Live or Memorex?

I'm intrigued by Rhino's recommendation of Luther Wright & the Wrongs' redo of The Wall. I love that Floyd album, perhaps because it served as the backdrop to many high school Friday nights at the Norfolk Naro Theatre's weekly late late show. I remember the frisking I got walking in (where security removed roughly half of the alcoholic contents of my pockets, sleeves and pant-legs, which were deemed "acceptable losses") representing way too much of my evening's grope quotient. But I digress.

I've always liked The Wall, but I'm not a purist who sees oddball coverings as anything inherently blasphemous. And doing the entire album is the rare, major-commitment kind of endeavor that seems more rooted in tribute than cheap knock-off, unlike many one-off covers. Camper's Tusk album and Phish's annual Halloween show where they do someone else's entire album as their second set are others that come to mind, both done pretty entertainingly. Other bluegrass/country covers of other genres I enjoy include The Gourds picking Snoop Dogg, Uncle Tupelo's twangy Stooges outtake, or the many nameless "A Bluegrass Tribute to . . .", plus the aforementioned Countrysides. All solid. I'll gladly check out Luther Wright. There's no chance this is the same Luther Wright who played center for Seton Hall in the early 90's, right?

Anyway, on to the discussion at hand. I'm with Ryan on this one. While spicing up songs here and there in their live form can make them memorable -- the extended daaaa-da-da/daaaa-da-da/daaaa-da-da "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" lead-in sung by the crowd while Bruce stood on the piano comes to mind -- I'm always impressed by the bands who can recreate their studio sound in concert. I saw a Petty/Heartbreakers show in the late 1990's that made me realize that his records have little to no studio trickery. They sounded fantastic. For a band that hangs its hat on studio oddities, Ween has sounded excellent when I've seen them. Conversely, I love the Beastie Boys' albums, but in concert they just sound like three yutzes with mic's and a dude with a turntable. Surprisingly pedestrian, but it may come with the genre. Jimmy Buffett used to change lyrics in his live shows all the time to insert geographic references of the venue or current pop culture jokes -- with about a 17% success rate. And for the rare few who've seen Random Idiots live, you know their lead singer usually couldn't remember where he was, much less the lyrics to the songs he co-wrote. It's a mess when it strays too far from what you know and expect.

That said, are any and all lengths to mimic the album sound while playing live acceptable? Obviously lip synching is a big NO, though few of the acts we're touting here would deign to do that devil's work. But Mad Fly Flynn and I had a recent discussion where he told me that The Edge manages to replicate his multiple guitar tracks on each song at live shows by playing the most prominent lead over his own pre-recorded tracks. Not sure how I feel about that. I saw Everclear stick to the trio that had been in the studio, and they sounded like an amateurish garage band covering their own tunes. Kurt Cobain couldn't do all his guitar work and sing, so they had Pat Smear and maybe even another guy sit in with them for the Unplugged show, which kept viewers wondering who the hell they were. I can't ever see U2's firmly pressed image of four performers ever being clouded with a stage full of session guys they take on the road to help The Edge out.

And then there are the lyrics. I remember seeing Michael Stipe do a show on TV where he read most or all of the words to his songs off lyric sheets on a music stand next to him. That was perhaps the first of what became a long, long line of personal disappointments from R.E.M. over the years. I realized full well he'd mumbled his way through a lot of the first few records -- and frankly, once we started understanding Stipe, many of us pined for the days of "Lhaokwonfrtusonz." But when you start reading your own lines off paper, you've officially tendered your resignation from rock and roller.

So anyway, I think I have a point here. I like for a band to crank out music that strongly resembles the music I've come to enjoy, while adding elements to alter the experience -- R.E.M.'s pre-suck-days solo acoustic version of "So. Central Rain," Bruce's similar tone-down of "Born to Run," and Neil Young's latter-day electrification of some songs in his repertoire fit the bill nicely. Sounding great while delivering an enthusiastic on-stage presence is what it's all about, and I guess I can forgive U2 for some slight cheating in the name of both of those elements. All I know is that Camper van Beethoven had laptops alongside some of the instruments last year, and it looked geeky and made you wonder how much of the sound they were actually creating manually -- but they were stellar. Meanwhile, I'll never go see Everclear again, and I'm guessing you won't be lining up for Crowes tickets any time soon. (I'd actually heard others echo your indictment of Chris Robinson exactly.)

