The Minutemen -- "If Reagan Played Disco"
There's no mistaking the signature sound of The Minutemen. On this track, as always, Mike Watt's spastic bass gives the song its funky, frenetic groove, and D. Boon's equally spastic guitar provides the perfect backdrop for his brief burst of crude but insightful punk political philosophy. What the band lacked in poetic finesse they made up for in creativity and sheer energy.
For those who weren't on board with the Reagan Revolution back in the 1980s, The Minutemen were your band. If you're still not on board with Reagan Revolution, The Minutemen are still your band. Tracks like this still sound great nearly thirty years after the fact.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
2/28/2012
Joe Strummer -- "Burning Lights"
If you can find a copy of this song, you're a luckier or more talented human being than I am. Why it hasn't been re-released after its initial 7" pressing of a few hundred copies, I don't know. The song and its singer are featured in the movie I Hired a Contract Killer, from 1990, and it's one of the best and most pure of Strummer's solo career. A simple rhythm on the Telecaster and some light percussion are all there is here, but that's enough to highlight the gentle and folksy vocal performance. I can't seem to find a copy of the 7" for sale anywhere, but you can listen to the song on youtube.
If you can find a copy of this song, you're a luckier or more talented human being than I am. Why it hasn't been re-released after its initial 7" pressing of a few hundred copies, I don't know. The song and its singer are featured in the movie I Hired a Contract Killer, from 1990, and it's one of the best and most pure of Strummer's solo career. A simple rhythm on the Telecaster and some light percussion are all there is here, but that's enough to highlight the gentle and folksy vocal performance. I can't seem to find a copy of the 7" for sale anywhere, but you can listen to the song on youtube.
Monday, February 27, 2012
2/27/2012
Prince Buster -- "One Step Beyond"
The rhythm here is one of the most intense you'll ever hear, and the sax has the kind of sound that you could only get in the 1960s. You can play the same notes, but they just don't sound like that anymore.
I can't claim to be a great expert on ska, and I sometimes get my rocksteady confused with straight-up reggae, but as far as I can tell this track is the very epitome of what ska as a genre is trying to achieve.
The rhythm here is one of the most intense you'll ever hear, and the sax has the kind of sound that you could only get in the 1960s. You can play the same notes, but they just don't sound like that anymore.
I can't claim to be a great expert on ska, and I sometimes get my rocksteady confused with straight-up reggae, but as far as I can tell this track is the very epitome of what ska as a genre is trying to achieve.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
2/26/2012
Eddy Grant -- "Electric Avenue"
I remember the video to this one from my youth. I was 9 or maybe 10, and the song and video both left me confused. I was from the far western edge of the Kansas City suburbs, in other words, a step away from nowhere, a very provincial place. I had no idea where a guy like Eddy Grant might come from, what he was about. Now I know that Electric Avenue is a street in Brixton, South London, home to a large population of West Indian immigrants and their descendents, the rough place where the crooked beats come from. Now I know that England isn't just white people anymore. It would take me a while to find all of that out.
The politics of this song are one thing, represented in the video by the drowning motif. Then there's the beat, which takes the form of a revving motorcycle ride down Brixton High Street. Here is a thrill indeed. The sound of this track is electronic but organic. My own kids (ages 3 and 6) are in love with the song, and they know all the words, even if they don't have a clue yet as to what they mean.
I remember the video to this one from my youth. I was 9 or maybe 10, and the song and video both left me confused. I was from the far western edge of the Kansas City suburbs, in other words, a step away from nowhere, a very provincial place. I had no idea where a guy like Eddy Grant might come from, what he was about. Now I know that Electric Avenue is a street in Brixton, South London, home to a large population of West Indian immigrants and their descendents, the rough place where the crooked beats come from. Now I know that England isn't just white people anymore. It would take me a while to find all of that out.
The politics of this song are one thing, represented in the video by the drowning motif. Then there's the beat, which takes the form of a revving motorcycle ride down Brixton High Street. Here is a thrill indeed. The sound of this track is electronic but organic. My own kids (ages 3 and 6) are in love with the song, and they know all the words, even if they don't have a clue yet as to what they mean.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
2/25/2012
The Beach Boys -- "Wouldn't It Be Nice"
The earnestness of the sentiment expressed here belies the utter sophistication of the recording. It's harder than ever now to believe that this track (along with the rest of Pet Sounds) was put together with 2-track technology.
I've always suspected that there's a little bit of a tongue-in-cheek attitude to this song -- but only a little bit. In the days before safe, reliable contraception achieved widespread availability, the option for a lot of kids was marry or abstain. There's a sweetness to the emotion being expressed here that is naive but also winning, and, I think, more genuine than not. The innocence wouldn't last forever for the Beach Boys. But here they are at their peak, poised at a moment when everything was on the verge of change but hadn't quite changed yet. This song, and the accompanying album, capture that moment in more ways than one.
The earnestness of the sentiment expressed here belies the utter sophistication of the recording. It's harder than ever now to believe that this track (along with the rest of Pet Sounds) was put together with 2-track technology.
