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Bob Seger! May 1, 2010

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The True Oldies Channel has Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” in their hot rotation, playing every 60 hours or so.  We’ve all heard it so often that no matter how much we like it, it’s become wallpaper.  For some reason I actually paid attention the other day and was impressed all over again with the song construction and Seger’s singing.

Seger had the unfortunate advantage of being 31 years old when Live Bullet made him a superstar in 1976.  Unfortunate because he had to live on mac-n-cheese on crappy busses for at least 7 years.  He already had eight albums under his belt, and had been a successful touring act around Michigan since before his initial national radio hit “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” in 1969.  But it was an advantage because it meant he was a seasoned professional by the time he became a star, and he was already an adult.  Clearly, his lyrics show he was still in touch with the basic desire to get laid, but this was tempered with an adult perspective that made his songs distinctive.

The only Seger LP I still own is a hits CD, so I went through it and all of my 45s.  I came within three tracks of recreating the Night Moves album from 1976, and within one song of recreating 1978’s Stranger In Town.  And then I sat down and listened.

Rock And Roll Never Forgets:  Utter, wonderful brilliant tribute to that good old rock ‘n’ roll — especially since it avoids any musical clichés along the way.  Most of the lyrics are clever, like the opening “You’re a little bit older and a lot less bolder than you used to be / You used to shake ‘em down but now you stop and think about your dignity / Now sweet 16 is turned 31…”  True, some lyrics are lame, like “check your local newspaper, chances are you won’t have to go very far” — but nothing is fatally embarrassing.  And as the world’s biggest Chuck Berry fan I love the line about seeing a live band perform — “All of Chuck’s children are out there playing his licks.”  They are, too, except the song mercifully does NOT use the quintessential Chuck Berry guitar riff.  Only an adult with an appreciation for pre-Beatles rock could have written this.  I love the song.

Night Moves: isn’t it all about getting laid?  Especially at age 16?  Trying to make some front-page drive-in news.  Seger’s vocals are great because he is comfortable with everything from the soft “woke last night to the sound of thunder” to the loud shouts and ad-libbed “I remember I remember” on the ending.  The song construction is creative, putting together different textured sections and always returning to the acoustic guitar chord riff.  The adult perspective surfaces in the closing section — “Started humming a song from 1962” and with the repeated “I remember.”

The Fire Down Below: isn’t it all about getting laid?  “Here comes old Rosie…from the blue-blood streets of Boston, out in Berkeley and down in Queens.”  A restrained rocker, with concise guitar lines in the turnaround.  A thoughtful songs about prostitution, along with The Yardbirds “Good Night Sweet Josophine” and The Box Top’s “Sweet Cream Ladies Forward March.”

Sunburst – not on 45 or the hits CD.  I don’t remember the song from 34 years ago, either.

Sunspot Baby: Seger’s funny take on the woman who disappeared with his American Express card.  The lyrics more than make up for average music.  “Sunspot baby, sure had a real good time.”

Main Street:  LOVE the guitar sound on this track.  Wistful nostalgia of drooling over a stripper.  The last verse is a remembrance of the girl and of his own adolescent feelings about her.  If ever a song made you feel a chilly wind on a small town street in the autumn, this is it.

Come To Poppa: Not on 45 or the hits CD.  I remember liking this is a decent throbbing rocker.

Ship Of Fools: It’s easy to forget that anyone was still into Bob Dylan like this in 1976.  Of the songs I found from the album, this is the only one I’d label as lame.  On the other hand, I like the electric guitar work.

Mary Lou:  Not on 45 or the hits CD.  I remember loving this song, but I can’t recall the melody.

Stranger In Town came out almost two years later, in 1978.  It is the reason I let my subscription to Rolling Stone magazine lapse.  Actually it was Rolling Stone’s negative review of the LP that made me stop reading the magazine.  Whoever the reviewer was actually complained that the album was too good.  Check, please!

Hollywood Nights: still gives me goosebumps.  The country boy goes to town, and he’s doing okay until he meets the girl who so thoroughly outclasses him that he knows from day one it’s hopeless.  “He knew he was too far from home,” “He saw that face and he lost all control.”  The rhythm section is unrelenting, with the drummer adding an extra lick every four bars.  All 4:59 on this smokes.  Seger’s growls and shouts and non-lyric interjections add to the urgency.

Still The Same:  I’m bored with it, but that’s my problem.  The chick singers make me think of Great White and “Once Bitten Twice Shy,” which is not exactly a bad thing.  It is a surprisingly nasty song about an old friend whose patterns have not changed — but because the singer has aged and grown, the old friend’s patterns no longer are charming.

Old Time Rock And Roll — a poppier version of “Rock And Roll Never Forgets” without the humor or the cleverness.  I fear the Risky Business movie ruined this song for me.  However, the song is a great showcase for Seger’s gruff, authoritative, yet non-threatening voice.

Till It Shines: similar guitar sound as on “Main Street” but a happy song.  And so what if he sings “Leave the inmates free the guards”?

Feel Like A Number: The best ROCK song of 1978.  Obvious reference to the 60s Libertarian TV series “The Prisoner.”  The piano player runs through Johnnie Johnson’s greatest hits, clearly influenced by the brilliant pianist for most of Chuck Berry’s classic recordings.  The verses pile up a list of dehumanizing things in life – to teachers I’m just another child, to IRS I’m just another file, to workers I’m just another drone, to Ma Belle I’m just another phone; the boss can’t even recall my name and if I show up late I’m docked, it never fails.  His dream is to head out to the sea and shout at the ocean “Hey, it’s me!”  The chorus is straight from “The Prisoner” — “I feel like a number, I feel like a number / I feel like a stranger, a stranger in this land / Said I feel like a number, I’m not a number / I’m not a number, Dammit I’m a man / Said I’m a man.”  By the last section of the song Seger sings and shouts “Feel like…” but doesn’t finish the title words; this conveys an urgency and sense of struggle that is magnificent.

Ain’t Got No Money:  There was a brief period when Scottish blues singer Frankie Miller looked like he might be The Next Big Thing.  Not a bad song, and full marks to a star of Seger’s weight at the time for doing an outside song.  But to paraphrase Mott The Hoople, Miller wasn’t the Nazz, he was just a buzz.

We’ve Got Tonight: Isn’t it all about getting laid?  And how many horny guys and gals used this as their soundtrack?  A manipulative power ballad, but a superb performance.  Besides, who would you rather hear doing this song, Bob Seger or Kenny Rodgers? (no fair drooling over a picture of Sheena Easton as you ponder that question).

Brave Strangers:  Isn’t it all about getting laid?  Clever song construction, mixing uptempo and slow sections.  The near-spoken part where “My hand is (WHOMP!) shaking!” is great, even if influenced by The Rolling Stones’ “Midnight Rambler.”  Some of the lyrics are lame — “we were players, not arrangers, but we jammed til the dawn’s early light” — but if that’s what it takes to get the girl to say “yes”…

The Famous Final Scene: Not on 45 or the hits CD dammit.  I remember this song and thinking it was great, on a par with The Eagles’ “Wasted Time” from about the same era.

And just for the hell of it, I found a non-LP B-side.  “Trying To Live My Life Without You” is a live track from the Nine Tonight album.  The flip side was recorded at Cobo Hall but didn’t make it to the album.  The live version of “Brave Strangers” is well done.  I like Seger’s Michigan lyrics about having a couple of 6-packs of Stroh’s.

I saw Bob Seger once, probably at The old Omni in Atlanta around 1977.  The only memory I have of the show is the enormous smile Seger wore non-stop.  He was enjoying himself thoroughly.  About the same time I had seen Roy Buchannan at a little club, when Rolling Stone magazine was calling him the greatest blues guitarist this side of Eric Clapton.  No question Buchannan was a brilliant guitarist, but his stage manner was terrible; he looked bored and acted as if he’d really rather have been sitting in front of a TV with a beer in his hand.  The contrast with Seger was like night and day.  I never bothered to play a Buchannan record again — if he’s not having fun why should I bother.  But Seger’s enthusiasm was infectious, I am willing to suspend disbelief for the theatre of rock and roll when the performer is enjoying it too.  Thanks, Bob!

Seger continued to have hits through 1987 when he had his only #1 single, “Shakedown” from Beverly Hills Cop II.  And at that point he disappeared.  He went five years without making any records.  I have never heard so much as a whisper about anything untoward — no drug stories, no booze rehab, nothing sinister or immoral.  Did he wear out after nine years of non-stop touring and recording?  Did he think he had run out of things to say in songs?  Was raising a family suddenly the more important activity?  At the age of 43 his moment abruptly ended.

Well, except for those Chevrolet truck ads that kept “Like A Rock” alive for another five years.

Despite my fondness for most of his work, I want apologies from Bob Seger for “Fire Lake” and the abysmal “Shame On The Moon.”  Both were top-10; “Shame” was his second biggest hit ever.  Have you ever heard either one on the True Oldies Channel?  As for the rest of his music, he is one of my favorite American rockers.  Until this exercise I had forgotten what a great but comfortable voice he has.

Thanks again, Bob.

I saw -The Beatles- The Return April 11, 2010

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Yesterday my best Beatle Buddy and I went to a radio station event to see a Beatle tribute band.  We have done this sort of thing before — we saw “1964″ a couple of times when she lived in another city, and last year we saw “Magical Mystery Tour” at a neighborhood festival.  And a few years ago I went by myself to see “Rain” at the Variety Playhouse.

All the tribute bands try (and so far succeed) in duplicating the Beatles’ performances.  Some try to recreate the stage show, down to having a left handed bass player using a little Hofner electric; others might look like refugees from a Jimmy Buffet concert.  Every single one has been a ton of fnn.

The Return recreates the entire experience.  At least three of them had excellent Scouse accents.  Clearly they have worn out a few vinyl copies of The Beatles At The Hollywood Bowl (when oh when will Capitol put that out on CD????), they have The Beatles’ stage patter to a T — old line entertainers who slavishly, painfully, announced each song they were about to do, even saying what LP it was from.  I don’t remember that the real Beatles used to make fun of Ringo on stage like The Return do, though — at one point I felt compelled to yell “Pete never, Ringo forever!”  The lead guitarist’s speaking voice was an uncanny reproduction of George’s (just to make things more interesting, a guy sitting near us in the audience was a ringer for “All Things Must Pass” era Harrison, except for the Pink Floyd T-shirt and the wife who was neither Pattie Boyd nor Olivia Arias).  The bass player had some of that for Paul.  The John didn’t say much on stage, so our guess was he doesn’t have the accent yet.