Recommendations Delivered

If brand new music is what you're after, those four lads from Dublin release their new album How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb tomorrow. You can't have avoided the first single, "Vertigo"; the album as a whole has been positively reviewed thus far. I've also seen good reviews of the new Social Distortion album. If you're looking for relatively new music, the recent Modest Mouse and Franz Ferdinand offerings are catchy modern rock albums. And in the compilation aisle, the newly-released 2-CD John Mellencamp set is top-notch. It's amazing how thoroughly good Cougar was in his prime.

Albums that aren't new, but which you might've missed along the way include: Ryan Adams - Gold, Lucinda Williams - Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, Warren Zevon - Genius: Best Of, Robert Cray - Strong Persuader, New Order - Substance, Cake - Fashion Nugget, or The Waterboys - Live Adventures of. If you find yourself pining for those early 1980's cheese days, the Just Can't Get Enough: New Wave Hits of the '80s series is spectacular. Volumes 2, 5, and 8 are particular favorites. And I think you have all the Old 97's discs except Early Tracks -- it's not as consistently good as the LP's, but it ain't bad.

I recently unearthed one of my all-timers, Adam & the Ants' Kings of the Wild Frontier. Though you've probably only heard "Antmusic" from this work, it's still something I can pop in and listen all the way through -- well, almost: "You're So Physical" is pretty lousy, even though critics and Trent Reznor loved it. You have to enjoy new wave silliness, as Adam's bizarre fascinations with swashbuckling pirates, oppressed Native Americans, and fashion trends are sprinkled over tribal beats, heavy guitars, and pop melodies. It's harder, weirder, and better than Adam Ant's solo work (including "Goody Two Shoes"). Not too long ago, Average Jimmy and I discussed the unformity of song structure in most rock and roll tunes; yeah, that's fairly well tossed overboard here. Adam (nee Stuart Goddard, Herb's long-lost cousin) is full-on crazy these days, but back in 1980, he was just a goofy new romantic. You can usually get this CD cheap (I even special ordered it in college, and it was only $14), so it's worth the purchase.

[Segue: albums released in 1980, and ones with a track featuring extended whistlings in lieu of lyrics . . .]

I think I recently mentioned the 3rd eponymously-titled Peter Gabriel album -- the one with "Games Without Frontiers," "I Don't Remember," and "Biko." Start to finish, it's a great listen. Somewhere between the prog-drama of early Genesis and the super-pop of Sledgehammer and such, Peter Gabriel was making creepy but cool music, and this album was the pinnacle. The Jam's Paul Weller, Phil Collins, and Kate Bush contribute, and the record was produced by Steve Lillywhite, famous for his production of great albums from XTC, Big Country, The Pogues, Dave Matthews, and, as we come full circle, U2 (including the new one).

And while we're stuck in 1980, if you don't have Bruce's The River, treat yourself.

Recommendations Wanted: Driving Music

Packing the family into the SUV and making 2 long trips over the holidays. Heading to Tower Records on Tuesday to stock up on new tunes, so I'd be much obliged if the Musings staff could make a few recommendations for stuff that I've never heard that would make the trips better. No real preference for style, other than to note that I'll be toting 2 little ones, so the fewer the f-bombs, the better.

Hi, We're the Replacements

A line from a song by a band that more people should love about another band that more people should love. Both They Might Be Giants and The Replacements have had their share of critical and commercial success, but the fact that more Americans can sing along to "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" than to "Don't Let's Start" or "Alex Chilton" is really rather depressing.

I'm adding the Replacements/Paul Westerberg to Whitney's list of almost-but-not-quite, and shaking my head about how much I agree with the rest of his list. It's like we lived together for years, or something.

And there's no reason to feel any guilt about enjoying the Connells, Jimmy. They hold a special place in my little alt-country-alt-prog heart as the first real underground band that I loved. Fun & Games is one of my favorite records of all-time, and I broke my rock club cherry at the old 9:30 Club at a Connells show in the company of my friend's 21 year-old sister when I was but an impressionable lad of 18. Standing Slackjawed, indeed.

Pardon Nixon!

