MUSICAL MUSINGS

Strongest white

2005-11-21T23:02:00.000-05:00

Stellastar* "Harmonies for the Haunted". Go and buy it.

Question?

2005-11-13T23:16:00.000-05:00

Aaron Neville? Cool or not? Clearly, his flirtations with LR are disconcerting, but is there more than meets the ear? He is a dude with some amazing musical roots and heritage.

--your average jimmy

My iPod is named HAL

2005-08-16T12:45:00.000-05:00

As I was driving to work a couple of months ago, I pulled into the Union Station parking garage while listening to The Shins' "Caring Is Creepy" on the Garden State soundtrack (pretty worthy, by the way) on the CD player. As the song went into the chorus, I thought, "I've heard this before . . . in another song." I was sure I knew that chorus, or the vocal pattern, or something -- it wasn't an egregious rip-off on the part of The Shins, but still damn close. Of course, you can never think of a song with another one playing, and it was just bugging me.

I parked the car and began walking to my building. Just as I was about to turn on the iPod and tune out, I even came up with a couple of lyrics: Julius Caesar and the Roman Empire / something something something . . . dammit, what is it? I shook my head, plugged in the earphones, and gave up. Oh, well.

iPod shuffle, second song as I walked to work. Crowded House, "Weather With You." Son of a bitch.
Out of 9,057 songs, it nailed it in two tries. I was stunned, and felt like buying a lottery ticket or something. Didn't, of course, which is why I didn't win.

* * *

Fast forward to this weekend. I was working in the yard, accompanied by The Pod once again. (The iPod, not the Ween album, of course.) Shuffling it up, as always, and Killing Joke's "Eighties" came up. Now, I don't know how many of you recall this song, and of that group how many of you have heard it since, say 1991, when an up-and-coming Seattle act lifted the riff nearly note for note to create one of the staples of the grunge campaign. It was worthy of momentary reflection, though, when I was weed-eating (i.e., doing yardwork, not practicing Herb's erstwhile recreations) and "Eighties" charged into my ears with its sped-up "Come As You Are" intro.

While the Shins/CH similarities are debatable and perhaps only apparent if you listen to way too much music, the Killing Joke/Nirvana tunes were close enough that litigation almost came into play when "Come As You Are" hit the radio. (Kurt Cobain was always humble about who and what his band pilfered from, most frequently naming the Pixies but definitely acknowledging this particular borrowing. I think that forthcoming approach to his musical "creations" may have saved him some court costs and more.) Anyway, the notable parallel between the Killing Joke song and its later, more popular counterpart, was the most uncanny event in a mundane morning of yardwork until three things happened.

1.) I decided I'd like to hear the two songs back-to-back for good measure.
2.) I decided I probably would never bother to actually play them back-to-back.
3.) The very next song on the shuffle after "Eighties" was "Come As You Are" by Nirvana.

My jaw instantly fell open with a "Wha?", and I looked around the yard to see if I were on some reality television show. After realizing that it would have been the most boring, dreadful visual for any TV show ever, I simply stared at the machine with a "How'd you do that?" look. I was perplexed for half a hedge's worth, but I eventually came to the only conclusion there can be.

The iPod uses earphones that are jammed way into your ears, (a) likely destroying your eardrums gradually, but more relevantly (b) pressed way up against your brain. Over time, the player, with its feelers tapped into your brainwaves, starts to read your thoughts, musical and otherwise. Usually this just manifests itself in the shuffle coming up with the perfect song for the perfect frame of mind, but occasionally, like in these two examples, there happens that rare case where it reads the synaptic request for a particular track, and it delivers.

I'm dreading the day I casually click on the Disco playlist, only to have my iPod blurt into my earphones in HAL's voice, "Just what do you think you're doing, Whitney?"

...

a musing

2005-08-12T15:24:00.000-05:00

a cross-post form the lammie-blog

The weather in st petersburg florida is hot....as.....fuck. Who in their right mind would live in such a god-forsaken locale? me, apparently.

The radio. It seems that because it's really fucking hot in florida all of the cool college radio people go to school in other states and as a consequence the radio sucks. Sure, we've got WMNF, the third leg of the Pacifica/WBAI radical radio triad busting out Democracy Now and Alan Watts buddhism lectures in the mid-morning but I'm stuck with R&B as told by old white dudes all afternoon - who the fuck wants to hear Rufus Thomas over and over again? not me. The weekend on WMNF is no better - polka party on saturday? The Sunday Schmita (sp?) klezmer show? fuck. I like klezmer and polka but not every weekend. I also know there's a reason why these shows are on air and I'm all for it, it's just that I have nowhere else to go. One of the few bright spot on WMNF, music wise, is Friday nights from 7-9 when Steve "the hitman" Williams and some guy named, strangely, the Original Get-Down Plunder, kick out the old school soul jams.

Unfortuntely, if WMNF is sucking I can't tweak the dial, always below 92-93-ish, to 90.7 (grunge and bile, we got style, paul verkuil) WCWM in the 'burg, 90.5 WUOG to rock out to the latest coolest hipper than shit tunes in Athens GA, or even 88.1 WMBR@ M.I.T. in Cambridge where (although they're a little more mature than typical college radio - they don't bring their drunk friends into the sound booth or their friends are nice and quiet) the playlist was brand new each and every day. I shit you not, the radio really sucks so bad here, in terms of hearing *new* things, that I find myself relying on internet radio - KEXP in Seattle (a little corporate but better than nothing) WFMU - East Orange NJ for the real deal college FM without the college and WFUV (Fordham - for my "adult" album rock jones). I also find myself digging around the ether-stacks on my own. Which brings me to my point.

We all miss shit. I missed Phish (whatever), Pavement (taken care of), and REM (still haven't figured out what everyone creamed in their pants for over them), among others. I've spent the better part of my lunch time and post-lunch time digging around and figuring out what I've been missing. So far Dinosaur Jr (smack in the middle of a Pixies-magnitude reunion) is promising, Nuetral Milk Hotel is fucking rocking and M. Ward is coming around the bend and picking up speed. Rock on.

Rhetorical question, editorial response

2005-06-03T18:34:00.000-05:00

Franz Ferdinand? I don't get it.

Beck, Winner

2005-04-12T14:13:00.000-05:00

Beck's new album Guero is a keeper -- it only took me a couple of spins to really get into it. It was produced by The Dust Brothers (Odelay, the Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique), and it has an Odelay feel to it, all over the place without being choppy. "E-Pro," the first song, is a great opener, faster and harder than most of the album. Every song therafter has its own style and sound to it, simultaneously derivative of a million different things and yet unlike anything else I've come across in a while. I was always a tiny bit lukewarm on Beck, never fully endorsing him because of some odd notion that he was copying the Beasties. Clearly he's miles away from that comparison now. It was probably on my brutally hung over ride home from Jersey to Arlington last Sunday with the windows rolled down and this album turned up that I decided that Beck is the real deal and this album is worth highly recommending.

Also getting some airplay in my domain is Morrissey's latest record, You Are the Quarry. A lot of what I said about the Camper album applies -- if you always found The Smiths and Morrissey to be whiny, mopey alt-pop, you won't be any happier with this effort. But those who enjoyed them/him will dig it -- better than he's done in quite some time. He's still pretty much a lyrical downer, but there are more than a few enjoyable tunes here. He recently issued a live album as well -- one which incorporates a handful of Smiths songs in the set list. Even more enjoyable.

In the next four weeks there will be new albums from Springsteen, Ryan Adams, nine inch nails, Dave Matthews Band, Weezer, New Order, Lucinda Williams, and, of course, The Flaming Lips. Ween is supposedly going to issue some kind of album from their website soon; you never know what it will be with them, or if that's even true, as it may just be some high joke.

Also, don't miss the debut release of the up-and-coming New Jersey act Greasetruck. And if you ask nicely, we can set you up with the one-off recording of "I'm Your Hero, You're My Gyro" by Random Idiots.

HFS RIP, but the HFStival Lives

2005-03-28T16:34:00.000-05:00

As most of the guys who chime in here probably know, DC's original alternative rock radio station 99.1 WHFS went to a Latin pop format recently, dismaying many but putting a quick end to its slow, painful death in the eyes of many more. While I intended to start a thread discussing whether rock radio as we know it is pretty much dead in the water in 2005, I didn't get around to it. (I'd still enjoy doing so at some point.) Meanwhile, WHFS has sort of, kind of been resurrected . . . on a Baltimore talk radio station during certain hours in a frequency that doesn't really reach DC's airwaves. And from what I have read, they're still churning out the same overplayed, underthought playlists from Billboard's Top 100.

The powers that be have, though, managed to keep the HFStival alive an well, at least according to this set list:

Billy Idol
Sum 41
Social Distortion
Garbage
Foo Fighters
Good Charlotte
Coldplay
The Bravery
Citizen Cope
Jimmies Chicken Shack
New York Dolls
Unwritten Law
They Might Be Giants
Louis XIV
Echo and the Bunnymen
Interpol
The Stereophonics

The show is in Baltimore, appropriately, at the Ravens Stadium. I saw the HFStival there five or six years ago, and it was a great one. I nearly died in an Offspring moshsmash, and the Chili Peppers unveiled Californication brilliantly. Anyway, I'm not sure I'm even young enough to qualify for admission, even though the concert is chock full of 80's artists (not to mention the New York Dolls!), but it looks like it'd be an entertaining show.

Post-Patty Hangover

2005-03-18T15:34:00.000-05:00

Ugh. March 18, international hangover day.

Music can be therapeutic in these instances, but it has to be the right music. Slow, easy tunes. No metal, no hip-hop, nothing danceable. Country and anything that could fall under the singer-songwriter genre do the trick, but you're not limited to easy listening per se to get you through. It always helps if the song is a sad one, even better if it mentions or alludes to alcohol, and it's ideal if the lyrics are about hangovers. Here's a list if you're making a disc or playlist of Hangover Cure Music.

The Ideal:
Johnny Cash, "Sunday Morning Coming Down"
Jimmy Buffett, "My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don't Love Jesus" and "Trying to Reason with the Hurricane Season"
Old 97's, "Jagged"
The Replacements, "Here Comes a Regular"

The Rest:
Allman Brothers Band, "Whipping Post"
The Band, "The Shape I'm In"
Barenaked Ladies, "Brian Wilson"
Beatles, "Golden Slumbers" and "I'm So Tired"
Ben Folds Five, "Smoke"
Beth Orton, "Stolen Car"
Big Head Todd & the Monsters, "Please Don't Tell Her"
Bill Withers, "Ain't No Sunshine"
Billy Bragg & Wilco, "California Stars"
Blind Faith, "Can't Find My Way Home"
Bob Dylan, "Knockin' on Heaven's Door"
Bob Marley & the Wailers, "Natural Mystic"
Bruce Springsteen, "Jungleland," "Point Blank," "If I Should Fall Behind," the Nebraska album
Cake, "Friend Is a Four Letter Word"
Camper van Beethoven, "Come On Darkness"
Cat Stevens, "Wild World"
Chris Isaak, "Wicked Game"
Coldplay, "In My Place"
Commodores, "Easy"
Connells, "'74-'75"
Cowboy Junkies, "Sweet Jane"
CCR, "Long As I Can See the Light"
CSNY, "Helplessly Hoping"
The Cult, "Black Angel"
Dave Pellicane, "Crazy"
David Gray, "Please Forgive Me"
Dire Straits, "Water of Love"
Eagles, "Peaceful Easy Feeling"
Elvis Costello & the Attractions, "Beyond Belief"
Elvis Presley, "In the Ghetto"
Eric Clapton, "Promises"
Fountains of Wayne, "Hackensack"
Grateful Dead, "Fire on the Mountain"
Hall & Oates, "She's Gone"
Harry Chapin, "Cat's in the Cradle"
Jayhawks, "Blue"
Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"
John Anderson, "Seminole Wind"
Keane, "Somewhere Only We Knew"
Kinks, "Waterloo Sunset"
Little Feat, "Trouble"
Lou Reed, "Perfect Day"
Lyle Lovett, "If I Had a Boat"
Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Tuesday's Gone" and "Simple Man"
Moby, "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?"
Morphine, "Candy"
Morrissey, "Every Day Is Like Sunday"
Neil Young, "The Needle and the Damage Done," "Helpless," "Out on the Weekend," most of his catalogue
Nirvana, "Something In the Way"
Old 97's, "Stoned"
Peter Gabriel, "Mercy Street"
Portishead, "Sour Times"
R.E.M., "So. Central Rain" and "Country Feedback"
Radiohead, "Street Spirit (Fade Out)"
Ramones, "She Talks to Rainbows"
Random Idiots, "House of the Martha Wood"
Red Hot Chili Peppers, "I Could Have Lied"
Rolling Stones, "Salt of the Earth," "Dead Flowers," "Time Waits for No One," and Mad Fly's fave "Loving Cup"
Ryan Adams, "Harder Now That It's Over"
Seven Mary Three, "Lucky"
Smashing Pumpkins, "Never Let Me Down Again" and "Disarm"
The Smiths, "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want"
Son Volt, "Windfall"
Spoon, "Everything Hits at Once"
Starsailor, "Alcoholic"
Talking Heads, "Heaven"
Travis, "Why Does It Always Rain on Me?"
U2, "Bad"
Van Morrison, "And It Stoned Me"
Violent Femmes, "Good Feeling"
Ween, "It's Gonna Be (Alright)" and "Baby Bitch"
Wilco, "How to Fight Loneliness" and "Red-Eyed and Blue"

Happy St. Patrick's

2005-03-15T16:02:00.000-05:00

Erin go bragh, pogue mahone, and all that.
Here is a smattering of Irishness to enjoy this Thursday whilst slugging Guinness and Jameson:

The Pogues, "The Sick Bed of Cúchulaínn"
Hothouse Flowers, "Don't Go"
The Boomtown Rats, "Up All Night"
Van Morrison, "Domino"
The Corrs & Bono, "When the Stars Go Blue"
Sinéad O'Connor, "The Last Day of Our Acquaintance"
The Cranberries, "Wanted"
My Bloody Valentine, "Sometimes"
Shane MacGowan & the Popes, "Nancy Whiskey"
Danny Wilson, "Mary's Prayer"
Luka Bloom, "In Between Days"
The Undertones, "Teenage Kicks"
The Commitments, "Mustang Sally"
Stiff Little Fingers, "Alternative Ulster"
Thin Lizzy, "Whiskey in the Jar"

and that obscure Irish quartet . . .

U2, "A Sort of Homecoming"

New "Cake" Album

2005-03-02T16:55:00.000-05:00

I know Ethan likes "Cake"-- he introduced me to the band, and they have a new album out. I couldn't down-load it illegally with WinMX; I think bands are putting hundreds of dupes on share drives, because there are hundreds of versions of each song, but when you try to down-load them they don't exist. If that's the case, good for them-- they forced me to buy the CD. It's pretty good, if a little inconsistent-- I read that they made it themselves on computer, which seems to be the way to go these days to save some money and do what you want. "Ween" recorded their last album in a similar manner. Anyway, there's some great banjo mixed with psychedelic keyboards and the typical "Cake" sound-- a cheesy acoustic guitar layered with a fuzzy electric and ironic detached vocals and random back-up harmonies, but they've added a lot of electronic stuff as well.

They're Actual Size, But They Seem Much Bigger to Me

2005-02-24T09:10:00.000-05:00

We had a brush with greatness (giantness?) last night in this corner of the Musings community. The wife and I took the kids to the mega-Borders in Tysons Corner for an in-store performance by They Might Be Giants in support of their new childrens' CD/DVD. I'm guessing 3-400 kids of all ages packed into the performance space, hung from bookshelves, and otherwise rocked along as the Giants played a 40-minute set.

I've seen TMBG live 6 or 7 times, but never in such an intimate venue, and never in the company of a gaggle of rugrats. They played a nice mix of stuff, keeping the kids happy with several of their younger-skewing tunes, and reaching out to their other fans with some old faves. The set list, as I remember it, follows:

- Alphabet of Nations
- Istanbul (Not Constantinople)
- Flying V
- Letter Lost & Found
- Particle Man (they made the crowd stand for this one, which they introduced as They Might Be Giants' National Anthem)
- Robot Parade
- Doctor Worm (my daughter's favorite)

I had as much fun as my daughter did, and she was rocking her little self out. After the show, we stood in line to have the Johns autograph the new CD, and I got just a moment with John Linnell while John Flansburgh was taking a picture with my wife and kids. "Thanks for making music fun for all of us," I said, and the shy Giant smiled and thanked me.

One more Grammy gripe

2005-02-17T17:57:00.000-05:00

I was pissed too until the funniest award of the night, namely when Brian Wilson, king of all vocal arrangements, won his Grammy for the sans vocals Best Rock Instrumental Performance category. Someone has a great sense of humor at least.