At one point a woman jumped on stage and danced.  She didn’t go near the musicians, she just stood on the lip of the stage and boogied.  Eventually a security guard started after her so she went back into the audience, don’t know if she got in trouble.  It really was fun to see her.  When I saw the real Beatles in 1966 the cops were more necessary and a lot busier, with dozens of girls (including one who struck me at the time as being an “adult,” ie, maybe 21 years old) trying to run across the ballfield toward the stage set up around second base.

A comprehensive song selection, drawn, as their website states, from the Beatles’ performing era.  They did my friend’s single least favorite Beatle song, “Matchbox”.  And they did MY least favorite, “Til There Was You.”  We laughed about it, I said at least they got them out of the way early on.  They did a bunch of our faves, though.  My friend really liked “She’s A Woman.”  I was floored by “Paperback Writer” because that was one of the songs the REAL Beatles did when I saw them at Shea Stadium (excuse me, for Rutles fans that would be Che Stadium) in August of 1966.

After the show we wanted to look at their merchandise table.  The shirts were $20 so we passed, but she wanted to say something to the John.  I was impressed with how much fun the band members were having.  Still wearing those black “Hard Day’s Night” suits, they were mugging behind the merchandise table and posing for photos.  Truly, a splendid time was guaranteed for all.

My friend is the only person in my life whose knowledge and love of The Beatles is at the same level as mine.  We can talk about The Daily Howl or Martha my dear (some guy was dancing with an enormous black dog that looked like a cross between a bear and a sheepdog), and on the drive home she told me about a new bio she’s reading that says Paul’s Liverpool girlfriend Dot told Paul she was preggers about the same time Cynnie told John.  She said she hasn’t read past that yet so she doesn’t know what happened or if Dot was pulling an Officer And A Gentleman, and we agreed neither of us had ever heard that story before.  I told her what I read in one of the biographies about Ringo losing his virginity in Hamburg with the rest of the guys standing around and watching.  How rude!  We care about this stuff.  My definition of Beatlemania is that you still refer to the Beatles by their first names AND you expect the people around you to know who you are talking about.  My pal and I are Beatlemaniacs.  Yaaaaaaaaay!

The excuse for the event was the second anniversary for the local True Oldies Channel format station.  Citadel spends next to nothing on promotions, the local DJs are guys who have been in the market and associated with pop oldies for a long time.  Randy and Spiff are a lot of fun as a morning team.  Fred, bless his heart, is not as strong solo in the afternoons since his annullment from Randy (or was it from Spiff?).  He is unfortunately disconnected from the music and I’ve even heard him step on a vocal.  The real superstar at True Oldies is SCOTT SHANNON, who programs the national syndication.  Shannon was the Music Director of WQXI-AM in Atlanta in the late 1960s or early 1970s, I met him once when he interviewed me for a DJ job.  His music philosophy is so refreshingly different from what Atlanta endured through the last years of the old Fox-97 and the brief life of Cool 105.7.  Those stations had tiny playlists that were too research driven (sez the guy who made his living as a radio Research Director for 15 years); sometimes you have to ignore the numbers and say “No, I’m NOT going to put “Dock Of The Bay” in the hot rotation.”  I’m sure the True Oldies playlist is well researched, but it’s heavy on The Dave Clark Five and Gary Puckett & The Union Gap and CCR and a host of one-hit wonders like the Outsiders (okay, they had three hits) and The Human Beinz and Syndicate Of Sound.  VERY 60s based, with some Fats Domino and Drifters from the 50s, and some Eagles and Bee Gees fromt he 70s.  Hell, I even heard Cher’s “Gypsies Tramps And Thieves” one day!  I heart the format, I think Scott Shannon is a programming genius.

The event overall was great.  It was a beautiful Saturday, sunny and warm but not too hot.  The little park in Suwanee Georgia was packed by the time the music began.  About the only restriction on the audience was no alcohol, so security guys made you open your cooler.  They did not want to taste my open squirt bottle with diet ginger ale, but it could have been full of vodka.  We were encouraged to bring chairs, which I did.  Nobody cared about my hip pack and CCW.  The place was full of people my age, and half my age, and in single digits.  My friend and I had fun counting the Beatles T-shirts on children.  Everyone had a big smile on their face all day (well, except a four year old girl whose parents mercifully took her away).  It was set up like a festival, but a quick walk around showed that only sponsors had booths.  The US Navy had some huge simulator there as a ride, but the line was long and I don’t do well on roller coasters so I passed.

One Libertarian note.  In the middle of an adjoining field is an obilesk.  The plaque was hilarious, I had to photograph it.  I had never seen a public commemoration of a tax increase!  The plaque starts with a quote from the Governor that congratulates the voters on choosing to tax themselves for ‘greenspace,’ and reads

“Thank you, Suwanee residents!  Your foresight and generosity in approving the 2001 Open Space Bond Referendum provided significant funding for this park, which serves as Suwanee’s “front yard” and primary gathering place, and for more than 200 acres of land, which now provide our community with additional parks and open space areas.  Your willingess to vote with your hearts and your eyes on the future, in an election that tripled the prvious highest voter turnout, has enhanced the quality of life in Suwanee for generations to come.”

"Thanks for taxing yourselves!"

Plaque at park in Suwanee GA

Translation: “Your dark overlords thank you for giving us money instead of making us take it from you.”

My Beatle buddy also is a Libertarian.  She couldn’t be bothered to walk to the obilesk, but she’ll laugh when I email the photo to her.

All in all, a delightful Beatle day!

Earthquake some more February 28, 2010

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Earthquake released their penultimate LP in June of 1977, also on the Beserkley label but now distributed by Columbia instead of Playboy.  Leveled is even better than 8.5 had been a year earlier.

Lovin’ Cup: Co-written with Kenny Laguna, later of Joan Jett fame.  Power pop of the first order.  John Doukas sings to a girl he loves but who is with some other guy who treats her like a trophy, like a loving cup.  The chorus says it all: “He’s got you where he wants you / He has you when he wants to / But I’m the one who wants you / I think that ain’t fair…”  The harmony is very good, and the extended and repeated “It ain’t fair” line is so much fun to sing along with.

Emma: I happen to heart Earthquake’s version of this song.  Hot Chocolate did the original, but Earthquake turns it into a moody rocker.  It’s about suicide — the title woman “can’t go on living on dreams no more” after zero success in launching an acting career.  A scorcher.  John Doukas lets out a few rock screams that are chilling.  Not a top-40 prospect because of subject matter.

Kicks: The Paul Revere & The Raiders classic, written by Barry Mann (“Who Put The Bomp…”) and his wife Cynthia Weil.  Earthquake ups the energy, and Doukas’ vocal actually pays attention to the lyrics.  It’s an anti-drug, anti-casual sex warning.  “That road goes nowhere”.  The band repeats the title in harmony while Doukas vamps on the ending.  It is a superb performance that makes you realize the song is ten times better than you remembered.

Trainride: The obligatory extended jam song.  Robbie Dunbar and Gary Phillips are no slouches on guitar, and they put together some worthwhile call-and-response guitar parts.  It probably was a barnburner live, a great rock dance song.  Alas, sometimes I skip past it on the CD I burned from the LP.

Nothing Personal: Mid-tempo rocker with a distinctive guitar line.  Nice chorus with the band chanting the title in harmony in response to Doukas’ ad libs.  The bridge is muscular and leads into a superb guitar solo over descending chords.  Drummer Steve Nelson shines.  A later guitar solo is very different, but still well executed. And I cannot figure out what the hell the song is about.  Like it though.

Street Fever: Uptempo power pop.  The bass is uncharacteristically loud and that ain’t bad.  The singer bitches about radio (which never did Earthquake any favors) with a great line about “Radio is blasting out the same six songs”.  The song is a bit wordy, but the chorus is about dancing in the street.  And, as usual, the instrumental break shows a concise and satisfying solo — until it goes over the top into a Yardbirds-styled raveup.

Julie Anne: Also co-written with Kenny Laguna.  Wonderful twin guitar riff to open the track.  Very pop, with handclaps and acoustic-electric guitar.  Julie Anne is quite the heartbreaker who shut down the singer.  “How many more hearts will she abuse / How many more men will she misuse?”  The band sings those lines while Doukas vamps in front.  Good melody, strong rhythm, and an irresistible chorus.  If that is electric organ on the final turnaround, who the hell is playing it?

Upstairs: Finger picked electric guitar opens what sounds like a rocked up folk song.  It’s Earthquake’s original take on The Beach Boys’ “In My Room.”  The band and Doukas alternate vocal lines about the refuge so many of us feel about our room.  Not as memorable a melody as other songs on the LP, but it’s so well put together.

Earthquake fucking ROCKED.

I added a couple of tracks from the ‘best of’ CD when I burned this.  The live version of an early 45, “Sittin’ In The Middle Of Madness” is a lot of warped fun.  During a rhythmic break Doukas speaks a few lines like “Madness is just a form of escape.”  Another line borrows the cliche “Insanity comes slowly to the well-constructed mind.”  And how can you ignore a line like “I told him where to go / I said ‘fuck you, don’t you know’” The live version is more than 6 minutes and is a great extended rocker.  Doukas could sound whiney sometimes, but he could belt out a rock-n-roll scream worthy of Roger Daltry.

Because I am a huge Velvet Underground fan I had to include their live take on “Head Held High.”  Alas, there is none of Lou Reed’s humor.  I hate to have to say, it is one of the few losers in the Earthquake catalog.

Whatever happened to these musicians?  Dunbar and Phillips were lyric guitarists, Steve Nelson was a powerful drummer, and Stan Miller was no slouch on bass.  Their harmony often was better than Doukas’ lead vocals.  Every guy in the band should have gone on to rock stardom.

EARTHQUAKE! February 16, 2010

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Earthquake was a San Francisco Bay area quintet through most of the 1970s.  While never selling a whole lot of records, they made some brilliant metallic power pop.  They could copy, like their 45 of The Easybeats’ “Friday On My Mind;” they could improve crap like “It’s A Tall Order (For A Short Guy);” and they could jam like Santana at the Fillmore.  They were a very, very good second-tier band.