I've always suspected that there's a little bit of a tongue-in-cheek attitude to this song -- but only a little bit. In the days before safe, reliable contraception achieved widespread availability, the option for a lot of kids was marry or abstain. There's a sweetness to the emotion being expressed here that is naive but also winning, and, I think, more genuine than not. The innocence wouldn't last forever for the Beach Boys. But here they are at their peak, poised at a moment when everything was on the verge of change but hadn't quite changed yet. This song, and the accompanying album, capture that moment in more ways than one.
Friday, February 24, 2012
2/24/2012
The Rolling Stones -- "Stray Cat Blues"
Here's a song that makes me cringe. I can't seem to stop listening to it, though.
I'm always one to enforce a separation between the singer and the singer's persona. And I'm not one to moralize about art. Still, this track seems to be crossing a border. "I can see that you're 15 years old / No I don't want your I.D." It might not be a capital crime, but Roman Polanski got in a lot of trouble for this sort of thing. Sir Mick, apparently, can get away with anything, though. Of course, it's always possible that the song is tongue-in-cheek, but given the singer's reputation I doubt it.
If we can just set the lyrics aside for a moment -- if that's possible -- we've got a great, searing, rocked-out blues number here. One of the Stones' dirtiest, grungiest best. It's got the standard Stones open-tuned rhythm track and a few notes borroweed from that stinging lead that we start hearing about halfway into "Sympathy for the Devil" (it's Keith Richards, I think, but it's hard to tell sometimes). It's got the lengthy, toned-down coda that the band played with a few times in the late 60s/early 70s. It's a great, dirty song from a great, dirty album. Let's just give Sir Mick the benefit of the doubt and assume it's tongue-in-cheek.
Here's a song that makes me cringe. I can't seem to stop listening to it, though.
I'm always one to enforce a separation between the singer and the singer's persona. And I'm not one to moralize about art. Still, this track seems to be crossing a border. "I can see that you're 15 years old / No I don't want your I.D." It might not be a capital crime, but Roman Polanski got in a lot of trouble for this sort of thing. Sir Mick, apparently, can get away with anything, though. Of course, it's always possible that the song is tongue-in-cheek, but given the singer's reputation I doubt it.
If we can just set the lyrics aside for a moment -- if that's possible -- we've got a great, searing, rocked-out blues number here. One of the Stones' dirtiest, grungiest best. It's got the standard Stones open-tuned rhythm track and a few notes borroweed from that stinging lead that we start hearing about halfway into "Sympathy for the Devil" (it's Keith Richards, I think, but it's hard to tell sometimes). It's got the lengthy, toned-down coda that the band played with a few times in the late 60s/early 70s. It's a great, dirty song from a great, dirty album. Let's just give Sir Mick the benefit of the doubt and assume it's tongue-in-cheek.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
2/23/2012
The Velvet Underground -- "Candy Says"
Here's a soft-sounding song about something pretty hard-edged, especially considering the time at which the song was written. This song effectively approximates the voice and vision of Candy Darling, the most famous transsexual of her time, and takes the gender-bending themes that were merely latent in rock and roll (my dad always thought Elvis sounded like a girl; Little Richard did sound like a girl) and places them front and center, with little ambiguity. Lou Reed kicks off the musical thematics of the 1970s two years in advance of the calendar with this one.
All that being said, what makes this such a great song is the pretty melody. Lou Reed's fragile voice seems as if it's about to veer out of key at any moment, but he keeps it in place, just barely. This song, the first track on their self-titled third album, is as close to a dare as The VU could make at the time -- to take their drug-fueled experimental rock and try to fit it into a conventional pop framework while still finding a way to break boundaries. Ultimately, though, the song is less shocking than it is human and humane. Candy has feelings. Candy feels bad about himself/herself, and life, it turns out, is not just one long party. But there's still hope. The bluebirds still fly.
Here's a soft-sounding song about something pretty hard-edged, especially considering the time at which the song was written. This song effectively approximates the voice and vision of Candy Darling, the most famous transsexual of her time, and takes the gender-bending themes that were merely latent in rock and roll (my dad always thought Elvis sounded like a girl; Little Richard did sound like a girl) and places them front and center, with little ambiguity. Lou Reed kicks off the musical thematics of the 1970s two years in advance of the calendar with this one.
All that being said, what makes this such a great song is the pretty melody. Lou Reed's fragile voice seems as if it's about to veer out of key at any moment, but he keeps it in place, just barely. This song, the first track on their self-titled third album, is as close to a dare as The VU could make at the time -- to take their drug-fueled experimental rock and try to fit it into a conventional pop framework while still finding a way to break boundaries. Ultimately, though, the song is less shocking than it is human and humane. Candy has feelings. Candy feels bad about himself/herself, and life, it turns out, is not just one long party. But there's still hope. The bluebirds still fly.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
2/22/2012
Rush -- "Tom Sawyer"
In 1981, I was all of eight years old, but I was already drawn to rock music, and I'd spend some time nearly every day after school spinning discs in the basement of our house. Of all the albums my older brothers and sisters collected, Rush's Moving Pictures was the one that most effectively captured the attention of my second-grade mind. The lyrics were mystifying. I vaguely knew that Tom Sawyer was the title of a play(*) that my oldest brother had performed in, but whatever the band was trying to say about the title character was beyond me. The album artwork fascinated me and creeped me out. But I listened to this song over and over. I somehow knew that the sound the band achieved here was very contemporary, but I never would have been able to express this at the time except maybe to say that the song made me think of video games.
