherent than anything on “U”. U probably won’t like it. I don’t.

H - Neil Hagerty - "Neil Michael Hagerty"

2009-06-13T13:16:00.002-05:00

I fully admit to being a fan of junk rock. You know the kind: sloppy guitars, squawked vocals, dirty drums, little or no production, and vaguely irrelevant songs with totally irrelevant lyrics. Music that is generally more fun to make than to listen to: where the energy level is way more important than quality control. When needing a quick burst of adrenaline and devil may care attitude, this kind of music is my drug of choice.

Speaking of drugs, I also fully admit to being a fan of junky rock. This can possess some of the same attributes as described earlier, or can go in a more inert direction. Lyrics tend to be more important to the overall effect, though then are often more obtuse, and generally aren’t that much better. Musicianship is more lazy than sloppy (which generally corresponds to the musicians passing out while playing). Production is such as to make the music seem as disconnected as possible from reality. I prefer this type of sound when I want to zone out completely and need a soundtrack to an evening spent staring at the ceiling or my toes (depending on my mood).

Neil Hagerty has always had a foot firmly planted in both camps. When he was “guitarist” in the infamous noise rock band Pussy Galore with future hipster doofus Jon Spencer, it was all about the visceral, in your face sound of someone screaming in your ear while beating you about the head with a tire iron, while in his side – later full time – project, Royal Trux, he and partner Jennifer Herrema perfected the poise of a junkie couple locked in a studio, laying down tracks (of various kinds), then messing with, distorting, layering, and embellishing them to create a very disorienting mélange where melody & rhythm seemed to happen only by accident. Their second record “Twin Infinitives” is one of the most self indulgent pieces of indie crap I’ve ever tortured myself with: surprisingly, seeing as I’m one of the most self-indulgent musical masochists I know, I don’t have it anymore, & have no desire to hear it again. It’s THAT bad. Royal Trux definitely got better with each successive record, though; by their fifth record “Thank You” (their major label debut – I can’t imagine any credible record company that isn’t simply trying to horn in on the DIY crowd sinking money into this stuff. They rewarded the label’s interest in them with the disgusting picture of a clogged toilet on the cover of their next record “Sweet Sixteen”. They were dropped soon after), they sound like a classic southern rock band wacked out on downers: sure it’s still sloppy and greasy, but there are songs that actually resemble catchy MUSIC, and both Neil & Jennifer have very charismatic presences (especially Jennifer’s raspy vocals (obviously influenced greatly by emphysema patients – Neil’s vocals were more yowling ala Keith Richards)). Much better than the Black Crowes, anyway.

So when Neil released his first solo album in 2001, I wasn’t sure which side to expect – or even to see if there would be some crazy new direction he’d nod toward. “Jazz Odyssey”, perhaps. Well, it doesn’t differ than much from Royal Trux, except he reverts back to the screwing around in the studio sound of the earlier records than the band sound of the latter. And while he’s more accomplished now than he was then (it’s a CLEAN sounding record), these songs (and they ARE songs – not sketches or improv this time) are so forgettable that even though I finished listening to it about 20 minutes ago, I don’t recall any differentiating feature from one song to the next, outside of the opening track “Know That” which rips off its hook from the Hues Corporation’s “Rock the Boat”. It does sound like a true solo record in that all the playing seems Hagerty-ized (even the ever present drum machine sounds phased). Neil sings in his lower register for much of the record, which definitely makes it more palatable for the ears – his high whine is pretty painful - and there’s plenty of overdubbed guitars & keyboards, none of which sounds “right”. While I was listening to the record, I certainly didn’t mind it, but I didn’t pay much attention to it either. There’s nothing to stick.

VERDICT: wait….did I actually listen to this record? I can’t remember.
VIDEO: i saw Royal Trux 3 times when they were together, and this is a pretty accurate Neil performance. I dare you to sit through the whole thing.

G - Galaxie 500 - "Today"

2009-06-11T19:32:00.001-05:00

I’ve always been a little torn about what I’m looking for in a rock musician. Is it more important to be creative, to stand out amidst the rock and roll wasteland – even if that means presenting something not particularly “good”? Or how about passion, commitment & emotion? Though rock music by nature is instilled with momentum and a certain level of energy, should you want your music more relatable: either in the “they’re saying what I feel” way or a “they mean what they say” manner? What about the rock star trappings – aren’t they important, too? Attitude & charisma is vital – both for standing out and as a rallying point. Despite my disdain for celebrity, I can’t help wanting my rock stars to look and BE the part, not just act it; for as long as they can back up this attitude with a passable amount of talent, I’m cool with that. Rock constantly feeds on the “sex, drugs, & rock & roll” burnout mentality, and there is an endless supply of cannon fodder to be built up and mowed down.

I’m also torn on the role nerds should play in rock. Rock nerds first got the nerve to stand proudly on their own in the wake of Dylan, as earnest intelligent folkies moved into the electric arena. They helped personalize rock beyond the boy-meets (loses)-girl basics into something broader, even though they sometimes got too “deep” for their own good, PAUL SIMON. (“I am a rock”, indeed – I wish I was a rock to bounce off that sad little bald skull of his.). John Lennon was the poster child for these nerds: despite his bluster and his defensive exterior, he possessed the nerd gene in full blossom. Plenty of the psychedelic or art rock groups of the late 60’s/early 70’s contained at least one dyed in the wool dork. But in my opinion, the two godfathers of nerd rock were, on the surface, complete opposites: Iggy Pop of the Stooges & Jonathan Richman of the Modern Lovers. One was a notorious wildman – truly the perfect example of the charismatic rock and roll frontman; the other was a textbook geek who was either almost painfully oblivious or unguardedly proud of the dork he was. They both got their point across through disarmingly forward lyrics that captured the essence of their characters, for better or worse, and both ROCKED. Together, they spawned generations of offspring who learned you could be honest about who you were in the rock arena while living up the rock and roll promise (is it a surprise that in their early days, the Sex Pistols covered songs by both Iggy & Jonathan?)

That said, having the strength & commitment to express yourself freely as a rock songwriter doesn’t mean you could, or should, be a “singer-songwriter”. Singers like Dylan, Richman, & Lou Reed showed you didn’t have to be a technically proficient (or even listenable) to be a successful rock singer. What you needed was an individual voice and phrasing to bring your lyrics to life. It was HOW they sang that made these three stand out – not everyone could do it. It’s one of the catch 22’s of the DIY aesthetic: it’s your voice, use it – but don’t be surprised if people don’t want to listen to it.

Guitarist Dean Wareham of Galaxie 500 (later in Luna) maybe should not have been the singer. He has a high warbly voice that veers off pitch constantly, especially when reaching for notes far out of his range. The lower notes are tolerable, but those high ones – hey buddy, it’s unpleasant. In some of the songs on this first (& on subsequent) Galaxie 500 record, he tries to make it more presentable by doubling his voice an octave apart. It happens far too often, and doesn’t help. The unfortunate vocals are the worst thing about this album.

Luckily, there are so many positives to counter this negative. This is undoubtedly a shoegazer album akin to bands like Spacemen 3 & The Pefect Disaster: 3 chords (maybe), slow to mid-tempo songs, fully defined instrumental sound, nice distorted guitar. It’s the sound of a sunrise: the gentle unobtrusive tapping of the Damon Krukowski’s drums, the quiet strumming of the guitar which occasionally bursts into slow feedback leads resemble the sun peeking up over the horizon with sharp streams of sunlight piercing the clouds (deep..huh..maybe I AM a rock). On top of that is the unreal potent bass playing of Naomi Yang, who clearly used Peter Hook of Joy Division / New Order as a starting point in that the bass is relatively simple & played high up on the fretboard, & expanding that to play countermelodies during the verses; almost like a lead instrument without actually soloing or overplaying like a Geddy Lee or Chris Squire. The instrumental sound presented by Galaxie 500 is a very comforting, snug, & warm: the obtrusive vocals don’t diminish its quality.

The songs are very good – they’ve got the sleepy feel of the third Velvet Underground album. Lou Reed is obviously a big influence on Dean’s guitar playing and sound, though his lyrics are more Jonathan Richmanian. To wit,

“I don't wanna stay at your party
I don't wanna talk with your friends
I don't wanna vote for your president
I just wanna be your tugboat captain”

OK, sure. When you try to go “cute”, there’s a danger of getting too “precious”. Dean crosses that line a few times, but hey, it’s their first record, and by the next album, they’d improved quite a bit from this already impressive start. The albums starts strong with the gorgeous “Flowers”, but hits its stride on side two, with tremendous songs in “Oblivious”, “Temperature’s Rising”, “Instrumental” (finally – an instrumental that lives up to its name!), and the college hit “Tugboat”. There’s also an interesting cover of the Modern Lovers’ “Don’t Let Our Youth Go To Waste”, which is more of a curio than anything else (as the original was sung a-capella, it’s weird to hear, you know, instruments). Regardless, this is a truly fine record from a seemingly underwhelming band.

VERDICT: with a different vocalist, this could’ve been fantastic. As it is, it’s simply great.
VIDEO

F - Fairport Convention - "Liege & Lief"

2009-06-09T20:45:00.003-05:00

My obsession with Led Zeppelin during my teenage years awakened me to a whole host of seemingly unrelated elements: Aleister Crowley, fishing for sharks out of hotel room windows, Roy Harper, giving lip service reverence to blues pioneers while blatantly ripping them off wholesale, etc. The one I’m most grateful for was the introduction to the joys of Fairport Convention, which came about due to singer Sandy Denny duetting with Robert Plant on “The Battle of Evermore” off “Led Zeppelin IV”. I knew this song backwards & forwards for years before even learning the mysterious female singer’s name. By that point, I’d also heard about this great-underrated guitarist Richard Thompson who had come from the same band. At one of the many record conventions I attended during the late 80’s, I found a double LP compilation of theirs, and was enchanted immediately.

Fairport Convention played electric folk music with a decidedly British/Celtic feel to it. A cop out description would be to call them the English Byrds, in that they modernized folk music using Dylan as a springboard (their classic second album “Unhalfbricking” contains 3 Dylan covers, including one in French), plus they modernized old-school folk while simultaneously playing tribute to its origins. The initial focal point of the band was its vocal harmonies, though by their 3rd & 4th records, that expanded to include the unique guitar playing of Thompson and violin of Dave Swarbrick.

Their forth album, “Liege & Lief”, was the last with Denny in her original stint with the group (she rejoined a few years later for a couple of good albums), and captures the band at its peak. Apart from three originals, the songs are old madrigals and auld story songs whose spirits remain despite the electric trappings. Sandy sings absolutely beautifully on every song, whether it be a soft folk number (“Farewell Farewell”) or a strident epic (“Tam Lin”). She could sing with a gentle touch like Judy Collins or with powerhouse command like Grace Slick. Swarbrick also dominates the record, particularly on the showcase medley of Irish jigs on side two (sometimes in jaw-dropping duets with Thompson on guitar). I love the introductory song “Come All Ye”, which seems like Fairport’s nod to “Sgt. Pepper’s LHC Band”, in that it essentially says “hi there! We’re the band! We’re gonna knock your socks off!” and proceeds to do so. Though I don’t care much for the album closer, Thompson’s “Crazy Man Michael”, and murder ballad “Matty Groves” goes on a little bit too long, this is otherwise a wonderfully evocative record from a band proud to show the folk music was so much more than Woody Guthrie.

Verdict: you can’t go wrong with any of the first 5 Fairport records; this one is neck & neck with “Unhalfbricking” as their finest (also, most of the solo albums by Sandy Denny & Richard Thompson (especially the ones done with wife Linda) are worth looking into if you like this)
Video: as there doesn’t seem to be any decent live footage of the original band with Sandy singing, here's the recording of “Farewell Farewell” with a slideshow, while the film Maidstone 1970 features an excellent gig done soon after Sandy’s departure. Great stuff (though I’m not sure why the guy who posted this video didn’t cut out the helicopter departure).

E - Echo & the Bunnymen - "Crocodiles"

2009-06-09T20:43:00.001-05:00

[Vyvyan throws the Molotov cocktail into Rick's bedroom, which explodes]
Rick: Oh, well, how ruddy considerate, Vyvyan. Thank you very much!
Vyvyan: Why aren't you dead?
Rick: I'm not prepared to discuss it with you, Vyvyan. You will be hearing from my solicitors in the morning. I'm going to write to my MP.
Neil: You haven't got an MP, Rick. You're an anarchist.
Rick: Oh. Well, then I shall write to the lead singer of Echo and the Bunnymen!
- The Young Ones, episode “Sick”, 1984.

I must admit that, despite owning 4 of the records and a greatest hits compilation, my musical knowledge of Liverpool’s Echo & the Bunnymen is limited to “Lips Like Sugar” & “The Killing Moon”. They were a band that I always planned to get around to, but never seemed to find the time. Well, they’re next on the list, so there’s no getting around it now.

One of the challenges that emerged on the music scene following the advent of punk was the re-definition of “guitar hero”. Part of the nature of rock and roll, all the way back to Scotty Moore backing up Elvis, was that the electric guitar would be one of, if not THE, hallmark of the genre. Yeah, the vocalist would always get at minimum 50% of the attention, but there needed to be that other guy (I’m not being mysoginistic, there weren’t that many guitar goddesses in the 50’s & 60’s) who would step forward during the break and strut his stuff. After Eric Clapton stepped out from the Yardbirds, almost every band was expected to have a virtuoso guitar player that was just as, if not more, important than the vocalist. Unfortunately within that format, while such amazing players as Hendrix, Peter Green, and Mike Bloomfield had the opportunity to develop and advance on their already excellent technique, you had guitar players who really did not have the expertise, feel, or talent to have such a spotlight shone on them “stretching out” for far longer than needed. This led to wank-fests where the 10-20 minute guitar solo became the norm at rock concerts, sometimes on record (holy moses, Canned Heat’s “Living the Blues”, a 2 record studio set, has a 40 MINUTE VERSION of something called “Refried Boogie”; and that’s AFTER a 19 minute thing called “Parthenogenesis” – NOT GOOD.)

Punk was intended both as a return to the initial simplicity of rock and roll and a condemnation of the bloated monster it had become (I’m looking at YOU, YES! You, too, Jethro Tull – PUT THE FLUTE DOWN!!!) But how different was punk from, say, early rockabilly? Outside of the obvious production developments and more mature subject matter, musically it was, as described by the Dictators, faster and louder, but the format remained the same. Without a doubt, Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols and Mick Jones of the Clash were, at heart, stereotypical guitar heroes, albeit without as much wankery. But beneath the substratus of punk lurked a new brand of guitar players who weren’t much interested in keeping up with the Joneses. These players used their instruments for more atmosphere than attention, often getting away from the distorted roar that had become a cliché even within punk’s initial years. Players like John McGeoch of Magazine & the Banshees, Bernard Sumner of Joy Division, & the Edge of U2 utilized a more dry, choppy sound to accent SONGS rather than draw attention to the SOLOS.

Will Sergeant of Echo & the Bunnymen is also one of these new guitar heros. On this first record by the band, he plays just as vital a role as vocalist Ian McCulloch (which says a lot, as Ian was one of the more powerful SINGERS in post-punk Britain.) Throughout the album, Will provides colorful commentary with his ringing phrases, letting Ian and bassist Les Pattinson carry the melodies. It’s nice to have guitar playing catch your ear on a rock album in this rather unconventional manner: he’s not soloing to the skies, building up to some kind of guitar orgasm. Sometimes it’s what he’s NOT playing that grabs you; other times the timing of his interjections give Ian’s already emotive singing even more UUMPH. He’s good – he’s DAMN good. Johnny Marr of the Smiths must’ve LOVED this guy.

I’ve already mentioned how good the vocals are; for a debut, they’re already very mature. The rhythm section (Les & drummer Pete DeFreitas) sound very Joy Division influenced and are solid. The songs are well written, with side two perversely being MUCH better than side one (except for the so-so closer “Happy Death Men”, which is the only song that Will cuts loose in. That said, it’s only for about a minute.) Some of the songs betray a mid-60’s swinging London influence filtered through a late 70’s attitude (“Going Up”, “Villiers Terrace”), and “Do It Clean”, “Rescue”, and “Read it in Books” are extremely catchy rockin’ classics. The sound is raw but professional.

VERDICT: this is a very good album, and I look forward to hearing the other records once I get through all the other E’s.
VIDEO: from the classic new wave film “URGH: a Music War” – this song is not on the album, but was released as a single shortly after “Crocodiles” release.)

D - Doc Corbin Dart - "Patricia"

2009-06-09T20:41:00.002-05:00

Who’s ready for some awkward & painful internal analysis?
No, it’s not me this time; I’m talking about Doc Corbin Dart’s first solo album “Patricia”, you silly head!

Doc Dart was the lead singer of the most politically radical, controversial punk band to ever come out of Lansing, Michigan…hell, ALL of Michigan (whoops, forgot the Meatmen were also out of Lansing – what on earth was in the water of THAT town?): a band whose name even outdid the Dead Kennedys for sheer tastelessness. Out of respect to the more gentle eyes out there in the internet world, I’ll call them the Crucifriends. Though their first record was musically your standard hardcore fastandloudisms, two things clearly stood out. One was the unbearingly angry hostile lyrics, even for punk standards. I wouldn’t even so much call them lyrics so much – more like bile; they covered some of usual punk targets (government, media, religion, police) but added an extra dose of deranged spleen (especially toward cops: when Alternative Tentacles re-released their first 2 albums on a CD, the back cover featured a purported photo of a policeman killed in the line of duty. Though the photo turned out to be from a police training exercise, the police union still sued the record label & initially got a couple million.) The second was the voice of Doc Dart; there’s not been a vocalist in rock, or any music whatsoever, who could match the pure obnoxiousness of Doc’s off-kilter tunelessness. Whereas Darby Crash of the Germs sounded like a very confused 2 year old whose lack of control of his own motor skills (plus heroic doses of alcohol and drugs) prevented him from expressing himself in anything more than a slurred bawl, Doc sounded like a very SPOILED 2 year old who knew that if an intense bombardment of nagging wouldn’t get him what he wants, the rage he unleashes when he starts screaming surely will. Holy Moses, it’s an unpleasant sound. Steve Minshew had this record, and I tried listening to it, believe me, I TRIED, but even with my built in tolerance for horrible noise, this was too much.