I base my affection for Earthquake from two albums from 1976 and 1977.  I have never heard either of the first two records they put out on A&M (although I kind of like the red pen-squiggle cover art on one of them).  In 1975 they signed with Beserkley Records and made another four long players.  I know the middle two: 8.5 and Leveled, from 1976 and ’77.

These two Earthquake albums hit me at exactly the right moment.  Earthquake gave me consistent rock with strong melodies.  More ‘boy next door’ than Sammy Hagar, but that’s the territory we’re talking about.  Lead singer John Doukas had a swagger and authority in his voice, and had a remarkable range from high to low notes.  But he sounded strained at the top of his register, even though his pitch never faltered.  He’s good, but he can be wearing.

8.5 came out in July 1976, when disco still reigned.  The band was competing with Diana Ross, The Starland Ever-Lovin’ Vocal Band, The Bee Gees “You Should Be Dancing”, Wild Cherry, Walter Murphy, and the insane “Disco Duck” by Rick Dees.  Not the most inviting climate for a rock pop band.

“Finders Keepers” – A cover of a song first done by the soul group Chairmen Of The Board.  The original was a funk song with an annoying synthesiser theme.  Earthquake transforms the song.  Suddenly there is a melody.  A five piece band with two lead guitarists, and I was surprised to learn the original was a soul song.

“Little Cindy” – riff rock and Doukas sounding good.  “How many lovers / How many others / Are hidden inside your head?”  Fun lead guitar break.  Then it mutates into a Who raveup, with drummer Steve Nelson doing a credible homage to Keith Moon while one of the guitarists does a note-perfect Tommy-era Pete Townshend.

“And He Likes To Hurt You” – both the lead guitarists also play piano, so no telling exactly who is doing what on the track.  It’s a power ballad that isn’t powerful.  Good melody, a little “ooo” harmony, and an unfortunately whiney story.  He tells his ex that the reason her new guy treats her so bad isn’t to hurt her; no, this self-centered pig thinks the new guy treats her bad so it will hurt HIM.  If I didn’t understand English and therefore didn’t get pissed off at the lyrics, I’d think this was a very strong performance.

“Savin’ My Love” – Extended rock in a San Francisco style, and well done.  I find Doukas’ voice a little scratchy on the choruses, but the guitar work is superb.  There is a passage of twin lead guitars sounding just like Carlos Santana.

“Girl Named Jesse James” – “Pretty girl with an outlaw’s name.”  Uptempo but light, some acoustic guitar.  It almost sounds like a folk song.

“Motivate Me” – WOW.  Power Pop with a lyric line to make your head spin 360 degrees.  Lead singer declaims, band responds in harmony, lead singer takes over.  Big, fat, chunky chords that sound so exciting.  “I say Baby (Hey Baby) / Hey Baby (Whooo) / Mo-mo-mo-ti-vate me! / WOOOOOO!”  Then the tempo drops, and Doukas mixes singing and chanting with “As a child / No one could reach me, so they’d say / Some of my elements were missing / He’s not like other kids / Just sits and stares all day / The doctors say ‘he keeps resisting’”  A fast bunch of chord changes and the tempo is hot again.  “So keep your head,/ Obey all the rules! / I’m sick and tired of what they tell me to do / Don’t mess with me / It ain’t your place / I just might go off in your face.”  Short solo and back to the song.

“Hit The Floor” – Pure Power Pop.  Huge guitar chords, trippy drums, evocative lyrics “Whiskey on my breath / Trouble on my mind.”  The chorus is indelible: “Hit the floor one more time / Close that door, this boy’s on fire”  Superb lead guitar right behind the vocals on the last couple of choruses.  Just when you think the song is ending it comes back as an instrumental, a wall of fun rock with a comfortable screaming lead guitar.

“Same Old Story” – Sounds like a Hollies outtake.  Drummer Steve Nelson shows creativity throughout this.  The melody isn’t as wide or memorable as “Hit The Floor” so it suffers from following that song.  Still, there is a fair amount of very nice harmony.

“Don’t Want To Go Back” – Who turned up the bass?  Straight ahead rock with twin lead guitars.  The song is about how great the band feels performing in your town, how the band doesn’t want to leave to go back home.  The last verse is hilarious, with a lyric about the local groupies: “My pulse is weak / She wouldn’t let me sleep / The girl’s got expectations.”  They sound as if they are having a good time, and it’s infectious.  Creative double guitar instrumental break.  A happier message than “Closing Time” by Semisonic, that’s for sure.  A fine rocker!

There were two singles that I particularly liked and burned to the CD.  Their debut release on Beserkley Records was a wonderful cover of The Easybeats’ “Friday On My Mind.”  It rocks, it pops, it’s got that happy chorus.  The band vocals are original, but still very very pop.  Energetic execution of a fun song.

I suppose there is no excuse for “It’s A Tall Order (For A Short Guy),” except that I rather like Jonathan King, pretentious twit that he is.  King’s original was just a throwaway as the flip side of a minor British hit, but he gave it a lot of attention.  The result sounds like “A-B-C” era Jackson Five.  The arrangement can send people into diabetic comas it’s so sweet, and King’s vocal is making fun of every word he sings.  Very, very cynical record.

Earthquake turns the song inside out like it did with “Finders Keepers”.  Their remake actually rocks, losing the original bubblegum beat and turning it into a contemporary rock song.  Doukas gets positively histrionic when he stammers over a repeated “I’m a-gonna try,” and shows the band takes the lyrics more seriously than the writer did.  But it’s a fun song with fun dumb sing-a-long lyrics.  Sometimes I crank up the volume for this one (except that I already cranked it up for “Friday On My Mind” and for “Don’t Want To Go Back” and “Hit The Floor,” which explains why I’m nearly deaf…)

Grin (Nils Lofgren) February 11, 2010

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When Todd Rundgren first went solo he disguised himself as “Runt.”  With a comperable resume’ (Rundgren had been in Nazz, Lofgren had been in Neil Young’s touring band), Nils Lofgren hid behind the group name “Grin.”  Yes, it was a group — there was a drummer and a bass player, and both helped with the singing.  But Grin was Lofgren’s baby all along.

He didn’t need to hide.

I just digitalized the first Grin LP.  It came out on a Columbia subsidiary called Spindizzy in the spring of 1971.  According to Joel Whitburn, Grin had released at least a 45 about six months earlier on the mysterious Thunder label, and actually made it to #108 on the charts…

The eponymous first album is a bit schizophrenic.  There is some of the noisy rhythmic rock that Lofgren concentrated on as a bona fide solo act (Think “Keith Don’t Go”).  Better is the purely pop stuff.  It is so simple it is childlike, but the melodies are great and often the lyrics are clever.  By the by, the LP was produced by David Briggs, who had handled some of the Neil Young LPs that Nils played on; it was dedicated to the brilliant but lazy blues guitarist Roy Buchannan who had another 16 years to look bored on stage while playing amazing blues licks.

“Like Rain” — “I love you like rain, darling.”  Uptempo, strong rhythm guitar, but a moving love song.  It’s tilling some of the same field that The Velvet Underground did on “Who Loves The Sun,” although not as polished.  I love the organ swell in the bridge, and how it resolves to the instrumental verse.  It ends with the repeat of “I’ll meet the kind of friend that’s always in”, and I like the harmony he sings with himself.  I keep thinking I should pick up my Guild guitar and work up an arrangement.

“See What A Love Can Do” — I don’t much care for the song, but I discover I am singing along on the chorus.  Rhythm rock, a glimpse of Nils’ future.  Considering it came out in 1971 it qualifies as guitar riff rock.  What kind of song begins “He was already dead when she said ‘I love him more than ever”?  “Son I think you’re lost boy, Son I think it’s true” is the repetitious part of the chorus.  The title chorus is nice, with Nils singing the lyrics on the beat, and also vamping it front.  The screams in the background during the last minute or so are just a bit weird though.

“Everybody’s Missing The Sun” — with love to The Band.  Nils’ phrasing is so reminiscent of Richard Manual or Rick Danko, and the upright piano is so Manual.  It’s a light, bouncy song with a sing-along melody.  As the song progresses, there is unison and then harmony on the chorus.  All in all, another tip of the hat to “Who Loves The Sun”?  Or maybe “Here Comes The Sun”?

“18 Faced Lover”  — Very hard rock, with a deliberately rough vocal.  I don’t like the song, but the chorus has some nice harmony.  The opening riff is used between verses.  The guitar solo is excellent.  The drum and guitar riff at the end is especially designed for concert performance.

“Outlaw” — I love the spoken intro.  Lofgren is telling producer David Briggs that it’s up to him to say when a take is good enough because Nils is having so much fun in the studio he’ll just do the same song over and over for giggles.  HOWEVER… I hate the song.  It’s about waking up and finding an outlaw killing his sister — an outlaw whose response to the singer’s grief is “Well, that’s too bad.”  I suppose it’s not impossible for a melody and arrangement to outweigh the lethal negativity, but this song is not such an example.

“We All Sung Together” — piano and unison.  This is the song that made it to #108 in 1970.  When Spindizzy issued it in July of 1971 it didn’t even bubble under.  A loping rhythm guitar and bass drive the song.  Definitely a catchy melody.  The chorus features several voices in unison, repeating the title line eight times; Nils vamps a little at first, and by the end of the song he’s vamping a lot.  There are a few places where Nils sneaks in some delightfully insane piano parts, but they are always background.  The ending is a dissolve, the guys just quit playing and singing.  And it takes maybe two seconds for everyone to be finished.  There is a certain charm to a little amateurishness.

Then, the words of Tommy James and The Shondells, “Turn it over my friend”.  I am so glad we no longer need to get up, walk over to the stereo, and turn the album over anymore.