The Moog doesn't sound contemporary anymore, and the general Ayn Rand-meets-J.R.R. Tolkien sound of the band has not aged well, but there is something more than nostalgia that draws me back to this and a few other Rush tracks from time to time. When you get right down to it, this band had a lot of musical talent, they knew how to make a good rock track, and they also knew how to capture the attention of this eight year old.
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* I knew nothing of the Mark Twain novel at the time.
In 1981, I was all of eight years old, but I was already drawn to rock music, and I'd spend some time nearly every day after school spinning discs in the basement of our house. Of all the albums my older brothers and sisters collected, Rush's Moving Pictures was the one that most effectively captured the attention of my second-grade mind. The lyrics were mystifying. I vaguely knew that Tom Sawyer was the title of a play(*) that my oldest brother had performed in, but whatever the band was trying to say about the title character was beyond me. The album artwork fascinated me and creeped me out. But I listened to this song over and over. I somehow knew that the sound the band achieved here was very contemporary, but I never would have been able to express this at the time except maybe to say that the song made me think of video games.
The Moog doesn't sound contemporary anymore, and the general Ayn Rand-meets-J.R.R. Tolkien sound of the band has not aged well, but there is something more than nostalgia that draws me back to this and a few other Rush tracks from time to time. When you get right down to it, this band had a lot of musical talent, they knew how to make a good rock track, and they also knew how to capture the attention of this eight year old.
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* I knew nothing of the Mark Twain novel at the time.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
2/21/2012
Nina Simone -- "To Love Somebody"
Although I love everything Gram Parsons did, including his cover of this song with the Flying Burrito Brothers, I have to say that Nina Simone sings this song better than anyone else I've ever heard sing it. Simone's masculine-feminine voice sustains a staggering weariness here. The song was written by the Bee-Gees to be a hit, but Simone never really seemed to be after that sort of thing. The horns are pushing it toward the top of the charts. The background vocals are pushing it that way, too. The Sam and Dave-style lead guitar is pushing it up, as well, and the recording even has a string section, for God's sake, but Simone holds it all back, brings it down a notch, and effectively says, Wait a minute, now--listen to me.
When Nina Simone sings, "There's a light / A certain kind of light / That never shone on me," she's not just playing into some pop-music trope. She means it, and you know she means it. You don't have any choice but to stop and listen to what she has to say.
Although I love everything Gram Parsons did, including his cover of this song with the Flying Burrito Brothers, I have to say that Nina Simone sings this song better than anyone else I've ever heard sing it. Simone's masculine-feminine voice sustains a staggering weariness here. The song was written by the Bee-Gees to be a hit, but Simone never really seemed to be after that sort of thing. The horns are pushing it toward the top of the charts. The background vocals are pushing it that way, too. The Sam and Dave-style lead guitar is pushing it up, as well, and the recording even has a string section, for God's sake, but Simone holds it all back, brings it down a notch, and effectively says, Wait a minute, now--listen to me.
When Nina Simone sings, "There's a light / A certain kind of light / That never shone on me," she's not just playing into some pop-music trope. She means it, and you know she means it. You don't have any choice but to stop and listen to what she has to say.
Monday, February 20, 2012
2/20/2012
Tin Machine -- "Prisoner of Love"
"Like a sermon on blues guitar / Love walked into town."
Maybe not the best lyric ever, but it was the late 80s, and there wasn't much else going on. And a somewhat trite(*) lyric can be forgiven in context, the more specific context here being the bold direction David Bowie took in his experimental work with Tin Machine. All told, the minor-key arrangement of "Prisoner of Love" nicely complements the desperate tone of the lyrics.
As it's name suggests, Tin Machine made a lot of noise, with more than a little help from Reeves Gabrels' sleek Steinberger guitar (with its very effective whammy bar). The Steinberger guitar could have come from no other decade but the 1980s, and I don't think I've ever heard it put to better use than on this track. Most of the other songs on Tin Machine's first album are pretty forgettable, but this one is a Bowie classic that compares favorably with anything else he did in the 1980s.
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* Not to mention nonsensical: sermons do not typically walk.
"Like a sermon on blues guitar / Love walked into town."
Maybe not the best lyric ever, but it was the late 80s, and there wasn't much else going on. And a somewhat trite(*) lyric can be forgiven in context, the more specific context here being the bold direction David Bowie took in his experimental work with Tin Machine. All told, the minor-key arrangement of "Prisoner of Love" nicely complements the desperate tone of the lyrics.
As it's name suggests, Tin Machine made a lot of noise, with more than a little help from Reeves Gabrels' sleek Steinberger guitar (with its very effective whammy bar). The Steinberger guitar could have come from no other decade but the 1980s, and I don't think I've ever heard it put to better use than on this track. Most of the other songs on Tin Machine's first album are pretty forgettable, but this one is a Bowie classic that compares favorably with anything else he did in the 1980s.