Grammy Time

2005-02-15T11:13:00.000-05:00

The Grammys pretty much piss me off.

How a group of know-nothings wield such apparent power is beyond me -- although calling it "power" is relative. There's an inversely proportional weight to the Grammys, since the less one is familiar with music, the more stock one places in these awards.

The most publicized gaffe in Grammy awarding came in 1988, when Metallica's beloved (by metalheads and then some) album . . . And Justice for All was snubbed in the Grammy category of Best Hard Rock/Metal in favor of Crest of a Knave, a middling, post-crest effort by . . . Jethro Tull, natch. While the Metallicans, critics, and rock fans all over scoffed at this misstep, it was the continuation of a pattern for the National Association of Recording Arts and Sciences. Here's the M.O. of the NARAS:

1. Completely overlook the musical standouts of the times.
2. Years later, attempt to rectify these grievous errors with subsequent awards for later, lesser works, thereby ensuring that you . . .
3. Completely overlook the musical standouts of the times.
4. Rinse; lather; repeat.

Jethro Tull may not suit your musical tastes at all (flutes and hard rock, two great tastes that don't go great together), but rock aficionados can't deny that their 1970's work -- which enjoyed significantly more critical and commercial success -- would've been a far more likely candidate than Crest of a Knave, which was subtitled "Is Anybody Still Listening?" So Metallica gets snubbed, the world of metalheads is outraged (though how does one tell the difference than, say, any other day?), and Metallica gets seven Grammys in the next decade -- most of them for decidedly weaker output. And the cycle continues.

Bruce Springsteen first won one in 1984, meaning everything from the opening guitar notes of "Blinded By The Light" in 1973 through the last howl of Nebraska must have been relatively subpar. That '84 win was for "Dancing in the Dark," which was a huge hit, but not wholly representative of his work, wouldn't you say? He has since won 10 more, including this year for "Code of Silence," a live cut issued on The Essential Bruce Springsteen. I'm listening to "Code of Silence" right now for probably the third time ever, and it's pretty good, but is it the Best Solo Rock Vocal Performance of all of the music of 2004? (Or 2003, when Essential actually came out?) It just feels like it's retribution for past oversights, which can only mean more of the same in the future.

There have been other egregious make-up calls in recent Grammy history, like: Steely Dan's comeback album win after the 70's drought, Ziggy and Bunny Wailer both winning where Bob could not, Tom Petty not getting over the hump until he was a Wilbury, Floyd winning a decade after Roger Waters left, Nirvana winning after Kurt was dead, Santana cleaning up 25 years after his heyday, and The Clash getting a wink for a documentary long after their records had been shelved by the Association. Check out the Stones' Grammy trophy case for an eye-opener. A time-capsule view through the Grammy lens would see 1994 as the year two one-hit wonders, Salt-N-Pepa and The Rolling Stones, made it big. This year, to wit, we see first time awards going to:

1. Brian Wilson. Pet Sounds didn't win, but a track off the new Smile does. Sounds crazy -- even to Brian Wilson.
2. Rod Stewart. Which crime is worse, that his early 70's material wasn't recognized, or that anything since the early 80's was?
3. Toots & the Maytals. Toots Hibbert never got any props from NARAS for years of fine work, so he wisely gathered -- count 'em -- ten Grammy winners in Eric Clapton, Keith Richards, Willie Nelson, Jeff Beck, Bonnie Raitt, Shaggy, Bootsy Collins, The Roots, No Doubt, and yes, Bunny Wailer and re-cut his old Maytals tunes. The result: it was as lackluster as you might imagine, and it still won.
4. Motörhead. I guess I am as shocked that Lemmy is still alive as I am that "Ace of Spades" and the like is getting a generation-late pat on the back. [Momentum-sabotaging tangent: speaking of that song, has anyone heard Ween's "It's Gonna Be a Long Night" and not wondered if a Lemmy lawsuit is pending?]
5. Steve Earle. Gotta say I'm surprised he's even recognized now -- I figured he'd have to wait and get something posthumously. Earle's The Revolution Starts...Now is one of two 2004 concept albums aimed at the war in Iraq that won Grammys, the other being the Green Day album Rob mentions below. The third in the 2004 trilogy, Camper van's New Roman Times, was left out, but I'm sure David Lowery will be on-stage in 2023 to accept for Best Vocals That Sound Like Spoken Word.
6. Wilco. A Ghost Is Born is the record that finally made me question my faith in these former alt-country gods. I know Herb digs it, but I can't tell whether they tried too hard to alienate the audience or if they just didn't try at all. Whatever it is, there's an asterisk by my fervent eagerness to see them play this April at JazzFest. Yet this is the work that Grammy folks liked, or at least pretended to -- who's more off-beat (in the bad way), the NARAS or the large record company execs?

I guess I have to concede a little to the Grammys -- they must be able to put on a good show, as Rob describes. Plus, they do nail the obvious choices at times, with U2, Green Day, Gretchen Wilson, and the other multiplatinum artists getting their due. And the Association has expanded and modified their categories in attempts to mirror musical trends, even if they bungle that at times. ("Alternative Music" awards didn't appear until the 1990's, and they're still around even after that moniker has become woefully misrepresentative.)

Further, while the Grammys fall short of my hopes for them, they're certainly far closer to perfection than the other awards programs that have surfaced. (Billboard, the American Music Association, and MTV all issue flimsy knock-offs.) I'm not quite sure why that is; in the world of cinema recognition, the Academy occasionally errs and is held to task by the Golden Globes, BAFTAs, and Independent Spirit Awards, which are all worth their salt. In music, there seeming is only the Grammys, and that's why I expect more and get frustrated with less. Every year.

Of Bald Women and Glaswegian Glam Rockers

2005-02-15T09:45:00.000-05:00

I'm not usually one for award shows, but I got sucked in early by Sunday night's Grammy telecast and never left. Of note:

- The 5-band opener, with the Black Eyed Peas, Los Lonely Boys, Gwen Stefani, Maroon 5, and Franz Ferdinand was high-energy cacophony, and set a brisk pace for the rest of the night.

- U2's Bono remains the consummate showman, even if they won for Best Rock Song at Green Day's expense. The band performed a soulful version of "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own," which Bono dedicated to his father, saying "I wish I'd got to know him better."

- Joss Stone and Melissa Etheridge just wailed away on a Janis Joplin medley, starting with Stone's take on "Cry Baby" and ending with the Etheridge - bald from the aftereffects of chemotherapy - rocking out to "Piece of My Heart." Joss Stone is 17(!) and has spectacular pipes, and while I've always kind of liked Etheridge, I never really paid attention to the fact that she can freaking belt out a song. This was my favorite part of the show. I always forget how great Janis Joplin was.

- Kanye West, Mavis Staples, and the Blind Boys of Alabama got even the white folks out of their seats during a gospel medley that featured West's hit, "Jesus Walks." The performance was quickly followed with West's Best Rap Album win for The College Dropout and the night's funniest and most poignant acceptance speech.

- The aforementioned Green Day's American Idiot won for Best Rock Album, and then the band played a rollicking, if too short, version of the album's title track. Quoth lead singer Billie Joe, "Rock and roll can be dangerous and fun at the same time." Preach on, brother.

- Alicia Keys can just plain sing. Damn. Although I've seen about enough of Jamie Foxx for a while.

- John Mayer spun a beautiful acoustic version of "Daughters," a song which is scientifically proven to tear the heartstrings of anyone who is the father of female children.

- Gretchen Wilson, Dickey Betts, Tim McGraw, Elvin Bishop, Keith Urban and several others covered a bunch of Skynrd songs, including the obligatory "Free Bird," "Ramblin' Man," and "Sweet Home Alabama." A little out of place, maybe, but pretty tight musically. Gretchen Wilson can cover my song anytime.

- Who knew that Queen Latifah could sing?

- Loretta Lynn is crazy as a shithouse rat, but she and Jack White were sweetly dysfunctional in accepting their award for Best Country Album for their collaboration Van Lear Rose.

Oh, and for Jimmy, I really dig Throwing Copper. Live was part of the best, um, live show I've ever seen, headlining at the Meriwether Post Pavilion with P.J. Harvey and Veruca Salt. But "Pain Lies on the Riverside" is by far my favorite song by the lads from Live.

On Rob's radio (or should have been)

2005-02-11T22:47:00.000-05:00

Three words:

Live -- Throwing Copper

On Rob Russell's Radio, 1985-93

2005-02-04T15:45:00.000-05:00

I guess I'm probably best suited to answer Rob's inquiry, seeing as I was usually in the adjacent room from at least '88-'93. Scanning my iPod (greatest . . . invention . . . ever), here's a sampling of what I would say you tuned into over those years. Of course, since they're already on my iPod, it means I have them in electronic format if you want them, thereby saving you the 99 cents and effort, but here goes.

10,000 Maniacs - "Like the Weather"
Arrested Development - "Tennessee"
The B-52's - "Channel Z"
Barenaked Ladies - "Grade 9"
Beastie Boys - "Shake Your Rump"
Beck - "Devils Haircut"
Big Audio Dynamite - "Contact"
Big Head Todd & the Monsters - "Bittersweet"
Blind Melon - "No Rain"
Blues Traveler - "But Anyway"
Blur - "Song 2"
Bob Mould - "See a Little Light"
BoDeans - "Fadeaway"
The Breeders - "Cannonball"
Camper van Beethoven - "Eye of Fatima"
Cracker - "Teen Angst"
Counting Crows - "Mr. Jones"
The Cranberries - "Linger"
Crash Test Dummies - "Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm"
Crowded House - "Into Temptation"
Drivin' N' Cryin' - "Straight to Hell"
Emmet swimming - "Arlington"
Everclear - "Santa Monica"
Faith No More - "Epic"
Fine Young Cannibals - "Johnny Come Home"
Fishbone - "Ma and Pa"
The Flaming Lips - "She Don't Use Jelly"
Frank Black - "Headache"
Freedy Johnston - "Bad Reputation"
Gin Blossoms - "Allison Road"
Goo Goo Dolls - "Name"
Green Day - "Longview"
Hoodoo Gurus - "What's My Scene"
Hootie & the Blowfish - "Hannah Jane"
Hothouse Flowers - "Don't Go"
The Housemartins - "Anxious"
INXS - "Mystify"
James - "Laid"
Jane's Addiction - "Jane Says"
Jesus & Mary Chain - "Just Like Honey"
Joe Jackson - "One More Time"
The Judybats - "Ugly On the Outside"
The Lemonheads - "It's a Shame About Ray"
Live - "Pain Lies on the Riverside"
Liz Phair - "Fuck and Run"
Morrissey - "Suedehead"
New Order - "True Faith"
Nirvana - I think you know what song goes here
Oingo Boingo - "Just Another Day"
Pearl Jam - "Black"
Peter Gabriel - "Solsbury Hill"
Pixies - "Monkey Gone to Heaven"
Primus - "Jerry Was a Race Car Driver"
R.E.M. - "I Believe"
Rancid - "Time Bomb"
Random Idiots - "Dr. Seuss"
Red Hot Chili Peppers - "Breaking the Girl"
The Replacements - "Alex Chilton"
The Samples - "Did You Ever Look So Nice"
Seven Mary Three - "Water's Edge"
The Smiths - "Panic"
Sting - "Russians"
The Stone Roses - "I Wanna Be Adored"
The Sugarcubes - "Birthday"
TMBG - "Everything Right is Wrong Again"
U2 - "Mysterious Ways"
Urge Overkill - "Sister Havana"
The Waterboys - "Fisherman's Blues"
Ween - "Push Th' Little Daisies"
World Party - "Put the Message In the Box"
XTC - "Dear God"

And oh yeah, you listened to plenty of Boy George. Enjoy.

Hold My Life

2005-01-31T21:38:00.000-05:00

Took the plunge a few days ago and downloaded iTunes. Despite my brutally slow dial-up connection (give me a break, I'm still working on paying my mortgage - no fancypants DSL in my budget) I'm hooked. The real impetus for my foray into the world of online music was my recent jonesing for the music of my past. I've got hundreds of great records on tape ("records on tape"?), but very few of them on CD. I want to put together my own mix of the music that sustained me during my high school and college years. And for that, my friends, I need your help.

After downloading "No New Tale to Tell", by Love and Rockets, and "The Lovecats", by the Cure, I started combing through my CDs to add to the iTunes library. I've got some Smiths and some Midnight Oil, a little bit of Pogues and a dash of Connells. I can remember lots of stuff, but not all of it - so that's where you come in. What the hell did I listen to from 1985 or so to 1993? Or, what did you listen to during that alcohol- and angst-sodden period of your lives? The best memories go on my playlist, coming to a CD-R near you.

(Edit: Well, I was high on iTunes, until it crapped itself in the final stages of downloading Social Distortion's "Ball and Chain". That's a song that defines a 3-month era of my life - an era spent in pursuit of cheesy mall bargains, cheap alcohol, and the secret to Phillip Michael Thomas' ouevre.)

They Might Be Geeks . . .

2005-01-27T11:24:00.000-05:00

. . . but I dig 'em. I know I said I didn't think They Might Be Giants' new album was top-shelf, but they've done great stuff over the years. Excellent live shows, and a wealth of two-minute songs to enjoy on each record. (The Ramones & TMBG, two of a kind.) Best TMBG songs, thought up right here and now off the top o' the noggin':

"Hits" (ha):
- Ana Ng
- They'll Need a Crane
- Don't Let's Start
- Istanbul
- Snail Shell
- Why Does the Sun Shine? (live)
- Boss of Me

Digging Deeper:
- She's an Angel
- Dinner Bell
- Twisting
- Mr. Me
- Meet James Ensor
- Thermostat
- AKA Driver
- and, of course, Shoehorn With Teeth, if only for the line "people should get beat up for statin' their beliefs" -- meaning the world of blogs like this one would have a lot of shiners

Just as the song "James K. Polk" led Ethan to a greater knowledge of the president, because of "Meet James Ensor" I dragged D-Pave Pellicane into the James Ensor exhibit at the Belgian National Art Museum in Brussels a couple of years ago, and it was well worth the stroll through the paintings. Lots of strange works involving scary masks. Weird dude.

For anyone with even a mild interest in the band, They came out with a brilliant documentary a couple of years ago, "Gigantic." Rock 'N' Russell and I saw it in the theater, and it's highly recommended. Also, listen to their random odds and ends at www.dialasong.com.

Unrelated drivel: has anyone seen the movie "They Might Be Giants" from thich this band took their name? Its cast is intriguing: George C. Scott, Mrs. Paul Newman, Grandpa Munster, the slutty Golden Girl, Bentley from "The Jeffersons," Fletch's Dr. Jellyfinger, Marty McFly's principal, and Solieri.

all apologies

2005-01-25T15:42:00.000-05:00

Thanks for straightening me out there, I've thrown out all my CD's and replaced them with Ryan Adams.

......

2005-01-19T09:27:00.000-05:00

a couple of things, Oxford Mississippi style (with atrocious spelling).

1. Cake has sucked (not really sucked I guess, but certainly hasn't been as good) since Dave Brown left after fashion nugget - has anyone ever listened, really listened, to his shit on Stick Shifts and Safety Belts? excelente my friends, excelente.

2. If you've been waiting for the White Stripes for your dose of heavy metal cracker-blues then you missed the (John Spencer) Blues Explosion back in the early nineties. Good thing for you that they're still around - check them out. You might also like My Morning Jacket - Kentucky's latest hard rockers (was Nashville Pussy really that hick state's last entry into this catergory?).

3. They Might Be Giants, I thought only plastic-glasses wearing literary types from Brooklyn liked them. Who are they and why are they both named John - is that some sort of "joke" that I don't get? Is James K. Polk one of the best songs ever and doesn't it make you wish that your high school history teacher was cool enough to have played that tune on the first day of class so that you'd have been inspired to actually care about history at that early point in your intellectual life?

4. 2004, let's see. I bought Brian Wilson's Smile but haven't decided if I actually like it yet. I also bought Ray LaMontange's Trouble and think it's the best folk/rock I've heard since Ben Harper's Fight For Your Mind. Al Green's I Can't Stop is groovy in that Al Green sort of way, it's nice. And The Black Eyed Peas Elephunk is certainly funky, and naughty. I feel a little funny when I listen to it while working on my house - lest my neighbors hear me listening to music that is sexually explicit. My son Hudson has become a samba freak and we therefore listen to a lot of Stan Getz, Astrud Gilberto and Tom Jobim, all of which we've been enjoying in our whitebread sort of way. Been diggin the Beatle's Revolver quite a bit. And Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, not a new realease anymore, has been getting significant playtime on the old iPod.