“If I Were A Song” — My favorite song from the first time I listened to the vinyl in 1971.  It’s another track that makes me think about picking up my own guitar.   It opens with an extraneous guitar line, then the rhythm guitar hits and we’re off.  “If I were a song / I’d be sung all night long.”  Nice organ roll into the bridge, and a super lead guitar behind the lyrics, with producer David Briggs using the pan knobs on the guitar in way that went out of fashion about ten minutes after this LP was recorded.  I like the instrumental break because I like the sound of the organ, and the separate lead guitars in each channel don’t hurt.  That great guitar continues behind the vocals for most of the rest of the song, still getting panned rapidly from channel to channel.  The last verses sounds so good, with the organ making it sound so full.  Good melody and a great concept.  Lofgren gets a little screechy on last verse, but not so much as to ruin anything.

“Take You To The Movies Tonight” — another keeper.  Solo acoustic guitar opens, and Nils adds a living room vocal.  It’s so comfortable.  “Put your Saturday night dress on,” he sings; “Don’t call me at home ‘cos I’m gone / I’ll be right over, gonna take you to the movies tonight.”  The theme and some of the lyrics put me in mind of The Beatles’ “Any Time At All,” particularly the line where he asks the girl to save her crying for his shoulder.  It is especially childlike because the arrangement is so sparce.  A great performance.  1:46 and it’s gone…

“Direction” — Let’s ROCK!  A comfortable uptempo rhythm guitar intro, sounding like Heart and a million other bands.  The lead slide guitar sounds like Don Felder on The Eagles “Is It True,” but since that didn’t come out until 1974, maybe it’s Felder who sounds like Grin!  Lyrically it’s about the singer’s obsession for a woman.  “Please do me now!  I need DIRECTION / I need someone to love me DIRECTION You’re the one I’m thinking of…”  Kind of reminds me of Earthquake and “Motivate Me” although it is not as streamlined a piece of power pop.  And how can you resist the lyric “Say something clever or I’m gonna cry”?  It’s a good synthesis of his rock and his pop elements.

“Pioneer Mary” — slow tinkly guitar, another song with a noticable Band influence.  “Ran away from Georgia…”  Nils swaps lyric lines with himself to exceptionally good effect, and the verse ends “She’s got me / And now I’m missing you”.  The quiet lead guitars in the turnaround are sweet.  Why did he leave his little home town?  “Friendly people make me shy / I couldn’t cry”.  The second time through the chorus ends “You’ve got me / And now I’m missing her.”  In the words of The Lovin’ Spoonful, “You better go home, son, and make up your mind.”  It ends with a nice “Doo doo wah” harmony over guitar.  It’s 3:44, but that’s about 30 seconds too long.  The ending is nice, sustained “dooo” harmony and softly in the left channel, a final guitar chord and flick of the tremelo bar.

“Open Wide” -  A double entre love song.  He loves the girl, he wants her to open wide — emotionally to the reality of his feelings, and physically.  The band repeats the title lines with harmony on the chorus, and Nils vamps in front.  A piano song.  Comfortable, another track from his pop side.  It ends with a sudden “Everything’s alright” and a cliched country guitar hammer-on chord.

“I Had Too Much (Miss Dazi)” – noisy rock drivel.  What can I say, I like melody and harmony.  As his later “Keith Don’t Go” demonstrates, Nils was a Rolling Stones fan.  Not exactly “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” but lyrics worthy of “Live With Me”:  “I’d hit you in the mouth but honey, you know I’m lazy.”  There is a tempo shift when he goes to the chorus, and then when it turns around back into the verse.  Nils adds a hard edged but lyric slide lead guitar between lyric lines of the last verse, then does a Dylan (think “Just Like A Woman”) and ends the song with an instrumental verse.

I also burned some Grin 45s from later LPs.  He did two more albums for Spindizzy (1+1 and All Out) and one for A&M before he started using his own name.  I no longer own the other LPs, but my memory is that he became less pop and more self conscious as time went by.

Of the 45s I digitalized, “White Lies” is the winner.  Great power pop in the tradition of Paul Revere & The Raiders; I love the alternating notes on the last “White Li-i-i-i-es” of each chorus.  The chorus ends with that “White Lies / Telling everybody that I love you” and it puts me in mind of Carolyne Mas “Everybody Knows (How Much I Love You).”  Oops, I’m showing off.  Back to Grin.  The song pauses with a short rhythm guitar break borrowed from The Moody Blues “Never Comes The Day,” and then another one that channels The Vogues’ “Five O’Clock World” before returning to the song proper.  If it sounds vaguely familiar it may be that radio played it where you lived; the song peaked at #75 in the winter of 1972.  It was on the second Grin LP, 1+1.  The ending is unfortunate, sounds as if he just couldn’t figure out how to get out of the song.

The B-side is non-LP, but “Just To Have You” is not particularly noteworthy.  Hokey bouncy piano, again borrowed from Richard Manual and The Band.  There is some nice harmony on the chorus.

At this point, Nils Lofgren’s work with Bruce Springsteen has made the 23 people who have ever heard of him forget that he originally was a backing musician for Neil Young.  He is a very good guitarist, he’s got great rock and roll stage moves, and he’s solidly second tier.  But so is much of my favorine music (says the guy who has done essays on Carolyne Mas, John Hammond, Slade, Flying Burrito Brothers, the Rush twins Tom and Merrilee, and Terry Reid)…

The Beatles Christmas Album December 24, 2009

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Perhaps the least known part of The Beatles’ catalogue is the Christmas messages made for members of their fan club between 1963 and 1969.  The Hamburg sessions produced by Bert Kaempfert in 1961 have more currency — Anthology I contains the three essential tracks from that period: John singing “Ain’t She Sweet;” The Beatles (with Pete Best instead of Ringo, and with Stu Sutcliffe) backing Tony Sheridan’s version of “My Bonnie;” and the instrumental “Cry For A Shadow.”  “My Bonnie” even reached #26 on the Billboard singles’ chart in 1964.

Apple released a promo-only album of the seven Christmas messages in 1970, and surely by now CD versions are easily available.  If you still refer to each of the Beatles by his first name — and expect everyone to know who you’re talking about — and especially if you are fond of Monty Python or even The Goons, you MUST get yourself a copy.

It is exciting to hear how the personalities develop over those seven years.  Their self confidence and their wit grow each year, with only a few minor clunkers amidst the gold.  The later messages also include wonderful music surprises, from Paul’s “Banjo Song” to the band’s full bore “Christmas Time Is Here Again.”

1963: The Beatles sound excited and innocent and oh, so young; George is only 20 years old.  The message opens with a demented ersion of “Good King Wenceslas” including some, uhh, non-traditional lyrics.  But even then, in 1963, we hear flashes of the cleverness that would win the world in only a few months.  John Lennon begins the spoken messages with “This is John speaking with his voice.”  He finishes with “I’d like to reply personally to everybody but I just haven’t enough pens.”  In the middle he makes fun of the words clearly written by some PR flack (or maybe by Brian Epstein himself).  Paul is next, doing a sincere explanation of how much the band enjoys working out new songs in the studio.  But when he gets to the section where the message is designed to make fans stop throwing jelly babies at them on stage he has a blast listing all the other candy that the band still like.  John becomes bolder about adding a wisecrack commentary; when Paul says people are telling him to stop so someone else can talk John shouts “Stop! Stop shouting those animals!”  As Paul finishes John sings some German to the melody of “Wenceslas” and ends with “Ja, Ringo!” to introduce him.

Ringo speaks barely three lines, but he sneaks in a surprisingly bluesy and tuneful verse of “Wenceslas.”  George takes the mike and says “Thank you Ringo.  We’ll phone you” as if he had just flunked an audition.  Then he puts in a plug for the fan club secretaries back in Liverpool, adding the names Frida Kelly, Bettina Rose, and Ann Collingham as footnotes to the world of Beatles history.  George sings a verse of “Wenceslas,” then John leads them all in a party version of “Rudolph” that includes the lyrics “Rudolph the red nosed Ringo” and “When everybody picked it…”  It ends with all four shouting “Merry Christmas Everybody!”

1964: We hear marching footsteps approaching the microphone.  Someone starts playing piano, and a drunken group rendering of “Jingle Bells” opens the message (love that lead kazoo!).  Paul is the first to speak, sounding more confident and playful than a year earlier.  He thanks everyone for buying the records, he knows they’ve been doing so because “the sales have been very good, you see?”  Reading from a script, he says he hopes fans have liked the records as much as the Beatles have enjoyed “melting them — no wait, that’s wrong!  MAKING them.”  John continues to supply background commentary; when Paul tells fans he doesn’t know where the group would be without them John adds “In the army, perhaps.”  Paul picks up on a comment John made in the 1963 Christmas message, making fun of himself as being in the same studio they’ve used “since the old days of “Love Me Do,” many years ago it seems;” in fact, they recorded “Love Me Do” barely 25 months earlier.  Paul passes the microphone to John with a sing-song “Jo-ho-hon.”

And again in 1964 John savages the script he is given.  Each of the times he is to say the word “too” he isolates it for humor; he even add-libs an imaginary “Page two” in the same manner.  Paul asks him if he wrote it himself, and John says “No, it’s somebody’s bad handwroter,” word play that now is obsolete but at the time was a clever pun on the word “typewriter.”  John thanks fans for buying In His Own Write (“it was very handy”) and says he’s working on a second book.  “It’ll be the usual rubbish, but it won’t cost much, that’s the bargain we’re going to strike up.”  John passes the microphone to George by saying “George, who will speak to you — NOW!”

George begin his section with a humerous “Hi there!”, but nonetheless his  is the most straightforward greeting of the year, he thanks fans for watching “A Hard Day’s Night” and teases that the next film — in a wonderful scouse accent — “it’s a-gonna be in color.”  John adds, “Green.”  George promises the next film will be a big laugh, and everyone does an Austin Powers/Dr. Evil big laugh.  Still, George finishes with a sincere sounding ‘happy Christmas” and teases that they might see fans on tour.

Ringo is next, and he is thoroughly drunk.  At one point we hear a huge crash off microphone and Ringo belatedly slurs “Who’s dropping that?” before returning to his list of places the band performed during the year; trouble is, Ringo can only remember America, New Zealand and Australia, and he mentions the antipodes twice.

It’s probably John who jumps on piano and leads the band in a non-Christmas song of “Can you wash your father’s shirt, oh can you wash it clean.”  Marching footsteps retreat from the microphone, with the periodic unison shout of “Happy Christmas.”