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* Not to mention nonsensical: sermons do not typically walk.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
2/19/2012
My Morning Jacket -- "Mahgeeta"
There are feuds in rock music that require the taking of sides. In the conflict between punk rock and 70s AOR, I take the side of the punks. In the conflict between Lynyrd Skynyrd and Neil Young, I find myself firmly in the Canadian camp. The brilliance of My Morning Jacket, in terms of the latter dispute, is that they didn't take sides. Instead, they fused the energy that we associate with the kind of music made by Southern men with beards playing solid-bodied guitars with the melancholy sensitivity that Neil Young typifies. The resulting songs are set to resound in caverns of reverb, and the final product is timeless but contemporary.
"Mahgeeta" is the celebratory opening to what I consider to be MMJ's best album so far, It Still Moves. Just when you think that the song has to end, the band throws in a few more riffs: it still moves. There may not be much Young influence at work on this track, but there is much to celebrate still. The highlight of this track, to me, is the middle verse when the guitar seems to drop out, but then you realize you can still hear it echoing in the background. Is it bleed over from the recording of the drum track, or is it just low in the mix? Either way, it's a great touch.
There are feuds in rock music that require the taking of sides. In the conflict between punk rock and 70s AOR, I take the side of the punks. In the conflict between Lynyrd Skynyrd and Neil Young, I find myself firmly in the Canadian camp. The brilliance of My Morning Jacket, in terms of the latter dispute, is that they didn't take sides. Instead, they fused the energy that we associate with the kind of music made by Southern men with beards playing solid-bodied guitars with the melancholy sensitivity that Neil Young typifies. The resulting songs are set to resound in caverns of reverb, and the final product is timeless but contemporary.
"Mahgeeta" is the celebratory opening to what I consider to be MMJ's best album so far, It Still Moves. Just when you think that the song has to end, the band throws in a few more riffs: it still moves. There may not be much Young influence at work on this track, but there is much to celebrate still. The highlight of this track, to me, is the middle verse when the guitar seems to drop out, but then you realize you can still hear it echoing in the background. Is it bleed over from the recording of the drum track, or is it just low in the mix? Either way, it's a great touch.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
2/18/2012
The Rolling Stones --"Torn and Frayed"
The Rolling Stones were, in my estimation, one of the best country bands of the 1970s. Of course, they only dabbled with the genre, and this particular track falls clearly and comfortably into the rock category, but the influence is still there, and Al Perkins' pedal steel is the highlight of the song. Here's another example of the British fascination with traditions in American popular music.
The Rolling Stones were, in my estimation, one of the best country bands of the 1970s. Of course, they only dabbled with the genre, and this particular track falls clearly and comfortably into the rock category, but the influence is still there, and Al Perkins' pedal steel is the highlight of the song. Here's another example of the British fascination with traditions in American popular music.
Friday, February 17, 2012
2/17/2012
Various Artists -- "Louie Louie"
The Kingsmen, The Sonics, The Kinks -- among others, these guys put down some memorable versions of this song. Does it really matter what the real lyics are? Was Richard Barry listening to reggae or something? Is that what accounts for the non-standard usage of "me" as a subject?
Maybe the answers to these questions don't matter. What I can say is that this is one of the easiest songs ever to play as a rock band, which might be why so many cut their teeth on this one. My favorite version is the one by The Sonics. Obscene it may not be, but it is brutal the way they play it. This one should be required material for all new guitar players.
The Kingsmen, The Sonics, The Kinks -- among others, these guys put down some memorable versions of this song. Does it really matter what the real lyics are? Was Richard Barry listening to reggae or something? Is that what accounts for the non-standard usage of "me" as a subject?
Maybe the answers to these questions don't matter. What I can say is that this is one of the easiest songs ever to play as a rock band, which might be why so many cut their teeth on this one. My favorite version is the one by The Sonics. Obscene it may not be, but it is brutal the way they play it. This one should be required material for all new guitar players.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
2/16/2012
The Church -- "Under the Milky Way"
Not my favorite song on Starfish -- the only Church album I still have in my collection -- but it's the one that, in the summer of 1988, changed my life. I was raised on classic rock, and, thanks to an adventurous program manager who tossed this into the otherwise pretty standard rock rotation of Kansas City's KY-102, this was the first thing I heard that busted me loose from that frame of reference. I was 15 at the time.
The older I got, the more I realized that The Church was pretty goofy, with song lyrics that took themselves too seriously and, after this album, plunged deeper and deeper into the nonsensical. But there's still something powerful about this album for me, and it's still worth the occasional listen. It's more than just nostalgia. I'm still not quite sure what I'm hearing in that instrumental break: a bagpipe and some backwards guitar loops, I think. Other songs by The Church make the most of echo and delay, but here they keep it mostly acoustic. Here's a band that knew how to get a lot of atmosphere from a well-placed minor chord.
Not my favorite song on Starfish -- the only Church album I still have in my collection -- but it's the one that, in the summer of 1988, changed my life. I was raised on classic rock, and, thanks to an adventurous program manager who tossed this into the otherwise pretty standard rock rotation of Kansas City's KY-102, this was the first thing I heard that busted me loose from that frame of reference. I was 15 at the time.