Their second album “Wisconsin” is a bit more traditionally listenable, with some actual melodies to accompany such soul stirrers as “Pig in a Blanket” and “When the Top Comes Off”. But Doc’s solo album that followed was a completely different beast. “Patricia” is very REM-like in its 12 string guitars, bouncy melodies, and occasional big drums. (The vocals are still hard to take, but manageable.) Lyrically, it’s far more introspective, and Doc bares more of his soul than probably anyone wants to hear. Rumor has it that the titular Patricia was his psychiatrist, and when the doctor/patient relationship ended, Doc freaked out – the result being this album. It certainly sounds that way: he may very well have recorded his vocals lying on a couch. He’s been broken by a multitude of causes, but returns often to feelings of abandonment: by friends, lovers, family, even someone who died before him. He knows that this issue is majorly screwing with his head, but doesn’t know how to conquer it, and the person he was leaning on to help get through it has cut him off (in the title song, he hints that Patricia stopped the sessions because the love he expressed for her was over the line). Only once does Doc fall into a Crucifriendish rant, as “Little Town, Little People” tears apart weekend protesters (if Doc is hardcore about one thing, it’s his protest): “It might be too much work to fight a war that you can win / so wear your t-shirt to a rally and get yourself on the news again / The cops were beating up a black man on your street the other night / While you were smoking pot and saving the world (or thinking that you might)”. Side two really sinks into his psyche, especially on “Casket with Flowers” and “Patricia”. Again, musically, its good jangly guitars and attractive sounding keyboards, which reflecting off the naked lyrics is a bizarre contrast. Anyway, after Doc and Patricia part, comes the benediction of “Here for You Now”, which on casual listening, sounds like the reassurance of a friendly voice, but really reveals a Travis Bickle-like character who is taking on a high moral stance for what he’s done (or is about to do). The song appears to be aimed at anti-abortion activists: whereas some of the true extremists claim the moral high ground that taking the life of the abortion doctor will save many more innocent lives (hey! This review is as timely as today’s headlines! How prescient!), Doc goes the other direction: killing the activists like some kind of avenging St. Michael (“So proud to manage other species now / Your own is out of control and still you can’t see how / A balance will be struck and shake your faith that day / Mine will be restored when you are blown away”). The chilling last phrase of the song and album is repeated several times: “I’m here for you now”.

Doc is still in the Lansing area causing trouble: a militant animal activist, he changed his name to “26”, and received death threats for his (some would say) unpatriotic activities following 9-11 (click here for a very interesting read on this unique individual.)

VERDICT: not a laugh riot, but appealing musically, lyrically, and psychotically, & will certainly make you rethink any desires to become a psychiatrist if this is what you’ll have to deal with.
VIDEO: this is early hardcore footage: it’s…well, a tad on the intense side (Doc seems upset), naturally not safe for work, and arguably not safe for human consumption (that’s Steve Shelley (future drummer of Sonic Youth) on the drums). YOWZA!

C - John Cage - "Variations IV, Volume II"

2009-06-09T20:39:00.002-05:00

I lived in Oklahoma City during the first 5 months of 1993. Denny rented the top floor of a duplex for next to nothing, and as I had nothing going on in Houston, and was burned out at my job, I finally moved out on my own (kind of). It was a spacious apartment; very cool (well, cold, actually – it was winter and there were huge tears in the air conditioner insulation in my room that I attempted to fill with socks that had too many holes to wear), but unfortunately it was located in one of the armpits of America. I kid OKC, but not really; I found it a fairly dismal city, seemingly gray all the time. Chico Marx may have described it as "a-no good". However, I may be confusing the locale with my then current state of mind. Whatever the case, I didn’t stay long.

You’d never believe it, but there wasn’t much to do in the middle of Oklahoma. I wasn’t much of a go-getter, or even a leave-the-house kind of joe. I recall Susan’s horror when I innocently asked her advice, as a student nurse, about at what point a person should start being concerned about bedsores. For bed is where I spent a great amount of time, usually with the blankets over my head to stave off the cold while listening to “Sister Ray” by the Velvets at excruciating volume, compounded by putting my stereo speakers IN BED with me. I rocked. Denny & Susan, bless their hearts, did their best to perk up my spirits (or at least get me to change out of the rank torn t-shirt I’d wear around the clock), but without much success. Oh it wasn’t so tragic: the high heavens didn’t fall, but how much of that time, I didn’t really want to be there at all.

In the midst of gray, there were still some memorable moments. Denny and I were brothers in the ways of penny pinching, and I delighted on how well we were living on next to nothing (though it might have been a little more physically comfortable if we could’ve turned on the air conditioning at times for just a little bit, but that might’ve cost us an extra ten bucks. Each.) Denny was a great roommate, and I enjoyed getting to know Susan better. On TV, I watched the unfolding drama in Waco culminate in the massacre of US citizens by the American government live and in colour, and experienced the 2 greatest “bad” films in history for the first time: “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls” and “’Manos’, the Hands of Fate”.

Then there was the “Happy Symphony”. At one point in April or May, our apartment somehow became the depository of a host of stereo equipment due to relatives & friends moving, running out of space, upgrading their systems, or some other reason. As expatriates of The Plastic Experience, we hadn’t done much recording, but seized the opportunity to create our own monstrous psychodelic sound collage. I used the album “Variations IV” by John Cage as a template: this happening consisted of Cage hooking up mikes and equipment in several different rooms of a gallery, and manipulating the sounds at chance, resulting in an auditory melange capturing everything from street sounds, bar glasses tinkling, shards of conversation, and other banalities, in order to….I don’t know what his point was. All I knew was that we had a lot of stereos and we were going to use them.

We bought a six-pack of the cheapest cassettes we could find (from Walgreens, I think). We then hooked up all the equipment and played concurrently the aforementioned Cage album, side two of the Plastic Ono Band “Live Peace in Toronto”, and a loop of “Revolution #9" while recording this mass of noise on another tape player. We then duplicated THAT tape 3 times and played them all back at roughtly the same time, stopping and starting, louder & softer, speeding up & slowing down those tapes at will, so that it almost had the effect of verses & choruses (you’d hear some of the same clips at different times during the recording). On top of THAT, Denny & I mixed in snippets of various records & tapes we had lying around: everything from Jim Morrison, Neal Cassady, William Burroughs & Hunter Thompson to sounds of the Jonestown massacre, “Classy” Freddie Blassie, "A Clockwork Orange", Bill Cosby, & “MacArthur Park”. Plus Tom Waits, the Residents, the Stooges, Thomas Dolby, Jack Webb, the Monkees, and plenty of the Plastic Experience. We did only one recording, fearing that the morass of sound would cause the 98-year-old woman who lived below us to call the cops, but once was enough. It was rough but about the most successful recording we ever did. We titled it “The Happy Symphony” based on an offhand comment from a Partridge Family episode we happened to watch that night (Keith was trying to be taken seriously as a composer, and talked of writing classical music. Laurie said that symphonies were really depressing. Keith: “well, this’ll be a happy symphony.” Brilliant.) (David Cassidy is a real jerk , though.)

And I LOVED it. I listened to it all the time; at home, in the car, on my Walkman at work at 1 in the morning when I was supposed to be taking phone reservations at Hertz. (Interlude: when Denny & Susan were married in Richardson, Denny, Kendall, Darek (who was on leave from the navy) and I stayed in a local hotel (where I think we spent the night before the wedding at an elementary school playground?? Is this correct???). Darek hooked up with some skateboarding friends and was out all night, finally crashing in, bloody & exhausted, in the morning. As he lay comatose under the covers, Denny & I felt that the only medicine he really needed was a big ol’ dose of “The Happy Symphony”. He didn’t seem to respond too well to its charms; as it played, I detected total hate in his eyes (when they weren’t rolling in circles). Soon enough it replaced “Sister Ray” as my bedmate, where I would succumb nightly (& daily) to its soothing wash of noise. Bliss. (Epilogue: I ended up having a seizure while out for Mother’s Day lunch at Red Lobster in Fort Worth with Susan and her family. Though the tests never revealed the cause, nor has there ever been a repeat of a similar incident, part of me looks past my poor eating, sleeping, and frame of mind & gently accuses “The Happy Symphony”. (I never listened to it in bed again, that’s for sure). As I lay on the hospital bed, agonizingly sore from every muscle in my body tensing up and wondering how I was going to pay for the bill for an unhurried ambulance that wouldn’t even turn its siren on (everyone got to the hospital before me), I thought “yeah, it’s time to go home.”

What I’m trying to say here is that I’ve got “The Happy Symphony” and have no need for “Variations IV” anymore. Our recording is just as good as anything I’ve heard from Mr. Cage (except for “Interdetermancy”, which is awesome), and is a lot more fun to listen to most of his recorded output (case in point: did Cage ever have Yoko Ono, Dylan Thomas, Wayne Newton, and Robin the Frog (Kermit the Frog’s nephew) overlaid on a recording AT THE SAME TIME, culminating in repeated yelps of “SCIENCE!”? Nope. It’s art because I say it is.

VERDICT: “Music is all around us, if we only had ears.” – John Cage.
“This music sucks.” – Mark Bychowski
VIDEO: say what you want about experimental music, John Cage had a GREAT sense of humor and a phenomenal imagination. Though many of his ideas READ better than they SOUND, they’re still extremely clever, & his theories of “music by chance” affected me greatly (I appreciate music more defective than perfected.)

B - The Band - "The Band"

2009-06-09T20:38:00.002-05:00

This may prove to be a difficult review to write; not because I can’t think of an ocean of superlatives to describe this album, but because everything that needs to be said about it was said in Greil Marcus’ outstanding essay from his book “Mystery Train” (which I can also gush over, as it’s one of the best books on rock music ever written). I’m so familiar with this essay that I’m worried I may subconsciously plagiarize it, so I’ll try to keep this review short and sweet.

“The Band” is one of my favorite albums ever. There is not one bad thing I can say about it. The songs are all fantastic, the musicianship is never less than impressive, the sound is warm and appropriate, the singing hits all the emotion it sets out to hit, hell, even the cover photograph captures the album perfectly. These guys had been together in Canada for years, and the camaraderie and sympathy in the songs bears this out. In an era of wild psychedelic nonsense, the Band reverted to playing only what they needed to, making every song sound complete without being bloated.

Each song has something about it that makes me keep coming back, no matter how many times I hear it. To wit:
“Across the Great Divide”: the lyrics are very funny, describing a man desperately trying to double talk his way out of being shot by his girlfriend for crimes unspecified. By the end, it sounds like he succeeded, as he’s telling her about how good their life together will be going forward, but, just in case, “tell me hon, what you done with the gun?”

“Rag Mama Rag”: this wonderful chooglin’ song peaks for me when Rick Danko’s violin chimes in after Levon Helm implores him to “rosin up the bow”. Also, great tuba playing! It’s got a great beat and easy to dance to.

“The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” – despite its obvious appeal to me due to its subject matter (the end of the Civil War), this is one of the most heartbreaking songs I’ve ever heard. The narrator of the song, Virgil Cane, (amazingly sung by Levon) is a proud Southerner who’s lost everything and sounds on the verge of giving up, even though it goes against every fiber in his body, the very way he was raised. To give everything you have to fight for an existence that is gone forever & the bewilderment & resignation of how to survive going forward – that’s what this song captures. The playing highlights this well: when Virgil proudly tells of his brave older brother, the beat picks up for a couple of bars, but quickly slows back down when he sings of his brother’s death. Wow. This song illustrates the continuing saga of the Civil War: the aftermath that changed our country permanently. (How was it that a primarily Canadian group (Levon was from Arkansas) could make one of the most evocative AMERICAN albums of all time?)

“When You Awake” – this song features one of the hallmarks of the Band (at least on their 1st 2 albums): the group vocals. There are times when all three singers (Helm, Danko, & Richard Manuel) all harmonize in a manner rough & spontaneous. Each has a unique voice, and their blend gives the songs a rustic 1920’s farm recordings feel – very timeless.
“Up on Cripple Creek” – besides the previous album’s “The Weight”, this is their best-known song. Funky & funny (outstanding clavinet playing by multi-instrumentalist Garth Hudson), you can’t beat the feel good chorus: “Up on Cripple Creek she sends me / if I spring a leak, she mends me / I don’t have to speak, she defends me / a drunkard’s dream, if I ever did see one.” Plus I like Levon’s “hee hee” after talking about how he loves it when Bessie “puts a donut in my tea”. And this is the ONLY rock song I’ve ever heard where yodeling is not just appropriate, but welcome.

“Whispering Pines” – Richard Manuel’s vocals were often the most heartbreaking on the Band’s records, & this gentle tune is very affecting, especially when his vocals answer Levon’s on the last verse.

“Jemima Surrender” – song one on side two is the first time on this record that the Band really “rocks out”. It even has a guitar solo (one of only 2 on the album (I can’t tell if the one in “Unfaithful Servant” is a guitar or a mandolin, so for now I’ll exclude it), and Robbie Robertson (chief songwriter as well – can’t sing worth a damn, though) plays it very clinically, almost Steve Cropper-esque. In an album bursting with emotion, this song delights me in its carnality (“If I were a barker in a girly show (I’ll tell you what I’d do) / I’d lock the door, tear my shirt, and let my river flow!”)

“Rockin’ Chair” – this may be Virgil Cane 40 years after the war’s ended. Battered & tired, he works on the water – perhaps a fishing boat. He knows that his life is coming to an end, and that the rest of his time alive “ain’t worth a dime”. All he wants to do is be back home: a mundane routine life has never sounded so attractive, yet still out of reach. Another tearjerker from Richard.

“Look Out Cleveland” – a raucous rockin’ tune about the end of the world. Well, maybe not quite that, but definitely apocalyptic: there are storms coming that will wipe us all away. This song took on a lot more meaning to me after Katrina, Rita, and especially Ike, as it namechecks Houston in the chorus (and Cleveland (TX) is about an hour away).

“Jawbone” – this is the only song on the record that has strange time signatures, which gives if a real fluid sound. Great bass playing by Rick, and kudos to the others as well (you know you’re good when you can switch back and forth between a very tight jazz like beat and the sound of a drunken hootenanny at will.)

“The Unfaithful Servant” – I don’t know much of the lyrics to this one, but the plaintive sad vocals of Rick combined with Garth’s horns provide sometimes unbearable gravity. (I haven’t mentioned the drumming on this record yet – I would put Levon against ANYONE when it comes to drumming with real EMPATHY for the song. Sometimes its just an offbeat, or soft brush stroke, but MAN Levon should’ve gotten songwriting credit for some of these due to his amazing playing.)

“King Harvest (Has Surely Come)” – the apocalypse is back again (though not literally) in this song about a simple farmer caught between a rock (the marketplace) and a hard place (the unions). The industrial revolution has happened, and suddenly the man isn’t working for himself anymore. The strain of the verses is countered by what seem initially to be pastoral images (“corn in the fields / listen to the rice as the wind blows ‘cross the water”), then the thud (“king harvest has surely come”). This feels like a Biblical image, but I take it as the foreshadowing of something deeply final. One last guitar solo, and fade out….

Well, I guess I didn’t have a problem coming up with things to say about “The Band”. Listening to it is a wonderful experience: you’ll be happy, sad, wary, weary, turned on, despondent, fearful, and so much more (plus “Rag Mama Rag” will make you shake your thang.)

VERDICT: uh huh, it’s good. It’s DAMN good. For, uh, rizzle.
VIDEO: this performance gives me chills (from “The Last Waltz”, filmed at one of their final concerts with the original group. Even though Robbie takes on a very overbearing role, almost making the rest of the Band seem like sidemen, the music is classic. A MUST SEE.

A - The Adverts - "Cast of Thousands"

2009-06-09T20:36:00.001-05:00

Welcome to round 2 (or “Phase 2”, as the Vanilla Fudge might call it) of my “record of the day” reviews. I’m really going to work at being a little more concise with this next batch, but remember: I’m not judging them on their quality necessarily, but more on how they affect, impact, or bug me personally. So if one of your favorites ends up ripped to shreds, it’s not personal, it’s just that that particular album sucked. Okay? OK!

The Adverts were one of the first punk groups to record in England in the aftermath of the Sex Pistols. There first singles - the proud sarcasm of “One Chord Wonders” & morbidly danceable “Gary Gillmore’s Eyes” - remain true classics, & I’m to understand that their first album “Crossing the Red Sea with the Adverts” is still well thought of, though I’ve yet to hear it in whole (“Bored Teenagers” was on a compilation and is very good). Singer/songwriter TV Smith sang in a high strangled voice (much more Kevin Rowland of Dexy’s Midnight Runners than Johnny Rotten), & bassist Gaye Advert was debatably the first punk pinup girl (Joan Jett totally copied her look: yes, I know the Runaways were around first, but Joan’s image was initially more lace than leather. By the time “Bad Reputation” was released, she was virtually a carbon copy of Gaye, except without the strung out overtones.) Instrumentally, the band was eh, awright.