1965: Let the lunacy begin.  In 1963 and 1964 the sum total of the planning was determining in what order each man spoke, and either a “handwroter” script or just the instructions ‘you talk about the movie, you talk about the presents.’  Starting with 1965 we see a more sophisticated message that shows the Beatles were giving a lot of thought to what they would do.  Their exposure to England’s pre-Monty Python loons The Goon Show is an obvious influence, likely helped by George Martin’s experience producing some of The Goon’s classic routines.

The message fades in on a wacky but excellent group harmony version of “Yesterday.”  Later they return to this version but with holiday lyrics, finishing the song with “Bless you all on Christmas day” that uses a corny harmony arrangement on the final chord — but the performance really is top-notch.  After the musical intro, Ringo and Paul remind each other Christmas is coming and they should do a Christmas record.  George is the quietest of the four, but he is not silent.  On behalf of John and himself he thanks everyone for the cards and presents they’ve received over the year; John adds, in a sometimes unintelligible mumble, “On behalf of George and I, I’d just like to thank you for the ????????……and the rest of it.”

Paul says “Well, Ringo, what have we done this year?”  Ringo replies “I see you haven’t shaved again.”  After a tiny pause Paul repeats “Well, Ringo, what have we done this year?”, with some laughter from John or George.  Again the band makes fun of their touring schedule — “we’ve been away…and come back” says a sober Ringo, and John adds “Like last year.”  This is followed by the de rigueur thanks for the cards and presents.

John plays his guitar and demonstrates his terrific Scots brogue.  Only a few words are understandable — “Happy Christmas to you listeners wherein ever…. We belong to Edinburgh… Jack MacGregor…Christmas with a pound of Irish stew.”  John makes it sound like a drunk in an Aberdeen pub, and it is funny.  But he’s not done.  George says “Thank you John,” but John shifts gears — and guitar rhythn — to sing “Down in the jungle where the old black go / We got some, we got some…”  It morphs into “Auld Lang Syne,” with various members singing along on “For the sake of Auld Lang Syne my dear…”

Paul continues with the established theme — “Same old mic, same old studio” he says; Ringo adds “same old guitars, same old faces.”  John then begins an a capella version of the standard “It’s The Same Old Song” until George shouts him down with “Copyright, Johnny” — in order to avoid legal problems, the Beatles’ songs were the only copyrighted music allowed on the Christmas messages.  So Paul asks what they can do without a copyright, and John in a funny voice says “How about “We’ll Gather Lilacs In An Old Brown Shoe”?”  (remember that next time you listen to Past Masters Volume 2 and you hear George’s song “Old Brown Shoe”!)

Ringo and Paul then do what sounds like an ad-libbed riff about having fans in the army and playing a request for “all the boys in B.A.O.R.E.”, a fictitious branch of the British services.  John and Ringo swap fake weather reports, then make a BBC radio joke about tuning to a particular frequency.

Suddenly John is channeling Bob Dylan, singing “Auld Lang Syne” with Dylan’s voice, and pissed-off lyrics about Vietnam and China.  Ringo adds a line about bodies floating in the river Jordan, and when the singing stops he says “Well, that should cover Israel.”  Paul says the band has tried its best to please everone, and John interrupts to say “And if you haven’t got yours, send four pence in and get a free one.”

Back to music.  Perhaps it was an English folk carol, or maybe just an in-joke from Quarrybank Elementary, as John and then the others sort-of sing “Christmas comes but once a year / But when it does you know it’s here / Because we’ve got a ??????????? / For Christmas.”  Then it’s back to “Yesterday” with the Christmas ending.  The band continues to chant the occasional “Christmas Day” to the tune of “Yesterday” while John vamps in front.  Again he makes fun of their success, saying 1965 was a big year for them, one of the biggest since they can remember, and they can remember a lot of big years.  But then, completely off the wall, John adds “Take — take bugs.”  Then he’s back to an army unit reference.  He harkens back to the dueling weather reports by saying “And the weather is perfectly all right, thank you!”

And then the strangest thing any Beatle said up until the “We’re bigger than Jesus” interview a year later.  For some reason thinking of marriage’s “something old something new something borrowed and something blue,” John says “And don’t forget the old, the new, some folks blue, some folks green, you take no notice of them, it’s an all white policy in this group.”

A return to the Christmas lyrics of “Yesterday” with full harmony.  Just when you know the message should be over John adds “…but once a year.”  Paul or Ringo continues “Aye, and when it comes it brings good cheer.”  Ringo attempts to continue with “So don’t…” but is cut off by the others and a reprise of “Yesterday” with holiday lyrics.  Was this a Liverpool dirty carol?  I’ve always wondered what Ringo would have said if he hadn’t been cut off.

At this point the message is over.  We are treated to a few moments of Paul and George yelling at the recording engineer to “put the red light off!”  Amidst this John, in a character voice, says “This is Johnny Rhythm, just saying good night to youse all and God bless!”

Several sections of this message make no sense, but that doesn’t keep them from being very funny.  The manic and goofy nature of the message is a wonderful treat; in 2009 it remains a lovely insight into their personalities and creativity of more than 40 Christmasses past.  And, it turns out, they were just getting warmed up…

1966: The ultimate for group interaction.  All four Beatles seem to have been equally involved with the planning.  The theme song is an original, “Everywhere It’s Christmas.”  The recurring lyric, sung in British music hall style to a pounding piano, is “Everywhere it’s Christmas / Everywhere it’s sung / London, Paris, Rome, and New York / Tokyo, Hong Kong / Oh, Everywhere it’s Christmas / And I’m off to join the cheer / Everywhere it’s Christmas / At the end of every year / Oh, everywhere it’s Christas / At the end of every year.”  The Beatles trade off vocals when they list the city names, and some lines of the song are solo.  The song — or at least parts of it — are repeated several times in the message.

And we hear skits.  The Beatles are singing “Away in a manger” like choir boys when George says “Our story opens in Corsica…”  Ringo moves the site to the Swiss Alps where two elderly Scotchmen munch on a rare cheese (George: “Wonderful stuff this, Agnes.”  John: “Aye, wonderful stuff.”).  Ringo moves it on to what we learn is Felpin Mansion, home of Count Balder, son of the noble who invented the rack.

In the meantime Paul and John tell a wonderful story about Podgy the bear and his friend Jasper.  In true Lennon fashion the two are “huddled around the unlit fire.”  They are out of matches and candles.  Podgy says they must buy some, but Jasper says they are out of paper, too, and cannot write a shopping list.  “No need to worry” says John as Podgy the bear.  “You keep saying to yourself ‘matches’ and I’ll keep saying ‘candles’ until we reach the shop.  Then we won’t need to write it down, we’ll remember.”  Jasper asks “Who’ll remember the buns, Podgy?”  The answer is “We both will!”  So Paul says in Jasper’s falsetto “matches” and John says in Podgy’s basso “candles,” and they repeat them as they fade out.  It is inexplicably heartwarming.

The action moves to Felpin Mansion.  John is the count, and he knocks at Paul’s door to visit in his guest room.  The two men agree they like the “good old tunes;” Paul could be describing the Beatle catalogue as he says “So do I Count, so do I.  But they’re all melody, aren’t they?”  Paul launches in to “The Banjo Song, a hilarious sing-a-long that uses a banjo as a metaphor for an unfaithful lover.  “Please don’t bring your banjo back, I don’t know where it’s been.”  The chorus, where everyone joins in, is “And if I ever see another banjo / I’m going out to buy a big balloon” over and over.  This is high level silliness!

Another run through “Everywhere it’s Christmas,” and the message ends with general party noise.  We can hear someone say “Jolly good” as it fades out.

1967: “Christmastime Is Here Again” is the theme song for 1967.  Listen to Ringo’s drums and you’ll hear the recording fits perfectly with the Beatles’ psychaedelic period of “Hello Goodbye,” “Only A Northern Song,” “Penny Lane,” and “Strawberry Fields Forever.”  It has a specific link to “All Together Now” — the verse ends with the rhythm stopping and Ringo singing “O-U-T spells out.”  It is a tremendous recording and deserved to see release as a December single.

Overall this is the finest of the Beatle Christmas messages.  The skits are more ambitious.  And in keeping with that summer’s Sgt. Pepper album’s construction showing the group as an alter-ego band that would not have to perform live, the Christmas message is a long audition (Audition for what remains up in the air).  The skit begins with Paul intoning “The boys arrive at BBC house.”  We hear the overamplified sound of a door knocker, and John says in a dismissive way “Whaddayawant?”  The boys say in unison “We have been granted permission, oh wise one;” John responds with a respectful gasp and says “Ah — pass in peace.”  Somebody whistles as the Beatles walk into BBC House, with a section of the Christmastime song playing at times.

John announces there will be an audition “in the fluffy rehearsal room, bring your own!”  Next we hear an insane tapdance, followed by an audition of an old fart who never gets around to performing  Then a fake singing commercial — an idea Pete Townshend explored more thoroughly a few months later on The Who Sell Out — for a product called Wonderlust.

Suddenly it’s a BBC-TV interview show.  Either George or Paul is the compere, and John is the stuffed shirt Sir Gerald  “I don’t think you’re answering my question,” says the compere, and John rearranges his first answer with “Let me put it this way.  There was a job to be done.”

An abrupt seque to a TV game show where George shouts “On to the next round!”  Then it’s a request music show, where George pulls a Monty Python by saying “In the recent heavy fighting near Blackpool, Mrs. G. Evans of Solihull was gradually injured.”  She wants to hear “Plenty Of Jam Jars” by the Ravellers, and that’s what she gets — The Beatles as The Ravellers, singing a particularly stupid little song.  Think of it as an outtake of “You Know My Name,” it’s that funny.

John and George swap non-sequiturs as John tells contestant George what he’s won: “A trip to Denver and five others!” And even better, “– wait for it — you have been elected as independent candidate for Paddington!”

A reprise of the Wonderlust commercial, then Ringo introduces “Theatre Hour” by saying it is “brought to you tonight from the arms of someone new.”  He voices a silly bit about a call from a pay phone (remember them?) being cut off, but the dramatic sound effects sound like Monty Python’s routine about Ralph Melish from 1973’s Matching Tie And Handkerchief.

Suddenly George Martin says “They’d like to thank you for a wonderful year.”  The other George says “We’d like to thank you for a wonderful year.”  And the group says in unison “Thank you for a wonderful year.”