The older I got, the more I realized that The Church was pretty goofy, with song lyrics that took themselves too seriously and, after this album, plunged deeper and deeper into the nonsensical. But there's still something powerful about this album for me, and it's still worth the occasional listen. It's more than just nostalgia. I'm still not quite sure what I'm hearing in that instrumental break: a bagpipe and some backwards guitar loops, I think. Other songs by The Church make the most of echo and delay, but here they keep it mostly acoustic. Here's a band that knew how to get a lot of atmosphere from a well-placed minor chord.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
2/15/2012
Joe Strummer and the Latino Rockabilly War -- "Trash City"
One of my favorite post-Clash songs from Strummer. It's not an incredibly sophisticated song by any means, but it's one of his best tracks from the "wilderness years." Part of what makes it a good track is the percussion. "Love Kills," for instance, either had a drum machine or it might as well have had one. With the added percussion, which sounds like the primal banging on a can that characterizes many fine rock and roll songs, this track does justice to Strummer's creative vision--not as subtle or as precise as Topper Headon's drumming with The Clash, but it works. Lyrically, the song has the detached observational quality of the witness to the spectacle of post-modern life: "Once I had a hot dog in a nightmare zone."
Life in the city, before the mayor cleaned it all up.
One of my favorite post-Clash songs from Strummer. It's not an incredibly sophisticated song by any means, but it's one of his best tracks from the "wilderness years." Part of what makes it a good track is the percussion. "Love Kills," for instance, either had a drum machine or it might as well have had one. With the added percussion, which sounds like the primal banging on a can that characterizes many fine rock and roll songs, this track does justice to Strummer's creative vision--not as subtle or as precise as Topper Headon's drumming with The Clash, but it works. Lyrically, the song has the detached observational quality of the witness to the spectacle of post-modern life: "Once I had a hot dog in a nightmare zone."
Life in the city, before the mayor cleaned it all up.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
2/14/2012
Whitney Houston -- "I Will Always Love You"
Working as a cashier at a Schnuck's in the summer of 1992, I heard this song about once an hour during every eight-hour shift, and it just about drove me to despair. I did not dig this kind of thing in 1992, and I haven't since -- pop music is generally not my thing. But there's something Whitney Houston could do that I have to respect: she could sing, which is more than I can say for the American idols of today and their heavily processed vocals. R.I.P., and happy Valentine's Day.
Working as a cashier at a Schnuck's in the summer of 1992, I heard this song about once an hour during every eight-hour shift, and it just about drove me to despair. I did not dig this kind of thing in 1992, and I haven't since -- pop music is generally not my thing. But there's something Whitney Houston could do that I have to respect: she could sing, which is more than I can say for the American idols of today and their heavily processed vocals. R.I.P., and happy Valentine's Day.
Monday, February 13, 2012
2/13/2012
The Velvet Underground -- "Sweet Jane"
Christmas, 1991: my oldest brother, on a rare visit home from California, had a few gifts for me. Instead of wrapping this one, he just walked into my room, loaded it into the CD player and turned the volume up -- way up. Over the sound coming from the speakers, I managed to hear him say that this was the greatest rock song ever recorded.
I've been a fan ever since.
Christmas, 1991: my oldest brother, on a rare visit home from California, had a few gifts for me. Instead of wrapping this one, he just walked into my room, loaded it into the CD player and turned the volume up -- way up. Over the sound coming from the speakers, I managed to hear him say that this was the greatest rock song ever recorded.
I've been a fan ever since.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
2/12/2012
The Velvet Underground -- "Jesus"
Sex, drugs, rock and roll -- and Jesus.
I haven't read up enough on The Velvet Underground to know exactly what Lou Reed was thinking here. On the surface, this song seems to be completely unironic -- something you can take at face value, and it offers little to remind the listener of the famous line from "Heroin" -- "and I feel just like Jesus' son" -- other than the fact that both songs were written by the same man. Certainly, the song does fit in thematically with the rest of the VU's third album. After the jittery energy of "What Goes On" and the weary lows of "Pale Blue Eyes," we might be looking for some direction ourselves. It's quite apt also that, to follow up on "Jesus," we get the modest jubilation of "Begginning to See the Light."
The Velvet Underground pushed the boundaries more than any other band of their era, and this song might have pushed some other kind of boundary. The harmony here is about as smooth as you can get when you've got Lou Reed -- who's generally at his best when his voice is more spoken than sung -- as a lead vocalist, and the instrumentation minimal, just enough to keep the melody afloat. If the VU's first two albums were about seeing just how far you could go in deconstructing rock music without destroying it altogether, the last two VU albums are about taking things in the opposite direction: how pretty can you make the songs without taking the edge off completely? If that was the goal, the VU, by this point directed almost entirely by Lou Reed's vision, succeeded mightily.
Sex, drugs, rock and roll -- and Jesus.
I haven't read up enough on The Velvet Underground to know exactly what Lou Reed was thinking here. On the surface, this song seems to be completely unironic -- something you can take at face value, and it offers little to remind the listener of the famous line from "Heroin" -- "and I feel just like Jesus' son" -- other than the fact that both songs were written by the same man. Certainly, the song does fit in thematically with the rest of the VU's third album. After the jittery energy of "What Goes On" and the weary lows of "Pale Blue Eyes," we might be looking for some direction ourselves. It's quite apt also that, to follow up on "Jesus," we get the modest jubilation of "Begginning to See the Light."