5. My main listening continues to be done on the radio. Locally, WMNF rocks it commercial-free with a dose a radical politics, just like me. At work I listen to KEXP from Seattle (polished, diverse and commercial-free), and WFUV (my first love, in the Bronx). At night, if I'm at the confuser on a weekday, I listen to Eric Jackson on WGBH in Boston - the best jazz show I've ever heard. All of these stations either stream in mp3 (iTunes, shoutcast), windows media player format whatever the hell that is, or RealAudio (Real Player).

6. I've still got to send whit some ryan adams (or maybe some ray lamontagne disguised as ryan adams) tunes- I haven't forgot ye whit.

hope you all had a good holiday that you all have a great 2005.

herb

Intravenus de Milo

2005-01-18T13:58:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the info on Whits picks. I'm so far out of the scene I haven't even heard of a few of those bands but will be sure to look for them. I've been stuck in the past as usual, Exile on Main St still never gets old followed by Beggars Banquet.
A couple other takes on the past year (or so) , Cake's Pressure Chief, decent but most people hate Cake, I liked them a great deal more until I saw them play live, the music sounds good but the band lacks energy.
Although it's an '03 release Beck's Sea Change is good. I never liked him much until the last few albums, Mutations is one of my all timers. I saw him play in college after Mellow Gold and 'I'm a Loser' came out. There were about 12 people in this shithole college club and the record company threw him out with nothing. Imagine one your drunk buddies playing this highly produced album solo acoustic, now imagine that they can't play or sing and had one of those harmonica rigs up as well that they would occasionally caterwaul on. It was classically funny and it's cool to see how far the guy came in spite of that public hanging.
They Might Be Giants have a live compilation they just released which I don't remember the name of, these guys are still plugging along although no one seems to care much.
Lastly the White Stripes might need a mention here. I always hated them as well, mostly because the radioplay tunes sucked and I hated the fact that the chick really sucked on drums. Now I have to admit that they are making music that no one makes or even plays anymore. Jack White came into his own playing and it's good to hear some heavy metal blues without having to throw some Zeppelin in the stereo.
Thanks for tolerating the most unintelligible post on the board to date.

Best of 2004

2005-01-10T16:05:00.000-05:00

Since we've been dormant here for a month, I figured nobody'd mind (or even notice) if I jump-started this place with something trite: the year-end best-of list. Here are 10 albums that came out in 2004 that struck my fancy.

10. Final Straw by Snow Patrol - Average Jimmy set me up with this one. A good listen. Favorite Song: "Run"
9. Hot Fuss by The Killers - One of a few albums I enjoyed that the "kids today" are listening to, bought on a whim. Favorite Song: "Somebody Told Me"
8. Antics by Interpol - Grew on me with each listen. Favorite Song: "Evil"
7. Drag It Up by Old 97's - The fact that a new album from my favorite band comes in at #7 illustrates my mild disappointment in the record, but it's still better than 99% of new music. Favorite Song: "The New Kid"
6. Franz Ferdinand by Franz Ferdinand - More tunes that defied the odds by getting airtime and not sucking. Favorite Song: "Take Me Out"
5. 11 by Random Idiots - The comeback album nobody was praying for. It features the new sound, described by Herb as "mid-fi," with a fixation on beach songs. Oh, and the band has approved all piracy, so anyone wanting a free copy, let me know. Favorite Song: "House of the Martha Wood"
4. 20,000 Streets Under The Sky by Marah - A surprising favorite from the Bruce-ish youngsters. Favorite Song: "East" or "Going Thru the Motions"
3. American Idiot by Green Day - Rob's already mega-touted this one, but it's that good. Favorite Song: "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
2. Good News for People Who Love Bad News by Modest Mouse - Last month someone in a bar called me a rock snob and proved it by saying, "Oh, I bet you liked Modest Mouse before they were cool." Dead on. I grabbed a copy of this as soon as it was out, and loved it. The best songs are the ones on the radio, but it's solid alt-rock throughout. Favorite Song: "Float On"
1. New Roman Times by Camper van Beethoven - More evidence of snoberry, to be sure, and perhaps this album doesn't top the others in overall greatness -- it may just be that their resumption of business as usual after 15 years pleased me that much. If you always hated CVB, you still will, but if you dug them way back when, it's more of the same. Lowery's rough vocals, violins as major instruments, and even a little backwards recordings for old times' sake. Favorite Song: "Might Makes Right"

Albums that didn't make the cut included new records by the Beastie Boys (nothing revelatory), Wilco (slipping away, sadly), 7 Mary 3 (unfortunately), u2 (because I didn't get it yet), They Might Be Giants (not reviewed very positively), and Jimmy Buffett (reviewed on this site previously).

5 Great Compilations / Re-Issues

5. Rearviewmirror: Greatest Hits 1991-2003 by Pearl Jam - A 2-disc compilation replete with great stuff -- listening to it made me realize I'd forgotten how many good songs they had.
4. Words & Music: John Mellencamp's Greatest Hits by John Cougar Mellencamp Ditto, Ditto, Ditto to everything about #5.
3. Doctors, Professors, Kings and Queens: The Big Ol' Box of New Orleans by Various Artists - a 4-disc set of all things Big Easy, from the earliest blues recordings to new rock outfits. Blues, jazz, brass bands, zydeco, rock, and much, much more. The jumbled-up sequence makes it just like walking around the fairgrounds at JazzFest.
2. Join the Dots: B-Sides & Rarities, 1978-2001 by The Cure - Back in the 80's, The Cure released their first compilation on one extended play cassette and included all of the B-sides on . . . the B-side. These songs were almost as good as the A-material. It took nearly 20 years, but they finally remastered and re-released these tracks, and a bunch more rarities from their career.
1. London Calling: 25th Anniversary by The Clash - Everybody has (or dammit, man, should have) London Calling, but this re-issue packaged in the lost demo tapes found by Mick Jones when he recently moved. It also has a DVD of the recording sessions; it's all very cool if you're a huge Clash fan.

3 Best Live Shows I Saw in '04:
Old 97's in January at the 9:30 Club, Ween at the same venue in June, and the Pixies in December at Constitution Hall. All fantastic, as I'd expected them to be.

I am curious what others found to be most listenable in the last year, whether it was new stuff or older works. Happy '05 to all.

Apropos of Nothing

2004-12-08T15:20:00.000-05:00

In an effort to stir up this stagnant blog, I'm throwing out this little nugget of noise:

I can't get the new Green Day effort, American Idiot, out of my CD player. It's one of the best new albums I've heard in several years. It echoes the best of early Green Day without being derivative, makes some serious socio-political points without being didactic, and, well, it flat out rocks. It's a head-bobbing, toe-topping blast from beginning to end. My question is this: Is there a better hard-edged band making popularly-acclaimed music today? For my money, the answer's no.

Live or Memorex?

2004-11-29T15:35:00.000-05:00

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.)

Can't Count Me Out . . .

2004-11-23T15:30:00.000-05:00

Since most of my posts seem to be 80's related, pardon my shout out for Echo and the Bunnymen. Another band that almost made it. All their albums are great by me. They even made it onto the Donnie Darko soundtrack with 'The Killing Moon'. Glad to know there were other tards with the same taste.

And now for something completely different; a driving recommendation would be Luther Wright and the Wrong's "Rebuild the Wall" adaptation of Pink Floyd's The Wall. honky tonkin', flat pickin' fun with the blessing of Floyd themselves. Rules. On a par with '12 Golden Country Greats' (Ween) and Cracker's 'Countrysides'.

Music for thought for fellow bloggers. I got into a discussion with someone recently about live shows. I was expressing my preference for bands that sound similar to the albums while my peer felt that live shows should sound different. I formulated this opinon after watching 'Rapping' Chris Robinson on one of their 1990's Black Crowes tours forget/ad lib/butcher the lyrics to almost every tune and deciding 'this sucks'. Thoughts?

Recommendations Delivered

2004-11-22T13:15:00.000-05:00

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

2004-11-20T22:27:00.000-05:00

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.

Bands that never made tons of cash

2004-11-20T20:48:00.000-05:00

I thank the powers that be for the invitation to the club. I have some fav's that never seem to turn the corner into R'n'R HOF status. Otis and I love Big Country. I'm also a HUGE 'Mats fan. I've seen the Pogues in a concert w/ Damon Echevarria, Violent Femmes opened, great show- we snuck in with a caser of Killian's. How pseudo Irish. My other buddy barfed on a chick sitting in front of us. I miss barfing, but I digress. Other bands that come to me on this list are: Velvet Underground, Richard Thompson, Tommy James and the Shondells never got the credit they deserved, Morphine, Wilco, Slickee Boys, Bush, yes Bush.

Hi, We're the Replacements

2004-11-19T20:57:00.000-05:00

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!

2004-11-19T15:02:00.000-05:00

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!

Was that one simple word?

2004-11-18T20:09:00.000-05:00

You caught me, Rob, stone cold and slack jawed. Those guys are a guilty pleasure for me. Not sure what a lot of people think of them in terms of talent, but I just can't get enough. Er, sorry, wrong pop band there.

2¢

2004-11-12T17:27:00.000-05:00

For what it's worth, I remember reading somewhere that when The Band was writing music for the album Music From Big Pink they were aware they were walking in giant footsteps in regards to the lyrics, (first album without Dylan) and what they supposedly ended up doing is just leaving a notebook open on a table. Anyone who was so inspired would add to what was already written. Don't know if this is true or not as the lyrics are attributed to Robertson but helps make more sense of them to me.

I've always found the lyrics of Weird Al's "Eat It" to haunt me in the wee hours of dawn after I've (once again) taken to much pepto and ex-lax "How come you're always such a fussy young man, Don't want no Captain Crunch, don't want no Raisin Bran."

I've missed a couple of posts so just want to throw some bands out there I like but never seem to have made it for no other reason than to see them all on the same page: Buffalo Tom, Gram Parsons/Flying Burrito Brothers, Fastball (not the new release), Mojo Nixon & Skid Roper - contrary to the the Dead Milkmen's "Punk Rock Girl" lyric "if you don't got Mojo Nixon then your store could use some fixin," I haven't been able to find an old Mojo&Skid album in a decade. Apparently he just did his last show ever this year but was never as inspired as he was with Skid.

And of course, The Random Idiots...

P.S. As the ski season has officially begun, all Musers are welcome to use my place in Boulder as a crash pad. I have 2 guitars, a harmonica, a drum, a thing I don't know the name of, and a didgeridoo to do more than write about music.

I Want a Word with You

2004-11-12T09:06:00.000-05:00

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?

Weighed down with questions

2004-11-04T20:03:00.000-05:00

Okay, now that Whitney addressed "The Weight" directly, I have some questions for anyone familiar with the song.

I love the lyric and the lyrics--the words, the melody of the words, and the manner in which they are sung. I have to ask, though: does anyone understand what in the hell the song is about? It has been a long time since I sat in Tucker Hall explicating poetry. When it comes to the lyrics here, I am lost.

Also, are the lyrics as sung here terribly affected? Don't get me wrong--when I say "terribly", I mean "very", speaking of the degree, not the quality. I think it is great--that's one of the things I found so intriguing when I listened to the song recently. I am just wondering if anyone else feels that the lyrics are "oversung", but in a way that works in this instance.

Grazie.

P.S.: Any clue as to the new handle, Whit? It's probably easier than The Uncle Who Once Played for Red Star Belgrade.

Song Awakenings

2004-11-04T14:14:00.000-05:00

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.

Everything old is new again

2004-11-04T13:12:00.000-05:00

This is sort of related to Rob's last post, but I had been thinking about it prior to reading his missive.

My new question posed to my fellow bloggers relates to renewal. I am curious to know if any of you have ever encountered a situation where you hear a song--a song you've heard a thousand times, a song you have heard so many times that you don't even pay attention when it plays, a song that you might not even like--and this time, this time, you sit back and listen to it, instead of just hearing it, and you say to yourself (or maybe others around you) "sonofabitch, that's a damn good song."

This happened to me last week. I had read something online about Robbie Robertson and got curious about the Band. Unlike some folks, I never got much into Dylan, the Band, and their ilk, but I have heard many of their tunes many times over the years. Anywhich, I went to iTunes and listened to the 30 second sample of "The Weight." Something tugged at my ear, so I purchased the track and listened to it. I listened to it again. It was around midnight, and my house was asleep. My fourth Sierra Nevada sat beside me on the desk. It was just me and the Band; I could hear all the subtleties of the song, the layers of vocals that were recorded on the different channels, as was often the case back in the day. It was a terrific experience--I don't think I had ever listened to the song before, and it was good.

I remember having a similar experience fifteen or more years ago. Colt Seevers and I had uncharacteristically gone bowling. I didn't bowl much, but we must have gone four or six frames in a short amount of time, and I was wiped out. For whatever reason, someone put in one of the Who's CDs (I cannot recall which), and "Squeezebox" washed over me. I must have played that song ten times and enjoyed it with each repetition--something new appearing and appealing to me each time.

Now, I am not asking for your opinions on these songs, though you are, of course, welcome to provide them. I am inquiring more about the phenomena--hearing something you've heard a million times, but listening for the first time and grooving on it.

And Now for Something Completely Random

2004-11-04T08:59:00.000-05:00

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

2004-11-02T15:38:00.000-05:00

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

2004-11-01T22:57:00.000-05:00

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.

Ray LaMontagne

2004-10-29T12:18:00.000-05:00

if you dig Ben Harper, Stephen Stills, Jack Johnson, and/or Otis Redding then you need to check out:

http://www.raylamontagne.com/listen.html

Feeling the Earth Move....

2004-10-26T10:37:00.000-05:00

shit...sorry guys, I forgot that none of you speak portuguese. here it is in english

Good thread, uncle. Three albums, and only three, is tough. To think back and recall which albums moved me the first time is a tall order. I remember having my brain adjusted when I went out and bought Tom Waits' Frank's Wild Years after hearing Cold, Cold Ground on Vin Scelsia's Idiot's Delight sunday morning radio show on K-Rock. I also tapped into a new part of the grey matter when I brought home Taj Mahal's Greatest hits after stumbling upon him grooving at the Damrosch Park Bandshell at Lincoln Center in New York City in the summer of 1987. Another flabbergast occured in the summer of 1991 when I was giving the MOG (Tim Weaver, uncle's little little little little) a lift to Yellowstone N.P. (and beyond?) when he slipped They Might Be Giants - Flood into the cassette player....whoa! But if I have to pick three......

1. Brighten the Corners - Pavement. Rock as it ought to be. This disc immediately went into and has been in permanent rotation on my ipod and stereo for over 5 years.

2. Sugar in My Bowl: 1967-1972 - Nina Simone. Un-freaking-believable. You've got your blues, your soul, your jazz, your ballads, your luv makin' music, and a huge and gut wrenching dose of civil rights era pain and anger. The three songs recorded live the night after The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's assassination do not cease to make me cry. Connecting it to another thread - there are a lot of covers on this album. "To Love Somebody" is a mind-blower compared to Andy Gibb's version.

3. Round About Midnight - Miles Davis. I guess this choice is kind of like the Beatle's White Album in that it's a fairly common fave but purists would rate it in the middle of an artists body of work (in favor of In a Silent Way by Miles or Revolver or Rubber Soul by the Beatles). I've been playing and listenting to jazz since I was 15 years old but for some odd reason I skipped Miles and went straight to Coltrane and beyond. I was 24 when I first heard Round About Midnight and I'm all better now.

e

Sentindo a terra mover-se

2004-10-26T10:34:00.000-05:00

linha boa, tio. Três albums, e somente três, são resistentes. Para
pensar para trás e recordar que albums me moveram é a primeira vez
uma ordem alta. Eu recordo ter meu cérebro ajustado quando eu saí e
comprei anos selvagens do franquia das esperas de Tom após o hearing
frio, terra fria na mostra do rádio da manhã de domingo do prazer do
idiot de Vin Scelsia na K-Rocha. Eu bati também em uma parte nova da
matéria cinzenta quando eu trouxe as batidas as mais grandes de Taj
Mahal home após tropeçar em cima dele que sulca no parque Bandshell
de Damrosch no centro de Lincoln na cidade nova de York no verão de
1987. Um outro flabbergast ocorreu no verão de 1991 em que eu dava ao
MOG (weaver de Tim, tio pouco pouco pouco pouco) um elevador a
Yellowstone N.P. (e além?) quando deslizou puderam ser gigantes -
inunde no jogador de gaveta....whoa! Mas se eu tenho para escolher
três......

1. Brighten o canto - pavimento. Rocha como ought ser. Este
disco entrou imediatamente em e estêve na rotação permanente em meu
ipod e no estéreo por sobre 5 anos.