Then we hear a slow organ version of “Auld Lang Syne” with wind sound effects.  John does his sentimental Scots brogue again, practically a whisper.  No telling what the hell he’s saying, although there seem to be some words about Christmas times, and “all the best from me to you,” and ‘the heather and little inn.”  The poem finishes with something about “…to your arms once back again.”  And it fades out as John softly sings “Walk away, ye bonnie….”  It is a moving piece.

1968: To paraphrase The National Lampoon: The dleam is over.  This is the year The Beatles fragment and show a bit of a tin ear.  Just as The White Album — released while they were recording the Christmas message — was more a mish-mash of solo songs rather than a group effort, we see the same thing on the Christmas record.  Only one segment contains any interaction between Beatles, and it likely had been in the can for a year.  Everything else is solo segments edited together to make an enjoyable but chaotic recording.

Paul opens with his quiet Christmas song wishing everyone a happy new year, happy Christmas, happy Easter, happy autumn, and happy Michelmas “this year of 1968, going on — ’69.”  After a few verses we get a snippet of “Helter Skelter” played at 45rpm instead of 33.

It segues into one of John’s clever stories, worthy of In His Own Write or Spaniard In The Works.  “Once upon a time there were two balloons called Jock and Yono.”  They battled “overwhelming oddities, including some of their beast friends.”  Because some of the slurs thrown at them stuck slightly “they occasionally had to resort to the dry cleaners.  Luckily this did not kill them and they weren’t banned from the Olympic Games.  They lived hopefully ever after and who could blame them?”  The thick use of puns makes me wonder if any of the Monty Python guys was a fan club member who got this Christmas flexie disc.

George follows with a surprizingly cynical thank you.  Of course he makes fun of the Beatles’ success, but says “we” would like to say “happy Christmas to you, our faithful, beloved fans all over the world who have made our life worth living.”  He redeems it by introducing roadie Mal Evans to say a word of greeting “at this festive occasion.”  Buried in the mix over a music fanfare we hear the gentle giant say “Merry Christmas, children everywhere!”

The only interactive segment follows Mal Evans’ greetings.  It sounds like arbitrarily spliced questions and non-answers from unrelated Ringo and John conversations.  John in the guise of a Monty-Python-styled pepperpot woman apologizes to Ringo, “I didnt know you were coming.”  Ringo replies “I’m not surprized.”  John goes over the top — “Well I am!  Certainly am!  Well if you ask me I think it’s insane!”  John’s old lady is a warm stereotype — arguing prices and paying “19 and 5 to save me if you don’t mind!”; or “Don’t you say yes to me!  I’m telling you!”.

After that short throwback to the energy and playfulness of the earlier messages, Ringo introduces a singing Paul by saying “…he’s come all the way from Stokely Carmichael-On-Sea…”  We get another verse of Paul’s 1968 song “Happy new year, happy Christmas…”

John returns with an even crazier tale worthy of Spaniard In The Works.  “Once upon a pool table there lived a short-haired butcher’s boy…” it begins.  John uses some free association word play in things like “Her father was in a long story cut short in the middle of his life sentence.”  “The full meaning of Winchester Cathedral defies description.  Their loss was our Gainsborough Mill.”  He tags on another section with peculiar double-tracking unison, something about a birdbath feeling?

The main event turns out to be George Harrison, taped in New York with an absolutely dumbstruck Tiny Tim in tow.  George is gracious introducing Tiny and asking him to sing.  After all, The Beatles’ cartoon Yellow Submarine included some of Tiny Tim singing  his signature song “Tip Toe Through The Tulips.”  In the presence of BEATLE GEORGE HARRISON, Tiny is hyperventilating.  Of all  of “Mr. Harrison’s nice wonderful friends,” Tiny singles out Nat Weiss, the band’s American agent.  Then he announces he would play a song “I did in 1966 in front of Miss Jill for the first time.”  For those with lives too fulfilling to keep up with this minutiae, Tiny Tim got married in 1969 to Miss Vicki, not Miss Jill.  Anyway, Tiny planks his magic ukulele and belts out a, ummm, memorable version of “Nowhere Man.”  There is a nasty studio hum during part of the introduction, but all is forgiven for the subtle yet hilarious placing of backing sound effects; the Beatlemania screaming is too much.

Very different from the earlier years because of the absence of any group presence.  Little did we guess things would get worse.

1969: Four guys mailed in tapes from home to be edited into what proved to be The Beatles final fan club Christmas flexi-disc.  It is a far cry from the inspired lunacy of 1966 and 1967.  The biggest part of the message is John’s contribution, recordings he made at home with Yoko.  It is refreshing to hear Yoko as a 35 year old blushing bride, sounding tentative and happy discussing Christmas and the Elizabethan high wall with John.  But it’s creepy to hear their final segment decorating a tree, where John pretends to be a little boy asking for presents, and he calls Yoko “Mommy.”  And then there is the impromptu musical duet, where Yoko demonstrates that her vocal on “Don’t Worry Kyoto (Mummy’s Only Looking For Her Hand In The Snow)” was typical of her style.

Paul provides a new Christmas song on acoustic guitar: “This is to wish you all a merry merry Christmas / This is to wish you just a merry, merry year…”  It is smooth and calm, with a nice melody.  Paul also speaks a bit, hoping listeners have a very happy time at Christmas and “a good fortunate, lucky New Year.”

Ringo gets two segments.  He sings a short neo-traditional Christmas song citing “The coming birthday of your life, mama’s little boy”.  Later he returns chanting “Merry Christmas” until it morphs into “Magic Christian;” he finishes with a message to engineer Ken Scott “It’s just a plug for the film, Ken.  Try and keep it on.”

George gets the least time.  He sings a few lines of doggerel to wish everyone a wonderful Christmas and a happy new year.  He finishes by making fun of his Hare Krishna mantra by saying “Happy Christmas happy Christmas Christmas Christmas happy happy.”

I cannot stress enough how important the Beatles Christmas Album is to a better understanding of the incredible growth the band and the four individuals experienced.  It is great to hear them improve from “merely great” to “Oh! My! God!”, and to grow from adolescents to delightful young adults.  Equally powerful is the sad fragmentation of the greatest rock band ever.  After a few listens you will be wishing your friends a Berry Krimpble and a HAPPPPP-py goo year.

Paul McCartney orphan 45s — the 70s December 1, 2009

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Like many musicians who grew up in the 1950s, Paul McCartney believed in the power of the 45rpm single. It is true The Beatles had only three B-sides that didn’t make it to LP (“I’m Down,” “The Inner Light,” and “You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)”), but all four of the Fabs issued non-LP tracks. The most prolific at this was Macca. For some reason I felt compelled to digitalize a bunch of these orphan 45 tracks for myself. Some lucky, lucky friends will be getting a copy for Christmas.

Paul left The Beatles in April, 1970, as his debut LP McCartney was released. Despite the airplay “Maybe I’m Amazed” got, nothing on the LP ever graced a 7″ piece of plastic.

His first solo 45 came in February 1971, and both sides were orphans. “Another Day” went top-5 on both sides of the Atlantic. It has a catchy melody and some slide guitar motifs that toughen the sound a bit. Paul got help from session musicians, and The Lovely Linda added some nice harmony. An odd theme — a lonely woman who lives for the evenings her man comes to visit, and stay, “but he leaves the next day — so sad.” I like the verse details of the woman’s daily routines.

The B-side “Oh Woman Oh Why” is the oddest song in Paul’s history (never mind the classical music stuff). The guitar has a hard edge throughout, and Paul’s vocal is more a scream than a croon. “Oh Woman Oh what what what have I done / Oh woman oh why why why did you get that gun.” We hear the sounds of gunshots several times in the track, but there is no coherent story line to explain anything. “Frankie And Johnnie” it ain’t. That said, I like it a lot because it shows how far Paul could get away from being “The cute Beatle.”

The RAM album came out in May, 1971 to strong sales, but the only 45 — “Back Seat Of My Car” — was a flop. Wild Life — the debut of Wings — followed in December and didn’t sell as well. There were no 45s from the album. The song “Some People Never Know” rang many a bell in the south because it had the exact same melody as the long-running commercial for the regional Maier & Berkele jewelry chain. Not that has anything to do with 45s, unless you count the jingle group calling itself The Gentle Touch and getting new lyrics to the melody and releasing it as a 45 on the Kapp label as “My One And Only Diamond Ring.” No, I didn’t think you did.

In New York City John and Yoko were getting very political with the Some Time In NYC album, released in the fall of 1972. The double-disc included songs about Angela Davis, racism, John Sinclair, feminism, and Irish nationalism. Well, John always was the loud, in-your-face Beatle, wasn’t he? Except… seven months earlier, in February 1972, Paul released the only overtly political song of his solo career. “Give Ireland Back To The Irish.” Beatle historian Neville Stannard says Paul wrote it about the Bloody Sunday Massacre, an event which also prodded John into writing one of the songs on Some Time In NYC. Very tough tone on the guitar, with a chorus that bordered on a shout; but the verses were melodic and sung in a more typical Paul voice. Some of the guitar work is outstanding — even more evident on the dub version that was the flip side. The single was banned by The BBC, London’s ITV, and the still important ‘underground’ station Radio Luxembourg, which guaranteed strong sales. Somehow this 45 made it to #21 in the US.  Bet even the True Oldies Channel doesn’t play it now!

Three months later Paul and Linda and Wings released another orphan 45. Just as Paul wrote the Peter & Gordon song “Woman” under an assumed name (Bernard Webb, you should know that!) to see if his writing really was good or if his songs were hits only because he was, well, Paul, he released a musical version of the children’s nursery rhyme “Mary Had A Little Lamb” to test the hypothesis that ANYTHING he put on wax would be a hit. The answer was “yes” — it went to #6 in England, only to #28 in the US. It is a delightful track, with playful vocals from him, Linda, and stepdaughter Mary. He took a lot of trouble with the arrangement; every iteration of the chorus has a more involved vocal, and the guitar, mandolin, and marimba backings become more interesting. No question, it is meant to be a children’s song; it does a great job at it.

The B-side is the neo-rockabilly “Little Woman Love,” with stand-up bass, lots of piano, and rockabilly guitar with lots of echo. I suppose the song is in the same ballpark as “Lady Madonna,” but it is an energetic love song.