“Cast of Thousands” is often described as the stereotypical “difficult” second album, owing to a supposed drop off in quality, which may have been the case, as the Adverts broke up soon after its release. As I’ve not heard their first record, comparing the two is not for me to judge. I will say though that this record is not very good. The most annoying quality is the production: the vocals, bass, and keyboards are jacked up, and the guitar and drums are turned WAY down (it’s hard to hear ANY electric guitar on the record. This must have been intended as a reaction away from the punk sound (it WAS 1979, after all), as the piano, massed backing vocals, and acoustic guitars attest to, yet it simply is not an attractive sound and undermines much of the material.) There are a few songs that are strong enough to survive (“Cast of Thousands”, “The Adverts”, “Television’s Over”, & “I Looked at the Sun”), but the rest go by without leaving any trace of their existence behind (three of them (“Male Assault”, “I Surrender”, “I Will Walk You Home” are flat out crap, no matter how you produce them). The better lyrics tend to be more in the personal vein rather than social or political; the latter are awfully generic and much too cliché for British punk.

On the plus side, TV’s vocals are expressive despite the weird sound, with him truly working up a lather on the title track and “I Looked at the Sun”. Also, um…they all apply eyeliner well. Yeah, that’s about it.

VERDICT: this audience of one gives “Cast of Thousands” a thumbs down.
VIDEO: this was taken from an indie German film; the latter 2 songs are from this album, and come off a LOT better live than on record. And of course “Gary Gillmore’s Eyes” is still awesome.

Z - Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention - "Freak Out!"

2009-06-06T18:08:00.002-05:00

Honestly, I didn’t feel much when Frank Zappa died. Certainly nothing like when any of my other 60’s rock idols passed away. It’s a bit difficult to get sentimental about Zappa. I can’t think of a more standoffish, obnoxious, arrogant, haughty “rock star” than Frank. His curmudgeonly qualities that I initially found very likeable turned negative fairly quickly, and there were aspects of his music that I held in as much contempt as he seemed to hold for his own audience. When he died in 1993, I was pretty much over him, despite being a rabid fan only a couple years earlier. Actually, the most poignant tribute to him (or at least the first time after his death that I reflected on the great music he brought into my life) was on the Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode “Village of the Giants” (which was a fabulous film in its own right: Tommy Kirk & Ron Howard with Beau Bridges as the VILLAIN? Awesome.) The running skit in between commercial breaks was that dopey evil scientist sidekick “TV’s Frank” was being fired, so Mike & the robots sang a tribute to him called “The Greatest Frank of All”. They replayed the song at the end, and as the credits faded, a picture of Zappa faded in: “Frank Zappa: 1940-1993”. I didn’t expect it, and it touched me.

Plus I’ll give this to Zappa: he always followed his own muse, however nonsensical or vulgar that muse ended up being, and for almost his entire musical career, ended up being able to make a very successful living doing exactly what he wanted to do. Very few musicians can make that claim, especially during a career of over 20 years. That said, he released a LOT of music, and a LOT of it sucked. I mean, I’m sure it was great to him (for after all, HE was his audience: if he thought these intricate yet bloodless fusion pieces were good, or if he thought rock operas involving robot penetration were funny, he released them. if others didn’t appreciate them, it’s because they weren’t smart enough or were too humorless to “get it”. whatever.) At one point I had more than 30 Zappa records, yet only listened to a few, frankly (heh) because the others did nothing for me. Sure I thought “Bobby Brown Goes Down” was funny when I was in high school – I also thought farting in a room full of people was hilarious. (hmmm, come to think of it, that description could easily describe some of Zappa’s 70’s output). His 3 record “opera” “Thing-Fish” still holds the distinction in my mind of being the most offensive, most senseless record ever released (worse than anything by GG Allin, even). Grimy, yucky, & unfunny. (It isn’t the most UNLISTENABLE record though: that award goes to Crispin Glover’s “The Big Problem Does Not Equal the Solution, The Solution Equals Let It Be.”)

Zappa also tended to marginalize much of his early work; understandable, as his heart seemed to lie in the more complicated classically jazzy pieces that he released frequently throughout the 70’s & 80’s. He seemed to regard the original releases of the Mothers of Invention as trial runs, or, at best, incomplete experiments left uncompleted to his satisfaction by inadequate musicians, subpar recording methods, or lack of funds. This train of thought is unfortunate, as there are very few “rock” acts that had the astonishing quality consistency Zappa had between 1966-1970. With this first loose assemblage, he released 9 recordings (2 of them double records, 2 of them as a “solo”); every one of them excellent, and 3 of them flat out masterpieces. He never matched this success rate in his career again; in fact, within a couple years of the breakup of the original Mothers, he was releasing awful crap like “Fillmore East” and “Just Another Band from LA”, plus filming the monumentally stupid film “200 Motels”. Totally disheartening to go from the musical greatness of “Burnt Weeny Sandwich” to the overblown unfunny “Penis Dimension” (trust me, despite the song titles, there’s a BIG difference).

But for now, I’ll focus on Zappa & the Mothers’ first release “Freak Out”. Originally released as a 2LP set, I’m going to review each record separately. The first LP is very song oriented and there’s not a bad one in the bunch. The songs range from what can be termed anti-love songs (“I Ain’t Got No Heart”, “Go Cry on Somebody Else’s Shoulder”, “Anyway the Wind Blows”) and 60’s proto punk (“Hungry Freaks, Daddy”, “Who Are the Brain Police”, “You’re Probably Wondering Why I’m Here”). There’s a fantastically sarcastic commercial for the unbelievably unattractive band’s appeal to the ladies (“Motherly Love”), and even a ridiculously catchy pop tune (“Wowie Zowie” – LOVE the xylophone riff). The lyrics are snide and hysterical, especially on the “love” songs (“no matter who I take home / I keep on calling your name”). The music and performances are the simplest most straightforward of his career, and that is not a bad thing. Though Zappa’s control runs through all of his releases (only one vision here, folks), this band has more individual personality than any other group of musicians he played with, especially Ray Collins on co-lead vocals. Combining Ray’s strong straightforward pop style with Zappa’s satirical bass voice was very inspired and makes for some seriously enjoyable listening. Zappa’s other clear love was doo-wop; even when singing the most preposterous lyrics ("you fooled around with lots of other guys / that's why I had to get my khakis pressed"), his affection for the style comes through during his entire career. I completely LOVE this first record, and listen to it, sing along to it, and laugh with it fairly regularly.

The second record is a bit more difficult, as it consists of 3 longer pieces, 2 of them very avant garde – precursors to one of the routes he would take in later life. He came into this album very well rounded musically and was determined to be known as a serious composer. The first piece, “Trouble Every Day”, is a blues-rock song which could be a snider slower version of “Subterranean Homesick Blues”; it focuses on the clashes between the establishment & the “freaks”, and spares neither – Zappa was always an equal opportunity offender. It can be taken as a protest or anti-protest song, depending on how you look at it. Great stuff. Next is “Help I’m a Rock” (any song whose title mocks Paul Simon gets a thumbs up in my book), and it’s a bit more problematic. It's divided into several sections consisting of moaning, groaning & yelling (sometimes in Spanish) over a sinister riff, an acapella section featuring the Mothers chanting “it can’t happen here” that devolves into nonsense, a drunken jazzy jam, & ending with the first appearance of Zappa heroine Suzy Creamcheese. Very progressive for something recorded in 1966, but not something you want to listen to much. The record concludes with the 12 minute freak out “The Return of the Son of Monster Magnet”; lots of sped up & backwards vocals & studio manipulations. Definitely hallmarks of the Zappa sound, and at least slightly more concise than later releases, but these ears prefer melody, thankyouverymuch.

VERDICT: it’s absolutely amazing how fully formed Zappa was on his first album; this album would be the high point of almost anyone else’s career, but Zappa got even better. For a few years, anyway.
VIDEO: no footage here, just the song “Hungry Freaks Daddy” – I couldn’t find any footage on youtube of the original Mothers that was any good.

Y - The Yardbirds - "The Yardbirds" (or "Roger the Engineer")

2009-06-06T18:06:00.001-05:00

The Yardbirds would be the most overrated band of all time if the Yardbirds were actually remembered for their music.

They’re not, of course. Despite having achieved a very respectable amount of success and a few hits in England, they’re best known for having been the stepping stone for their extremely successful guitar players: Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, & Jimmy Page. Each of these guitarists (especially Beck) had some impressive moments in the band, but achieved greatness after leaving (Led Zeppelin originally toured as “The New Yardbirds”).

I used to could listen for hours to records just for the guitar playing, but then I was dumb, because without an actual song or framework, its just somebody going doodly-doodly-doodly without rhyme or reason, and it bores me intensely (though I still own one Yngwie Malmsteen record, you’ll NEVER catch me actually listening to it). Despite their guitar starpower, the Yardbirds WERE song oriented: problem was the songs were more often lackluster to awful, where you only stuck around to hear the 30 seconds or so of guitar. And never has a band soloist completely outshone his accompanists as Clapton, Beck, & Page did, because there’s little to say about the rest of the Yardbirds. The rhythm guitar, bass, and drums are all at best nondescript, and the vocals of Keith Relf are plain awful.

So onto the album…

I really don’t understand this record: it’s clearly a reissue, but is it also a compilation? Clapton is long gone, and Beck is the main soloist, but Page is on at least a couple songs (he joined up on bass until then rhythm guitarist Chris Dreja was good enough to take over the bass, but as soon as they settled into a devastating double shot of guitar goodness, Beck’s massive ego caused him to hit the road after only about six months of this lineup.)

Anyway, side one starts with “Happenings Ten Years Time Ago”, which even with the aforementioned bad vocals (what’s with all the Gregorian chanting that the Yardbirds did? It’s in lots of their songs and makes them sound ridiculous), the song is foreboding enough to hold interest with a couple great riffs until Beck or Page starts playing what sounds like an air raid alert, and then they both take off on dueling solos that are much too short. Great song, and a great start. Then we hit the wall immediately with the generic blues of “Lost Woman”. I know the Yardbirds got their start as a tight rhythm & blues band, but there’s no excuse for blues this dull. Hey, we rebound right away with their semi-hit “Over Under Sideways Down” with Beck’s super snakey riff (which was ripped off (or paid tribute to) by Husker Du on “Friend You’ve Got to Fall” (which is a MUCH better song, by the by & by). Next, Beck, perhaps himself disgusted with the lame vocals, takes over the mike for “The Nazz is Blue”. Bad move. He can’t sing either. (I never really got Jeff Beck. Yeah, he’s a very good guitar player, but he cant write, he can’t sing, he can’t hold a band together long enough to record more than one record (if that) without driving them away. Does anyone seriously listen to his records at all? I still have his first solo record, but it’s because Rod Stewart added more personality to the record than all the sidehacks that Beck would later record with did (having Rod in the band taught Beck never to hire someone who could even come CLOSE to outshining him: the record says JEFF BECK, don’t forget it.) So far we’re running about 50% success. However, the rest of side one is the pits: “I Can’t Make Your Way” is offensive in its inoffensive pop manner, “Rack My Mind” is toothless punk, and “Farewell” is poor psychodelic lite.

Side 2 begins well, starting with the complete shambling nonsense of “Hot House of Omagarashid” (which I think has someone waving a saw back and forth the whole time: there’s a “wubba wubba” going through the entire track. I LIKE it.) “Jeff’s Boogie” is appropriately named, and is a very good guitar showcase. Though even Hendrix sounds extremely mannered nowadays, it has some very good solo moments from Beck. “He’s Always There” is perhaps the only good song on the record in which the song is actually better than the guitar work. I’m surprised some band hasn’t covered this one yet. With three good songs in the row, the Yardbirds give us three bad ones in a row (though “What do You Want” has a nasty guitar solo, and “Ever Since the World Began” starts out sounding like primitive Black Sabbath before suddenly switching into chirpy pop. Blech!), but finish strong with “Psycho Daisies”, a decent song, though nowhere as good as its title, and a solo that’s criminally cut off before it even gets started.

VERDICT: nothing to really see here, move along.
VIDEO: (Beck had already left the band at this point, so it’s Page playing guitar, yet they show everyone in the band but Page! (judging on how sloppy he’s playing here, perhaps its for the best).

X - X - "Los Angeles"

2009-06-06T18:05:00.002-05:00

Whew! LA punk, fresh & kicky!

X was at the forefront of the late 70’s punk explosion out of Los Angeles, and for good reason. For one, they differentiated themselves by being a genuinely gifted band: hell, most of the bands from the scene were visceral hardcore excitement, but that was about it – one or two classic albums (or even singles) of great bile, but then implosion. X boasted a dynamic versatile drummer in DJ Bonebrake and rockabilly throwback guitar wizard Billy Zoom. John Doe wasn’t a slouch on bass either. They also had big aspirations: X seemed somewhat aloof from the hardcore scene, obviously looking beyond the LA gutters toward mainstream success. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since a “scene” by definition is a limited defined area. They wanted to, and could, play their way out.

Another defining factor was their lyrics. Sure, the good ol’ punk motifs were there (desperation, kinky sex, mental, physical, & chemical abuse), but lyricists John Doe & Exene Cervenka approached the topics from a far more literary point of view – more so than anyone in LA except Darby Crash of the Germs. Though, as a melody over lyric kind of guy, this would normally be a negative in my book, they were decent enough lyric writers to avoid the pretensions of “poetry” yet still present a deeper more evocative view of a crumbling SoCal culture. Definitely more Bukowski than Dylan.

And then there’s Exene’s vocals. It’s clear at this early point in their career, Exene’s vocals, and I’m being very generous here, suck. A cross between a bleat, blurt, whine, screech, yowl. Luckily, vocals are shared between Exene and John. John’s vocals are stronger but might be fairly generic on their own. But together….they’re very interesting. Exene’s off-key screeching with John’s Presley-isms combined in minor-key harmonies SHOULD be annoying, but they’re at worst unique, and at best highly listenable.

Lastly, they had a great LOOK. Apart from DJ’s everypunk appearance, the rest of the band looked freakin’ COOL. I used to think that Exene was a white trash Siouxie Sioux, which was admittedly an uncool mean thought (and I must not think bad thoughts). Exene had less of a fashion model appearance and more of an organic goth look: far more real life than magazine glossy (that said, Siouxie was and is still hotter than hell). John was like a punky modern James Dean, and Billy, with his so-blond-its-white hair, sparkly guitar, and 12 year old appearance (even though he had to have been pushing 30), was a smiling angelic presence in the LA hellhole.

All of their attributes are in place on their debut, “Los Angeles”. The only drawback is that the songs aren’t quite there yet. Everything on the album is good (save their just okay version of the Doors’ “Soul Kitchen”) but only about half is great. But when it’s great, it’s AWESOME (“Johnny Hit & Run Pauline”, “Los Angeles”, “Nausea”, “The Phone’s Off the Hook (but You’re Not)”). The biggest gripe I have with the record is the presence of Ray Manzarek, keyboard player from the Doors. He sensed a lineage between X and his old band, and became their patron & producer. The actual production isn’t bad, but the keyboards he throws in seem more an opportunity to show how hip he is rather than to enhance the music. X was, and continues to be, way better than the overblown buffoonish Doors, yet were marketed as their second coming by fawning critics. Too bad. The other negative in hindsight is that, since they were fully operating with their vision intact on their debut, there wasn’t much room for them to grow – so little that by their 4th record they were already sounding tired & routine.
But we’ll worry about that one later. For now, enjoy this fantastic record.

VERDICT: great look, great sound, great sound – I think these kids have a future!
VIDEO: from the classic “Decline of Western Civilization” film – MANDATORY viewing for anyone interested in punk, rock, or life.

W - The Wailers - "Burnin'"

2009-06-06T18:03:00.002-05:00

I was introduced to reggae the same way a great many of my suburban peers were: Eric Clapton doing a boring version of “I Shot the Sheriff” (it’s absolutely STAGGERING to contemplate this man’s career: quite honestly, he based a now 40+ year career on these creative peaks: the Bluesbreakers LP, “Crossroads”, & the Layla LP. That’s IT – the Yardbirds were just good, not great; Cream was overblown live and very hit or miss on record, Blind Faith was a mistake, and his solo career starting with “461 Ocean Blvd” (from which “I Shot the Sheriff” was featured) could be boiled down to about 1 year of quality work and 30 years of terminal boredom. Yes, I know this review isn’t about Clapton, yet I feel that I could passionately debate the pros and (mostly) cons of his career, but not be able to summon enough energy to discuss the career of Bob Marley.

However I see some correlations between the two, mainly in that though both were undeniably genuine in their devotion to their muses (blues and reggae, respectively), they were also undeniably DULL. Is it because I haven’t given Bob a chance? Nope, I have. In one of those phases where, though I didn’t have much interest in the music per se, I felt a certain amount of duty in buying many of Bob’s records, and letting them gather dust in my collection, hoping that perhaps one day, I would mature enough to understand the obvious genius bestowed from the musical press, which I simply couldn’t see. I didn’t listen to them because they said nothing to me: musically, lyrically, spiritually, globally – nothin’. It finally came to the point where “Exodus”, “Rastaman Vibration”, “Kaya”, etc. were finally sent to Half Price Books, leaving me with “Live”, “ Burnin’”, and the bane of “REAL” reggae everywhere, “Legend: the Best of Bob Marley”.

Yes, putting an entire genre of music in the hands of one notable purveyor of its craft is harshly unfair. It would be like basing all of emo on Coldplay, when we know that emo is SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND (said with trembling lip). But Bob was, is, and will always be the undisputed godfather of reggae’s popular form – much as Elvis was with rock, or Hank was with country. He just turned me off before I had an interest in finding out more (though I do still have a Peter Tosh 8 track.)

The one thing that I do find interesting about reggae is the inherent tension in the music. The relative simplicity of the backing pushing against the political/social/religious nature of the lyrics can be very intriguing. As long as Bob Marley’s not doing it, of course – at least not after 1974 or 75, when he went pop and retained reggae’s sound but lost the tension.