2. Açúcar em minha bacia: 1967-1972 - Nina Simone.
Un-freaking-un-freaking-believable. Você have.got seus azuis, sua
alma, seu jazz, seus ballads, música do seu makin do luv ', e um dose
wrenching enorme e do gut da dor e da raiva da era das direitas civis.
As três canções gravadas vivem a noite depois que o assassination
do Dr. Martin Luther rei Jr do Rev. não cessa de me fazer o grito.
Conectando o a uma outra linha - há um lote das tampas neste album.
"ao amor alguém" é um mente-ventilador comparado à versão de Andy
Gibb.

3. Redondo Sobre A Meia-noite - Milhas Davis. Eu suponho que esta
escolha é tipo como do album branco do Beatle que é um fave
razoavelmente comum mas os purists o avaliariam no meio de um corpo
dos artistas do trabalho (no favor dentro de uma maneira silenciosa
por Milha ou por alma do revólver ou da borracha pelo Beatles). I've
sido jogando e listenting ao jazz desde que eu tinha 15 anos velho mas
para alguma razão impar eu saltei milhas e fui em linha reta a
Coltrane e além. Eu era 24 quando eu me ouvi primeiramente em volta
sobre da meia-noite e do I'm toda melhores agora.

e

Earth-Moving and Such

2004-10-26T09:32:00.000-05:00

For a second there, I thought Uncle Belgrade was launching a thread about the ongoing saga of Carole King. Too bad. In the meantime, here are my three landscape-changing albums:

Violent Femmes by Violent Femmes – This officially changed my 12-year-old status to "2nd-biggest loser on the planet" behind Gordon Gano. Thanks, Gord. "Good Feeling," the antithesis of the rest of this record, somehow became my favorite VF song.

Peter Gabriel by Peter Gabriel (the 3rd such titled album, the one where his face is melting) – This one passed me by upon its release in 1980 – in truth, I was probably tuned in to PG's old band and their newfound pop bent. But six years later, when he was going "Big Time," I stumbled upon "Games Without Frontiers," bought the cassette, and it's still one of the 10 or 20 best albums I've ever owned.

Whatever and Ever Amen by Ben Folds Five – A strange inclusion, since it's not in heavy rotation on Radio WHIT, plus its opening track is about a short guy's revenge. Along with Morphine, BFF made "guitar-less rock trio" a viable 90's music form, and for whatever reason, this piano-based rock & roll album instantly sprung to mind when reading Uncle B's description of his 3. I recall listening to it on repeat on a train in Scotland, and it was either the rails or this music that had me bumping along.

An aside (I can't do brevity), 3 albums which served as excellent ushers into a genre:

Run-D.M.C. by Run-D.M.C. – Turned me into a white boy prep school rap fiend for two years. But it's like that, and that's the way it is.
Kill 'Em All by Metallica – Freshman roomie Doug Nelson brought a stereo, which was cool, and 30 CD's of pure metal, which was not. After a semester of albums like this, though, I changed my tune. It may have been the subliminal effect of waking up to "Jump in the Fire" on repeat that did it.
Play by Moby – Wait, electronica technopop isn’t just for breakfast (in Amsterdam hash bars) any more?

More Bulldozing

2004-10-22T20:02:00.000-05:00

For the sake of just a little diversity, I'll leave the Old 97's off my list, even though the first few bars of "King of All of the World" on Satellite Rides never fail to pump me up. I could probably list 15 or 20 albums pretty quickly, but here are 3 that came directly to mind:

Trace by Son Volt -- Really the first alt-country album I ever heard, or at least remember hearing. I grew up with a country music-listening father, so I naturally rebelled against it for a while in college. Then I heard this album, and a few by Wilco, and discovered one of my favorite musical genres. Started listening to real country again, too - George Strait, Hank Williams, Jr., Alabama - which was a decent side benefit. Trace is still one of my favorite albums to listen to while driving aimlessly with the windows down on a warm spring afternoon.

They Might Be Giants by They Might Be Giants -- I actually like Lincoln and John Henry better than the Johns' first major label release, but this album and its hit song "Don't Let's Start" never fails to put me in a great mood. It instantly takes me back to my senior year of high school, when I wore out the cassette version, wondering how something so unabashedly dorky could be so goddamn cool. Little did I know that we'd all have the answer 10 years later.

Vs. by Pearl Jam -- I don't listen to Pearl Jam much anymore - just really got turned off by Eddie Vedder's aggressive prickdom. But the first 4 songs on this album just plain rock. "Go" is one of the top 10 album-starters ever.

Feeling the Earth Move Under My Feet

2004-10-20T14:43:00.000-05:00

There haven't been many posts lately, so I want to come up with something that might prompt shorter, more frequent posts, as opposed to some of the erudite, but lengthy, posts of the past. Therefore, I am interested in, say, three albums that moved you the first time you heard them--albums that blew you away or otherwise altered your notion of consciousness.

For my submissions, these albums amazed me by the quality of the songs across the board and the emotions evoked by the songs--the relevance or parallels I sensed at the time I discovered the albums. My three selections are:

Rattlesnakes by Lloyd Cole and the Commotions
Workers Playtime by Billy Bragg
Closing Time by Tom Waits

To be specific, I'm not saying I necessarily found these albums to be collections of songs that formed some grand, cohesive whole that was greater than the sum of the parts. I am only saying that for me, most or all the songs on the album were outstanding as individual compositions, and for Worker's Playtime and Closing Time, the songs were emotionally evocative and stimulating as well.

The Musical Musings 5

2004-09-30T12:35:00.001-05:00

This week the topic focuses on those outfits that got out while the gettin' was still good. Before swollen egos, sheer boredom, and an itch to experiment resulted in an album like The Soft Parade (The Doors), Mardi Gras (CCR), Load (Metallica), or, of course, Ceremony (The Cult), they called it quits and moved on. These are:

5 Bands Who Packed It In Before Making a Truly Bad Album

Live albums and compilations are omitted from judgment, since they're consistently uneven and usually label-selected, respectively. Bands or artists that quit too soon and didn't have enough of a catalog are ineligible; we'll set the bar at 4+ studio albums, so Hendrix and Nirvana, while blunder-free, don't qualify. As always, we're authoritative on subjective matters here. In chronological order:

1. The Beatles
Dangerously close: Let It Be. Duh, of course the Beatles are here. Yes, Phil Spector's Wall of Sounds Awful nearly did Let It Be in, but it was still solid Beatles, and you know that can't be bad. Yellow Submarine doesn't count, as it's mostly compiled stuff, nor does the soundtrack to the dreaded Sgt. Pepper's movie. The Beatles went their separate ways just in time, as evidenced by the 15 or 20 Beatle-worthy songs the Fab-Four-no-more produced in the 34 years since.

2. Steely Dan
Dangerously close: Gaucho. Sure, George Carlin rags on them and they've always catered to the odd nerd/snob amalgam, but the truth remains that they put out consistently listenable music throughout the 70's. And then they quit, just like that. Brilliant. Serious asterisk on this one, since it came back to them and they reformed in 2000, but if they re-quit soon, they can stay on the list. Incidentally, they did win a Grammy after reuniting, which (a) is never necessarily evidence of good music, and (b) was considered an overdue make-up call a la Connery's Oscar for The Untouchables, but the album was regarded highly and probably not the ruination of their earlier legacy, either.

3. The Police
Dangerously close: Synchronicity. Five albums in six years and then done, so Sting can let his ego go wild. Their final album was good, but with some borderline soft rock and some slop ("Mother") inferior to the gags on their other albums. At the time I was disappointed they busted up, but it would've ended badly. With pop, reggae, punk, new wave, and rock all vying for Police airtime, Sting's new jazz/worldbeat vibe would've been a messy addition, so he had to move on. After all, if you love somebody, set them free.

4. The Smiths
Dangerously close: Meat Is Murder. These guys dissolved at their peak, and while Moz & Marr have both gone on to later successes, they weren't close to the creative or commercial heights they reached as The Smiths. The Smiths, New Order, and The Cure were the triumvirate of what was first known as alternative music, but The Smiths quickly finished what they started after four great LP's plus one great compilation of random tracks.

5. The Replacements
Dangerously close: Don't Tell a Soul. Before Paul Westerberg went his own way into the land of solo records, soundtracks, and somewhat obscurity, The Replacements were the kings of college radio. They cranked out three indie label and four major label records before Westerberg ended the Replacements' run, God rest their guts. All good, from the early garage thrash to the plain ol' rock 'n' roll. Some are better than others, but any one of them makes a good soundtrack to a night of drinking.

This was mostly off the top of my head, so I'm sure there are others. Many were close, save that one horrid record. A few others would have made the grade had some of the group not continued on in the band's name after key members were gone: The Clash after Mick was sacked (Cut the Crap was just Crap, including the blatantly fraudulent tune "We Are the Clash"), Pink Floyd sans Roger Waters, Van Hagar, and Skynyrd after half the band died.

A few on the right track now include the Old 97's, Ween, and Wilco, though each has a more particular audience and some close-to-the-edge suspects as well. Some have already misstepped, like R.E.M. (Out of Time, all of the post-Bill Berry stuff), the Chili Peppers (One Hot Minute), and U2 (Rattle and Hum).

Others are still spewing out recordings after years and years of great stuff, endangering themselves severely. By "others" I mean The Rolling Stones. Have they ever released an album that was bad by all standards, not just in comparison to Exile on Main Street? Their Satanic Majesties Request, Emotional Rescue, and all of the newest stuff are candidates for such a slag, but are they truly terrible? I'm not convinced the Stones have ever removed themselves from eligibility for this list, even if (a) they haven't really rocked since they were "sucking in the seventies," (b) Mick and Keith have both had solo records better than the Stones' releases of the same era, and (c) they're spewing out live discs and best-ofs with the same frequency with which they change their catheter bags.

Perhaps there are some questions for further scrutiny here, or maybe we should tackle the topic Ryan alluded to in his last post and see whether Michael Jackson is really the King of Pop. (That'll be quick.)

Ego et rex meus

2004-09-30T12:35:00.000-05:00

king

PRONUNCIATION: AUDIO: kng KEY NOUN: 1. A male sovereign.
2. One that is supreme or preeminent in a particular group, category, or sphere.
3. King a. The perfect, omniscient, omnipotent being; God. b. Christianity Jesus.

Given these definitons it'd be hard to disagree with Elvis' title. Someone has to be king, he hardly crowned himself, even had a queen & castle, etc. To name his progenitors as "rightful" heirs to the title is a specious argument, since they were unable to cash in on the feeding frenzy that became r'n'r in such a spectacular way. Additionally, a black guy would never be crowned king of anything in this country. The black people had one King, and whitey killed him too.

Keith is my king. He has a telling story from the Stones' earlier years recording at Sun Records where he met one of his heroes, Muddy Waters, on his first visit. Muddy is painting the ceiling of the studio for some extra bucks at the time. 'nuff said.

Back in the ingenuous 90's, the excitement was palpable at the nuptials of the new royalty of rock 'n' roll, but alas, they were doomed from the start. At least we had a beautiful, if fleeting, merger of young and old, ebony and ivory, woman and other, MJ and Lisa Marie.

Love is a wonderful thing.

Boathouse Show #6

2004-09-20T20:11:00.000-05:00

I was one of those drunk/high folks that never made it to the Ramones at the Boathouse, though we did do a lot of drunken driving in our attempt to find the venue-- and we listened to several thousand Ramones songs during our four hour search . . .

I would like to add that Primus/Fishbone show to Whitney's list-- Primus was in their prime and Fishbone was just past theirs, but the crowd was frenzied enough to dehydrate all of us Lammies in attendance before the first set was done. There were also some saxophone solos done from the rafters and a keyboard player with a hat that said something like "Fuck Whitey" or "Honky"-- I can't remember (because I was so dehydrated). Iggy Pop's Halloween show was also a classic, though he was WAY past his prime-- but he's sort of timeless so it didn't matter much. You could still see the individual striations in his neck, so he certainly hadn't gotten soft.

The Musical Musings 5

2004-09-16T14:32:00.001-05:00

[No, that's not the name of the new house band here. The MM5 is what Rob started a couple of weeks back; he envisioned a quintet of commonly linked albums, but I'm broadening the scope a bit.]

The 5 Best Shows I Saw at The Boathouse

The Boathouse in Norfolk,VA was a small venue opened in the early 1980's for those mid-range bands that couldn't fill Hampton Coliseum but still had a decent fan following. It was exactly what it sounds like, an old wooden boathouse on the Elizabeth River next to Norfolk's downtown area that was converted into a concert hall. "Converted" may actually give them too much credit; they built a small stage, installed a chain-link fence for the Beer Garden, and threw up a bar. Other than that, it was just an old, dingy, splintery, not very hallowed hall. It was great. Despite the oblong shape of the arena, it wasn't big enough to have bad places to watch the shows. If you had the energy, though, (and an ID at some shows, as the Beer Garden location did fluctuate) it was eminently possible to achieve up-against-the-stage viewpoints, or damn close to it. The Boathouse was a five-minute drive from my house in high school, and close enough to my college to warrant road trips for the bands who weren't going to play our college arena.

The Boathouse eventually went the way of the . . . rowboat, and nowadays those same intermediate-popularity groups play at the new NorVa facility in the renovated Granby Street area. The Boathouse still stands, though largely obscured by the baseball stadium in the way, and its sight evokes memories of some fine shows over the years. [Noting that I opted out of the Primus/Fishbone concert in 1991 because I had a test to study for (?!!)], the five best live shows I caught at this now-dead venue are, in order:

5. New Potato Caboose / Indecision, 1988

The Grateful Dead were supposedly bound to pass the torch to a number of bands as their reign appeared ready to draw to a close. Whether that ever actually happened is debatable, but most would agree that if any band received the baton, it was Phish and not NPC. Note: Taking their name from a popular Dead song was kind of a giveaway that there wasn't much creative uniqueness. Phish, Blues Traveler, and all of the other would-be followers did it right by doing it their own way. Anyway, the Caboose was surging in the late eighties, with a CD coming out (this equated credibility back then), and this was a blast of a show. Indecision was the VA band for which our high school served as groupie central before college introduced us all to a world of better music. Both bands were defunct (de facto, at least) by the mid-90's. Good fun at the time, though.

4. The Ramones, 1990

Something of a rite of passage to see these guys, even past their prime. The joke that every Ramones song sounds the same was dead on in live form, and it took a few moments into the first verse each time to tell which one it was. I had to endure the show with my musically uninterested girlfriend, since the rest of my friends got high and got lost en route, but it was a lasting good memory nonetheless. 1-2-3-4 . . .

3. UB40, 1988

UB40 has zero street cred these days, and most folks think they never did. Labour of Love took them to new fiscal heights, which led to new reggae depths, and that's all many listeners have ever heard. Freshman year in college, though, the guy across the hall gave me a dubbed tape of UB40's singles from their early years -- all politically-charged reggae tunes, and great ones. By the time I saw them, though, the set was comprised mainly of famous covers and newer stuff. It was still great, they sounded fantastic and the crowd was lively, but I most remember this show for the tunes they didn't play, and how I was probably one of the few who missed them. Oh, and I remember it for our buddy getting his horrible fake ID taken away.

2. Squeeze, 1987

I used to love Squeeze, one of the many bands falsely advertised as the "next Beatles." They didn't stick around on the music scene much after I saw them (a recurring theme here), but they were another band whose live sound equalled or bettered the studio work. Lots of fun, and they genuinely seemed to be having a blast on-stage, which is more than plenty of bands can say, including that other neo-Beatle squad of losers Oasis.

1. Living Colour, 1989

On a whim four of us drove down from Williamsburg to see Living Colour, mainly because we read they were charging a mere $4.99 entry fee. Their fantastic debut album had been on our stereos off and on all year, and we knew we'd enjoy the show. I had no idea it'd be the best concert I'd ever attended. While the music was great, the crowd was ecstatic, and we'd been drinking all the way down to Norfolk, the reason for the superlative had everything to do with the band's approach to playing their tunes to a sold-out Boathouse.

When we showed up at the door, we were quickly informed by the bouncer that the show was, as I said, sold out, and with us on the outside looking in. My friend and hallmate Brian Hightower then went into some sort of alter-persona of part car salesman, part politician, part Shakespearean actor. He explained with puppy dog eyes that we'd just driven down from Charlottesville (a lie, but a perfect one - far enough away to be impressive, not so far as to be unrealistic), that LC was our favorite band (another lie, but like I said, we were into them and could've passed a reasonable test on them), and that we would do just about anything to see them (a third lie, but we were drunk and who knows?). The bouncer shot Brian a "You had me at Charlottesville" look and curtly replied, "20 bucks." A little dismayed at the price, we all reached for an Andrew Jackson when we realized he meant 20 bucks for the four of us. The skinheaded, surly bouncer with a heart of gold, our next screenplay.