The Velvet Underground pushed the boundaries more than any other band of their era, and this song might have pushed some other kind of boundary. The harmony here is about as smooth as you can get when you've got Lou Reed -- who's generally at his best when his voice is more spoken than sung -- as a lead vocalist, and the instrumentation minimal, just enough to keep the melody afloat. If the VU's first two albums were about seeing just how far you could go in deconstructing rock music without destroying it altogether, the last two VU albums are about taking things in the opposite direction: how pretty can you make the songs without taking the edge off completely? If that was the goal, the VU, by this point directed almost entirely by Lou Reed's vision, succeeded mightily.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
2/11/2012
Earth, Wind, and Fire -- "September"
The first thing I think of when I hear this song is, unfortunately, aging white men on the dance floor at a wedding party making fools of themselves while their daughters make official the act of leaving home for good. It seems like this has happened at just about every wedding I've ever been to.
Someone came along several years ago to rescue this song from the limited associations it had for me. I was taking an acting class, and the professor made us warm up every day to this song. She made us dance. Maybe I looked like the aging white man I would someday become, but that didn't matter. There's something irreprochable about falsetto, a kind of freedom: a man licensed to sound like a woman, a stiff-boned white man licensed to dance. If a song can do that for you, I guess it's got to be a good thing.
The first thing I think of when I hear this song is, unfortunately, aging white men on the dance floor at a wedding party making fools of themselves while their daughters make official the act of leaving home for good. It seems like this has happened at just about every wedding I've ever been to.
Someone came along several years ago to rescue this song from the limited associations it had for me. I was taking an acting class, and the professor made us warm up every day to this song. She made us dance. Maybe I looked like the aging white man I would someday become, but that didn't matter. There's something irreprochable about falsetto, a kind of freedom: a man licensed to sound like a woman, a stiff-boned white man licensed to dance. If a song can do that for you, I guess it's got to be a good thing.
Friday, February 10, 2012
2/10/2012
Booker T. and the MGs -- "Hip Hug Her"
In the mid-1990s, there was a bartender at the Replay Lounge, down at the corner of 10th and Massachusetts, who played this song every night. I was at a point, about to enter my mid-20s, directionless and free, before the responsibilities of adult life were to give me some grounding, give me a sense of direction but at the same time keep me fixed in place. I'd get off work and amble down the street to the bar. The air was thick inside. Smoke got in my eyes, in my hair, in my clothes, embedded itself in my lungs, and I'd have a couple cans of PBR, take a good look around me, knowing that this wasn't going to last forever, then figure out my way back home. Get up in the morning, do it all over again.
I don't have that sense of freedom anymore, but I gave it up willingly. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about those days. It seems like a long time ago now. I haven't said much about the song, but more than just about any other track I can think of, this one pins me down to a specific moment in my past. This song is not of my own cultural and historical moment -- it was recorded before I was born -- but it might as well have been of my moment. It's part of my sense of time now.
In the mid-1990s, there was a bartender at the Replay Lounge, down at the corner of 10th and Massachusetts, who played this song every night. I was at a point, about to enter my mid-20s, directionless and free, before the responsibilities of adult life were to give me some grounding, give me a sense of direction but at the same time keep me fixed in place. I'd get off work and amble down the street to the bar. The air was thick inside. Smoke got in my eyes, in my hair, in my clothes, embedded itself in my lungs, and I'd have a couple cans of PBR, take a good look around me, knowing that this wasn't going to last forever, then figure out my way back home. Get up in the morning, do it all over again.
I don't have that sense of freedom anymore, but I gave it up willingly. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about those days. It seems like a long time ago now. I haven't said much about the song, but more than just about any other track I can think of, this one pins me down to a specific moment in my past. This song is not of my own cultural and historical moment -- it was recorded before I was born -- but it might as well have been of my moment. It's part of my sense of time now.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
2/9/2012
Chet Baker -- "Summertime"
"Summertime" is a pretty creepy song, I've always thought. Of course, it's not supposed to be, but there's something about it that has always seemed a little off, a little crooked. Maybe it has something to do with the line "your daddy's rich and your momma's good looking" -- as though that and a strategically maintained sheltering from the cruel realities of life were enough to insure a child's lasting happiness. Take this message and set it to some minor chords, and you have to agree -- it's a creepy song. The only way to make it creepier is to have Chet Baker play it.
Baker's instrumental version (can you imagine him singing it? -- that would have made it one of the creepiest tracks ever) ambles along at a steady clip. There's something echoey, something spacey about all of these classic Baker recordings from the 1950s. For an instrumental track, this song has an uncanny ability to frame a narrative. The mood Baker evokes here pretty much tells you his whole life story, and you can tell even from a casual listen that it isn't going to have a happy ending.
"Summertime" is a pretty creepy song, I've always thought. Of course, it's not supposed to be, but there's something about it that has always seemed a little off, a little crooked. Maybe it has something to do with the line "your daddy's rich and your momma's good looking" -- as though that and a strategically maintained sheltering from the cruel realities of life were enough to insure a child's lasting happiness. Take this message and set it to some minor chords, and you have to agree -- it's a creepy song. The only way to make it creepier is to have Chet Baker play it.
Baker's instrumental version (can you imagine him singing it? -- that would have made it one of the creepiest tracks ever) ambles along at a steady clip. There's something echoey, something spacey about all of these classic Baker recordings from the 1950s. For an instrumental track, this song has an uncanny ability to frame a narrative. The mood Baker evokes here pretty much tells you his whole life story, and you can tell even from a casual listen that it isn't going to have a happy ending.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
2/8/2012
Big Audio Dynamite -- "The Bottom Line"
Topper Headon was bottomed out on heroin, so what's Mick Jones to do?