So now, “Burnin’”. This record was the last with the original Wailers, where Bob, though the leader, still shared the spotlight with Bunny Livingston & Peter Tosh. Their contributions, though slight, provide a good balance, especially Bunny’s Eddie Kendricksesque falsetto leads on “Hallelujah Time” and “Pass it On”. Tosh’s vocal on “One Foundation” isn’t much, but he does get a lead on this record’s finest moment, “Get Up Stand Up”. (Classic Rock 1070 AM used to play the HELL out of this back when I was in high school: it always seemed to be playing when we’d leave the school parking lot in Jeff Miranda’s car.) It is political without being strident, the performances are across the board strong, and it’s catchy. After Bunny’s praise-Jah showcase, we get to the big hit “I Shot the Sheriff”. This song too is catchy, but very stupid. As a crime song, “Stagger Lee” is much better, and as a pop song…well, Eric Clapton’s version is just as good, and that’s sad. “Burnin’ & Lootin’” is the other great song on the album, and provides the best example of the tension I earlier described. Bob’s vocal on this is terrific.

However, with the last song on Side One, the bottom a go drop out. “Put it On” is almost laughably stereotypical reggae (“I’m not boasting / feel like toasting”, indeed), and for the rest of the record, we’re in the depths of religious protest, and MAN it’s dull. By the time you get to the seemingly endless “Rastaman Chant”, it’s like you’ve been asleep without the actual rest. Snoresville, Daddy-O….

I was too bored reviewing this record to even come up with good ganja jokes.

VERDICT: I simply was not meant to be a Rastaman.
Video

V - Vanilla Fudge - "The Beat Goes On"

2009-06-06T17:59:00.002-05:00

For Bill - thanks for letting me know that someone out there reads this nonsense....

As much as I enjoy leafing through record guides or checking out reviews in various magazines, music reviewers are fairly useless; usually either shills in the business for pushing product (hello, Rolling Stone!) or lame knock offs of Lester Bangs. Sometimes reviews lead me to a treasure, mostly not. Many’s the time I bought a record based on the fawning (or damning) of a critic, only to find that it simply didn’t live up to the hype.

Today’s record did.

I once read that the Vanilla Fudge’s second LP was the most ludicrous album in rock history. High praise, indeed, yet extremely difficult for one to measure up to such a billing. Luckily, the Fudge was up to the task.

The Vanilla Fudge were a Sixties’ foursome from Long Island who, in order to disguise their total lack of songwriting talent, devised a unique sound that encompassed taking hit songs from today (circa 1966-1967), slowing them down considerably, stretching them out to 3 or 4 times their length, and bludgeoning them with a psychedelic pounding. Featuring pleading keyboards, plodding drums, overactive bass, and fuzzy guitar, the Fudge had a hit by massacring the Supremes’ “You Keep Me Hangin’ On”, which helped make their first album a success. As a followup, the gang wanted to “stretch out”, to get a little arty, and create a contemporary masterwork that could earn them a place as artistes. What they ended up doing was sinking their career in one motion, and the enjoyment I get out of hearing it is almost unparalleled.

This record is divided into four phases (announced by a “phased”, echoed voice intoning “Phase One”, “Phase Two”, etc.) Throughout the first half of the record, the band keeps returning to a 4 note motif: BAH BAAAH BAH BAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH. This motif will be indicated by the asterisk (*).

Prelude: the Fudge is credited with two tunes on the record, both of which are frankly just them screwing around. There’s no melodies outside of (*) on the first of these (“Sketch”), but, after a clip of Thomas Edison intoning “Mary had a Little Lamb” (how ya doin’ Tom? Bet you’ll be regretting inventing the record player once you hear THIS crap), we go into

PHASE ONE: the history of 18-20th century music boiled down to about 7 minutes.
We start with a brief version of Sonny & Cher’s “The Beat Goes On”; this is the other motif that constantly shows up. Of all the songs in the history of music, they are basing their magnum opus on a SONNY BONO tune. Uh huh. Nonetheless, this motif will be indicated by “:-0”; as in, “what the hell…?”
(*)
A Mooged up harpsichord twittles out a 45 second reduction of Mozart’s “divertimento No. 13 in …”.there’s no point in typing out the rest of the title, because it’s over that quickly. This segment I guess encapsulates all 18th century music. Well, okay then.
(*)
Terrible falsetto voices approximating some kind of harmony sing the old spiritual “Old Black Joe”. Again, its about 40 seconds long, yet sounds like a freakin’ eternity. This segment I guess encapsulates all 19th century music. Hmm…that’s something.
(*)
Hey we’re in the 20th century now-WOO WOO! And to celebrate, here’s the world’s most ball-less versions of “Don’t Fence Me In”, “12th Street Rag”, (*) & “In the Mood” ever recorded. You thought the Fudge was bad playing CURRENT music…wait to you hear them gracelessly attempt to play the music of yesteryear.
(*)
and now the world’s most ball-less version of “Hound Dog”. Elvis could’ve eaten these kids up for a midnight snack. He really could’ve.
(*)
To finish up phase one, here’s a Beatles medley: appropriately enough, I guess, seeing as the Beatles revolutionized music the same way, um, “12th street rag” did. There’s no excuse for this pedestrian playing & toothless singing (the harmonies are particularly galling). For the record, they play “I Want to Hold your Hand”, “I Feel Fine”, “Day Tripper”, & “She Loves You”, or at least a few seconds of each, culminating with the unison braying of “you say hello, and I say GOODBYE….BOIIIIIIING” (yes, someone says “boing”.) what an entrancing trainwreck.

PHASE TWO: begins naturally with (*), then a plodding drumbeat, which leads into an actual version of “:-O”. Boy, does this song suck, no matter who does it. All the Fudge solo simultaneously to cover the fact that nothing is happening, which leads into the most boring pointless version of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” recorded. The Fudge were passing classical gas long before Emerson Lake & Palmer used the great composers as their doormats. (Though I do love this record, this phase could disappear, and I would not complain because it’s just so dull. Also, I’m not familiar enough with classical music, much less Beethoven, to be as horrified & offended as I should be by this slaughter, although I do know that it just ain’t right.) Before closing out side one, they as much as poop on Beethoven by adding a 30 second lounge version of “:-O”; midway through, the song is sped up until it is a blur. It’s as if the producer says to us “yeah, I don’t want to listen to this either”.
OH CRIKEY – side two begins with the blur that disappeared at the end of side one slowing down into the continued lounging of “:-O”. Every album has some form of filler, but this is ridiculous.

PHASE THREE: “Voices in Time” – this is actually the most interesting section of the record, combining old news clips and interviews, beginning with Neville Chamberlain claiming that now that he signed a deal with Hitler, everyone would be happy and peaceful, singing songs, and skipping in the park, lah dee dee. Followed by lots of “Sieg Heil"ing” (ahem….”d’oh!”) What follows are clips of the bombing of Pearl Harbor & subsequent US declaration of war, Winston Churchill, FDR’s funeral march, the bombing of Hiroshima (“a military base”), Thomas Edison again (what the hell is he doing HERE?), JFK’s inauguration (“Mistah Speekah!”), then a long slow drumbeat (for the Kennedy assassination??), then back to the Chamberlain/Hitler medley, a big BOOM, and end. All throughout this the Fudge are “:-O”ing in the background – annoying yet unobtrusive. Constructively, this segment is assembled very crudely, and is way too heavy handed, but the historical clips are always interesting to hear (especially the radio broadcast of FDR’s funeral). It’s worth noting that the best part of this Vanilla Fudge record is when the Vanilla Fudge is almost invisible. But that ain’t gonna last…

PHASE FOUR: this is actually the most jaw droppingly bad section of the record, where the Fudge are exposed as the true jokes that they are. Had the album ended with Phase Three, the record more than likely would’ve been smirked at and ignored, but their pretensions and limitations become totally exposed hear, and it’s marvelous. After yet ANOTHER lounge version of “:-O”, we slink into “Merchant”, a plodding dead melody interrupted by free form playing and spoken word parts. These vocal interruptions might be entitled “meet the band”, because everyone gets a say. We start with very New Yawk guitarist Vinnie Martell, who monotones the following:

“The beat goes on…the mind goes on…the whirlwinds blow…as always and forever it will be. As life goes on in desperation & hate, so too it goes on in contentment and happiness. The beat of life goes on everchanging. This album is peopled (?) throughout the world: their idears, beliefs, their emotions. We hold only the tools through which to express time through music. And the beat….goes on.”

As does this recitation. After what sounds like someone sitting on a keyboard while a cat wanders through windchimes & someone else knocks over a sitar, we meet petulantly nerdy bassist Tim Bogert, who takes part in a faux interview that he must’ve thought made him sound like the Fudge’s deep thinker, but makes him sound like an arrogant buffoon:

Q: what do you think God thinks of “Eleanor Rigby”? (the Fudge’s most recent single)
A: I think He may like it. (God: “Bullshit!”)
Q: what do you see in the future for Vanilla Fudge?
A: Another album. I just hope the trip gets lighter.
Q: what about sex?
A: (long pregnant pause) Sex is a very beautiful thing. (Women everywhere: “Pass.”)
Q: Black power?
A: Black power is a very, very wasted use of very good imagination & drive. (upon hearing this album, Huey Newton, very, very hurt by Bogert’s words, disbanded the Black Panthers and went into accounting.)
Q: President Johnson?
A: Johnson? You can’t actually have a significant opinion unless you know both sides, & you’ll never know both sides because you’ll never hear it. You won’t be informed. (unless you watch Fox news).
Q: people in the music business?
A: (long pause while Tim shakes his head and sighs) Disheartening…and a lot of other words which I can’t use. They’re people. There’s very…there’s a lot of very beautiful people in the business. (way to make sure there’s another album in your future, Tim!)
Q: what about trips?
A: For 15 cents, you can take one on the subway. Now I think it’s up to 20. (Thank you, ladies & germs, I’ll be here all week, enjoy the buffet!)
Q: how about poetry? What does it say?
A: (thoughtful pause while Tim extrapolates) It says everything that can be.
Q: what about the Beatles’ interest in the Indian meditation?
A: (suppressed chuckle) best of luck…
Q: Ice cream?
A: I LIKE ice cream!

Ladies and Gentlemen: the most pompous ass in rock and roll, pre-Bono. It’s hard to force down the bile that rises in your throat in the presence of this DONUT.
So here’s more jangling/cat walking/broken sitaring, then the beat picks up, as we await the vocal arrival of legendary drummer Carmine Appice. (Carmine actually did have quite a long career after the Fudge broke up, initially with Beck, Bogert & Appice (Jeff Beck SERIOUSLY slumming), then with Rod Stewart, with whom he co-wrote “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” (so what does THAT poetry say, Tim?), before being the “superstar” in such useless 80’s fake metal bands as Blue Murder and King Kobra (who happened to open for Ted Nugent at what was to be my first concert before I realized that even with free tickets, the price was too much to pay.). So what’s Carmine have to say? Well, we’re still waiting – “Merchant” keeps playing and playing, until finally we hear a Brooklyn mumble (verbatim transcript):

“keep it goin’, Bill, it’s - I don’t know it’s going. Keep it going, so I don’t know it’s going. So I’m not a tawker, you know, I just play drums. So listen to my drums if you want to hear me tawk, har her.”

I guess this fully sums up Carmine. He’s a moron.
Woah, trippy – we go back to sitar land, and, with his keyboards leading in, Fudge leader Mark Stein reads from the bible. It’s the tale of the death of Moses. Why? Is it because Mark wants to be the mystical member of the Fudge? Mystical gurus generally aren’t congested Jews from Brooklyn (are they?) (For the record, he reads from Deuteronomy 34: 5-8, 10-12. Read along and maybe you can figure out what the hell he’s getting at.)

And with some final psychedelic nonsense leading to a last great smashing crescendo of “:-O”, so endeth the Fudge’s career as serious musicians.

Epilogue: There is just no way to impress upon you how STUPID this album is. When the Dictators sang “I wish that Sgt. Pepper NEVER taught the band to play”, they are referring to the atmosphere left in that album’s wake that resulted in trash like this. These poor kids simply didn’t get that they weren’t clever enough to pull off a quality TRACK, much less a quality CONCEPT ALBUM. (Let’s give equal blame to producer Shadow Morton, who may have seen himself as a George Martin-type force: the fifth Fudge, if you will. His mini-stories worked on singles (“Leader of the Pack”) but with no good material, no good musicians, and no good ideas, it could only end in tears.) I absolutely ADORE this album. It is the “Plan 9” of records. Much like Ed Wood’s celebrated film, it starts off bad, and becomes so ill advised and bewildering that it becomes fascinating: just when you think it bottoms out, it drops a level you didn’t know existed.
THAT, my friends, is ART.

Verdict: I’m sorry that Thomas Edison got dragged into this mess.
Video

U - UFO - "Force It"

2009-06-06T17:45:00.002-05:00

Can anyone clearly define the line that separates “good” hard rock from “mediocre”? Is it in the quality of songwriting? Musicianship? Production? Marketing? Album cover design? Fashion sense? A cool name?

There are so many rock bands of the 70’s & 80’s that sound exactly alike (typified by Whitesnake, the most blatantly stereotypical hard rock band) that it is difficult to sort the wheat from the chaff. The bands I'm takling about are more song & melody oriented than heavy metal, usually evoking a macho cock-rock pose, with a flashy lead guitarist and journeyman singer with tight tight trousers, while keeping an eye on the charts.

UFO fits the bill nicely. I kinda wanted to like this record a lot, mainly because they seemed to be this bunch of guys plugging along for years, slowly building a fan base up from a cult following to finally achieve success & stardom. Which happened to them to a degree in England, at least. Over here, they did nothing. And of course, by the time they made the charts, they were spent creatively and quickly fragmented, especially with the departure of ace guitarist Michael Schenker (Germans rule!!!) (I mean that I like German rockers, not that Germans are necessarily better than everyone. I’ll stop talking now.), who was the most unique & talented player in the band.

In fact, on “Force It” (nice), Schenker really is the only standout, playing nice melodic solos & riffs – not overplaying like some of this show-off peers – though Pete Way contributes some nice plonking bass. Singer Phill Mogg, despite his awesome last name, could be featured in the dictionary under “Generic rock singer”; he’s got a decent voice with some oomph behind it, but he’s doing nothing but singing the words, which also could be featured in the dictionary under “Generic rock lyrics”. Side one goes by and you never really notice it, except for the last song “Out in the Street”. Side two, though, is actually quite listenable, and a huge improvement over side one. Three out of the four songs are very catchy, and two of them (“Mother Mary”, “This Kid’s”) have interesting arrangements and make you say, “hmmm, those kids ain’t too bad”, even though that‘s not the most ringing endorsement for an up & coming rock band.

Verdict: way better than Whitesnake, but so are the Spice Girls.
Video

T - Talking Heads - "'77"

2009-06-06T17:44:00.002-05:00

I have all the Talking Heads albums up through 1985’s “Little Creatures”, though I’ve never been much of a fan. Like a lot of my generation, I first experienced the Talking Heads by watching David Byrne spazz out during videos (“Once in a Lifetime” may very well be the greatest video of all time – even today). The problem is, the music didn’t really interest me as much as the videos did. Take away the visuals, and what’s left? Vinyl that sits unplayed for years on end.

I figured this would be my favorite Heads’ album, primarily because it was recorded while they were still CBGB’s regulars. Their ties to the New York punk roots were severed very quickly, so I figured there would at least be some energy in these recordings. Nope. There’s a lot of TENSION, which may have been their most notable feature, especially before Jerry Harrison (formerly of the Modern Lovers) joined, because there’s so much minimalism – no one seems to be doing ANYTHING. And David is singing away like a frightened chicken – it’s a bizarre sound, no doubt about it. It isn’t very attractive. Or entertaining. Almost like the guy on the street corner who’s just standing there, but has a nervous jittery quality that makes you want to roll your windows up and avoid eye contact, then feel badly about doing so.

Well, I don’t listen to music to feel guilty – so many other avenues in life provide that particular pleasure. I do like that, as a band, the Talking Heads are flat out dorks. At least at first – once they started celebrating their nerdiness, it became more of gimmick, and nowhere as entertaining or real. I like a lot of the simplicity; a quality they seemed to cast off once David & Brian Eno became buddies. Any charm they had dissipated in record time, usually before the record even ended.

As for this record, not until the last song on side one (“No Compassion”) is there anything worth listening to again. David Byrne was an absolutely obnoxious singer, and he made the stupid lyrics sound annoying as well. The last two songs on the record (“Psycho Killer”, “Pulled Up”) FINALLY provide some sign of life, at least ending on a high (or at least medium) note. A nice touch is the use of xylophone throughout the album, but that’s kinda grasping for straws.

Verdict: well, maybe the addition of Eno did make the band better after all.
Video

S - SSgt. Barry Sadler - "Ballads of the Green Berets"

2009-06-06T17:41:00.003-05:00

One of the films I received from Netflix today was “F.T.A.”, a documentary of the anti-war show put together by Jane Fonda & Donald Sutherland that toured America & the Pacific Rim, mostly in locations near military bases. Sort of a bizarro world version of Bob Hope’s USO show. Filled with musical numbers, skits, and readings, the show is damn near unwatchable today. The music, mostly performed by some dude in a caftan named Len Chandler, is primarily heavy handed sing alongs testifying to America’s imperalism, racism, & class & gender warfare (like the tender “My Ass is Mine”), and the “comedy” is astoundingly unfunny (especially when rubber faced buffoon Michael Alaimo (a more apt last name I cannot fathom) shows up; even Jim Carrey might refer to Lame-O’s face making, sub-vaudeville style of comedy as “a little broad”.) Throughout it all, Jane, with her shag haircut and huge glasses, grins, gawks, and testifies with the fervor of a closeted Republican congressman; what’s more, she cannot sing worth a damn, and her acting wouldn’t have even gotten her cast in “Soup for President”, the theatrical adaptation I developed for Sister Kinga’s class in 4th grade (it was DAMN good, too). With the exception of an intense reading from “Johnny Got His Gun”, Donald Sutherland looks miserable & stoned out of his mind, probably wishing he were back in Korea with Trapper John instead of stuck in the Philippines with Hanoi Jane. Regardless, beneath the horror that was the “F.T.A.” show, the message seemed to be “support our troops”; mainly by getting them out of harm’s way where they were forced to risk their lives for a cause that was seriously flawed to begin with.