Back to what the band did -- they cranked out crisp, charged music for an extended set of way more songs than a band with a single album under their belts usually can provide. More importantly, they understood Rule #1 of live concerts: be thrilled to be there. Lead man Corey Glover seemed to spend more time in the audience than on-stage, diving out into open arms, getting tossed around during Vernon Reid's guitar solos, and singing songs on random dudes' shoulders. Such a great act for this venue -- we were right at the front and it was a moshing melee from the opening note until the end of the final encore. I was stunned by how much we all enjoyed the show, and I never felt as gratified to have been in a concert audience until I saw Springsteen with Evan Lloyd in the 13th row a decade later.

As you know, Living Colour kind of faded from view after that, never living up to that first album (and first tour). I think I heard they recently re-formed. Too bad the Boathouse isn't eligible for a reunion show, or I might have to call Brian and have him road trip across the country. It'd be worth it.

The King is dead, long live the King?

2004-09-14T14:19:00.000-05:00

Elvis has reigned long enough. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but I think we're as tired of him as the Colonials were of George. Pete Townsend smashed his guitars because they were factory made and disposable, and that's the point: rock and roll is disposable music, so we should depose the King frequently-- maybe every four five days-- and then elect a new one. I propose myself of course, but I suppose this is debatable. In a genre as ridiculous as rock and roll, I think the King should be current-- when is the last time anyone listened to an Elvis album straight through? I haven't for two years-- it was the comeback concert in Hawaii, and I enjoyed it but I'm not sure I'll ever listen to it again. A few years before that I got into his early stuff where he sounded like a black dude, but again, I doubt I'll return there. Seriously, I think the Kings of rock right now are Gene and Dean Ween, especially after the Floydesque tune on Quebec.

Effing Blogger

2004-09-13T20:20:00.000-05:00

Just had a long post about a) Blelvis, from Blemphis; and b) my mild disagreement with Uncle Red Star's statement that parents continue to this day to be "repulsed and horrified" by their kids' taste in music, and Blogger ate it before I saved it or posted it. It was really great stuff, too, full of allusions to George Strait and the Rolling Stones, and Marilyn Manson, and the best live version of "Viva Las Vegas" I've ever heard, at least while drunk in Adams Morgan. You would have all enjoyed it immensely, and now it's lost to the world.

I'm getting another glass of wine.

The Once and Future King

2004-09-13T14:40:00.000-05:00

Zounds--those are some splendid responses. I appreciate all the thought that went into the posts. I haven't been so confused by allusions (thanks Herb) since I read Eliot's "The Waste Land" as a senior in high school.

I will say that the focus was more titular than I expected, regarding the actual term "king". However, many of you got at what I was thinking when I posited the question. That is, seen against the distance of time, does Elvis still deserve his place in the Pantheon of Rock and Roll?

A few years back, I read the critically acclaimed two volume biography of Elvis written by Peter Guralnick: "The Last Train to Memphis: The Rise of Elvis Presley" (vol I) and "Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley" (vol II).

Of the many relevant things I discovered during this read, a couple stand out regarding this question. First, as stated by Herb, Elvis took a lot of different influences and created something new (and sustainable) out of them. That statement could be a stretch, as there was a lot of activity swirling around in Memphis and other towns in the early 1950s. Elvis' 1954 recording of "That's All Right" is not considered the first rock and roll record. Most historians point to 1951's "Rocket 88", attributed to Jackie Brenston and his Delta Cats (actually Ike Turner wrote the song, and Brenston merely sang the vocals). In fact, several of Elvis' early recordings were country hits, though that could be because there was nowhere else to chart the songs. However, beginning with "That's All Right", Elvis in 1954 began focusing on this new strain of popular music almost exclusively.

That leads to my second point, or Guralnick's more accurately. He points out in the book that Elvis' music represents the first time in popular culture that the musical tastes of young people and their parents diverged, and in a huge way. The interests not only diverged, the music repulsed and horrified the older generation and created a divide that certainly continues to this day.

Now, one can say that someone else might have come along and occupied this role, and I think that is a fair comment. In the Protestant Reformation, there was enough momentum in the likes of John Calvin and John Knox, that had Luther not stepped up, a divide from the Roman Catholic church would have been fomented. However, just like Luther, Elvis did it first. As a recent promotion stated, 'before anyone else did anything, Elvis did everything.' He was subject to withering criticism, and in the face of it, he maintained a young Southern gentleman's charm, with his "yes, sirs" and "no, ma'ams". And he continued to make the same kind of music.

I think it took guts, as well as a certain creative talent, even if he did not write his own songs. I think he still deserves his place as the first to tread the ground, and if people have chosen to abbreviate this position by calling him "the King", well I'm down with that.

Parenthetically, I saw the King in concert, late in his life in Indianapolis. My parents took me and my younger brother. Elvis was overweight and not nearly at his best, but I recall some magic in the snippets of memory I still carry around with me.

2004-09-11T12:23:00.000-05:00

I have to agree with Rhinolips-- I don't listen to much popular music these days, just Ween and random techno things I down-load (Mouse on Mars is good). Instead I listen to lots of classical and jazz-- lately Max Bruch's Scottish Violin Symphony and Django Reinhart and Coleman Hawkins. I am recording some popular-type music, however-- using a simple and cheap studio I built with my computer. The results are getting better, and I just wrote a new song this morning-- so I'm going to post the lyrics in case anyone has any suggestions. I should tell you that I'm trying to perfect the musical monologue-- I write a couple of verses, maybe a chorus, but I'm mainly interested in laying down bizarre and humorous monologues in the middle of the song, a la King Missile, but with more jokes. Here is my new one, it might take you back a bit . . .

I want to make out with you
I want to kiss you during school
I want to kiss you when you chew
I want to share some of your food

I’m gonna wait outside your door
The bell rings but I want more
Were gonna suck ‘til are tongues are raw
And there’s nobody’s in hall

I want to share a French fry with you, I want to place it between my teeth, so it’s sticking out perpendicular to my face and I want you to slowly nibble the other end until our lips meet and then I want to tongue kiss you and smash the glutinous fried potato pulp in our mouths, I want to share this with you like a mother bird shares half-digested worms with her baby bird, I want to lick the back of your bicuspids, I want to walk around with my hand wedged in the back pocket of your painted-on jeans, humming Night Ranger tunes. I want to make out with you. I also want to have sex with you, but you have to buy the condoms because I’m too embarrassed to buy them myself.

We’re gonna make out at the dance
We’re gonna kiss like they do in France
We’ll be in our own special trance
I want to get in your parachute pants.

Elvis, Buddy Kane, and John Locke

2004-09-10T09:49:00.000-05:00

Just as Budwieser is the King of Beers to a few, and Richard Petty is THE King to others, and Buddy Kane is the King of Real Estate to himself, Elvis is indeed a king to some. The answer to Red Star's excellent query at first seems obvious, of course Elvis is not the King of Rock and Roll. His music is essentially irrelevant today, in both subject and sound. If one were to assign kingship based on how much Elvis-ness is in today's (and yesterday's) music then not only would one be in a derivative-spiral (was Elvis the first to perform music that made people want to bone?) but one would *have* to give that honor to The Beatles, or the Stones, or The Stooges, or even W.C. Handy, Son House or Louie Armstrong.

As a not so interesting aside, thinking about Elvis and what music can do to the pelvises of those who make it and those who listen to it reminded me of the greatest NY/NJ Tri-State area dance of all time - the FMNJD - or for those not in the know - the Fuck Me Now J.A.P. Dance. It's not really a dance per se, like the monkey or the swim, but it definitely got its point across at many a northeast high-school homecoming dance or prom.

Back to the Elvis question.... Whereas an objective assessment of his kingliasticity results in a resounding no (NO!) it's clear that objectivity is not the point. As El Vaca points out, most people *think* of Elvis as the king so it doesn't really matter what I think. I think Elvis could be considered a knight if one really wanted to get all mideveal on my ass but I'll submit that Rock and Roll is not a monarchy but rather a democracy. Presidents (Mick Jagger, Peter Frampton, etc.) come and go. There are extemists here (Alice Cooper) and there (David Bowie) who thrive on attention and there are elder statesmen and stateswomen (JJ Cale, Bonnie Raitt, John Hiatt, Lou Reed) who push things along behind the scenes by quietly putting out music that reiterates the lessons of the past or challenges the status quo. Young fired-up rookie representatives (Kurt Cobain, Gram Parsons, etc.) shake things up and the supreme court (Dylan, Led Zep, REM, et. al.) keep reminding us what it's all about. Elvis Presley might be the Thomas Jefferson of Rock and Roll - after all he did take already extant ideas and synthesize them into something that has evolved into our current State of Rock. The Beatles certainly were signers of the declaration. Alexis Korner could be the Elbridge Gerry of Rock and Roll - a relatively unknown figure whose fingerprints are all over the place. I'm not sure who the George Washington, Alexander Hamilton or John Adams of Rock are but a better question might be who are the Rousseau and Locke of Rock.

Fundamentally, Rock is the Gregor Samsa of this, and the last, century. There is no way of knowing what form it will take in the morning. That said, there is no way of knowing who, or what, will be "king". If we remove the shackles of hierarchical and linear thinking in regard to the Art of Rock and instead think of Rock as a fluid undefineable thing then we free our minds to really hear.

And one more thing. Oh my god (-ard!) Whitney. I just looked at the blog and saw what appears to be 20 pages of stream of consciousness begats from Oxford, Mississippi's favorite postmaster. I haven't read your tome yet and I've got a house to board up and anchor to the ground with steel cable in anticipation of Hurricane Ivan so I might not get to it for a while. Please accept my apology.

Not-Terribly-Poetic License

2004-09-09T12:09:00.000-05:00

Album Review: License to Chill by Jimmy Buffett

This review, the first posted in this space, will likely end up with far more backstory than actual critique of the record – which might be a good thing. It’s just that my evaluation of this album is unavoidably tied to Jimmy Buffett’s 30+ years of music-making and its relative worth by comparison. No artist wants to be hamstrung by his or her past works, but in this case Buffett’s ancient history is much more of a standard for these new tunes than, say, other new music of any genre. Additionally, since music reviews, despite having the pretense of being objective analyses, are merely an individual’s personal opinion of some music, a bit of background on the formation of the reviewer’s tastes can only enhance the reader’s sense of the music without actually listening to it. (A huge i.e., Whitney’s going to inundate us with way more than we ever needed to know.)

License to Chill, besides being a distant, mega-distant, extremely distant second to another album whose title is a play on the “license to kill” expression, represents an overt change of direction for Jimmy Buffett. “Bubba” has gone Country, which sounds almost as silly as it really is. Let me explain.

Jimmy Buffett has spent his last 15 years moving further from the category of legitimate music-maker and closer to commercial entertainer, catapulting himself to superstardom in the cartoonish persona of the tropical party guy in the Hawaiian shirt with a parrot in his hand and a margarita on his shoulder. (He’s wacky like that.) What music he did put out, though not completely void of a highlight here and there, was largely bland fare set to steel drums and congas, reinforcing his Caribbean theme. So when JB released License to Chill, which features a half-dozen contemporary country music stars chiming in on tunes destined for airplay on your local “Today’s Hottest New Country” stations, it took many Parrot Heads aback. It shouldn’t have, for a number of reasons.

The most obvious clue to what was coming from Jimmy Buffett was the duet he sang last year with Alan Jackson, “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere.” The song was neo-country in its sound and neo-Buffett in its lyrics, right down to the witty, woo-hoo party train title – which might have been considered clever had it not been used by the venerable Slash’s Snakepit nearly a decade prior. Despite the fact that “duet” could be used fairly liberally to describe the tune, since Jimmy only adds one run-through of the chorus at the end (plus some of the nitwitted conversational chatter that has gradually become his signature style, much to my extreme chagrin) the song was a hit for Jackson and reunited Buffett and the Billboard charts (see below for some lunatic’s rant on those) for the first time in eons. Jimmy Buffett, Inc. had to see the dollar signs coming from an entire album featuring more of the same. To be cynical about Buffett’s commercialism these days is merely a reaction to its ubiquitous ugly head-rearing – defenders of the man point to his dearth of chartings (and presumably profits) by his latter-day releases, but the following statistics tell another tale:

a 11 live albums, including eight in the last two years
a 16 (!) compilation albums
a A Christmas album, a soundtrack re-release, a kids’ album, a musical, and several Margaritaville Café albums in the last decade

All that and he has yet to re-release his catalogue in remastered form with the full liners, the one commercial recycle that the music companies do that's often worth the repeat buy! Now, to be fair, of that ludicrous number of compilations, four are imports and six are cheap, rehashed issuances of his first two minor label (and minor quality) albums, so it’s questionable whether he has control over or receives financial benefit from every one of these shameful shams. But everything else seems to be coming from the King of the Parrot Heads himself, bilking bucks out of his “phlock” with repeated releases of the same material when all semi-casual fans really need is the box set and the first live one.

So the financial benefit from this new country bent for Buffett is clear; what the bellyaching Parrot Heads fail to grasp, and what few reviewers acknowledge, however, is that beyond that, Jimmy Buffett really was a country musician once upon a time. Some reviews have noted that Buffett recorded in Nashville early on, or that he grew up in Mississippi, but they seem ignorant of the man’s foundation in music – one that, if you had to classify it, could fall under both kinds (country and western). By now, one of JB’s frequent shticks is that his music has never lent itself to categorization, despite frequent attempts by stuffed shirts to do so. He’s gone so far as to address the notion on License, singing, “Am I country, pop, or rock and roll / I know they are related / So I'll just let you be the judge / It's simply complicated.” Well, he was pretty damn country back in 1974, and if you don’t think so, give a listen to his first few albums. (Actually, give a listen even if you do believe it.) Listed below are ten dandies from Buffett’s first four major-label records from 1973-75 (omitting those tracks you’ve probably heard on Songs You Know By Heart) that leave little question:

“The Great Filling Station Holdup”
“Cuban Crime of Passion”
“The Wino and I Know”
“Ballad of Spider John”
“God’s Own Drunk”
“Life Is Just a Tire Swing”
“Trying to Reason with the Hurricane Season”
“Tin Cup Chalice”
“My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don’t Love Jesus”
“This Hotel Room”

Like License to Chill, Buffett’s early tunes fit into the country pattern, but unlike today’s formulaic country-by-numbers takes, they only had some loose qualifiers: a little acoustic guitar, harmonica, and a little twang, some tales of wild nights, long-lost women, and oceans of booze. Buffett’s songs had his own, fairly unique slant on it all, though – relocating the yarns to south Florida, to the Caribbean, and beyond, usually via his ragged sailboat. Island life and a humor-soaked bemoaning/celebrating of his own hard living filled his lyric sheets. So many songs still make me a little jealous – of his audacity to drop it all and head to Key West, of his good fortune (not his wealth but his timely entry into a world destined for extinction), and the legendary times we can only hear about from the outside listening in now. (Hell, his live album was called You Had to Be There; perfect.)

That I chose to highlight the first four records wasn’t an arbitrary dividing line. There’s an entire organization and accompanying website called The Church of Buffett, Orthodox dedicated to the premise that these four releases are gospel, that the next one is “the most troubling part of scripture; some advocates believe it belongs in [the previous category], while others believe that, since it contains the apostasy of “Margaritaville,” it does not belong with those other enlightened works,” and that everything subsequent is sub par in comparison. Years ago I used to think these guys were a little hardcore, since I enjoyed a lot of what Jimmy did in the late seventies and early- to mid-eighties, even if not quite as much. Somewhere along the way, however, I swapped sides of the fence with the CoB,O; I’m finding myself far more exclusively interested in his early stuff, while the Orthodoxers are sporting Amazon links to License to Chill, hocking gear, and embracing what they used to curse. It’s bad enough that one of Buffett’s good early tunes, “Makin’ Music for Money,” stands in total ironic contrast to everything he’s about now. (He hasn’t played it live, for obvious reasons, since 1977 – CoB,O’s turning point – save an inexplicable tour set in 1995 that I guess he hoped would fly under the radar.) But when the self-appointed committee formed to celebrate what Jimmy Buffett was rather than is, or what he did rather than does, abandons its mission and spirals into the abyss of rah-rah Buffett groupies, it’s beyond annoying – it’s weird on a Body Snatchers/Stepford Wives level. I’m a little worried that I’ll be jumping aboard this conga line very soon, so it’s critical I get these thoughts down before the lobotomy. (Utter concession: CoB,O is still the tip-top website in the world for old-time Buffett fans.)