The answer: Get a real mechanical drum machine to replace the human drum machine. Add some synths, some heavy dance beats, and some clever lyrics, and you've got this track.
It's hard to remember sometimes that this stuff was cutting edge at the time. It seems so dated now, but it's still irresistible. What else was there to do in 1985? The dark days of hair metal were just around the bend. In retrospect, B.A.D. was a great idea.
Topper Headon was bottomed out on heroin, so what's Mick Jones to do?
The answer: Get a real mechanical drum machine to replace the human drum machine. Add some synths, some heavy dance beats, and some clever lyrics, and you've got this track.
It's hard to remember sometimes that this stuff was cutting edge at the time. It seems so dated now, but it's still irresistible. What else was there to do in 1985? The dark days of hair metal were just around the bend. In retrospect, B.A.D. was a great idea.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
2/7/2012
Gram Parsons -- "Return of the Grievous Angel"
Gram Parsons, Emmylou Harris, and one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. This song captures the spirit of the American landscape and the spirit of a great singer and songwriter.
If you don't like country music, if you've never listened to Gram Parsons, this is, I hope, the song that could change your mind.
Gram Parsons, Emmylou Harris, and one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. This song captures the spirit of the American landscape and the spirit of a great singer and songwriter.
If you don't like country music, if you've never listened to Gram Parsons, this is, I hope, the song that could change your mind.
Monday, February 6, 2012
2/6/2012
Creedence Clearwater Revival -- "Down on the Corner"
It's easy to forget about these guys -- maybe you grew up hearing them on the radio all the time, so as an adult you just tuned them out. But in their time they did achieve a good balance of choogling soul rhythm and psychedelic guitar. In other words, it's good rock music. CCR also boasted a distinctive lead voice with some good harmonies to back it up. They were hit-makers, but in this instance the radio was right to train the spotlight on them.
Of course, what I like about this song is the funky but still pretty basic bassline. There's not much here in terms of lead guitar, or anything else, really, besides that bass line, but that's pretty much the right formula this time around. It's a good-time song, and it's all about the beat.
It's easy to forget about these guys -- maybe you grew up hearing them on the radio all the time, so as an adult you just tuned them out. But in their time they did achieve a good balance of choogling soul rhythm and psychedelic guitar. In other words, it's good rock music. CCR also boasted a distinctive lead voice with some good harmonies to back it up. They were hit-makers, but in this instance the radio was right to train the spotlight on them.
Of course, what I like about this song is the funky but still pretty basic bassline. There's not much here in terms of lead guitar, or anything else, really, besides that bass line, but that's pretty much the right formula this time around. It's a good-time song, and it's all about the beat.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
2/5/2012
The Good, The Bad, & The Queen -- "Kingdom of Doom"
Here's how I see it. One night, the idea came to Damon Albarn in a vision: Take The Clash's "London Calling," the most archetypal of British alternative classics, and perform various experiements on it by changing the key and playing with the tempo and instrumentation. Get Paul Simonon to play bass. Since Topper Headon is no longer on the drumming scene, get reknowned Afro-beat drummer Tony Allen to play drums on the album (on the tracks that actually have drums, at least). Channel the spirit of The Clash, but never sound quite like The Clash.
Joe Strummer would have approved, one suspects. "Kingdom of Doom" is one of several TGTBTQ variants on "London Calling"; it drops into an almost-rendition of the song at the end. It takes the minor-key gloom of The Clash's signature track and expands upon the mood. Add some crackle from a spring reverb pan for effect, and you have the makings of a modern classic.
Here's how I see it. One night, the idea came to Damon Albarn in a vision: Take The Clash's "London Calling," the most archetypal of British alternative classics, and perform various experiements on it by changing the key and playing with the tempo and instrumentation. Get Paul Simonon to play bass. Since Topper Headon is no longer on the drumming scene, get reknowned Afro-beat drummer Tony Allen to play drums on the album (on the tracks that actually have drums, at least). Channel the spirit of The Clash, but never sound quite like The Clash.
Joe Strummer would have approved, one suspects. "Kingdom of Doom" is one of several TGTBTQ variants on "London Calling"; it drops into an almost-rendition of the song at the end. It takes the minor-key gloom of The Clash's signature track and expands upon the mood. Add some crackle from a spring reverb pan for effect, and you have the makings of a modern classic.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
2/4/2012
Neko Case -- "Guided by Wires"
The prevalent twang that Neko Case affects here has vanished from her songs over the last decade, but while she had it she really knew how to use it. Whether the twang is a put-on or not, Case knows how to sing, and the thing I always get from her music is a sense of the pure inescapable joy of being able to blow air through your vocal cords like you really mean it. And she means it.
This song is ostensibly a thank-you to those who were "singing my life back to me," but it's also a testament to inner strength, as well. The sound nods back in the direction of Lone Justice, and one of Case's great talents is her knack for surrounding herself with excellent musicians -- her "Boyfriends," as she called them at the time -- particularly, in the early stages of her career, the Good brothers from Canadian country-psych band The Sadies and Joey Burns and Jon Convertino from Calexico. I'm not sure which Good is playing the lead guitar on this track, but it's worthy of an award for covering all of the bases of country guitar, classic and contemporary. This song is catchy as hell, and the hard-won sense of self that it offers is inspiring without being cloying.