For the record, I knew the answer to Jimmy's riddle. In an interesting weave of threads, The Connells are one of the bands I thought of when Rhinolips mentioned bands that never quite made it. They were poised to get out of the underground after the One Simple Word and Ring albums (and after playing Trinkle Hall), and then they just disappeared. Other bands I enjoy who experienced the same limited success include Camper van Beethoven/Cracker, the Housemartins, Oingo Boingo, Big Head Todd & the Monsters, Joe Jackson, and Hoodoo Gurus. Conversely, there are a few bands whose music I listened to for some time and figured they'd hit the ceiling, only to see them reach greater heights later, like They Might Be Giants, Wilco, and Ween.

I have one Mojo Nixon & Skid Roper CD, Root Hog or Die. "Vibrator Dependent" and "She Put a Louisiana Liplock on my Love Pork Chop" are fantastic. You're right, though, his work has been utterly erased like Jewish literature in Nazi Germany or something -- who did Mojo piss off? Okay, who didn't he piss off? With songs like "Debbie Gibson Is Pregnant With My Two-Headed Love Child" and "Don Henley Must Die," he wasn't making friends with music biz folks, I guess. You can usually find a Mojo&Skid CD on Ebay, though. The Man will never eradicate the spirit of Mojo, baby!

I Want a Word with You

Or, I'm pretty sure I know where your new handle springs from, Jimmy. Having a little fun and games at the expense of your blog-colleagues, are you?

Song Awakenings

I have kind of a weird one. I was on a family road trip 10 or 12 years ago, and I nodded off in the shotgun seat with the car stereo on. Sometime during my snooze, Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven" came on -- I think it was the Unplugged version. Now, I knew all about the tragic circumstances behind the song (his 4-year-old son falling to his death out of a high-rise window), and was certainly bummed out for Clapton, but the song had never done anything for me musically. I liked E.C.'s older stuff, and thought his godlike status had flickered out about a decade prior.

Well, I had one of those odd dreams where reality and the dream cross streams, and the song served as more than a soundtrack to the rem sleep visual -- I dreamt of little Connor Clapton falling out a window and trying to save him and failing. I woke up disoriented and somewhat frazzled. While my family wondered why I was looking like I was about to cry and needing to play back the song several more times, I just kept it to myself. Every time thereafter I've heard the song, it's been 1,000 times more compelling than ever before. I haven't listened to it in a while, though, and now that I have a young child about the same age, it would probably leave me sobbing like a little girl. So I guess I'd better keep it shelved for macho purposes.

"The Weight" is a brilliant song, probably The Band's best, even after way too many listens. "Don't Do It" and the live, horned-up version of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" off The Last Waltz are my Band favorites, though they did plenty of good stuff. I remember going into Herb's room on a regular basis in college and hunkering down for an hour or two to play Hearts on his Apple, shoot the breeze, and skip class. Invariably, in addition to The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead and his Neil Young mix, I'd crank up The Best of The Band to while away the afternoon. Not bad.

And Now for Something Completely Random

One of the things I love about music is the way a song can sneak up on you, change your mood, and get completely stuck in your head. I was moping about the election yesterday morning, and then - out of nowhere - Alien Ant Farm's cover of Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal started playing in the studio between my ears. "Annieareyouokayareyouokayareyouokayannie?" has been bouncing around in there from time to time ever since.

Just thought I'd share.

Recent Flights

Briefly, in response to Whit's commentary below, I've purchased the following records sound-unheard in the past 2 months:

The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow: I can't decide if I like this or not. It's weird, hooky, bubble-gummy, lyrically bizarre/interesting pop, and it's like nothing I've ever heard. It is growing on me, but I'm not sure how much growth it'll do. At worst, it's really peppy background music for a long drive.

Brian Wilson - Smile: Not really sound-unheard, I guess, as most of us know the Beach Boys' front man and his ouevre. Haven't heard enough of this to make an informed judgment - at the moment I'm thinking there are some really good pop nuggets, and some crap - but I reserve the right to hear the whole thing several more times before being held to an opinion.

I'm also really digging American Idiot by old favorites Green Day (which I purchased at the same time as Smile, and which accounts for why I haven't listened much to the Brian Wilson record), but that doesn't count for this discussion.