In a remarkable coincidence, the message is the same in the record of the day. Here’s a record made during the Vietnam War, sung by a Vietnam veteran. I’ve owned this record forever (I think Denny gave it me way back when), & of course I’m familiar with the title cut. I’ve always been so put off by the machismo of the song (where the dying soldier’s last request is for his son to become a soldier, & possibly die, too – in order to become a MAN. Thanks, Daddy-O.) that I never realized how UNpolitical the song is. It always seemed to me to be one of the all-time classic raving right wing anthems, but it isn’t. In fact, this album is remarkably non-political. It presents different aspects of a soldier’s life in Vietnam in 1966. One song clearly documents post-traumatic stress disorder before the term existed, another tells of the whores of Saigon & how a soldier is drawn back again and again because they are an escape from the unreal life the soldiers endure, another (the light-hearted one!) is about alcoholism. And in every song, there is death, death, death. Even the patriotic aspect doesn’t beat you over the head. It’s more like “well, I’ve been drafted, it’s hell, but my country needs me. And I can’t wait till I can go home.” I can’t imagine the folks who used this as album as a rallying cry for supporting the war – they must’ve been the same ones who got Reagan to try to usurp “Born in the USA” before Bruce, to his eternal credit, called them out for the hypocritical war mongers that they were.

That said, Sgt. Sadler has a very weak voice (he must've been a true bad-ass, but you’d think that a Green Beret would sound like John Wayne, not Wayne Newton: I wonder what Dave Dudley, Red Sovine, or Red Simpson (truck driving music) could’ve done with this.) Most of the songs follow the exact same pattern: verse/chorus/verse/chorus/narration, and they all sound the same, except for the Roger Miller-esque “Garet Trooper” and calypsofied tribute to inebriation “Bamiba”. Regardless, this record is MUCH better than C Company's "Don't blame William Calley for My Lai - he just pulled the trigger on the civilians, and ordered others to do so, that's all" similar presentation.

This evening’s entertainment has certainly got me a feeling a little off-kilter. I assumed I’d get bludgeoned by the left, then the right, but I’m left hoping to live in an America where in the future soldiers are not put in harm’s way in an attempt to create a one world nation disguised as a democracy (or at least one where, if the government is going to flat out lie and make shit up in order to stir up their own constituents fears enough to start an immoral war of aggression, they’re at least smart enough to cover their tracks a little better.)

Oh yeah, and I also understand why Jane Fonda became a vilified joke in the early ‘70’s. (I liked Holly Near in FTA, though - she was great in "Slaughterhouse Five" - plus she could sing.)

Verdict: man, am I bummed out.
Video

R - Nik Raicevic - "Head"

2009-06-06T17:40:00.003-05:00

This 1970 album is called “Head”. According to Allmusic.com, the first album called “Head” was the soundtrack to the Monkees’ movie “Head” released two years earlier, so strike one against this album’s originality. The Monkees were perceived as bubble-gum music (though one listen to the “Head” soundtrack, and one wonders what was in the bubble gum they were chewing) (remember “Freshen Up” gum? The gum that had the liquid goop in the center? It was pretty gross, but, after the Bubble Yum/Bubblicious wars of the late 70’s had faded, it was the candy of the moment. Some witty pundit in my 6th grade class once referred to it as “cum gum”, and that put me off this candy, but, seeing as the gum itself was not much to write home about in the first place, it was no great loss. I’m pretty sure I went back to Blow Pops after that (Jesus, are all candy marketers perverts??), especially after Steven opened up a business in our house buying cheap candy and marking it up to sell to his friends and family. The business was successful, but closed down relatively quickly, primarily due to theft by family members or Steven’s lack of faimilial trust. I’m not saying I stole anything, but his prices were fairly outrageous, and we’ll leave it at that)), and this record was released on Buddah Records, home of bubble gum music, so strike two against this album’s credibility.

Strike three is its insulting obviousness. The song titles themselves are the equivalent of hitting you over the head with a blunt (heh) instrument: “Cannabis Sativa”, “Methedrine” (which spellcheck doesn’t recognize as a word: it doesn’t even recognize “spellcheck”), and “Lysergic Acid Diethylamide”. And also, “Head”. Do you get it? Not yet? Okee, here’s the liner notes:

“The sound of numbers for soaking in soft dreams. Sweet moments and private notes making a rhyme into a habit. An album that creates the ultimate environment for the smoke generation. Taste it.”

“Habit”? “Smoke generation”? Eh? EH? Drugs? Hear of ‘em? Want to HEAR them? WOW, suddenly the pervs in the candy companies seem subtle compared to the cutesy-pies at Buddah. This jacket is the equivalent of someone screaming “HEY YOU! HIPPIE! WE GOT DRUGS HERE!”

Well, I don’t do drugs (there were those two pot-smoking attempts: one which was so unremarkable I don’t remember it; the other time I became terribly grouchy from coughing (I wasn’t a smoker, so the sensation of smoking was alien and horrible to me), To soothe my throat, I drank a lot of Captain Morgan’s rum mixed with powdered ice tea mix (yes, I know it’s gross, but I wasn’t a drinker either), so by the end of the evening, I was wasted (from what exactly, I’m not sure) and grumpy. Far out, indeed.)), but, seeing this record for $1 at Half Price Books (naturally – that store has brought me more joy & pain than any other retail establishment; all very inexpensively. Thus ends my plug. www.halfpricebooks.com), its audacity & unknown element (the “artist’s” name is not specified on the cover or spine) made it an easy buy.

The record was recorded at Gold Star Studios (Phil Spector’s stomping grounds! He’s a killer! For real!) by an individual named Nik Raicevic (which I believe is also the capitol of Iceland), though the album sleeve only lists his (her?) name as “Composer & Producer”. I don’t know who this person is, what (s)he’s done before or after, or why (s)he was given the opportunity to record for Buddah (hint: drugs may have been involved).

I guess after all this gabbing, I need to say something about the music. It’s a person with a Moog synthesize, who’s listened to too much Tangerine Dream, pushing random buttons, and, possibly letting the Moog run itself while he went to get a Coke. Or a toke. Whichever. Neither one can make this album any better.

I could leave it at that, but feel it would be a cheap cop out for you, the reader. I did listen, and I did get some impressions from it. The main sounds seem to be:
· A defective refrigerator humming
· The alien sounds from “Galaga” when they drop from the sky and try to steal your ship with their tractor beams
· The sound Microsoft Windows gives you when your file has finished downloading
· The persistent sound of water dripping onto a hollow rusted pipe
· A flock of asthmatic pigeons
· And a crank call consisting of heavy breathing & the persistent mumbles of “where is it?”
Would this be more enjoyable if I, the listener, was stoned out of my gourd? Maybe, but I would hope that, should I ever find myself in said condition, I’d have better presence of mind than to put on “Head”. Listened to straight, the main sensation I experienced (are YOU experienced? Just asking…) was anxiety: anxiety that my bank account would be depleted by all the repair bills, what with the damn refrigerator conking out and the water leaking behind the walls. And anxiety that I was about to be kidnapped by aliens.

Verdict: “Head” brought me no pleasure. It left me feeling empty and somewhat defiled.
Video: sadly, there is no footage of the elusive Mr. (?) Raicevic, but this link: has footage of MARIJAN Raicevic (any relation?) jamming with his buddy Bane on New Years Eve 2007. This has got to be the lamest New Years Eve party of all time (including the ones (yes, plural) where Steven and I spent the evening playing a card game pitting wrestlers against each other. THOSE NYE’s had to have been better than this one. My sweet lord.)

Q - Queen - "Greatest Hits"

2009-06-06T17:38:00.003-05:00

Freddie Mercury was easily one of the greatest front men (though he may have liked being behind too – and that fills the quota for gay jokes early, and now - back to the action) & possessor of the greatest overbite in rock history. Certainly no one else could combine the majesty & ludicrousness of rock better than Freddie (check out the pictures of Freddie strutting out in a cape & crown, though my favorite pic is of a shirtless Freddie wearing a leather cap & pants & suspenders brandishing a riding crop while on the shoulders of someone dressed as Superman – now THAT’S humor). Despite the talents of the band, the story of Queen begins & ends with Mr. Bad Guy: John Deacon & Roger Taylor were competent, not much more, on bass & drums, and Brian May was a good guitarist who was overshadowed by his own guitar.

One unique thing about Queen is that every member wrote a number one song for the group. While no single member was particularly consistent in song quality (Brian & Freddie fared the best), sharing the songwriting duties while maintaining a readily identifiable sound was quite the achievement. Also, they kept the same lineup from first album to last (I refused to qualify any of Brian & Roger’s reunion attempts, especially with the insult of having the meat and potatoes, Iron John hack Paul Rodgers in the place of rock’s answer to Quentin Crisp). These qualities made for a fairly decent recording career and one HELL of a greatest hits collection.

By the time this LP came out, Queen had pretty much blown its wad creatively (though they remained a fantastic live act throughout the 80’s (and TOTALLY stole the stage at Live Aid: it was obvious even then. Watching the entire Wembley stadium raise their hands and clap to “Radio Gaga” was mindblowing). They would release 4 more records, some of which tried to get around their creative quagmire by experimenting with different musical forms (which they’d actually started a couple years before “Greatest Hits” came out), but with diminishing quality. By the time Freddie was diagnosed with AIDS, the band was pretty much through, which makes this release almost the capping off of their career (personally, I don’t really miss “Radio Gaga”, “I Want to Break Free”, “Who Wants to Live Forever”, etc. all that much. None of their later hits could replace anything here.)

As such, it succeeds wildly. This may very well be the most successful greatest hits collection released – it’s certainly the best way to listen to the very uneven Queen. Every song is great, and every song belongs. The one thing the LP doesn’t do is spotlight the art-rock side of Queen, which is fine, because the singles were always much better than the album cuts. It’s a great rock and roll experience to be able to truly ENJOY the music that’s being played: whether you’re singing along, stomping your feet, headbanging away, waving your lighters in the air, or laughing at the lyrics (I still crack up at the shout out to the fat-bottomed girls in “Bicycle Race”, which in and of itself is totally ridiculous (I used to enjoy yelling “Jaws was never my scene / AND I DON’T LIKE STAR WARS” in Donald’s face – boo yah!)) Whoever put this LP together did a spectacular job: “Killer Queen”, “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”, “Under Pressure”, “We Are the Champions”, “Somebody to Love”, “Bohemian Rhapsody”, “You’re My Best Friend” – and that’s only half the record (now if “I” was the one putting the record together today, I would’ve replaced “Another One Bites the Dust” (overplayed, but how could it not be here?), “Flash”, & “Play the Game” with “Seven Seas of Rhye”, “Stone Cold Crazy”, & “Don’t Stop Me Now” (and, if there was some way to squeeze them on, “Save Me” and “I’m in Love with My Car”); this is nothing against any of the above songs, just personal preference).

Verdict: so good, you’ll want to buy more Queen records. But choose wisely, Indy – some of them are pretty rough (“Hot Space”, anyone?)
Video

P - Palace Brothers - "There is No One What Will Take Care of You"

2009-06-06T17:37:00.003-05:00

Have I done something wrong? Have I sinned? Is this some kind of cosmic punishment? Is there such a thing as “Iceberg’s Revenge”?

First I have to endure, and rip apart, one of my old idol’s records (see previous entry), then I have to sit through what seems like 12 hours of the Palace Brothers’ first album.

Okay, I’m going to make this short and sweet, because I’m absolutely pissed that, no matter how much I rant & rave about the criminality of wasting precious moments on this “music” of a moaning sad sack, IT’S MY OWN DAMN FAULT BECAUSE I BOUGHT THIS RECORD! It was 99 cents at Sound Waves, and Steve was a big fan. I would’ve never heard of this “band” (really just a bad singer named Will Oldham) if Steve hadn’t talked about them (him) so often. Plus it’s on Drag City Records – the one-time mecca of indie whores - how can one go wrong?

Well, by dropping the needle on side one for instance. You can go doubly wrong by turning the record over. Palace Brothers in a nutshell: Appalachian death music modernized (ie half assed playing & lots of swearing – why does he mention urine so much?). Also, MAKING YOUR VOICE CRACK EVERY THIRD NOTE DOES NOT DENOTE EMOTION. It is an affectation, is completely fake sounding, and is annoying as me on a rant. Will Oldham might as well be Sheryl Crow or that crap singer from Coldplay. All of these songs are Will moaning and moaning and MOANING about God knows what. I tuned him out during the middle of side one. This is much worse than Jandek. Hillbilly emo.

There must be great lyrics on here, for the critics seem to love it, but I can’t hear them over the gnashing of my teeth from these inane performances. If he was truly musically incompetent, that wouldn’t bother me – there’s a lot of half-wits whose limitations are charming - it’s that he CAN PLAY BUT IS PURPOSELY PLAYING POORLY. This is the epitome of the indie pose, and the perfect example of why 90’s indie rock was no more valid than the Spice Girls. At this moment, I can’t think of anyone who deserves an ass kicking more than Will Oldham circa 1992, if only because I truly believe that getting the crap beaten out of him might've given him a better outlook on life – like an internal cleanse, except done with fists and kicks.

Verdict: If you choose to flog yourself with this, I wish you well. Stay away from sharp instruments, & make sure you can self-apply a tourniquet, just in case

O - Phil Ochs - "All the News That's Fit to Sing"

2009-06-06T17:35:00.003-05:00

Phil Ochs hanged himself in 1976, broken down & busted. His career was over, ruined by bad career moves, a mugging in Africa in 1973 that resulted in a drastic loss of his singing range, a crippling case of writer’s block, and the prolonged act of giving up. You can’t really say it was a tragedy, because, frankly, Phil belonged to the 60’s and the 60’s were over. He knew it – hell, he’d say it. Sinking into soft alcoholic middle age, he squandered money and friends to the point where even he couldn’t stand himself. A belt wedged over a doorway took his problems away.

I first read about Phil in the Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock & Roll. I’d joined a book club around 1986-7 & this was one of my initial freebees for joining. During the next couple of years, I literally wore the book out; by the time it went into the trash, it was in about 7 pieces due to the binder splitting (damn Rolling Stone cheap asses – put some of that ad money into GLUE!) Phil Ochs was the first listing in the short “O” section (I think it also had Mike Oldfield, the Ohio Players, & the Ozark Mountain Daredevils – no Yoko, though, because I think Rolling Stone still blamed her for breaking up the Beatles. The Ozark Mountain Daredevils never broke up any band other than their own, thus their inclusion, I suppose.). Under his listing was a picture of him from around the “Tape from California” years that I remembered for a long time before hearing anything of his material: short unruly brown hair & steely determined eyes looking west. I learned his story: straight ahead folk singer who went rock & roll long after it was trendy, very politically active and outspoken, fell apart after 1968, killed himself in the 70’s. Eventually, I found several of his records, and the voice & songs matched the doomed / damned mystique that had built up; I thought he was better than Dylan. Well, Phil wasn’t as good as Dylan – not even close, but he made some powerful records, the best of which reflect the emotion that the obviously troubled singer was experiencing.

On his first record, Phil has nothing. At all. The liner notes celebrate the material’s “topicality” – which translates now to “extremely dated”. He claims to “get most of his basic material from Newsweek & the NY Times”, which also explains the record's lyrical shortcomings. These songs are the equivalent of a very liberal newscaster preaching to the choir about the inequalities in our society, the resolve of the workingman, and the hypocrisy of government. Like Keith Olberman, but nowhere near as entertaining, because not only had Phil not yet found his lyrical voice, his vocals are, to put it plainly, strident and stand-offish. (The reason that Dylan was a success, besides his gift for writing lyrics that weren’t painfully obvious, was that, as he once claimed with more than a little honesty disguised as irony, he was at heart “a song & dance man”. It wasn’t just what he sang; it was his delivery that made the words even more powerful. That’s why so many cover versions of Dylan are, if not awful, at least substandard to the originals – Dylan knew HOW to sing. Phil didn’t – at least not right off the bat.

(Interlude – I’m not being mean or unfair by bringing up Dylan. Though Dylan had a couple years head start on Phil, they played in a lot of the same clubs, ran in the same circles, considered each other peers: the liner notes of this record quote Dylan as saying “I just can’t keep up with Phil. And he’s getting’ better and better and better.” To which I say “nice plug, Bob. That’s being a good friend. Because, really, by this time, you’ve changed the definition of folk music with “Blowin in the Wind” & “The Times They Are A-Changin’” (which, don’t look now, but in about 10 years, Bryan Ferry is going to record a version of which will BLOW you away), and you’re about to change rock and roll, too – actually for the worse, long term. Phil might as well be living in the 50’s. And also, you’re high.” Dylan grasped the SINGING aspect of folk music much quicker than most of his peers (wow, I mean listen to Dylan’s first record – it’s the roughest sounding album of his career, & it’s almost completely filled with covers, but it’s totally engaging.) A fair comparison are the tributes Dylan & Phil wrote for Woody Guthrie on their first albums: “Song for Woody” & “Bound for Glory”, respectively. Dylan, in addition to celebrating Woody’s life, personalizes Woody’s place in his own life & times, whereas Phil is relegating to listing Woody Guthrie song titles to fill a verse. They both felt passionately about this great influence, but only one song resonates. Sorry Phil.)