The prevalent twang that Neko Case affects here has vanished from her songs over the last decade, but while she had it she really knew how to use it. Whether the twang is a put-on or not, Case knows how to sing, and the thing I always get from her music is a sense of the pure inescapable joy of being able to blow air through your vocal cords like you really mean it. And she means it.
This song is ostensibly a thank-you to those who were "singing my life back to me," but it's also a testament to inner strength, as well. The sound nods back in the direction of Lone Justice, and one of Case's great talents is her knack for surrounding herself with excellent musicians -- her "Boyfriends," as she called them at the time -- particularly, in the early stages of her career, the Good brothers from Canadian country-psych band The Sadies and Joey Burns and Jon Convertino from Calexico. I'm not sure which Good is playing the lead guitar on this track, but it's worthy of an award for covering all of the bases of country guitar, classic and contemporary. This song is catchy as hell, and the hard-won sense of self that it offers is inspiring without being cloying.
Friday, February 3, 2012
2/3/2012
The Smiths -- "Shoplifters of the World Unite"
Q: Why do we shoplift? A: We shoplift because we are bored.
Winona Ryder, though, could only dream of being the kind of misfit Morrissey had in mind. The idea of the song seems to be that all misfits are criminals, or they might as well be - an idea that, to me, strikes at the core of what it was like to be alive in the 1980s. Morrissey's crime was being gay in the homophobic 80s. He could relate to the kleptos, too, though, and this song is one of the great rallying cries for that special type of human being that The Decemberists would later call "castaways and cutouts" -- in other words, anyone who doesn't fit in.
This track doesn't have quite the same Rickenbacker jangle as early Smiths recordings, but it proves that the band, even while moving into the later phases of its career, could adapt to more mainstream contemporary sounds without losing the essentials qualities that defined their sound. The heavily chorused guitar solo is vintage 1987 any way you want it.
One of the last great singles from a great band.
Q: Why do we shoplift? A: We shoplift because we are bored.
Winona Ryder, though, could only dream of being the kind of misfit Morrissey had in mind. The idea of the song seems to be that all misfits are criminals, or they might as well be - an idea that, to me, strikes at the core of what it was like to be alive in the 1980s. Morrissey's crime was being gay in the homophobic 80s. He could relate to the kleptos, too, though, and this song is one of the great rallying cries for that special type of human being that The Decemberists would later call "castaways and cutouts" -- in other words, anyone who doesn't fit in.
This track doesn't have quite the same Rickenbacker jangle as early Smiths recordings, but it proves that the band, even while moving into the later phases of its career, could adapt to more mainstream contemporary sounds without losing the essentials qualities that defined their sound. The heavily chorused guitar solo is vintage 1987 any way you want it.
One of the last great singles from a great band.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
2/2/2012
Elvis Costello -- "Less Than Zero"
It's about impossible to dislike this song, even though the intent of the lyrics is somewhat opaque at best. According to Costello's liner notes from the deluxe edition of My Aim Is True, the song is about British fascist Oswald Mosley, but what exactly the song is saying about him, other than the fact that he's a real creep, is anyone's guess. Ultimately that's beside the point, because the song is imminently catchy, and the vocal enunciations that follow the chorus -- I won't even try to render them phonetically for you -- rank among the highlights of Costello's storied career.
It's about impossible to dislike this song, even though the intent of the lyrics is somewhat opaque at best. According to Costello's liner notes from the deluxe edition of My Aim Is True, the song is about British fascist Oswald Mosley, but what exactly the song is saying about him, other than the fact that he's a real creep, is anyone's guess. Ultimately that's beside the point, because the song is imminently catchy, and the vocal enunciations that follow the chorus -- I won't even try to render them phonetically for you -- rank among the highlights of Costello's storied career.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
2/1/2012
Echo & The Bunnymen -- "Do It Clean"
The obvious question is: do what clean? Drugs might be an obvious answer, but too obvious maybe. Whatever it is, we know what he means.
It's hard to remember sometimes that the alternative bands of the 80s could actually rock. Most of them started out rocking, at least -- even The Cure, early on, could rock in their own special sort of way. But Echo & The Bunnymen's early material was especially good at proving that these guys could play some solid music without relying too much on electronic beats, synth, and studio tricks. There are some neo-psychedelic flourishes here with the grinding of the organ, but there's also a lot of frenetic, amped-up energy. Maybe it is about drugs, after all.
The obvious question is: do what clean? Drugs might be an obvious answer, but too obvious maybe. Whatever it is, we know what he means.
It's hard to remember sometimes that the alternative bands of the 80s could actually rock. Most of them started out rocking, at least -- even The Cure, early on, could rock in their own special sort of way. But Echo & The Bunnymen's early material was especially good at proving that these guys could play some solid music without relying too much on electronic beats, synth, and studio tricks. There are some neo-psychedelic flourishes here with the grinding of the organ, but there's also a lot of frenetic, amped-up energy. Maybe it is about drugs, after all.
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