I need to keep reminding myself that this is supposed to be a review of the new album, not The Rise and Fall of James W. Buffett. The Cliffs Notes version of what happened after “Margaritaville” changed everything: country faded into pop/rock, steel guitars played alongside steel drums, and JB even occasionally approached the dreaded “soft rock” milieu I loathe, but the melodies and lyrics were still good, so it was forgiven. By the end of the 80’s, though (my personal CoB,O end line comes right before the out-and-out weak Hot Water), the music changed considerably. Tropical and topical like never before, he tackled issues like ATM’s, MTV, and jogging between five and 20 years after they were pertinent. He issued song titles like “Smart Woman (In A Real Short Skirt),” “Don’t Chu-Know,” “What If The Hokey Pokey Is All It Really Is About?,” and “Math Suks” (sic, unfortunately). Yikes. He really did once have something interesting to say.

And the cover tunes, oh my! Far, far worse than those indicted in articles below, Jimmy began a habit in the 1990’s of recording at least one sacrilege, blasphemy, heresy, or desecration per album. He’d take a massively popular track and Buffettize it, adding Coral Reefer band instrumentation and his own increasingly nasal, talky vocals. This is probably overly harsh, but Jimmy Buffett punched me in the gut several times with dreadful renditions of some of my favorite songs. Over three decades, he has done many good things with other people’s songs; that said, the successful ones were always the relatively unknown tunes by Steve Goodman, Jesse Winchester, or an array of other collaborators. After a solid (though inferior to the Van Man) stab at “Brown-Eyed Girl” in 1983, Buffett must have realized that covering an enormous hit took a lot of the work out of things. Fortunately, another decade passed before he decided to rest on other folks’ laurels as much as he was resting on his own. Beginning in 1994, however, JB has churned out a wretched version of the Dead’s “Uncle John’s Band,” a de-harmonized cover of CSN’s “Southern Cross,” an even more tepid facsimile of James Taylor’s “Mexico,” a feeble turn at Johnny Cash’s “I Still Miss Someone,” an I-can’t-believe-he-even-tried-it cover of Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary,” and a there-oughta-be-a-law rendition of the Kinks’ “Sunny Afternoon.”

That last one particularly irked me for a couple of reasons: first, because it was one of my favorite songs of one of my favorite bands; second, because he edited Ray Davies’ lyrics to be more P.C. If you’re going to cover a song, cover it, dammit, I always remember Evan Lloyd saying. Old Ev used to bristle at Manfred Mann’s revision of Springsteen’s “For You,” one in which Mann clipped a dozen lines, then morphed “lick my sores” into “fight my wars,” presumably to be more radio-friendly. Buffett didn’t like the bad boy Kink image of “My girlfriend’s run off with my car / And gone back to her ma and pa / Telling tales of drunkenness and cruelty,” so he softened the last phrase as “Parrot Heads and parties.” It’s pathetic that he’d even need to edit those 30-year-old lyrics, and even worse that he did. If you can’t handle mildly abrasive lines (not exactly 2 Live Crew), just take a pass on the whole thing. Drove me nuts, as you can see.

I guess that wasn’t the Cliffs Notes version after all. More like the Cliff Clavin version. As I have painstakingly – painfully for you, by now – chronicled, the career of Jimmy Buffett has seen inversely proportional skyrocketing and bottoming out in commercial success and artistic value. (I swear, he’s only a year or two from being a Vegas act.) Everything he does these days seems almost comically hypocritical when you hear the words of old tunes like “Brand New Country Star” and “My Lovely Lady.” (CoB,O has the lyrics.) For his family, the results of all of this have been ideal; for the masses of part-time Parrot Heads, they have proven inconsequential; for Buffett . . . purists, for lack of a term without such stigmatic baggage these days, they’ve been incredibly disappointing. Taking it so personally is silly, except that JB has always endeared fans on a personal level, despite a relative shortage of fan-friendly gestures. [His online retort telling Parrot Heads to “get a life” after they defended longtime harmonica maestro “Fingers” Taylor’s ideals after he quit the band because (a) Jimmy barred his musicians from playing side gigs, (b) Jimmy started making bandmembers’ families buy tickets, and (c) Fingers wasn’t too keen on the direction of the band’s music (God love him) – had all the alienation of Shatner’s plea to Trekkies in the SNL skit without the comedic lighter side.] Plus, you just hate to see a musician you admired become someone you loathe. And boy, it pains me to type that.

The most obvious comment on the content of Jimmy Buffett’s output over these years is that he simply ran out of things to say. He told us everything that was on his mind and shared all of his escapades in the 70’s. He recounted his more extensive world travels and gave more of his ever-tiring viewpoint on the world in the 80’s. By the 90’s, he was down to “Hey, look where else I went” and relaying other people’s lines. He even penned an autobiography, but by then it was mostly a rehash of his songbook in prose. Ticket prices soared along with concert predictability, chasing even this former die-hard away from shows. Into the new century, he’s had even less to share and has seemed to be scrambling even more desperately for material. The outlook has grown dim nearly beyond hope for resurgence. Other not-quite-languishing artists such as Bruce Springsteen have recently recaptured a little of the glory of their past primes (even artistically speaking), but Buffett’s road would be a bit tougher to hoe. With all sense of reality blurred with green-colored glasses, his creative tank emptied in the energy crisis of the late 70’s, and his melodies usually armed with one hook less than a certain other pirate, there may not be much likelihood in the belief that the JB of old might return someday. But we’re still searching for signs of life, like maybe . . . this new album?

License to Chill (you thought I’d forgotten about it, didn’t you?) may, in fact, provide such positive signs, even amid the usual cringes, winces, and head shakes. You have to dig a little, but they’re there.

In a juxtaposition that is becoming a motif, the worst aspects of the record are the ones that will ultimately draw the masses the most (and sell the most units). The pop-country songs, each guest-warbled by singers with Billboard familiarity, are the crossover bait that stand out the most from the slate of 16 tracks. And they’re mostly dreck. They’re either Buffett-penned throwaways like “Conky Tonkin’” and the title track, or fine songs marred in their cover form by JB and pop sensations Toby Keith, Alan Jackson, et al, like “Boats to Build” and “Piece of Work.” Only five of the 16 songs were actually written by the Chief Parrot Head, though you wouldn’t know it from the liners, which forgo all writing credits in an at-best disingenuous and at-worst plagiaristic omission. Several of the five self-authored tunes represent the worst writing on the album. In addition to the two mentioned above, “Simply Complicated” has been trashed by even the most complimentary reviewer, though in truth it’s no worse than the others. The title cut is painful enough to warrant further scrutiny. The opening lines are “Work, work, work / Big pile of it and the boss is a jerk.” This from the songwriter who once boastfully mused upon his own work that “Anybody can rhyme cat and rat. I look for things beyond two syllables – like attitudes and latitudes.” In a non-scientific search, “work” and “jerk” have unofficially been rhymed in song lyrics 11,898 times, most often by middle school garage bands and acts singing in English as a second language. There is plenty on this record for the Orthodox Buffettite to despise. Still, it’s not without a bright side.

The positives begin with the songs Jimmy wrote that didn’t fall into the pit of neo-country duets: “Coast of Carolina” and “Coastal Confessions.” Both of these songs are strong enough to both provide hope for the future and insist that Jimmy include “coast” in every song title from here on out (to join the solid “Coast of Marseilles” and “When the Coast Is Clear” off older albums). The second ray of light is the choice of covers. With 11 works lifted from other artists, he could have gone down main street for his choices, but he largely stayed away from hits, employing the use of singer/songwriter types like John Hiatt and Bruce Cockburn from whom to swipe tunes. He’s banking on you never having heard Hiatt’s and Cockburn’s voices on the originals, as their pipes dwarf his own – and that’ll be the case for most listeners. Sure, the lead track is “Hey Good Lookin’,” but if you can manage to put aside Hank Sr.’s classic, JB’s jazzed-up rendition has more spirit than anything he’s thrown together in a long time. And then there’s “Scarlet Begonias,” for which it’s a minor miracle that I mention this in this paragraph and not the one prior. It’s my all-time favorite Grateful Dead song, and when I saw it printed on the track list, I cursed Buffett like the sailor he used to be. The reason I praise it, though, is that it didn’t make me vomit uncontrollably when I heard it, a moral victory to be sure. It’s actually quite true to the original, which garners no favor for dead-horse reasons, but which somehow impressed me. The difference comes in Buffett’s vocals, which went south on him 20 years ago and come across as more than a bit geeky. In enunciating every syllable, he dorks up Jerry’s smooth slurs. (Example: “Grosvenor” gets so over-pronounced that “Grosvenerd Square” inevitably comes to mind.) Other than that, though, there’s little as disastrous as in earlier tries at covering my favorites.

Also of note is Jimmy’s startling recruitment of Bill Withers – stunning, since Withers retired years ago and it seemed unlikely that someone as far removed from his work as Jimmy Buffett could lure him back out. Withers, for the unfamiliar, you know as the guy who originally did “Lean On Me,” though I dig him for the most soulful two minutes of the 1970’s in “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Withers wrote and co-crooned “Playin’ the Loser Again” off this album, an imminently listenable tune by comparison with some of the other collaborations. Kudos to Buffett for that move, and whatever you’ve got on old Bill, keep twisting the knife for future work.

So License to Chill, despite the witless title, is not without its merits, though it seems every one of them comes with a few bowlines attached. Ever the optimist (you can’t have purchased every Jimmy Buffett studio album without being either an optimist, an idiot, or both), I choose to see the upside of this release as a re-launching of Jimmy B’s recording career in a brighter vein than we’ve seen in many years. After his early solid work and his extended second period of crap, this will be the third door, with Jimmy excavating his old line, “I'll be back just wait and see / 'Cause my whole world lies waiting behind door number three.” For the longtime fans who’ve endured a torturous stretch, I’d say give this one a shot. It doesn’t hark back to those vintage years, but it’s a step in the right direction after miles and miles traveled the wrong way for so long.

Oh, yeah – for the average listener, though, I’ll give it a more brutally honest grade. Sorry, but I don’t want anyone other than a maniacal Parrot Head wasting their money on this record. For you people, go buy A1A and thank me later.

Musical Musings Review: C-

[Future reviews need not -- and probably should not -- be this long. But I think it was cathartic for me to vent on this subject. I promise to keep it more brief in subsequent critiques.]

Rex!

2004-09-09T09:09:00.000-05:00

Elvis should absolutely be forever crowned the King of Rock & Roll.

He was the first megastar in that crazy genre called rock and roll, and he's still universal. Even today, anyone in the world with a modicum of pop culture in their head knows Elvis. Can that be said of his peers; will that be said of his followers? "King" is the perfect title for him, since it's an antiquated role (see Kingdom, United) and one that was never based on merit. Sure, he didn't write his own tunes like say, Chuck Berry. Doesn't matter. King-liness is as much a state of mind -- his own and his people's, and Elvis had it. He embraced the role, and even went he went down in flames, his people loved him. Hordes of minions worshiped him, but even those who thought he was a joke -- if they like their rock and roll -- admire his place in musical history.

Kings have elaborate, costly, wastefully opulent castles. (See the Jungle Room at Graceland.) Kings have stately queens, who, only after the King has passed on, make Naked Gun! movies where they employ physical comedy and beaver jokes. Maybe the Beatles were some kind of Parliament (but wait, where does that leave Parliament?), the Clash were the Czars of Rock, and perhaps latter day leaders are mere Presidents (excepting Prince & the Boss, who have their own titles), but there can be only one King, and that's E-L-V-I-S. Love that guy.

Rex, Archon or something below that?

2004-09-08T16:48:00.000-05:00

In order to stimulate a little more dialog here (and who doesn't like a little stimulation?), I thought I would submit the occasional question to my comrades.

Your responses need not be long or involved, though if you have the time, the inclination, and something actually worth saying, then by all means, expound to excess.

And so, my first question is this: Does Elvis deserve the title "the king of rock and roll?"

The Gospel According to Ryan Lecky

2004-09-08T14:24:00.000-05:00

My first blog posting & just in time, I almost started working. I figure I will cover a couple previously mentioned topics and take it from there. I used to listen to music, and maybe this blog will reinspire me to blow the dust off some of the moldies. Recently I can't be motivated to listen to anyone save for the Old 97's w/a little Ween thrown in. My impression is that the poopulation in general has lost interest and the music industry has gone the way of the edsel and the publishing industry. If Tolstoy were alive today he'd probably be submitting to Maxim.

Let's thank Lars Ulrich and company for ruining the resurgence that started (and ended just as quickly) in the digital age. Has anyone fallen further than Metallica? I don't think so and truly hate the aforementioned Swedish gnome. Aside - I went on Yahoo! to see if he was Swedish or Norwegian and swear to god the link I clicked on was about them suing a Canadian band that used a chord progression they felt was theirs, here's a quote from the article:

MONTREAL — Metallica are taking legal action against independant Canadian rock band Unfaith over what they feel is unsanctioned usage of two chords the band has been using since 1982: E and F.
"People are going to get on our case again for this, but try to see it from our point of view just once," stated Metallica's Lars Ulrich. "We're not saying we own those two chords, individually - that would be ridiculous. We're just saying that in that specific order, people have grown to associate E, F with our music."

Here's the link. May this soulless whore die a long and agonizing death.

Lennon didn't protect his tunes, he claimed that they weren't really his tunes in that there are a finite number of notes and chords and he only arranged them to make music. Can you imagine anyone getting up at the VMA's and positing this? My left arm tingles thinking about it.

As per rock covers, I probably have too much time to rant about these as well. I don't care if a band does a note-for-note remake of the original. It's great when something new is brought to the table but if you are popular b/c you look like you should be a rock star and your music sucks, by all means the less originals the better. I remember some band did a cover of Deep Purple's 'Hush' about 4-5 years ago. It was basically the same as the original but at least it perpetuates a great song that no kid today will ever get a chance to hear anywhere. Half the time you hear covers remade these days, the DJ's don't even know it's a cover, either and announce it as if it were an original by whomever.

Some good covers that I don't think were mentioned are Travis' "Hit Me Baby One More Time" acoustic remake and Cracker's "Family Tradition" off the Countrysides EP. Oh yeah, one more cover that needed honorable mention is Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's "Somewhere over the Rainbow." The only reason I remembered it was because of the previous ukulele mention. The guy was huge, literally and figuratively, and had an incredible voice. He weighed probably around 600 lbs until he kicked it a couple years ago.

Thanks for the sounding board, Whit, but now I have to go and make a Lars voodoo doll. I'm going to drop a deuce (small one), fish it out, and stick pins in it.

2004-09-02T11:16:00.000-05:00

Five Albums

I'm starting a running feature (and by starting, I mean that I want everyone else on this blog to do the heavy lifting) by presenting 5 albums that have a common theme. Today's theme: albums that I haven't heard in a long time, even though I loved them at some point in my life.

1. London 0, Hull 4, The Housemartins

2. Louder Than Bombs, The Smiths

3. Appetite for Destruction, Guns n' Roses

4. Pocket Full of Kryptonite, Spin Doctors/3 Years, 5 Months, & 2 Days in the Life of..., Arrested Development

5. Songs to Learn and Sing, Echo and the Bunnymen

In high school, when most of my classmates were listening to Top 40 bubblegum crap, the Housemartins, Smiths, and Bunnymen made me feel just a little bit avant garde - like I was part of something just a little bit cooler, and more sophisticated. Along with The Cure, the Church, the Waterboys, Hothouse Flowers, and other staples of MTV's 120 Minutes, these bands were the foundation of my future musical tastes.

My high school lacrosse teammates and I used to grill shark steaks and crank G 'n R before big games. Mr. Brownstone is still my favorite metal song.

I spent my first year out of college driving around the Eastern United States in a useless job for my fraternity's national office. One of the saving graces of that time was the hours upon hours I spent driving with the radio turned up loud. I wore out the Spin Doctors and Arrested Development. I can't really stand the Spin Doctors today - every album after that one was horrid - but I still know all the words to Pocket.

First Things First

2004-08-30T20:14:00.000-05:00

I've read my colleagues' first several efforts in this space with a mixture of awe and confusion. Awe, because they all seem to know a lot more about music than do I, and confusion because I have no idea why I was asked to join this particular forum. I love music, don't get me wrong, but my memory for artists, song titles, album names, even lyrics is simply abysmal. (Were this blog dedicated to sports - not the Huey Lewis album - I might be able to offer something worth the electrons it's printed upon.)

That said, I'm taking it upon myself to serve as the voice of the masses for this august group of musicphiles. I'll toss in a woefully under-researched album review here and there (look for a take on the Old 97's new effort, Drag It Up, in the next few days), wax reverential about my 5 favorite albums of all-time (at the moment, in no particular order: Workbook by Bob Mould, Life's Rich Pageant by R.E.M., Paul's Boutique by Beastie Boys, BloodSugarSexMagik by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Satellite Rides by the aforementioned Old 97's - and if that isn't a narrow enough list of faves for you, then you probably know less about music than I do. Hell, every member of each of those bands is a white guy. Crikey.), ask penetratingly obvious questions of my blogcolleagues, and try to learn from their seriously worrisome dedication to all things musical.