The trouble with recording the equivalent of a newspaper is that by tomorrow that paper is recycled unless the writing is good enough to make you stop in your tracks. When Phil sings about “current” events, I’m lost, & frankly, don’t care because of the doctrinaire lyrics. Even when the songs are well-written, & the lyrics sting when they’re supposed to (“One More Parade”, “Too Many Martyrs”), Phil’s delivery, that of a schoolteacher instructing his young Maoists, sinks them like the submarine in “The Thresher”. Even worse, his attempts at satire – in what amount to a really bad Dylan imitation, (“Talking Vietnam”, “Talking Cuban Crisis”) are PAINFULLY pathetic & horribly unfunny.

There’s bound to be SOME glory in here, and there is: when Phil puts Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Bells” to music, it’s very nice. “Celia” is a sweet song about love locked in a political prison, and points to a better artistic direction for Phil: humanity holds so much more value than doctrine. Also, as Phil mostly plays acoustic guitar unaccompanied, and was, even at his peak, a rudimentary guitarist, adding Danny Kalb (later of the Blues Project) on lead acoustic was a nice touch.

Though I’ve been a big Ochs fan for a long time, this, his first release, was the last I actually purchased, mainly because I knew what it would be: the tentative first steps of a songwriter not really ready to record.

Verdict: there are some really great Ochs records out there. Don’t start with this one.
Video:(this is Phil on the Midnight Special 10 years after the original release of this song. It almost hurts to watch, considering the disarray of his life at the time. It also says a lot about the state of his career that for his first network appearance in years, he plays what amounts to a rewrite of "This Land is Your Land” that wasn’t even good when he recorded it a decade earlier. Who booked him for this show, anyway? Regardless, LOVE the Curtis Mayfield intro – ooooh!)

N - Jim Nabors - "Shazam! Jim Nabors as Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C."

2009-06-06T17:33:00.003-05:00

There’s a lot to be said about setting & maintaining low expectations. True, you tend to dwell near the bottom, but at least you don’t have much farther down to go. Bad things are not as crushing as anticipated, and great things are almost too much to handle. Then there’s all that stuff in between – stuff that’s just there. You find yourself pleasantly surprised by something that's merely okay instead of gawdawful, which makes life seem a bit better than it really is.

I am flabbergasted that this album wasn’t an out an out disaster. Look at the cover, please – regardless of whether this gentleman purports to risk his life to defend our freedoms, you can’t help but want to kick him in the groin. But you know what? I guess I kinda liked this record.

Jim Nabors has recorded about 800 records; some gospel, some show tunes, some schmaltzy pop, but all absolutely unlistenable (and which are all available at Half Price Books for 25 cents each. What a ripoff.). I guess he has a decent range, but his tone is one of the most painful I’ve ever heard. Could that be his real voice? He certainly didn’t HAVE to sing like that, and this album is proof. He sings the entire album totally in character as Gomer Pyle, legendary Mayberry mechanic, and his cornpone backwoods voice is perfect for this silly material. Sure all the songs sound like a cleaned up version of Hee Haw – gimmicky stereotypical hillbilly played professionally by Hollywood studio hacks, but there’s nothing wrong with good novelty songs. Now I’m not claiming that THESE are good novelty songs, but in listening for the first time, I’ve been satisfied and delighted a few times. (Even before putting the LP on the turntable, in fact. For some reason unknown to history, the original record liner has been replaced by the one for “Air Supply’s Greatest Hits”, an album I am all too familiar with. Expecting to listen to the effeminate Jim Nabors and SEEING the effeminate Russell Hitchcock provided me with the first laugh of the afternoon.) Some of the better attributes of this album include:
· All the songs are Ramones-short. Most are under or around the two minute mark, so even if the joke doesn’t work, it’s over soon enough.
· Someone is playing the HELL out of a saw on the otherwise average “It Takes All Kinds to Make a World”. I mean, he or she is seriously going to town on it. That is one musical instrument that has been woefully underused.
· The liner notes are by Andy Griffith, and who doesn’t love the original G? Simply reading his name brings up reminiscences of fishin’ down at the waterin’ hole with your paw while an omnipotent presence whistles merrily – so what if this memory isn’t even yours.
· The outstanding chorus “She was a t-bone talkin’ woman / but she had a hot dog heart HEART HEART!”
· “If You Want Me To”’s inbred Everly Brothers tribute.
· The punchline to “All of This for Sally” (I don’t want to spoil it for you, in case you choose to seek out this record.)

I’d also like to think that the Byrds listened to this album a lot, seeing as they recorded a version of Gomer’s dead dog classic “Old Blue”. That would make them way hipper than I ever thought they could be. There are times where this record sounds very much like “Nashville Skyline”, only more enjoyable.

In closing, I’ll leave the last words to our favorite hayseed (no, not Bush): “if yer bills are high & yer well’s gone dry / just remember / Gomer says “Hey”.”
Words we can ALL live by.

Verdict: Shazam! It’s somewhat funny! And I’m sober!!
Video

M - Magazine - "Real Life"

2009-06-06T17:32:00.003-05:00

One day in the fall of 1994 or so, Darek called to tell me that one of his co-workers was selling his record collection for $1 each, and would I be interested in going through it? On the one hand, I’m always a sucker for cheap records (at the time, I was going to every record convention advertised, and was frequenting Sound Exchange often – every now and then, they would have a 50% off used vinyl sale, and I would get there early with my highlighted record guides so as to make sure I was getting the most for my limited funds), but was concerned that it was going to be a bunch of junk in either quality or condition. By this time, CD’s had taken over, and vinyl was being phased out, so everyone was dumping their beat up collections – there was a lot of crap floating around. It seemed no one wanted their Springsteen or Aerosmith anymore. I sure didn’t.

Anyway, I told Darek I’d take a look, and we went over to Dave’s apartment. He had all of his records on shelves in the living room, and, after introductions, I sat on the floor and began looking. By the letter “G”, I must’ve already pulled out 20 or more records. This guy’s collection was outstanding: mostly modern music, including a lot of British imports that I knew would cost a fortune at Sound Exchange (the original issues of Joy Division’s “Still”, the Soft Boys “Underwater Moonlight”, the Au Pairs “Live in Berlin”, plus autographed albums by X, Jonathan Richman, & Laurie Anderson, to name a few). I simply could not believe my eyes. Apparently Dave worked at a radio station and gotten most of these records at work. I asked if he had tried to sell them at any of the local record stores; he said that none of them were interested. This, naturally, raised a red flag, and I began wondering if this was his collection at all – maybe he was mad at his roommate and was selling off HIS collection while he was out of town? All I knew was I was making out like a bandit. I ended up buying 89 records that day; I later went back with Darek and got 25 more. It was my greatest score EVER – my only regret was not buying the entire collection (I could’ve made the money back just selling Sound Exchange the records I didn’t want). What an awesome day!

Which brings me to Magazine. I’d only known the name and a little background (band formed by the ex-lead singer of the Buzzcocks), but, due to the extreme affordability, paid 6 dollars for their entire output to that point (including 3 autographed records). In the 13 years that I’ve owned these albums, I maybe listened to them once or twice each. Even though they’re thought of as pioneers in the post-punk field, I can’t seem to get into them. Their main differentiating feature is the thing I don’t like about them – the keyboards. Their sound is definitely keyboard-synth driven, but there seems something off about it. Dave Formula is a good player, but perhaps should’ve been playing in a different band. Howard Devoto, the singer, doesn’t have much of a singing voice, but had brilliantly perfected the sound of a true skeevy pervert – someone in a trench coat that stands outside one of those all night windowless video places, waiting for them to open, a gleam in his eyes and dribble on his lips. This is also not that attractive of a feature for a band. Or a person, some might say. The guitarist (later in the Banshees) & bassist (later in the Bad Seeds) are good, though; the drummer is not.

This album has “Shot by Both Sides”, which is the one Magazine song that is always chosen to be on compilations (it was a hit in England). It’s an okay song, but there are much better ones, like “The Light Pours Out of Me” (great Gary Glitter quote), “Definitive Gaze”, and “My Tulpa”. The rest of the album stays mostly in the “ehhhhhhh” territory: sometimes rising above (“Recoil”), or sinking below (“Burst”).

Verdict: there are 5 more Magazine records in my collection: maybe one of them will be better.
Video

L - Lazy Cowgirls - "Tapping the Source"

2009-06-06T17:28:00.004-05:00

(I dedicate this review to Murray, a huge musical influence in my life who, through hostile badgering and a good deal of musical mockery (the first day I met him, I was wearing a Beatles shirt; he greeted me with “Hey, how are you doing? I’ve heard a lot about you! The Beatles SUCK!”. Coulda been worse – the first time he met my sister, the last thing he said to her was “And buy some f…… AMERICAN shoes!”), reminded me that, at the end of the day, music is meant to be enjoyed; that the simpler pleasures are often the better ones, and that there is nothing better than a big fat Saturday night.)

So I’ve gone through 11 records so far – some good, some bad, some forgettable, some truly heinous (3 days and I still haven’t gotten the Iceberg stink offa me), but not one has been one I’d play all the way through again.

The next letter is “L”. And…

And then the skies parted, a powerful beam of light shown down, & what seemed to be a ethereal choir purred in the background – and for the first time in what seems an eternity my cold cold heart smiled & touched a nerve of inner peace as the needle lurched into “Can’t You Do Anything Right?” This is the Lazy Cowgirls. This is no nonsense rock and roll. This is awesome.

Pat Todd is the singer, and a little guy. I’ve always had an affinity for diminutive rock singers (except for that damn Davy Jones: his Cockney entrails would look glorious on my garden spade. His funeral, my trial), maybe because as a whole they suffer from the “small man big mouth” syndrome, which may not work that well in real life, but it can be wildly effective for rock music. Short singers with powerful voices are great. (If they are balding, like Mr. Todd, even better). (If they are short, balding, and German, like Klaus Meine of the Scorpions, even beyond better.) (If they are short, balding, German, and FAT, like the handsomely monikered Udo Dirksheider of Accept, they are the best (whenever I get a high score on old arcade games, I still use “UDO” as my initials. I don’t have any Accept albums, though – they are terrible. “Balls to the Wall”, indeed.) Pat sings, roars, & snarles, and sounds like he’s about to jump off the record and pummel you like you’re one of those inflatable cartoon characters (the Schmoo, maybe?) that have the heavy base that makes it keep bouncing back upright no matter how often you're hit. The Lazy Cowgirls will batter you, but you WILL keep bouncing back up. Willingly.

The band is your standard 3 piece guitar-bass-drums, and is sloppy as sin, but close enough for rock and roll. The only thing lazy about this record is the production, which is barely one step beyond pushing play-&-record on your boombox (except for the ludicrously overdubbed guitar solos, which sound like they were recorded in a different state). And I have no idea which Cowgirl is doing the primary backing vocals (all four are credited with vocals), but they are hysterically classic; the perfect Grover Gill sneer to Pat’s Scott Farkus bellow.

They don’t play punk; they play high energy rock and roll. All these songs are so so SO great - I wouldn’t skip over a one of them. There are 3 covers: unhinged versions of “Yakety Yak” & “Justine” (don’t know who’s playing saxophone on these 2, but all those times they skipped practice to get drunk did them a world of good), plus the most incredible, the most wild-eyed, the greatest version of Jim Reeves’ “Heartache” ever recorded. The originals are equally good – like a slower Ramones (though not by much) with a MUCH better lead singer. And “Goshdarn Bottle” (title cleaned up for the children out there – hi kids!) is the greatest argument FOR alcoholism ingrained onto vinyl.

I LOVE THIS RECORD.

Verdict: I dare you to listen to the Lazy Cowgirls & still believe that ANYTHING better ever came out of Indiana. If you do, you’re welcome to your own opinion, which, unfortunately, is wrong.
Video: there isn’t a lot of Lazy Cowgirls footage available, but this is Pat Todd’s current band (the Rank Outsiders) from last year, and that guy still rocks

K- Paul Kantner / Jefferson Starship - "Blows Against the Empire"

2009-06-06T17:26:00.003-05:00

Okay, even though this record has “Jefferson Starship” on it, it’s clearly a Paul Kantner solo album; thus its placing under “K” instead of “J”. So take that.

At the time of this recording, Paul’s home band, Jefferson Airplane, had, for the most part, blown apart. Drummer Spencer Dryden, exhausted & spent, exited stage left. Singer & JA founder Marty Balin, pouting from the loss of leadership of the band he created & unable to talk them into playing any more of his sappy love songs (that is until 5 years later, when “Miracles” became the Jeffersons biggest hit ever), exited stage right. Guitarist & bassist Jorma Koukonen & Jack Casady, focusing on their side project Hot Tuna, were nowhere to be found. Leaving Paul and his then paramour Grace Slick to screw around in the studio with a bunch of musical buddies, a few science fiction novels, and a HELL of a lot of dope to record “Blows Against the Empire”.

I must admit that while I like a lot of the classic JA music (1967-1969), I absolutely abhor their politics. And when I say “their”, I mean Paul’s, because after 1967, the band became his baby, and all of their records until their final breakup in 1972 reflect his vision, which, boiled down, is nothing but stereotypical hippie: just a buncha cats wanting to hang out, get laid, & get high, but THE MAN won’t let ‘em. This, in and of itself, is so generic that it’s almost beneath notice, except that it’s coming from a high rock star. Was this Paul’s way of bonding with the counter-culture? Was it staying "true to his roots" on the "street"? Was it decent marketing? Can’t say. But by this point, he was so hopped up and strung out that he decided to create a whole new fantasy world for himself and those stoned enough to go along; thus, “Blows Against the Empire”.

Paul & Grace play and sing on much of the record, & they recruit other members of their California hippie elite (members of JA, Grateful Dead, Quicksilver, and Crosby & Nash) to play. Side one has 4 songs, most of which have 2 or 3 chords played ad nauseum while Paul rants about “Amerika”. “Rant” is a good description of Paul’s vocalizing, because he has no singing voice here AT ALL, just a monotone that makes every song sound the same. The only tune on the album that has a melody is “Baby Tree”, which, coincidentally, is one of only 2 songs Paul had no hand in writing (the other is Grace’s irrelevant “Sunrise”). The first song to make an impression is the third - “Let’s Go Together”, simply because Grace has shown up to add vocals. Granted, she has nothing of consequence to sing, but still sounds much better than Foghorn Kantner. “A Child is Coming” closes out side one & starts out nice, thanks to Grace’s & David “I impregnated a famous lesbian – who’s your daddy? I'M your daddy!” Crosby’s vocals, but 2 minutes of decent harmonizing drifts into 5 minutes of “free associating” that is so dull that I literally fell asleep, waking only when the needle picked up.

Side Two is Paul’s sci-fi epic. Here’s the groundbreaking wildly imaginative storyline: put upon youth, tired of being oppressed by THE MAN, hijack a spaceship and zoom off to a galaxy far far away where they can live their lives the way THEY want to live them, man. And what’s this brave new world’s manifesto, Paul? “Free minds – free bodies – free dope – free music”. Wow, man, far out. Just FAAAAR out. (how much did you charge me for this record now?) You see, Paul, this is why a sleaze like Gene Simmons will always have more integrity than you. He is shameless, but honest. It’s nice to rail against the establishment when you can hide behind your mansion walls and shove buckets of coke up your nose. You want to be a leader in the revolution, but your solution is “abandon ship”. As for being a hippie, as Cpt. Von Trapp might have said, “you’ll never be one of them.” This whole side of music, with the exception of the nice “Have you Seen the Stars Tonight”, goes in one ear and out the other, leaving no trace of anything memorable except the stupid starship noises that pop up in between the songs (whose brilliant idea was it to invite Michael Iceberg?) This record may sound great when you’re out of your mind on dope & speed, but taken straight, it’s a stone drag.

Kantner continued to plug along, recording 2 more JA airplane albums, then reviving the Jefferson Starship name with some old faces and new hacks, leading to a great deal of chart success in the 70’s (mostly due to grumpy Balin’s schlock than Kantner’s increasingly outdated nonsense); the dénouement, resulting in the greatest stake in the heart of Summer of Love, came when Paul got kicked out of the band, then sued them for ownership of the word “Jefferson”….and won (this eventually led to the regrouping of the “classic” JA lineup for the worst reunion album of all time (next to the Monkees’ “Pool It”, of course) whose first blatant nostalgia single was….”Summer of Love”.

Verdict: Paul, in the words of Messrs. McKenzie, take off. And shove it.
Video

J - Joe Jackson - "Look Sharp!"

2009-06-06T17:24:00.002-05:00

Joe Jackson is that jazzy bald guy that sings “Steppin’ Out”. On his debut album, he has hair and one stylin’ pair of shoes.

MTV played “Steppin’ Out” and “Breaking Us in Two” a lot, I think mostly because they didn’t have very many videos to start with, and Joe made mini movies instead of lip-synching. These videos helped make his “Night and Day” album very successful. However, they presented a few warning signs for Joe’s continued success in this new medium:
· His music – more melody based than most of the generic new wave nonsense MTV played, it had little in common with the rest of Billboard Top 40,
· His appearance – make no mistake about it, Joe was a very homely lad, and
· His attitude – he’s always been pretty condescending towards pop music, even though that’s how he made his money.
Sure enough, his next album bombed and he focused more on his muse than the charts, which was fine – the charts weren’t interested.

But on “Look Sharp”, he’s the newest attendee at the “Angry Young Men – UK division” club. Arriving too late to be a punk, he settles comfortably in the new wave: mid to uptempo numbers, some reggae riddims trown in, and snide lyrics putting down…well, everything. Joe’s got his schooling at Elvis C Academy, and done his homework well – Costello could sue for royalties on some of these (“Fools in Love”, fer instance). Joe doesn’t seem enamored of very much, but he’s not angry as much as he is pissy. He smartly (or at least he thinks he smartly) puts down fashion, the media, nightlife, women, and men. But more than anything, he doesn’t like relationships. Or maybe he feels above them, like some diminutive balding Zeus sneering at the silliness of humans for falling for this “love” crap. Gee, sorry you’re so disgusted with everything, Joe. Your attitude sucks. And your music isn’t good enough to make up for it.