In December of 1972 Paul came with another orphan 45 — although both sides are included on many of his various hits collections. “Hi Hi Hi” is a strong rocker than went top-10 in the US and UK. It opens with feedback guitar, and lots of echo on his vocal. The lyrics are decidedly silly — “I’m gonna do it to you sweet banana you’ll never give up” and the payoff line is “We’re gonna get hi, hi, hi in the midday sun.” And people thought “Yellow Submarine” was a drug song???

The flip is a fun MOR track called “C-Moon.” I remember Paul explaining that the title was the opposite of “L-7″ which was scouse slang for ‘square’ in the 50s; C moon is round. It figures in the lyrics, too. Paul and Linda sing nice harmony throughout, and the constandtly descending guitar lines are sweet. People have relationships and either choose not to talk about them or for some secret personal reason aren’t able to let themselves talk about them; “What’s it all about?” The answer is “C Moon are we.”

Paul’s first monster hit in the US was “My Love,” released in March of 1973. It appeared on the Red Rose Speedway album a few months later. The flip side was an orphan rocker called “The Mess.” The song was recorded in Holland while Wings did one of their anonymous college tours. It opens with some stage patter, Paul telling the audience it would be the last song of the set.” Then the band sets to rocking. In all honesty it isn’t much of a song; the verse is very weak and the chorus is only one line long (“Oh sweet darling, what a mess I’m in”). Lots of echo on Paul’s vocals. The best part of the song is the “Oh” vocal harmony near the end; I suppose they might have overdubbed it in the studio, but I’ve always assumed the band was good enough to carry that complex harmony off in person.

Whoever owns the James Bond franchise hired Paul to do the theme to the 1973 movie with Roger Moore. The result was “Live And Let Die,” which went to #2 in the US and #9 in England. It is an energetic piece of bombast, a perfect little song for 007. You gotta give the other fellow HELLLLL…. There are tempo and dynamic changes that are quite creative. I like the slow orchestral parts. There are huge rhythm hits on the chorus, and I was impressed when I saw Linda at her electric piano in concert, with her one rock and roll move — at the proper time she’s point and the drums and strobe lights hit. On the other hand, Paul will never live down the lyric line “This ever changing world in which we live in.”

The flip was a light piece of fluff called “I Lie Around.” Neville Stannard says Denny Laine is the lead singer. Nice acoustic guitar, the occasional burst of nice harmony… like “The Mess” it just isn’t very much of a song. The best parts are the spoken intro over sound effects of swimming in the surf, and the deliberately hokey vocals on some of the last iterations of the title lyrics.

Wings got serious in late 1973 with Band On The Run, still my favorite Paul LP. The first single from it was “Helen Wheels,” which deserved to be a monster hit. The flip side is the orphan “Country Dreamer.” This is half of Paul’s 1974 flirtation with country music, but hardly his first. We think of “Act Naturally” as a Ringo set piece, but if you see the kinescope of The Beatles doing this live on Ed Sullivan in 1965 it’s clear Paul is having a blast singing the Don Rich harmony on the Buck Owens song. Why it took nine years for this country taste to reappear is a mystery, though.

“Country Dreamer” opens with acoustic guitar, then adds pedal steel guitar that is excellent, if overblown. Linda and Paul sing the choruses together. The transition from chorus back to verse borrows from CSNY’s “Teach Your Children,” but that’s okay by me. The harmony is nice.

The 45s of “Jet” and “Band On The Run” followed, some of my favorite Macca music. The guitars are tough but melodic, and the overall texture is very, very dense.

By October the Band On The Run LP was done (although it spent more than two years on the Billboard chart!). Paul made a deal with EMI Records to release a Wings 45 under the pseudonym The Country Hams. “Walking In The Park With Eloise” is quite a bit of fun: corny as all get-out, but a great performance of the kind of 1930s dance music Paul’s dad performed in Jim Mac’s Band. Oh, wait — It was written by Big Jim McCartney! The performance demonstrates how The Beatles were all-around entertainers, able to do it all from rock to songs “your mother should know”. They really do an excellent job!

One week later came a serious 45, also an orphan. “Junior’s Farm” is an obvious out-take from the Band On The Run sessions, the guitar sound and production values are the same. Paul adds some occasional electronic phasing on the vocal. It’s a serious rocker, with several sections of different textures and melodies. By the end of the song there are terrific harmonies — really counter-melodies — on the choruses. I love the lyric about going to the store, “The price is higher than the time before”.

The flip side was the other half of Paul’s country infatuation. “Sally G” is a glorified folk song with the same pedal steel that “Country Dreamer” used. The opening line still makes me laugh — leave it to a foreigner to define Nashville as “Somewhere to the south of New York City / Lies the friendly state of Tennessee”. The story is nice, about falling for a barmaid who sang in a club in Printer’s Alley in Nashville. The lyric line about “sing her tangled mind” makes me think of Bob Dylan’s “Tangled Up In Blue,” probably because they are the only two pop songs ever to use the word “tangled.” But the affair goes bad, she starts to lie, and Paul hears a voice that says “Move along” — and says it with nice harmony, too. “I never thought to ask her what the letter ‘G’ stood for,” Paul sings, “I only know it wasn’t ‘good’.” When Paul sings the title, he slides up an octave on the first syllable of “Sally”; it’s hardly a “Muleskinner’s Blues” yodel, but I think Paul thought it was. The song ends cool, and then Paul says “Sally G,” hits a chord on his guitar, and then raps the guitar a few times. It makes the song sound informal, even though it is a well rehearsed and well executed track.

Jump ahead three years to 1977. Paul produced a 45 with Linda singing lead (you’d think “Cook Of The House” would have taught him not to). Wings was renamed Suzy And The Red Stripes for the one-off 45 on Epic. “Seaside Woman” and “B-Side Of Seaside” are pleasant fake reggae songs of no particular note. “Seaside Woman” is about a man loving his wife, which is sweet (Paul and Linda had one of the most enduring show business marriages of all time). It actually hit #59 on the American singles chart. I hadn’t bothered to listen to this 45 for at least 30 years when I burned this CD, so I’m still learning the songs.

Six months later Paul released his biggest British hit ever. “Mull Of Kintyre” is a gem, a wonderful, sentimental track with a strong melody and a simple but sincere emotion. It also was the first rock song I’d heard since Roy Wood’s “Jimmy Lad” that included a bagpipe. The song went to #1 in the UK and charted for an astounding 17 weeks. But the chart appeal was so limited that Paul doesn’t bother to perform the song in America — even though he DID include it on the Canadian date in the 2009 tour.

The flip side was a mid chart in America, “Girls School”. “Let’s hear it for the girls” Linda says in an electronically distorted voice, followed by some ‘hip-hip-hoorays’ before the guitar digs in and the song begins. It’s an excellent rocker but couldn’t get past #33 in America.

Paul’s last orphan single of the 70s was his mega-successful disco song “Goodnight Tonight.” Very strong bass. Some inconsequential harmony, some electronic processing of vocals, some ricky-tick guitar. The production is superb, with the instruments cleanly spread out over the stereo picture; this is very different from the dense sound of Band On The Run, for instance. In a world that was recuperating from Bee Gees overkill the song went to #5 in the US and the UK.

The flip side is another delight. “Daytime Nighttime Suffering” opens with acapella harmony, then develops into a mid-tempo pop song with hints of reggae. Paul sings some choruses with a very ragged voice, but most are smooth Paul. The bridge is pretty powerful, then returns to a fun scat harmony passage. What does the song title mean? It’s the answer to the question “What does she get for all the love she gave you?” You gotta wonder if the song isn’t about the same woman who starred in “Another Day.”

One of the consistent threads to these songs and much of McCartney’s music is his enthusiasm. You always get the feeling he’s having a blast, that he is doing exactly what he wants to. The abundance of melodies, the sub rosa vocals, the inside jokes (In “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey” there is a point where Paul says “The butter wouldn’t melt so I put it in the pie.” WTF?? How can you not enjoy it?)… Macca is a lucky man, he knows he is lucky, and he works very, very hard at being so lucky. I envy him, but I admire him even more than that.

Nobody needs to be convinced that Paul McCartney was one of the preeminent talents in pop music in the 60s and 70s. He might not be to everyone’s taste — John Lennon went off him around the time of “Martha My Dear.” And as big a fan as I am, I still remember the National Lampoon’s Beatlemania quiz that asked the question “When did Paul McCartney write Silly Love Songs? The answer is “1962 to the present” and I still think that’s hilarious.

My own interest in Paul’s music has waned, as it has on all new music; I don’t even listen to new Rolling Stones related music anymore. The songs from the last ten years that are on the Good Evening New York City CD sound pretty good, but “Only Mama Knows” and “Flaming Pie” are just never going to matter to me the way “Junior’s Farm” and “1900+85″ and “Mamunia” do.

Wings included some good musicians, even if most came from and returned to obscurity — sort of like Jimmy Nicholls (Go look it up, I’m tired of giving you hints). I loved Jimmy McCullouch’s guitar sound, besides he was so cute. He died too young, probably self inflicted in a medicinal kind of way. And Paul’s current drummer, Abe Laboriel, Jr, is a hoot — he’s fat, he beats the crap out of his kit, and he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. Infectious.

Young Rascals – Collections November 29, 2009

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Collections is the name of the second LP by The Young Rascals.  They had finally ditched the old New York street urchin costumes, although Felix Cavaliere continued to wear the dumb beret.  It came out at the very end of 1966, and includes one hit.  At the time the band was playing fraternity house dances, weddings, and bar mitzvahs, so their repitorie had to include a wide range of material.  That fact explains the schitzophrenic sound of the album.

The Young Rascals (they would drop the “Young” in 1968) were a quartet.  Drummer Dino Danelli was very good but disappeared after the band’s eventual breakup.  Lead guitarist Gene Cornish was competent, a tad overweight and in some respects put one in mind of Cal Wilson of the Beach Boys.  The real creative talent in the band was actually two people: keyboardist Felix Cavaliere and lead singer Eddie Brigati.  Everybody but Danelli had done time in Joey Dee’s Starlighters.

The band was discovered at some teen club on Long Island, New York.  Atlantic Records signed them up and put Tom Dowd on their case.  Arif Mardin had joined the production team by the time of Collections.