Taking a Flier

It’s not like we’re short on recommendations for music new and old from our old pal Herb. And his plugs are usually bona fide, far more so than those from pluggers getting paid for their advice. From Ween to Wilco to Cake to the North Mississippi All-Stars to, yes, the Old 97’s, he’s been one step ahead of the curve on plenty of good music, and he’s been kind enough to hurl it at us early on.

But there’s still something about taking a flier on an unknown album. The enjoyment of walking into a store, picking out something with little to no aural knowledge of its contents, and handing over the $14.37 is a unique experience. Okay, it’s not thrill-a-minute, largely because the downside is somewhat minimal; if it all goes wrong, you’ll be disappointed, you’ll be moderately annoyed with your own bad fortune/taste, and you’ll be out the equivalent of a case of beer. But the upside is pretty cool – you’re getting to enjoy music you might not have heard for months, if ever at all. It’s certainly a risk/reward in your favor.

I don’t know if there is a skill set necessary for the successful venturing in this way, but if there is, I don’t possess it. I’m telling you, historically I select the worst all-time records when I go out on a limb. Case in point: three blindly optimistic purchases in the early 90’s. The first one was Boom Crash Opera, a band I spotted on MTV with their video “Onion Skin” one Williamsburg summer, and I trotted off to the music store with my buddy Rob Russell (more on that later) to buy These Here Are Crazy Times. “The next INXS” is what these Aussie madcaps were being touted as, but they weren’t even the next Men at Work. Months later, a CD I was all over was the Chickasaw Mudd Puppies. “The next R.E.M.,” so some publication said when White Dirt came out, and I was such a sucker. Not quite up to the hype, it wasn’t unlistenable, but there was nary a memorable hook in 40 minutes of music, and the singer was pretty lousy. I sold it back, as I was too poor to afford CD’s I’d ignore. Finally, there was Nick Heyward. The former Haircut 100 singer (I obviously ignored this red flag) had a catchy single, “Kite,” off his album From Monday to Sunday, and he was being described as “the next Haircut 100.” While in New Jersey, I walked into a record store with my musical cohort Dave Pellicane, and somehow this album ended up in my hands when I went to the counter. I soon sold it back, despite not needing the money.

On the far end of the spectrum is, or at least was, the aforementioned Midas Russell. When I was buying that album that could’ve been advertised as “Australian for Crap,” he was randomly grabbing the first major release by this L.A. punk band he knew nothing about save a chance viewing of their video. (It was a long and fruitful summer, as you can tell.) Social Distortion was their name, and he very nearly had to go back at summer’s end and re-purchase the CD from wearing it out. After spending some time north of the border in 1992 (presumably to visit his girlfriend from the Niagara Falls area), he brought back a tape of some Canucklehead music from this band called Barenaked Ladies. Good call. Finally, when we were joining and quitting and joining and quitting music clubs galore in 1994, racking up discs like they were bar coasters, I was playing it safe (having learned my lesson) with the Doobie Brothers’ Greatest Hits and such while he was gambling (low stakes, of course) again. I don’t think he’d heard a single song when he hit BMG up for Hootie and the Blowfish’s Cracked Rear View, an album which might not have warranted selling 13 million copies but was far better than the lemming-headed backlash that eventually occurred. The kid was good.

In the years since, Rob may have lost his touch, perhaps due to lack of practice. If I’m not mistaken, Uncle Belgrade recently told me that his selection of Lloyd Cole’s Rattlesnakes record 20 years ago was a “sound-unheard” purchase based exclusively on the album cover. I doubt he’s done that in a while. I myself have had better success of late with fliers taken on bands such as the Dandy Warhols, Spoon, Modest Mouse, and Franz Ferdinand, but I'm still not comfortable with my own good luck when it comes to instinctive music grabs.

The use of iTunes has now made the album buy gamble obsolete, since you can preview all of the songs and just buy what you want. Still, it’d be an interesting little venture if we all agreed to go into a music shop in the next couple of weeks, plunk down fifteen smackers for any intriguing-looking CD based on little or no knowledge of it, listen to it for a fortnight, and give it a review.

If you dullards aren’t game for that, I’d be up for just hearing more tales of unexpected joy or woe from risky selections in the aisles of Tower, Skinnies Records, the Band Box, or wherever you’ve bought music.