What’s more, I absolutely HATE his bass player, who, according to the album, is Graham Maby. Joe has a 4 piece band of guitar, bass, piano, & drums, but the production is such that the bass is highlighted front and center. Was it because Graham was the best musician? Maby, but he insists on filling every empty space in the music with bass notes, which really shows that he’s a frustrated guitar player who, despite being stuck with a traditional rhythm instrument, HAS to prove that he can play. It’s showboating, and it’s annoying. Graham, you’re a bass player – get back by the amplifiers and play what you NEED to play, not what you CAN play. Bozo.

There are a few good tunes on here, which mostly happen early on. The mid-tempo songs fare better than the fast ones (although “Got the Time”, which is the only punk sounding song on the record, is pretty good). I like “One More Time”, & “Sunday Papers”, despite the latter’s lazy target (what, Joe? The media focuses more on flash & glitz than actual news? The stereotypical suburbanites are mindless? What a newsflash – I’ll alert the medi….uh…no) is catchy enough. The clear standout is the big hit “Is She Really Going Out With Him?”, which is an out and out classic, and one that points in the direction Joe would head in the future. Great melody, sarcastic lyrics that aren’t too snide (I like his lyrical shout out to the Stranglers, of all people), and the one song where Graham focuses more on the tune than on his surrogate Johnson.

Verdict: based on this record, if he hadn’t hit big with “Is She Really….”, I doubt that A&M would’ve given him another chance to WHAM make it big.
Video

I - Michael Iceberg - "Iceberg Does It Live"

2009-06-06T17:15:00.003-05:00

I bought this album at Red Roof Resale Shop outside of Brenham a few years ago. The title and cover made the record intriguing enough to buy, despite knowing nothing about the performer. Through the magic that is “internet”, here’s a little background on Mr. Iceberg:

Michael Iceberg was a mainstay at Walt Disney World as a featured performer from the mid 70’s to the late 80’s. His show took place at the Tomorrowland Terrace, and had to have been quite the draw to have lasted so long. He was a solo performer who had constructed his own menagerie of keyboards, synthesizers, and electronics (known as “the Mechanical Contraption”) to present a wash of songs, notes, and noises to delight the masses who came to find their own inner “Mickey/Minnie” (some of them were bi, naturally – unfortunately, those that were upfront about it weren’t welcome in the park until 1990). This album is evidence that at least one of these performances was recorded and sold to tourists as a souvenir.

Michael was obviously talented, and obviously very proud of said talents. As the back of the album reads:

“There seems to be a proliferation these days of musicians who desire to be the orchestra, all by themselves. Michael Iceberg has gone to great lengths to make his keyboard dream come true, and is clearly leader in the challenge to be a one human being orchestra. So masterful is his control of his extensive array of electronic musical devices, that he demonstrates daily to thousands his remarkable facility to perform music with multiple synthesizers, totally live, and all alone. The dream, the Iceberg machine, is a collection of Michael’s favorite instruments. Iceberg has envisioned ways for the various products to interconnect and electronic geniuses have periodically arrived at the scene to carry out the visions. Without them, it would not exist.”

To sum up, this record blows.

I mean majorly.

But why? Well,
A) it’s clearly a souvenir album – to be bought as an impulse item and then never listened to again.

B) it’s a vanity project – there’s nothing much original here – it begins with a quote from “Puff the Magic Dragon”, of all things, then proceeds to quote:
· Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah
· Green Onions
· Dear Diary
· More than a Feeling
· Norwegian Wood
· It’s a Small World (After All)
· Handel’s Messiah
· Over the Rainbow
· Star Wars / Close Encounters Medley
· It’s a Small World (After All - Slight Return)
· Layla
· the William Tell Overture
But for the most part, it’s just a lot of Moog synthesizers (you know how I have trouble spelling “pretentious” (thanks again to spellcheck), I have just as much trouble with “synthesizers” (why can’t every album I own just be guitars, bass and drums?) burping and farting. It’s not creative, it’s not talented, it’s just noise meant to amuse the consumers (there’s a great quote from Pete Townsend early in the Who’s career that is appropriate here; in discussing quality in rock music, he said “the fact is that our group hasn’t got any quality, it’s just musical sensationalism. You do something big on the stage, and a thousand geezers go ‘AAAAHHHH!’” You hit the nail on the head, Pete. Now stop screwing around with “Tommy” – it wasn’t very good in the first place.)

C) When I say “not talented”, obviously Iceberg Slim knows how to play keyboards, but it’s so (moons over my) hammy that it’s unlistenable. (Plus he clearly studied at the school of Keith Jarrett, for he shares the unfortunate trait of singing along to the melody in a toneless voice off mike.)

D) It’s freaking SAD. This is a cry out for attention from a big spazz. You cannot tell me that Michael Iceberg didn’t spend YEARS in his basement trying to figure out how to make his keyboard sound like a pig (which he eventually DID figure out – this album has proof!) while his mother brought him dinner and occasional news of the outside world. At one point, he moans “Love is what we’re here for / down from the mountain / and we’re here to save ourselves”. This wasn’t a part of any song per se; he just threw this in apropos of nothing going on around it. Later on side two (and this is the tipoff), he groans “and if she really cares for me / that’s all I want to know.” The prosecution rests – he’s never had a girlfriend, and has personified the “Mechanical Contraption” into his betrothed. He did this passion play EVERY NIGHT FOR 15 YEARS, just him and his keyboards, and he took great joy in all the classical gas he was passing (look at the cover, for heaven’s sake! He looks like either a) a man so impressed with what he’s doing that he’s oblivious to mankind at large in his general viscinity, most of whom are eating popcorn & wondering when the line for Space Mountain shuts down (“it may be the oldest attraction in the park, but ALL the pretty ladies still line up to ride Space Mountain! WHOOOOOO!”) As Frasier Crane may have asked, “Michael, what color is the sky in your world?”), or b) he’s doing a sunglasses-free impression of Stevie Wonder. Either way, he looks like a creep.) My intense dislike of everything about this record is tempered by the immense pity I feel for the individual; enough so that I feel like I must surf the net and find out if he’s alright, if he did find the woman that would say “I care for you”. Yet, at the same time, I only paid a dollar for the record, so how much of MY life do I seriously need to invest?

Verdict: after furthur research, I’ve discovered that Michael Iceberg lives in Maryland, and, with a “Kathy”, produced a spawn named “Jimmy Neutron”, who is rumored to be a musical prodigy. Somehow this brings me a fair amount of inner peace; yet, after tolerating this record, I feel like ripping my own veins out with my teeth.
Video

H - Nina Hagen - "NunSexMonkRock"

2009-06-06T17:13:00.003-05:00

This record is, without a doubt, one of the most bonkers, insane, ridiculous albums I own.

Carisa was a big fan of Nina Hagen, which is how I found out about her. She would play the cassette of “Nina Hagen in Ekstasy” often, and I came to love…well, appreciate…well, tolerate this most eccentric performer. Eventually, during the time I worked at Half Price Books, I got all of Nina’s albums through 1991 for Carisa (pretty cheaply too – the record buyer when I worked at the store on Waugh knew a lot about music prior to about 1978, but very little about modern material, especially punk/new wave, which enabled me to get a lot of hard to find stuff very inexpensively (99 cents minus my 50% off discount – whoo boy, I don’t think I made a penny during my first couple months of working at HPB because I was buying so much vinyl, videos, & books. It was a glorious time.) At some point, I bought two copies of “NunSexMonkRock”, so I kept one for myself, but never played it on my own until today.

Nina Hagen is a German singer who … well, she HAS songs, some even with verse/chorus/verse, but she doesn’t really sing in the conventional definition of the word. She CAN sing, but she also does a lot of weird voices. Strange voices. And noises too. Sometimes there are multiple overdubbed Ninas doing all kinds of bizarre things. She switches back and forth from English to German to what seems to be a made up Martian language, sometimes during the middle of a verse. often. And I have no earthly clue what she’s going on about most of the time. Maybe a safe comparison would be that she is like an art punk offspring of Yoko Ono & King Diamond but replacing ineffective avant gardisms, speed metal and hoaky Satanism with new wave flourishes, flashes of opera, & eastern mysticism chopped and skrewed to bits.

She begins the album with a parable about Jesus exorcising a demon from a man and putting it into a pig (“und the pig was running away SSCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREAMING!”) before launching into “AntiWorld”; though I can’t tell you what the song is about, I can say that the unsettling operatic voices mixed with grunts entertained me to no end. This record is full of surprises, because Nina’s vocals are very unpredictable (sometimes to the point of aggravation), and the lyric sheet is no help whatsoever. “Smack Jack” is anti-heroin, and “Born in Xixax” could be an anti-war song. I’ve never been much of a lyrics fella, myself. My favorites are “Anti-World”, “Taitshi Tarot”, “Future’s Now”, and “Dr. Art”.

You are saying to yourself, “what about the music?” It’s pretty standard post-punk stuff – a little hardcore, a little dance beat, a little seltzer down your pants, & a couple synth heavy numbers (one sounds like Phillip Glass, another like Suicide) (the band, not the act) (though too much Nina exposure might lead you to the latter). The formality of the music makes Nina sound even more insane. What’s also insane is that Paul Schaffer is on this album playing synthesizer. As this record came out in 1982, Paul was already Letterman’s second banana, so he may have been working on this while cracking bad jokes on TV. Jeepers… (Bonus links: maybe Nina & Paul reminisced backstage about the old days:
(no performance, sadly, but this one does, and partners Nina with Don Rickles:)

Nina is still out there – promoting vegetarianism, peace, and UFO’s. She was actually in Houston not long ago, and I missed it. Too bad, because she’s a superfreak and it must’ve been a pretty cool show.

Verdict: I can’t imagine listening to this record often, but will remain speechless when I do. And I’ll be laughing hysterically.
Video

G - Peter Gabriel - "Peter Gabriel" (debut)

2009-06-06T14:03:00.005-05:00

Yeesh, I’ve got to start making these things shorter. I’m not trying out for freakin’ Rolling Stone, plus this does seem to take a little more time than my usual playing the record and going, “eh..it’s ahhhIGHT”.

There’s always been a disconnect between Peter Gabriel and myself. I’m not sure who’s to blame for it (not me), but he’s one of those guys that I’m pretty sure I’m SUPPOSED to like, or at the very least, RESPECT - for his music, his art, his human diginity, I don’t know. He’s just never been all that. I had a few of the early Genesis albums he was on during my ill-thought out “art rock” phase, and never listened to them because they were boring and pretentious (man, I never hope that word comes up in any future spelling bee’s I’m in, cause I never spell it right.) I did like his early videos though – when MTV first started, they played the hell out of “World Without Frontiers” and “Shock the Monkey”. Both videos complemented the songs very well. The former was arty without being too farty, and was pretty funny (I still can’t hear the song without picturing Peter in a black leotard whistling and crawling in front of a backdrop of mechanical crawling babies –THAT’S humor), while the latter always seemed to consistently be tied with “White Wedding” for the #1 scary video on the MTV Halloween countdown (of course, watched now, the monkey video is still pretty creepy, while Billy Idol is just silly). That said, I didn’t like his mid 80’s pop stuff at all. It was too fake sounding, and was far too radio friendly for my taste. (ASIDE: One morning in 11th grade at Humble High, me and my fellow dorks were hanging out in the library (several of us had actually been banned from the library – just wanted to let you know how truly nerdy we were) when Kris Larsen asked me if I’d seen “Sledgehammer”. I started going off about how I didn’t like that crap, and MTV was junk (I was then entering my 60’s phase, and I used 1977 as a cutoff point – any groups formed after 1977 were notallowed to hang in my collection. Now technically Peter Gabriel made the cut, seeing as he was grandfathered in due to Genesis. But, dude, “Sledge Hammer”, “Big Time”, “Don’t Give Up” – all sucked, uh, big time. HOWEVER, Lloyd Dobler holding up the boombox playing “In Your Eyes” in the rain in “Say Anything” is one of the greatest moments in cinematic history. And now, back to the action…) He said, “No, I’m not talking about the song, I’m talking about the sitcom with the renegade cop who talks to his gun.” Well, no, I hadn’t seen it yet, but within the next couple of weeks, my family forsook “the Cosby Show” at 7pm Thursdays to start watching the sitcom “Sledge Hammer” (you know, the one with the renegade cop who talks to his gun. TV guide may have actually billed the show as such), which is one of my favorite TV shows of all time. (I’ll give Donald credit – he was watching it before the rest of us kids, but I don’t think by much. However, I will take credit for introducing the family to “The Charmings”, the heinous sitcom about Prince Charming & Snow White being magically transported to modern times, and all the crazy weird anachronisms that resulted. It was somehow magically renewed for a second season, but they got a new actress to play Snow White; the same actress also played Valerie, Peter Brady’s fiancé in “A Very Brady Christmas”. And I digress again. But really, which would you as a teenage nerd find more entertaining?

This guy…

Or this guy?

(To be fair to Mr. Gabriel’s offbeatitude, at one time, he looked like this guy…)

Anyway….I’m trying to say that I’ve never been much of a Peter Gabriel fan, so I wasn’t expecting much from his debut solo album. I’ve had this forever, and may have listened to it once or twice. I know “Solsbury Hill” but that’s it. Imagine my shock and awe when the needle drops on the first song…um…”Moribund the Burgermeister”…and I LIKE it? Certainly not expecting that. It succeeds in one of the most difficult genres: absolutely ludicrous yet likable and catchy. “Solsbury Hill” is next, and its still a very good song. So I’m feeling like, okay, now its either going to get all dull world music-y or art rock nonsense, but it doesn’t. “Modern Love” is next, and it’s excellent. Huh. (This record was produced by Bob Ezrin, who certainly had a very distinct production sound. 4 years prior to his work on this record he recorded Lou Reed’s wrist slitting nonsense “Berlin”, 2 years prior he turned Alice Cooper into a cabaret act with “Welcome to My Nightmare”, 1 year prior he had Kiss singing with a CHOIR on “Destroyer”, (he never worked with Richard Prior though) and 2 years later, he’d have Pink Floyd singing with a KIDS CHOIR on “The Wall”. He seems tailor made for our floral friend.) Oh but then everything screeches to a halt with “Excuse Me”, which begins with a damn BARBERSHOP QUARTET. (There are few things in the world I hate more than barbershop quartets, and those things are mimes. One of the most frightening nightmares of my life was being in an empty theater watching a barbershop quartet of mimes perform. They had the whole getup – the aprons, the red & white striped shirts, the towels over the arm (maybe they were waiters too? I hate waiters), the handlebar mustaches – and white faces, and they were singing in perfect harmony, YET THEY DIDN’T MAKE A SOUND. I shudder.) When the music starts it becomes an old timey showbiz tune that Paul McCartney would back away from as being “too schmaltzy”. Ooh, its bad. But the record does recover, only losing it’s grip on the more stylistic cuts “Waiting for the Big One” (blues that sounds like Harry Nillson, and which never seems to end) and “Down the Dolce Vita” which throws a 70’s disco beat in with no real purpose. “Here Comes the Flood” closes out the record, and man, is it ever an epic. And completely wonderful.

I am very taken aback by how much I enjoyed this record. It’s strange - it’s like “Peter Gabriel” has been biding its time in my collection, just waiting for me to give it a spin, to give it a chance to appreciate its charms. I feel that, after all this time, somehow Peter and I have made some kind of amends, and I feel a little bad about blithely disregarding him so, but he pats me on the back and says “don’t think twice, my lad - grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.”

Verdict: GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU SICK FREAK!!!!!
Video

F - The Faces - "A Nod is as Good as a Wink...to a Blind Horse"

2009-06-06T13:58:00.003-05:00

It may be difficult to believe, but, between 1970 & 1972, Rod Stewart was the undisputed King of Rock and Roll. During those years, he was on major roll. After being fired from the Jeff Beck Group in 1969 & releasing a so-so debut record, he proceeded to record 3 killer solo albums, while simultaneously fronting the Faces (previously the Small Faces (they were all about 5’6”) until they hired a new, much taller singer & guitar player), and releasing 3 albums with them – all within 3 years.

The Small Faces had been a hot R&B band that evolved into whimsical mild psychedelia after taking lots and lots of acid. But by the time Rod and Ronnie Wood joined, it was booze, booze, and lots more booze. All 4 of their records have this great shambolic groove that propels you to get up and move; their 2 later records also provide songs to go along with the groove. There’s way too much jamming on the Faces’ first 2 records, but the sound is there.

This record (their 3rd) combines the groove, the songs, & the booze into a great mixture. I really like this album – the way the extremely dirty tone of the guitars spill into the clomping bass which is pounded down with Hammond organ, while the drums lurch into a beat. And there’s Rod hollering over the whole mess with that awesome whisky voice that screams “someone get me a lozenge. PLEASE.” The Faces, for better or worse, were a GROUP, sharing songwriting, and with bassist Ronnie Lane (whose voice and appearance can charitably be described as “homely”) taking a few of the lead vocals. With the exception of the despairing “Love Lies Here”, Rod is totally cock of the walk here; there’s not much of the raw emotion he poured into his solo albums. That’s not to put down his vocals - I’m guessing he saw the Faces as a way to blow off steam with the boys, get his hair all mussed up, and have a blast. And boy, do they ever.

Years before he relegated himself to be Keith Richard’s coked out sidekick in the Stones, Ronnie Wood developed a sloppy but unique guitar style that propels the songs, yet seem to be everywhere but on the beat. His guitar and Ian McLagan’s organ are just as important to this record as Rod’s vocals. Equally important are Ronnie Lane’s songs; he sings lead on 3; 2 of them (“You’re So Rude” & “Debris”) are 2 of the best songs of the record. But the big hit here is “Stay with Me”, which has got to be the most mean spirited nasty song to hit the top 10, but its done with a leer and a laugh, plus the way the tempos keep changing & solos keep popping in where you don’t expect them gives the impression of a band on the verge of collapsing in a drunken pile without the crap sound such a band would undoubtedly make. If the Faces were really wasted while they were playing, they played better than most bands did sober.