Cover Me Redux

2004-08-25T09:25:00.000-05:00

Here are a few more observations on cover tunes.

First, some more that I find most impressive.

Hindu Love Gods: "Raspberry Beret" (Prince), "Gonna Have a Good Time Tonight" (?). The Love Gods were comprised of Warren Zevon on vocals, plus Mike Mills, Bill Berry and Peter Buck from REM, with a few others possibly thrown in. While neither is a dramatic departure from the original, Zevon really makes "Beret" his own through the vocal, and "Good Time" is injected with a raw and urgent energy.

Stevie Ray Vaughan: "Voodoo Chile" (Jimi Hendrix). Whit cited Vaughan's version of "Little Wing" which is excellent, too, but I prefer "Voodoo Chile" from the album "Couldn't Stand the Weather", which is an all around excellent album.

Jimi Hendrix: "All Along the Watchtower" (Bob Dylan). Speaking of Hendrix, this is an unbelievable cover. Not to be underestimated are the drums of Mitch Mitchell.

Jason and the Nashville Scorchers: "Absolutely Sweet Marie" (Bob Dylan). Speaking of Dylan, the rockabilly, cowpunk band from the mid-80s cut a rocking, quirky version of "Marie" for their EP "Fervor".

Reel Big Fish: "Brown Eyed Girl" (Van Morrison), "Hungry like the Wolf" (Duran Duran). I already mentioned these, but I love ska and wanted to give them some more props.

Finally, there are the covers that merely duplicate the previous recording of the song, but add nothing to it. While I won't go into a long list, I would say that Jimmy Buffett's version of "Brown Eyed Girl" would fall into this category, as would Sheryl Crow's recent cover of "The First Cut is the Deepest" (Rod Stewart). She does nothing different to this song, and I think the guitar solo follows the original, note for note. And I have to disagree with Whitney on Morrissey's cover of "That's Entertainment." I like Morrissey, and I like the song, but I don't feel he adds anything in his version.

Most of you are never short of opinions, so I look forward to reading your comments and criticisms.

Cover Me

2004-08-20T10:34:00.000-05:00

I don't have as much time to analyze or philosophize on covers, but I'll say what I can and provide a list of some that are worth tracking down and some that are not, in my opinion.

A cover is a tough self-imposed assignment for a band. The artist has a choice of doing something very different with a song, doing it in a similar fashion but with some of the band's own personality injected, or basically just re-playing the song. While there are many, many examples that I will forget or have never even heard before, I'll try to cite examples of each type. This is by no means an exhaustive accounting.

Doing something very different can work exceedingly well, as with a tune cited by both Herb and Whitney: Aztec Camera's version of the Van Halen tune "Jump". This cut is nothing like the original in tempo, style, or instrumentation, but it is appealing and not just due to its obvious irony. This first approach runs risks, because changing a song too much can completely compromise the essence of the song--whatever it was that made the original interesting or compelling in the first place. A couple other successful attempts that come to mind are Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" and Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf" as covered by Reel Big Fish, as well as Skinnerbox's cover of the Clash tune "Straight to Hell" (thanks to Whitney for the introduction).

The second approach also has its potential pitfalls. The artist can play the song much as it was recorded originally, in terms of tempo, emotion and even instrumentation, but with enough of their own styling to add something to it, to make their cover a contribution, rather than just a duplication. The band usually achieves this this augmentation through the vocals, or by adding to the instrumentation, say with the addition of brass, a la the English Beat's cover of Smokey Robinson's "Tracks of My Tears", also mentioned earlier by Whitney.

Many of my favorite songs are covers that fall into this second category. Here are some of those, along with a comment as to what appeals to me.

Frankie Goes to Hollywood: "Born to Run" (Springsteen) - maybe the best cover of all time. From the short bit of dialog that opens the song, and then Holly Johnson's emphatic, go-get-stuffed "Hah!", the song comes right at you--tempo is a bit faster than that of the Boss, the bass is absolutely ripping, and the emotion is palpable. No sense of the satire of Aztec Camera's version of "Jump".

Also by Frankie: "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?" (Burt Bacharach, sung by Dionne Warwick). Holly Johnson, though queer as a three dollar bill, had an amazing voice, lots of depth and resonance. This song highlights that quality.

The Jam: "Heatwave" (Martha and the Vandellas). You could argue this for the first category, but I don't think so. It's very true to the original, but funneled through the prism of British youth angst and energy circa 1978.
Also by the Jam: "Move on Up" (Curtis Mayfield). Great tune available on a live album I bought a while ago, lots of brass.

Eva Cassidy: "Time after Time" (Cyndi Lauper). Eva was a local DC singer who died of cancer in her early 30s in 1996. She gained some notoriety after her death, especially in the UK. She basically only sang covers. Her version of this song is much more spare in instrumentation, and the emotion that much more front-and-center. This is a real winner.

Waterboys: "Sweet Thing" (Van Morrison): Talk about a cover--this is a two-fer. Mike Scott is one of my favorite artists (and let's face it, Mike Scott and Anthony Thistlewaite, to a lesser extent, are the Waterboys), and he obviously enjoys this tune. It is quite similar to the original, but I think Scott's voice, with its thinner, reedier sound, differs enough from his fellow Irishman's rumbling, and it adds to the song. Plus, near the end of the song, he seamlessly interweaves the Beatles' "Blackbird". The cut is on the "Fisherman's Blues" album, which is a must have.

Housemartins: "People Get Ready" (Curtis Mayfield), "He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother" (The Hollies). The Housemartins really bring their own character to these two cuts, by eschewing instrumentation altogether and singing them a capella, with splendid harmonies.

Annie Lennox: "No More ‘I Love You’s” (The Lover Speaks), "Waiting in Vain" (Bob Marley). Lennox's album "Medusa" is an album devoted solely to covers, and frankly, is a good example of a couple of my theories on covers. The two songs I mention here are my two favorites on the album. I had never heard the track from The Lover Speaks, so I couldn't originally judge it as a cover ("If a cover falls in the forest, . . . ."), but I am a big fan of Lennox and the quality of her voice. That's what drew me to this song--the size and power of her voice, particularly on the last few choruses. Her version of "Waiting in Vain" brings a lighter, breezier feel than the original, and the instrumentation is quite different than the straightforward (but classic) reggae arrangement from Marley. Regarding the rest of the album, I'm not much of a fan of her interpretations of the other songs, but that may be due to the fact I don't like the orginals very much either. Her version of the Clash's "Train in Vain" is not a good effort. It's very angular and sharp, with the staccato horns. Mick Jones' more plaintive voice was also better suited than what Lennox does on the track.

Big Country: "Tears of a Clown" (Smokey Robinson), "Honky Tonk Woman" (Rolling Stones). These versions don't stray very far from the originals, but Stuart Adamson actually has a terrific voice, and his brogue still clings to it enough to differentiate the songs and make them pleasant renditions. Plus, I'm a huge Big Country fan. "Tears" I have on an album size single I've owned since the early '80s, and "Honky Tonk Woman" is on a live DVD from a concert recorded behind the Berlin Wall in 1987 (?) or thereabouts.

Skinnerbox: "Straight to Hell" (Clash). Very catchy New York style reggae version. While I have been a fan of the Clash since 1980 and the following statement is almost sacrilegious, I like this better than the original. Let's face it, "Combat Rock" was without doubt the weakest of the Clash albums.

There is much more to this post, and I am sure the world will hold its breath until I blog once more. However, to prove to Whitney that I care, I'll post what I have for now. I want to follow up with a few more recommended covers, dispute a few of Whitney's recommendations and suggest a few that fit the third approach to covers (discussed way back at the beginning of this post) that are merely duplications, with nothing added by the covering artist.

Until we meet again, be good or be good at it.

Duck and Cover

2004-08-12T09:56:00.000-05:00

Last fall my friend Brian Hunt at Wondermore Records penned an article on cover songs for their monthly newsletter. He praised the concept and listed some of the classics, but he also lamented the ever-increasing number of terrible re-makes. I decided to expand upon on that point, and though he posted some of the text in a subsequent publishing, here’s my take on covers in its entirety.

I thought Brian hit the nail on the head with his praise for the more adventuresome covers and his indictment of the all-too-often attempts at sheer mimicry. Uninspired takes at proven classics are aural drudgery, and unfortunately, they are being heard with increasing frequency. It’s as if covering a song has become a tool for the underachieving musician, one who sees the hard part (writing the song) already completed and who realizes the allure of a cover to the fans. How many times has the lineup of artists on a tribute album evoked high hopes of new classics, only to have those hopes dashed by lifeless renditions of great songs? Some of the match-ups of cover artist to cover tune seem brilliant on paper, but the final product just doesn’t take you anywhere new. Whether it’s stripping down a heavy rocker, amping up a slow strummer, changing musical styles, changing tempos, changing lyrics – you’ve gotta do something to raise an eyebrow.

And then, out of nowhere, you come across somebody’s take of somebody else’s tune and it just blows you away, reinventing itself in an innovative form. If only all artists would perceive the challenge of properly covering a song as exactly that – a challenge, wherein the creativity not spent penning lyrics or chords must be channeled toward refreshing something old into something new, then we wouldn’t be forced to sift though dozens of tepid recreations just to find the rare dazzler. To-a-tee duplications take talent and have their place – live shows, especially by bar bands. Too many talented acts take the easy path on cover tunes when a bit more daring could have produced something renowned.

For all of that negativity, I am ever optimistic in pursuit of great cover songs, and they can be found everywhere. In the past few months alone, I have been introduced to enjoyable covers of The Replacements’ “Androgynous” (by Crash Test Dummies), Culture Club’s “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” (by the Violent Femmes), and Prince’s “When You Were Mine” (by Brian’s gal Cyndi Lauper). And as ubiquitous as this musical borrowing has become these days, there are enough folks taking cracks at it that there should always be impressive interpretations reaching us. In the meantime, it just takes a little excavation to unearth (blatantly drawing metaphors from Johnny Cash’s fantastic cover-filled box set) some already existent, exceptional, alternate versions of old songs you may or may not have heard before. In some cases, songs that have been played to death over the years, ones you never thought you could stomach again, come back as fresh as ever – a new lease on life for these dead songs. The bottom line on covers is that any song worth its salt should be covered in a fashion that does it the justice it deserves – with all of the creativity, energy, and ingenuity that generated the original. Here’s a long (and yet far from definitive) list of some worthy tributes that do just that.

50 Great Cover Tunes, in no order
[Artist’s Cover Tune (Originally written or popularized by this artist)]

Earth, Wind, & Fire’s “Got to Get You Into My Life” (Beatles)
Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Little Wing” (Jimi Hendrix)
Talking Heads’ “Take Me to the River” (Al Green)
Jane’s Addiction’s “Sympathy for the Devil” (Rolling Stones)
Aimee Mann’s “One” (Three Dog Night)
Smashing Pumpkins’ “Never Let Me Down Again” (Depeche Mode)
The Jam’s “David Watts” (Kinks)
Morrissey’s “That’s Entertainment” (The Jam)
Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Higher Ground” (Stevie Wonder), “Fire” (Jimi Hendrix), or “Love Rollercoaster” (Ohio Players)
Johnny Cash’s “Rusty Cage” (Soundgarden), “One” (U2), or “Solitary Man” (Neil Diamond)
Eric Clapton’s “I Shot the Sheriff” (Bob Marley & the Wailers)
Cracker’s “White Riot” (Clash)
Rage Against the Machine’s “Renegades of Funk” (Afrika Bambaataa)
Cowboy Junkies’ “Sweet Jane” (Velvet Underground)
Toad the Wet Sprocket’s “Rock and Roll All Night” (KISS)
Grateful Dead’s “Mama Tried” (Merle Haggard)
Hootie & the Blowfish’s “Hey Hey What Can I Do” (Led Zeppelin)
Joan Jett’s “Crimson & Clover” (Tommy James & the Shondells)
Pixies’ “Winterlong” (Neil Young)
Phish’s “Glass Onion” (Beatles)
Tom Jones & The Cardigans’ “Burning Down the House” (Talking Heads)
Nirvana’s “The Man Who Sold the World” (David Bowie)
Bananarama’s “Venus” (Shocking Blue)
English Beat’s “Tears of a Clown” (Smokey Robinson & the Miracles)
U2’s “Helter Skelter” (Beatles)
Big Head Todd & the Monster’s “Tangerine” (Led Zeppelin)
Bangles’ “Hazy Shade of Winter” (Simon & Garfunkel)
Urge Overkill’s “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” (Neil Diamond)
R.E.M.’s “Superman” (The Clique)
Cat Stevens’ “Another Saturday Night” (Sam Cooke)
Frente’s “Bizarre Love Triangle” (New Order)
Corsby, Stills, & Nash’s “Blackbird” (Beatles)
Bow Wow Wow’s “I Want Candy” (Strangeloves)
Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Passionate Kisses” (Lucinda Williams)
Cake’s “I Will Survive” (Gloria Gaynor)
Jack Black’s “Let’s Get It On” (Marvin Gaye)
The Clash’s “Pressure Drop” (Toots & the Maytals) or “English Civil War” (Traditional)
Dead Kennedys’ “I Fought the Law” (Bobby Fuller Four)
Goldfinger’s “Rio” (Duran Duran)
Pearl Jam’s “Rockin’ in the Free World” (Neil Young)
Patti Smith’s “When Doves Cry” (Prince)
Georgia Satellites’ “Don’t Pass Me By” (Beatles)
Pretenders’ “Stop Your Sobbing” (Kinks)
Soul Asylum’s “Sexual Healing” (Marvin Gaye)
Blind Melon’s “Out on the Tiles” (Led Zeppelin)
X’s “Crystal Ship” (Doors)
Connells’ “I Got You” (Split Enz)
Mick Jagger & Lenny Kravitz’s “Use Me” (Bill Withers)
The Presidents of the USA’s “Video Killed the Radio Star” (Buggles)
Camper van Beethoven’s “Pictures of Matchstick Men” (Status Quo), “Photograph” (Ringo Starr/George Harrison), “Interstellar Overdrive” (Pink Floyd), “O Death” (Traditional), or “Tusk” [the entire album] (Fleetwood Mac)

10 Covers That Were Just Crazy Enough That They Might Work (And Did):

Garth Brooks’s “Hard Luck Woman” (KISS)
Devo’s “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” (Rolling Stones)
Duran Duran’s “White Lines” (Grandmaster Flash)
Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” (Nine Inch Nails)
Gwyneth Paltrow’s “Bette Davis Eyes” (Kim Carnes)
Faith No More’s “Easy” (Commodores)
Aztec Camera’s “Jump” (Van Halen)
Dynamite Hack’s “Boyz-N-the-Hood” (Eazy-E / N.W.A.)
Tom Jones & The Art of Noise’s “Kiss” (Prince)
Tori Amos’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” (Nirvana)

5 Artists Who Benefited Greatly From Covering Songs (and a few of the many songs)

Joe Cocker (“With a Little Help from My Friends,” “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window,” “The Letter,” “You Can Leave Your Hat On”)
Tom Jones (“What’s New Pussycat?”, “Kiss,” “Burning Down the House,” “Little Green Bag”)
Linda Ronstadt (“That'll Be the Day,” “Heat Wave,” “When Will I Be Loved?”, “It's So Easy,” “Poor, Poor Pitiful Me”)
Van Halen (“You Really Got Me,” “You’re No Good,” “Where Have All the Good Times Gone?”, “Oh, Pretty Woman,” “Dancing in the Street”)
UB40 [“Red Red Wine,” “I Got You Babe,” “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” “Here I Am (Come and Take Me)]
Honorable Mention: Jerry Lee Lewis, Smash Mouth, and Johnny Cash’s last decade

5 Artists Among Those Who Spawned the Most Covers

The Beatles
Neil Diamond
Chuck Berry
Bruce Springsteen
The Kinks

Honorable Mention: Prince, though some weren’t covers, just songs he gave away. Weird little guy; great songwriter.

Three Decent Tribute Albums

[Tribute albums are invariably uneven, and most are downright crummy. I could only come up with three solid ones, plus one that isn’t even real . . .]