Like all the Faces’ records, there’s a few throways mixed in: jams instead of songs. Their cover of Chuck Berry’s “Memphis” is the worst offender. It may have sounded great as an encore after a 2 hour show, but here it just sounds tired. Compare this to the Faces’ fiery version of the Temptations’ “I’m Losing you” on Rod’s “Every Picture Tells a Story”, and it really makes this cover version disposable.

That said, I dare you to drop the needle on “Miss Judy’s Farm”, the first song on the record, and not instantly GET the Faces. It’s a shame that within 3 years of this album, the band was pretty much dissolved, with Rod quickly becoming a poncing joke & the biggest waste of talent on the planet. But at least here, you can remember when Rod was God. Surrounded by drunken midgets.

Verdict: 120 proof goodness.
Video

E - The Easybeats - "Best of the Easybeats featuring 'Friday on My Mind'"

2009-06-06T13:55:00.004-05:00

Honestly, this album should be titled “’Friday on My Mind’, which is one of the greatest pop songs ever written, and some other songs; a few of them pretty good, but all of which pale beside the aforementioned ‘Friday…’”.

This mid 60’s Australian-by way of England, Scotland, & Holland group has its loyal fanatics, but, on the strength of this record, I ain’t one of them. Don’t get me wrong, pretender – any record that calls itself “The Best of…” is bound to have some decent songs, and this LP has a few; problem is most of them come early, leaving the inevitable drop off & lack of interest. “Sorry” is punky & excellent as hell, & “She’s So Fine” & “Made My Bed, Gonna Lie in It” are good uptempo stompers with really good harmonies. “Gonna Have a Good Time” has completely throwaway lyrics, but is a first class rave-up. Unfortunately, the rest of the songs are either too “Hard Day’s Night” Beatle-ly (“It’s So Easy”, “Woman”) or too “Revolver/Sgt Pepper” Beatle-ly (“Falling Off the Edge of the World” is the best of the lot, although you’ve got to admire a band that releases a song called “Come In, You’ll Get Pneumonia”, even if the song is nowhere as great as the title.)

You see, the Beatles ruined rock music, especially as they “outgrew” teenybopper pop (“Phooey!” I say. “A Hard Day’s Night” BURIES “Sgt. Pepper” (and also buries Peter Criss on the drums, but that’s a whole other story.) All of a sudden, rock couldn’t be simple & fun anymore, it had to have meaning, which led to a great many bands across the world, who may have been talented enough to write terrific songs about girls and the ecstasy of having them or the pain of losing them, overreaching their bounds and writing story songs, or worse – poetry. I’m not saying that some bands didn’t have enough talent to make their Beatle derivations work, or that there weren’t some bands happy with keeping it simple (hooray for the Archies!) – I AM saying that this trend makes the last half of this record a little ponderous.

But “Friday on My Mind” makes everything better. Two minutes and forty six seconds (perfect pop song length, by the way) of pure nirvana: catchy, danceable, fun AND funny (“even my old man looks…..good!” – heh!), with great harmonies and a dynamic arrangement that rocks. I’ll say it here: neither Lennon OR McCartney ever wrote a pop song as good as “Friday on My Mind”. I’ll say it again later if you want me too.

Whoops – forgot to mention: Easybeats’ guitarist/songwriter was George Young, who, later in the 70’s with other Easybeats’ guitarist Harry Vanda (real name: Johannes Vandenberg), did fairly well producing a few albums by the band led by his two younger brothers, Malcolm & Angus. Now THERE was a band that the Beatles could never ruin.

Verdict: have I mentioned how much I like “Friday on My Mind”? It’s a really good song!
Video

D - The Damned - "Damned Damned Damned"

2009-06-06T12:17:00.004-05:00

After yesterday’s disappointing and somewhat grimy record by “C” Company, and not having reviewed a slam dunk great record yet, I cautiously, & with a reasonable degree of trepidation, pulled out the first “D” record and found….this.

Words cannot describe my joy at seeing this LP.

I mean, look at the LP cover. Just look at it, I’ll wait….

Q: am I crazy or is not the greatest album cover of all time?
A: No, I'm not crazy (INSTITUTIONALIZED!) because it is. Even better than Kiss’ “Dressed to Kill”. I think it’s the pink rimmed sunglasses that put it over the top (“I put my hat on backwards and feel like a truck”) (hey Gypsy! – isn’t he wearing Sid’s chain? Maybe you should be trying to dig up Captain Sensible. Except he’s not dead - I think he’s running for Parliament. AND he’s on Facebook.).

Then there’s the name of the record: look at it again. Go ahead, I’ll wait…

…to which I say “AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME”.

I’d guess that at least some of you are familiar with this band - for those who aren’t, a quick primer: this is considered the first official “punk” LP to be released in the UK, beating out the Sex Pistols, which had already begun to fall apart, by several months. Made up of guitarist, songwriter, & James Williamson (Iggy’s guitarist) wannabe Brian James, drummer & Keith Moon wannabe Rat Scabies, vocalist & Dracula wannabe Dave Vanian, and tutu-wearing bassist Captain Sensible, who no one wantedtobe, the Damned manifesto was to be as irreverent as possible, especially in regards to the established social & political UK punk creeds. Because of this, they were regarded as a joke by the formal punk establishment, but if I could go back to London in ’77, this is the band I would choose to see, because they at least seemed the most ENTERTAINING. And isn’t that what music is supposed to be??? Personally, I’m not looking for enlightenment in rock and roll – I would much rather jump up and down.

Now this, their debut, isn’t even the Damned’s best record: the band gets by more on speed and enthusiasm then talent (especially Vanian’s vocals – the weakest link), there’s a little too much filler (“1 of the 2”, “Stab Your Back”, “So Messed Up”), a just alright cover of the Stooges’ “I Feel Alright” and one outright crap tune (the lame Alice Cooper ripoff “Feel the Pain”) But there’s plenty of classics, and they ARE classics. Allow me to list a few titles:
· Neat Neat Neat
· Fan Club
· I Fall
· Born to Kill
· New Rose
· Fish
· See Her Tonite
You weren’t able to see, but as I was typing this list, I WAS JUMPING UP AND DOWN!

One of the coolest things about the Damned is that after their second album, Brian James, who wrote 10 of the 12 songs on this record, left for greener (& less cake covered) pastures (eventually ending up with Stiv Bators in the awful Lords of the New Church), leaving his guitar & songwriting mantle to Senor Sensible, which resulted in the stone classic “Machine Gun Etiquette” (spoiler alert! I have this LP too, and I’m going to praise it to the skies).

Verdict: on second thought, words CAN describe my joy: “Thank God for the Damned.”
Video

C - "C" Company featuring Terry Nelson - "Wake Up America!"

2009-06-06T12:14:00.003-05:00

On March 16, 1968, Charlie Company of 1st Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment, 11th Brigade, 23rd Infantry Division, United States Army, was flown into the hamlet of My Lai in South Vietnam with the expressed purpose of burning down the huts, destroying all livestock, polluting the water wells, and “clearing” out all suspected Vietcong. Led by 2nd Lieutenant William Calley, members of the 1st platoon (&, later in the day, the 2nd & 3rd platoons) of Charlie Company followed their orders well. Oh, except that the hamlet was populated by civilians, mostly females, their children, and the elderly. Anywhere from 350 to 500 civilians died in one of the more shameful episodes in American military history. The massacre was whitewashed for a year or so until a few conscientious (& extremely brave) soldiers talked enough to bring the whole thing into the open. 26 American soldiers were charged with war crimes; only one, Lt. Calley, was convicted of premeditated murder, and sentenced to life in prison. (Oh, except 3 weeks later, the sentence was reduced to 20 years, then 10, then Calley was released after being under “house arrest” at one of the forts after 3 ½ years.) News of this tragedy tore the country further apart in regards to support of the Vietnam War. Lots of Americans saw this as a reflection of the insanity of the war, but lots of other Americans were more appalled by Calley’s conviction & sentence: one was then Georgia governor, later Nobel Peace Prize winner & great humanitarian Jimmy Carter, who instituted “American Fighting Man's Day” in Calley’s honor; another was Alabama DJ Terry Nelson (who sounds like a church singer 2 days into a bender), who quickly had some faceless writers whip up a bunch of tunes, rounded up some faceless musicians, whom he dubbed “C Company”, and recorded “The Battle Hymn of Lt. Calley”. Its success on the charts (#37 in the Billboard Top 100) prompted them to cash in…I mean, pay further tribute to America during wartime by recording a full length album, which it the record of the day.

Oh, Henry…

(strange interlude: I kinda have a phobia about “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” which goes back to seeing the Abraham Lincoln exhibit at the Chicago Historical Society around 1977-78. They had set up all these life size dioramas depicting important moments in Lincoln’s life that you were supposed to walk past while a faceless voice overhead narrated what you were seeing. The last diorama was the life sized moment where John Wilkes Booth puts a derringer bullet into Lincoln’s brain, and thus sets the US back at least 50 years as a result. It was creepy enough to see this as an 7 or 8 year old (at the time, I wasn’t seeing homicide reduced to a plot device on TV every night. I was watching “Happy Days”), but for me, as an already avowed presidential weirdo, seeing Booth frozen in motion, his gun pointing at the head of Lincoln, WHO WAS STILL ALIVE ENJOYING THE DAMN PLAY, was a bit much. But a little bit more much was the narration, which became increasingly solemn in announcing the murderous act and declaring Lincoln’s death – all the while, “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” played in the background, getting louder and louder until the narration concluded, when it BOOMED “GLORY GLORY HALLELUUUUUUUJAH”. It so freaked me out that every time we would go the Historical Society (& it was fairly regularly), I would go through the diorama and then RUN past this scene as quick as possible. To this day, I can’t hear “Glory Glory Hallelujah” without subconsciously hearing the preceding words: “….and Abraham Lincoln…was DEAD.” Do I digress? Very well, I digress. I am huge. I contain multitudes.) (Actually I still haven’t regained all the weight I lost on the master cleanse. Pretty cool, eh?)

I got this record off Ebay in a package deal with about 12 other country LP’s (mostly truck driving songs); a few of the records, like this one, were unopened. (I won ‘em cheap, too! Imagine that.) Though I’ve played my Dave Dudley albums often, this one I’d not listened to until today. My anticipation as I opened the shrink wrap was double sided: though I was hoping for bizarre, John Birchesque right wing justifications put to music, it’s a fact that, in music, more often than not, the more zealous the politics in either direction, the more flat out dull the records are. There are a few that are so out there politically, socially or morally they make your mind explode, but most of the time, the preaching gets pretty tedious.

This record is pretty tedious. The songs are all lame jingoistic babble that incorporate as many patriotic public domain songs as possible to make the songs go at least 2 minutes. The C Company has songs about the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, the Civil War, WW 1 & 2, & Korea (what – no Mexican or Spanish American war songs?), yet finds a way in most of them to present Vietnam as a logical progression from all those wars of freedom. There are 2 songs (“Mr. Sherman’s Army” & “Johnny Reb”) that are from the South’s point of view during the Civil War that essentially say “okay, maybe their cause wasn’t totally right, but BOY HOWDY they were tough heroic patriotic Americans anyway!” Well, this LP WAS recorded in Alabama, after all. (Note: I absolutely LOVED driving through Alabama. The scenery was wonderful, and nowhere is the “duality of the Southern thang” (copyright Patterson Hood) more apparent than in Montgomery, where you can see the Civil Rights Memorial, then walk 2 blocks down to the 1st White House of the Confederacy; both locations are equally advertised tourist spots.) Only 2 songs jump out as memorable: the aforementioned tribute to the American war criminal (after all, he was simply a good soldier who was just following orders. Now, while that argument didn’t fly at Nuremburg, DJ Drunk feels that we Americans are nothing but honorable and loyal. And right. Every time.), and the downright appalling “Buffalo Soldier”, which is like a sick answer record written years before Bob Marley’s more familiar tune of the same name. In the song (which opens with “the Battle Hymn of the Republic” (damn it) and a drum roll, (like almost every other song on the LP)), Mr. Nelson slurs about the western Indian uprisings in the early 1800’s, and how they were defeated by a different kind of American soldier: “black, robust looking, with thick wooly hair”, which reminded the Indians of buffalo (An group of patriotic Americans reduced to an animal analogy, and then going on about how proud we should be of our animal-like compadres? Bravo, Mr. Nelson.) Apparently, though most wanted to desert, they felt compelled to stay and fight “for their freedom”. Um, okay, what now? By killing Indians, they were free? This was the kind of tripe that is reprehensible yet memorable, & stands out in an LP full of lightweight junk.

Verdict: too bad I broke the seal – it was a lot cooler unopened.
Video

B - Bananarama - "Deep Sea Skiving"

2009-06-06T12:11:00.002-05:00

Bananarama - Deep Sea Skiving.

It’s too bad that Bananarama will be forever known for their awful version of “venus”. From the production to the instrumentation to the vocals to the video, its all too terrible. (frankly, the original wasn’t much to start with, but it still far outshines this remake.) oh, they’ll be remembered for “cruel summer”, too – it’s better than “venus”, I guess, but it’s just another 80’s hit. (I do like“Robert deNiro’s waiting”, though.) But this, their first album, IS good. And when I say “good”, I mean that side one is GREAT.

I never quite understood Bananarama. They’re three women who primarily sing in unison – the occasional harmonies aren’t much to speak of. Most of the time, they sound like 3 ladies at the pub singing karaoke. But that may be their appeal. Side one begins with maybe their best pure pop hit, “shy boy”, which should be the one that the radio plays over and over again. The ludicrous but wonderful “doctor love” follows, which was written by Paul Weller, the biggest curmudgeon rock and roll ever produced. It’s a great song, and it’s one of the few examples of a sense of humor Weller had shown at this point in his career (although some might argue that the Style Council was a 6 year joke, I’m not sure Paul was in on it). The cover of “really sayin’ somethin’” is next, and its my favorite recording from the band. Fun Boy Three sings backup on this - around the same time of this record, Bananarama sang backup on their debut album, notably on “tain’t what you do”: both cuts are terrific, fun, and deeply danceable (have I mentioned that this is definitely an 80’s sounding record? Some records from the same time period are almost unlistenable due to the outdated production, but this one has enough strong songs to not be damaged.) “what a shambles” comes next, & is pretty good, but mostly as a setup for “cheers then” which is a fantastic breakup song. Its not so much sadness from the breakup, as it is resignation – they (and I mean the 3 voices singing in unison – is it that they all broke up with the same person? Huh?) don’t sound broken hearted as much as disappointed with love in general. And this disenchantment sounding like it’s coming from high school girls who’ve realized that “happily ever after” is really just a phrase makes it all the more affecting.

Side two pales in comparison, simply because the songs aren’t as strong as side one. Though Bananarama wrote 4 of the 5 songs on side 2 (along with the last 2 on side one), the only one that rises above is the cool “boy trouble”, about dealing with a pesky persistent beau (“he thinks he’s here to stay / I wish he’d go away”). Their cover of “na na hey hey kiss him goodbye” is awright, but is the troubling precursor to “venus”: updating a 60’s hit with an 80’s sound, but robbing the song of the original charm.

Verdict: as an EP, its an A; as an LP it’s a B-.
Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXE70pe_XF8

A - AC/DC - High Voltage (Australian issue)

2009-06-06T12:02:00.002-05:00

AC/DC - High Voltage (original).

AC/DC was easily my favorite band during my teen years, and i still have a fondness for them, to the point where i think "Highway to Hell" is the second greatest record ever released. but here's their first, and it's a lemon. there are no "classic" AC/DC hits on this one, and for good reason. they sound like a bar band and had not yet developed the sound they would become known for. the tempos drag so much that they sound longer and more boring than they really are. in fact, the only element that's really in place here is Bon Scott's vocals: the lyrics are terrible, but Bon already has so much charisma that it makes (some of) the songs passable.

interestingly, once they signed to a major label, they released a totally different "High Voltage" (this time with the classic title song) that included only 2 of the songs from this one. in 1985, 4 of the songs were released on the "'74 Jailbreak" ep (none of which were particularly good), and 2 were not re-released until as hidden tracks on the Jailbreak CD. and for GOOD reason: these 2 may be the worst AC/DC songs of all time. "Stick Around" is a lame ripoff of Free's "All Right Now" - all that its missing is a cowbell. in fact "All Right Now" is somewhat of a prototype for what AC/DC would later make famous: a tight TIGHT rhythm section, simple yet expressive guitar, and great vocals. "Stick Around" has none of this. but then...hoo boy..."Love Song" is the WORST. it is an ACTUAL love song. from AC/DC. i don't know if it was sincere or a joke, but it's unlistenable. there's an acoustic guitar on it. holy mackeral, it's putrid. "oh Jean", Bon moans over and over again (yes, that is the chorus). he did a whole lot better love song with "Whole Lotta Rosie": sure it's about lovin' a large woman, but it rocks and it's funny. Jean must've been pissed to have been immortalized with this crap.

anyway, the 3 songs that make a somewhat positive impact are "Baby Please Don't Go" (the old blooze song - yeah its generic, but it's uptempo, and it sounds like Bon is having fun with it), "Show Business" (the one time on the album where it really SOUNDS like the AC/DC we all love, though the song itself is just alright, and goes on too long), and "She's Got Balls" (which i think is hysterical, cause what on earth is he going on about? Bon lists all the great attributes of his woman (spunk, funk, style, speed, soul, taste, etc) then leads into the chorus: "but most important of all...(let me tell you)...THE LADY'S GOT BALLS!!! SHE'S GOT BALLLLLLLLLLS!" awesome.

verdict: it will be awhile until i listen to this again.
video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VlRUIHwygc