Led Zeppelin: Encomium
Grateful Dead: Deadicated
Red Hot Chili Peppers: Under the Covers
Bruce Springsteen: the one you make yourself combining songs from the – count ‘em – 10 Bruce tribute albums:

Cover Me: Songs by Springsteen [1984]
Bruce Springsteen Songbook [1996]
One Step Up/Two Steps Back: The Songs of Bruce Springsteen [1997]
Pickin' on Springsteen [1999]
Songs of Bruce Springsteen [2000]
Badlands: A Tribute To Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska [2000]
Bruce Springsteen Tribute: Made in the U.S.A. [2001]
String Quartet Tribute to Bruce Springsteen: Home Town [2002]
Tribute to Bruce Springsteen [2003]
Light of Day: A Tribute to Bruce Springsteen [2003]

Others worth at least a partial listen include The Kinks: This Is Where I Belong, Neil Young: The Bridge, and the Stones: Cover You. Most of the rest that come to mind are, in some ways, . . . terrible.

The Cover Song Starter Kit, or 10 Tracks Among Those Covered the Most Often
(and who wrote or popularized it, and just some of the artists who covered it)

“House of the Rising Sun” (Traditional/Josh White): Animals, Joan Baez, Jimi Hendrix, Jerry Garcia, Bob Dylan, Waylon Jennings, Hank Williams Jr., Bon Jovi
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” (Elvis Presley): UB40, Perry Como, Kenny Rogers, Bob Dylan, Neil Diamond, Erasure, Corey Hart, Brian Setzer, Bono, Pearl Jam
“I Heard It Through the Grapevine” (Marvin Gaye): Creedence Clearwater Revival, Ike & Tina Turner, Gladys Knight & the Pips, Ella Fitzgerald, Joe Cocker, Ronnie Milsap, Rare Earth, The Slits
“Yesterday” (The Beatles): Ray Charles, Merle Haggard, Marvin Gaye, Tom Jones, Supremes, Placido Domingo, Michael Bolton, Boyz II Men, En Vogue, Liberace, Zamfir, Don Ho, Elvis Presley
“Stand By Me” (Ben E. King): John Lennon, Drifters, Jimi Hendrix, Jerry Lee Lewis, Taj Mahal, Meat Loaf, Sonny & Cher, T. Rex, U2, Muhammad Ali
“Dancing in the Street” (Martha & the Vandellas): Van Halen, Mick Jagger & David Bowie, Neil Diamond, Grateful Dead, Kinks, The Who, Carpenters, Everly Brothers, Michael Bolton, Mamas & the Papas, California Raisins
“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” (Bob Dylan): Eric Clapton, Jerry Garcia, Warren Zevon, Elvis Costello, Guns N’ Roses, Wyclef Jean, Random Idiots, Television, Avril Lavigne, John Daly
“Many Rivers to Cross” (Jimmy Cliff): UB40, Elvis Costello, Animals, Joe Cocker, Bill Withers, Linda Ronstadt, Cher, Harry Nilsson, Tom Tom Club
“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” (Rolling Stones): Devo, Otis Redding, Buddy Guy, Aretha Franklin, Jose Feliciano, Tom Jones, Manfred Mann, Sam & Dave, Sly & Robbie, Mountain, Samantha Fox, Justine Bateman, Britney Spears

and the king of them all (i.e., if your band is looking to cover a song, start here) . . .

“Johnny B. Goode” (Chuck Berry): Beatles, Beach Boys, Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, John Denver, Grateful Dead, Elton John, Carpenters, Johnny Winter, George Thorogood, Buck Owens, Sex Pistols, Leif Garrett, Phish, Peter Tosh, Santana, Judas Priest, Twisted Sister, Green Bay Packers, Marty McFly, and many, many more . . .

10 of My Favorite All-Time Cover Songs (as of right now)

Uncle Tupelo’s “I Wanna Be Your Dog” (The Stooges)
The alt-country version of the proto-punk (enjoy the rock snob vernacular) tune takes it places it was never intended to go, with brilliant results.

Fiona Apple’s “Across the Universe” (Beatles)
I’m not even a huge fan of Fiona Apple’s, but it’s like this song was written for her.

Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “If You Want Me to Stay” (Sly & the Family Stone)
Funk rock band doing old funk rock song (with funk rock guru producing) isn’t a huge leap, but of all the Chilis’ covers, this one’s really . . . funky.

Devo’s “Working in a Coalmine” (Lee Dorsey)
God bless Devo. They oscillate between the ridiculous and the ludicrous. Now, if you really worked in a coalmine, do you think you’d be just sad like Lee Dorsey or completely insane like Devo?

Social Distortion’s “Ring of Fire” (Johnny Cash)
Country and punk are sonically distant but sentimentally intertwined, so it’s no surprise that this works.

Sarah McLachlan’s “Dear God” (XTC)
I’m impressed that as much as I love the original, I may enjoy this cover more.

Gipsy Kings’ “Hotel California” (Eagles)
One of the stylistic changes I didn’t mention: changing languages. If you’re weary of the original, this is for you.

Fabulous Thunderbirds’ “Wrap It Up” (Sam & Dave)
Guilty pleasure. Sorry.

Buckwheat Zydeco’s “Beast of Burden” (Rolling Stones)
If you’ve seen Buckwheat live, you know: This is his tune now.

Bruce Springsteen’s “Trapped” (Jimmy Cliff)
How many Springsteen fans coughed up $18 for the lame USA for Africa: We Are the World CD just for one fantastic song? All of them. From 1985 until 2003, the only place you could find this fantastic cover was on that album. This has to be his greatest contribution to social causes, salvaging an otherwise crummy record and single-handedly raising millions for starving people. Alas, now with the inclusion of “Trapped” on The Essential Bruce Springsteen, they’ll go hungry once again.

And 5 of the Worst (not counting William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, and the rest of the crew)

Ugly Kid Joe’s “Cat’s In the Cradle” (Harry Chapin)
Big Mountain’s “Baby I Love Your Way” (Peter Frampton)
Foo Fighters’ “Darling Nikki” (Prince)
Limp Bizkit’s “Behind Blue Eyes” (The Who)
Keith Moon’s “In My Life” (Beatles) [without drums?!]

And here’s the all-time worst . . . but semi-intentionally, so it’s pretty funny:
Sid Vicious’s “My Way” (Frank Sinatra)

The Cover Game

If you’ve ever played The Kevin Bacon Game for the world of cinema, you’ll see some parallels, but here’s how The Cover Game works. You have to get from Point A to Point B via covers, where instead of the links between artists being movies they’ve been in together, it’s songs they’ve both performed.

Here’s a quick example. To get from Paul McCartney to The Flaming Lips, you go:

Paul McCartney & Wings did “Live and Let Die” which was covered by
Guns N' Roses whose “Sweet Child O' Mine” was covered by
Sheryl Crow who also covered “Behind Blue Eyes” by
The Who whose “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” was covered by
Flaming Lips

There are instant ones, like getting to Tom Waits from . . . Tom Waits:

Tom Waits did “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” which was covered by
The Ramones whose “The Return of Jackie and Judy” was covered by
Tom Waits

And then there are marathon ones, like getting from Louis Armstrong to Louis Armstrong using Bruce Springsteen three times and a pair of other artists twice (only fudging it once):

Louis Armstrong did “Wonderful World” which was covered by
Sam Cooke whose “Another Saturday Night” was covered by
Cat Stevens whose “Wild World” was covered by
Jimmy Cliff whose “Trapped” was covered by
Bruce Springsteen whose “Born to Run” was covered by
Frankie Goes to Hollywood whose “Relax” was covered by
The Dandy Warhols who also covered “Call Me” by
Blondie who covered “Heroes” by
David Bowie whose “The Man Who Sold the World” was covered by
Nirvana whose “Breed” was covered by
Steve Earle whose “Devil’s Right Hand” was covered by
Johnny Cash who also covered “Solitary Man” by
Neil Diamond whose “Red Red Wine” was covered by
UB40 who also covered “Cherry Oh Baby” which was also covered by
The Rolling Stones whose “Honky Tonk Women” was covered by
The Pogues who also covered “Dirty Old Town” which was covered by
Rod Stewart who also covered “Downtown Train” by
Tom Waits whose “Jersey Girl” was covered by
Bruce Springsteen whose “Johnny 99” was covered by
Johnny Cash who also covered “Father and Son” by
Cat Stevens whose “Peace Train” was covered by
10,000 Maniacs who also covered “Because the Night” by
Bruce Springsteen whose “Hungry Heart” was originally written for
The Ramones who covered “Wonderful World” by
Louis Armstrong

Enjoy.

get yourself a ukulele

2004-08-11T21:39:00.000-05:00

My name is herb and this is my first blog. I can't type worth a shit, nor can I really write but I'll try this gig for a while at least, if only to lend my support to the vaca. Please bear with me, as it were.

I've been learning to play the ukulele. I've got a nice little Lanakai concert size model that my wife gave me for Christmas. Not a handmade Koa wood beauty but definitely not a toy. The reason I bring up the ukulele, which means "jumping flea" in Hawai'ian, is not to be braggardly or pompous (never!) but because it has enhanced the experience of music for me in the same way that hearing "Jump!" covered by Aztec Camera or "I Need Love" covered by Luka Bloom does.

So far I've learned to play a few Dan Zanes songs (for my kid of course) and a few old standby's (Crazy Love, Blue Sky) but the real tunes that have given me the most fun are "Rudie Can't Fail" and "God Only Knows." (I'm assuming that I don't need to always identify the artist along w/ a song here, right, people? Right.) As I'm sure that playing any number of tunes with an instrument (or collection of instruments) different than in the original one becomes closer to the true essence of the music in question. Not the words neccesarily, but the song itself. The chords, the changes, the meter and yes, the words. So, a Clash tune played on a ukulele is excellent in its own way. You know it's The Clash but it can be used as a lullaby. Playing a Brian Wilson mega-layered masterpiece on a uke is also a treat, much like a grape - simplified and beautiful.

Paring a song down to the bare minimum is not always a good thing, however. I think that Dylan's "Isis" from Desire is one of the best pieces of art ever. It can't be pared down or covered though, unless of course you have a witch who can play the violin, a piano that you can bang on and a seriously stuffed-up nose all at the same time.

There's really no point to this rambling, as you might have guessed, except the non-musical may want to consider getting a simpleton's musical instrument to become musical with. I would recommend against an accordion (thought about it, looks WAY too hard) despite its freaky cool cache. I've got a mountai dulcimer that is cool looking on the wall but I didn't ever manage to really get into it. I've gone through the motions w/ piano, harmonica and guitar - none of which were easy enough to learn to the point of enjoyment before I got fed up.

The ukulele is a good bet. It's small, very affordable, and it has only four strings so it's much easier to play a great diversity of chords - F#m w/ a dim 7th? No problem. It's got indie-cred, street-cred and aloha-cred. I thought about learning the penny-whistle but the idea of hanging out in my backyard tooting on a tin whistle sounded annoying to my neighbors. The uke is relaxing to those around you and easy to play. Bruce Springsteen probably has a ukulele.

Setting the Tone

2004-08-11T14:00:00.000-05:00

Before we begin to compile the musical thoughts festering in our brains and compose new pieces about them, I'd like to introduce this site by resting on some very old not-quite-laurels. A few years back, I penned a bitter "harangue on the current music industry," as one fellow put it. It's a fairly accurate indication of what to expect here, at least from my contributions. Lots of bombastic ranting, snide comments, distracting asides, and holier-than-thou condescension. I just thought I'd prepare you.

From April 2001:

A comrade passed along a post from the Lucky Town Digest listserv group (of which I was once a member, admittedly) with this preface:

"Anyone like Bruce Springsteen? Anyone fascinated with just how fanatically dorky a person can become about a musician? Here is a ridiculous story."

[. . . skipping over the 17 syrupy paragraphs detailing a trip to Jack's Music Store on the eve of the Live in New York City album release by Bruce Springsteen, and how the Boss showed up and signed his stuff . . . all written in SuperFan escalation . . . this closing is all you need to imagine the rest . . .]

"Sorry if this e-mail's dripping with melodrama or foolish hyperbole. But I have to say, there are very few things in this world that we allow ourselves to truly feel an unadulterated, pure passion for. We're always afraid or reluctant to feel certain things, to say certain things at the right time, or to do things we really want to do. For some reason, we convince ourselves that there are better things to do than to tap into what makes us feel truly alive at a given moment in time. Yet, there's so little time, we fight, scrap, and struggle to make even a faint whisper of an impact around here. But there's at least one thing I do know: I know with certainty that the few seconds Bruce Springsteen gave me last night I'll cherish and carry with me for the rest of my life."

And I replied, with my own, less flowery Springsteen bias:

Well, I myself have gone to a record store at midnight to buy a new Bruce album, but it was because the store was offering the rest of the Springsteen library for 1/2 off. (Nice sales heads -- they're now out of business.)

To answer your first question, everyone likes Bruce Springsteen, whether they know it or not. You all like the Boss. Those of you who claim you don't are either still sick of him for all the radio overplay he received in 1984-86 or are the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately types who believe that the relative mediocrity of Lucky Touch Joad could possibly cast a shadow on Springsteen's previous two decades of true genius. Inclusion in either category makes you wrong, so just admit that you're a fan.

Of course, you could contend that you just honestly never liked his music, which would mean that you're pretty much allergic to good old rock and roll. In that case, feel free to cozy up with your Yngwie Malmsteen remixes or whatever teen pop bullshit is topping Billboard's running joke they're still calling "music" charts. I don't mean to get on a Dennis Miller here but there is no bigger black eye on the music industry from a rock and roll perspective than the Billboard corporation's weekly reminder that the general album-buying public is comprised mostly of tonedeaf cretins. Album sales are the key barometer for the ebb and flow of rock outfits. Oh, rock critics would have you believe their pens are mightier than the cash registers and that a benevolent bump-up or deleterious drag-down in stars, letter grade, or numerical ranking can make or break a band, but, oddly enough, label executives aren't prone to dropping an artist because their multiplatinum release got panned in Spin. So the ultimate judge and jury on rock and roll's future are the masses. Democracy, capitalism, power to the people. I'm getting teary. Except -- look at "the people" the next time you're in the record store. Yikes. This judge and jury is reminiscent of the brain trust formerly known as the O.J. jurors. And the glut of bad judgments, mistrials, and contemptible purchases are chronicled regularly by Billboard. This type of information is unhealthy for the morale of the industry, the artists, and the general population and should be squelched like anti-establishment preachings in Communist Georgia or gay rights publications in Stone Mountain, Georgia. I don't want to know that although Wilco, Ween, and Warren Zevon all put out damn fine albums in 2000, their combined album sales were roughly one-tenth of what numbers the frigging Backstreet Boys put up. I don't want to realize that for all the massive kudos, overblown credit, and figurative fellatio awarded Kurt Cobain for allegedly changing the face of rock and roll, Kurt, Nirvana, and the entire grunge movement were merely a blip on the radar between the New Kids and N'Sync. I don't want to have to accept that the face of popular music just started shaving two years ago. I don't want to read that Aerosmith is selling more albums peddling recycled, pseudo-melodic trash with tracks entitled "Luv Lies" and "Trip Hoppin'" than they ever did with genre-defining wonders like "Toys in the Attic" and "Sweet Emotion." I don't want to swallow the fact that the state of rock and roll is worse than the state of Mississippi. Most of all, speaking of Mississippi, I don't want to have to concede that the same formula that brought us Elvis Presley in 1956 (take a young, pretty face and write songs that he'll turn into hits the public will eat up) is still working today, despite the fact that the sounds emanated have become a big hunk o' crap. Now I really am getting teary.

As I bemoan the music scene, I realize that it's not like there aren't a million great bands out there churning out their sound as I type this. But true entertainers like the Drive-By Truckers are playing for beer while Britney Spears shows her navel yet again on national television. I wish I could remember who it was (maybe one of the Blink 182 dudes), but I read a quote by some rock musician who openly quipped that the only reason to buy a Britney Spears CD would be to pleasure oneself to the cover picture -- and therefore people should buy it on vinyl for a bigger photo. But for all the slagging Britney and her glee club compatriots receive, they're getting the last laugh on all of us. And this, my friends, this is why you must all rush out there and buy the new Bruce Springsteen live album. Not simply because it will be a great addition to your collection. Not just because you probably missed the '99-'00 tour with the E Streeters, one of the best concert series of the era, and want to see what the buzz was about. Not merely because it will definitely make you cooler, will probably get you laid, and will possibly improve your current life situation tenfold. Most of all, you should march like a majorette to your local mom & pop music seller -- as long as you're supporting big business with the purchase itself, no need to line the pockets of major retailers -- because you are saving the fate of rock and roll music. Do it today, do it now. Then, when the Boss is atop these same wretched charts, perhaps "the people" will remember what it's like to hear good music and Billboard, Inc. will no longer be the purveyor of the anti-Gospel. And you will no longer have to have your ears clogged with inane sounds and fury (signifying nothing) from a tall, goofy guy who looks "just like Bruce Springsteen."