In 1965 their debut 45 was a big hit locally in New York, “I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore.”  They followed it with the first of three #1 hits they’d have, “Good Lovin’”.  “You Better Run” was a mid-chart.

“What Is The Reason” is superb blue-eyed soul.  Cavaliere takes a great lead vocal, but the real star is Danelli.  Felix asks the title question several times, and the answer each time is a different and creative drum response from Danelli.  No doubt Danelli had been listening to “Ticket To Ride” a lot, where Ringo also uses varied drum responses over the course of the song.  The melody is an R&B shout.  The song was lost as the B-side of the teaser 45, and probably would have charted better if it had been the plug side.

“Since I Fell For You” is the wedding dance or bar mitzvah side of the band.  It’s an MOR cover of Lenny Welch’s hit song.  Eddie Brigati sings lead, and Cavaliere supplies lots of MOR organ.

“Lonely Too Long” was the only hit on the LP, hitting #16 in the winter of 1967, more than a year after the LP was issued.  The melody is great, very pop, but with Felix’s vocal grit.  It’s fun to sing along with the Rascals’ backing vocals.  Plus there seems to be a bassoon playing a signature motif on each verse.  The electric organ breakdown is a treat.

“No Love To Give” is Gene Cornish’s moment in the spotlight.  It’s lame.  It doesn’t rock, and the lyrical message is such a downer!

The medley of “Mickey’s Monkey” and “Love Lights” is a lot of fun; it must have been explosive when they were still playing frat house dances.  Brigati makes a stab at turning the first song into “Eddie’s Monkey,” while “Lovelight” is an R&B scorcher.

“Come On Up” starts side two.  It was the teaser 45 that flopped.  Although “What Is The Reason” would have done better on the singles chart, “Come On Up” is a great performance.  Cavaliere gives one of the great shouts of rock and roll toward the end of the song.

“Too Many Fish In The Sea” takes off where “Lovelight” ended.  A great white-boy version of  a great Motown song.  The Rascals copy the Marvelettes responses, but they carry them off with so much energy that it’s not a problem.

“More” is a song I hope I never hear again.  In the 1960s it was done by everyone in the pop world; as the them from the bizarre movie Mondo Cane.  Imagine if you will a song so romantic that some people still use it at their wedding, yet it comes from the soundtrack of a sort-of documentary displaying the irrationality and cruelty of traditions and practices from many cultures.  Brigati does a fine job on this MOR dance version of the song.  I usually skip past it on the CD.

In “1959″ Gene Cornish makes up for the bad job of “No Love To Give” — possibly because Dino Danelli helped him write it.  Nothing special, but it is a successful rocker with a late ’50s feel.

“Love Is A Beautiful Thing” should have been the follow-up 45 to “Lonely Too Long,” but the band (or Atlantic Records) had wasted it as the flip side to “You Better Run.”  Lots of Hammond organ as Cavaliere and Brigati trade off vocals.  Excellent melody, good pop rock.

They close the album with “Land Of A Thousand Dances.”  The Rascals were still a dance band at this time, and the Chris Kenner song was a sure-fire way to fill a dance floor in a hurry.  They do a competant and pleasant job on the rocker — but when I want to hear this song I usually go for  Wilson Pickett.

The Rascals’ breakthrough was their next LP — Groovin’ had three top-10 hits on it, including the title track, “A Girl Like You,” and “How Can I Be Sure.”  By that point they were playing concert halls instead of teen dance clubs.

John Hammond on Atlantic November 15, 2009

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There are three well-known people in the music world known as John Hammond.

First is Johnny Hammond, who is ultra-famous if you are in to barbershop quartet singing.

Second is John Hammond (Jr), a legendary producer for Columbia Records from the 1940s to the 1970s, where he either discovered, signed, or produced records by people as diverse as Billie Holiday, Bruce Springsteen, Benny Goodman, Pete Seeger, Aretha Franklin, Bob Dylan, and Stevie Ray Vaughan.

Third, and the one I care about, is John Paul Hammond, often mistakenly called John Hammond Jr. He is in fact the son of John Hammond Jr. (see above), whose middle name was “Henry.” He is a brilliant blues guitarist and interpreter, and his records paved my way to both Muddy Waters and Bo Diddley.

Hammond began his recording career in 1962, and did five albums for Vanguard. Although the quality was mixed, his impact was unmistakable. For a white boy raised in luxury (the great-great-grandson of William Henry Vanderbilt), his singing was as black as coal on a moonless night. One writer criticized Hammond for sounding so Black as to be singing with a speech impediment; the writer had to apologize when he discoverd Hammond stuttered so badly he rarely spoke on stage. His acoustic guitar playing could be brilliant, especially his recreations of Robert Johnson’s legendary recordings like “Crossroads” and “Traveling Riverside.” Hammond’s interest in working up solo acoustic arrangements of early rock and Chicago blues material was commendable but less successful musically; nonetheless, it’s Hammond’s early versions of “Hoochie Coochie Man” and “Who Do You Love” that turned me on to Muddy and Bo.

Hammond also recorded two electric blues albums on Vanguard. The personnel was great — So Many Roads employed Mike Bloomfield and members of The Band back before Bob Dylan discovered them, when they still were called The Hawks. Big City Blues, with its iconic motorcycle cover photo, used Jimmy Spruill, a flashy guitarist of some fleeting note in the early 1960s. So Many Roads is slightly better because of Robbie Robertson’s guitar work, but that’s quibbling; both records really share the same strengths and weaknesses.

The strength is the breadth of Hammond’s blues expertise. Anyone who can carry off arrangements from Lightnin’ Hopkins to Howlin’ Wolf to Chuck Berry to T-Bone Walker to the Reverend Gary Davis knows his stuff. The weakness is that Hammond hadn’t yet figured out the difference between acoustic and electric guitar. For the most part he just played the same way he would have for an acoustic arrangement, but on an electric guitar. Often it didn’t work. The results were still enjoyable, but Hammond’s one and only Grammy Award was still twenty years in the future.

It was a big deal to me as a fan when Vanguard released Mirrors in 1968, obviously a vault-scraper for an artist who had left the fold. One side was acoustic (“Stones In My Passway” is superb) and the other electric with both Spruill and Robertson’s groups. The big news was that he had jumped to Atlantic Records. Atlantic was the original home of Ray Charles and tons of other bluesmen, so I was excited over the possibilities of Hammond getting promotional support and maybe even some sales.

The first Atlantic LP was I Can Tell, in November, 1967. The cover photo was black and white and caught Hammond from an angle that made his nose look broader and more Negroid than it was; I figured Atlantic was trying to disguise the fact that Hammond is white. The backing musicians also excited me — Robbie Robertson and Rick Danko of The Band, and Bill Wyman of the Rolling Stones. It was my bad that I didn’t yet know the quality of session drummer Charles Otis or bassist Jimmy Lewis.

The only ususual thing about the song lineup was the absence of a Robert Johnson song. Bo Diddley, Willie Dixon, Chuck Berry, Howlin Wolf, John Lee Hooker, and Elmore James all were represented. Robertson was excellent on lead guitar, playing lines that were more rock than blues. Hammond is no Little Walter, but his harmonica work is good in a more primitive style.

My faves on the album are:

  • “I Wish You Would” with Bill Wyman on bass — it was The Yardbirds who turned me on to the song, not Blues Boy Arnold.
  • “Spoonful”, thanks to Cream
  • “Brown Eyed Handsome Man”, Chuck Berry at his cleverest (and great guitar by Robertson)
  • “Going To New York” because I somehow had heard some Jimmy Reed records and really liked them

Before Christmas 1968 came Sooner Or Later on Atlantic. I didn’t know any of the musicians, although Charles Otis again was the drummer. Again, no Robert Johnson songs — but plenty from Howlin Wolf, Elmore James, John Lee Hooker, Willie Dixon, and Sonny Boy Williamson. For the first time Hammond used horns on some songs. I really liked “How Many More Years” because I was getting to like Howlin’ Wolf, and “Don’t Start Me To Talking” because it ROCKED (as the Doobie Brothers would demonstrate a few years later). The cover, however, was almost as bad as old Ray Charles albums

Southern Fried came in April, 1970 to end Hammond’s tenure at Atlantic. The cover had a great stage shot of Hammond with a light burst off his pick guard. To my surprize the album was recorded at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio with The Swampers, the same backing musicians Percy Sledge and half the western world was using. Duane Allman played lead on four tracks. Again there were horns. It was produced by Marlin Greene, a journeyman guitarist and producer who also worked with Lonnie Mack, Don Nix, and Boz Scaggs.

The song lineup was a little more varied. Sure, it included Willie Dixon and Muddy Waters and Howlin Wolf and Chuck Berry, but it also included the ancient Chuck Willis song “It’s Too Late” (and not a great version, neither) and the early Elvis song “Mystery Train,” as well as songs that were new to me by people I’d never heard of.

In no small measure because of The Swampers, Southern Fried is the best of Hammond’s Atlantic albums. David Hood on bass and Roger Hawkins on drums were the best rhythm section this side of Booker T’s Al Jackson and Duck Dunn. His solo acoustic National steel guitar on “I Can’t Be Satisfied” works when the band comes in behind him — it’s ain’t Muddy Waters, but it’s a lot more authentic than Brian Jones (who did a great job) on the Rolling Stones’ version.

I only have problems with two tracks. I hate the song “Mystery Train,” even when it’s Elvis Presley doing the singing, and “It’s Too Late” lacks a second vocal for the responses like on Chuck Willis’ original, or on Derek & The Dominos’ remake. The rest of the album is for listening to very loud, particularly in the car with the windows rolled down and the speedometer pegging.

After Hammond left Atlantic he did a few albums on Columbia, with or without the help of his legendary father. Source Point and I’m Satisfied showed Hammond evolving with some spooky atmospheric arrangements that were great. Triumvirate, on the other hand, was an exploitative piece of crap that inappropriately paired Hammond with Dr. John and Mike Bloomfield. Hammond went on to record on Capricorn, and on Rounder, and on a series of specialty labels. He is still at it, some 40 albums later. Get ‘R Done, John!

Slade – SLADEST! November 1, 2009

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Glitter Rock or Glam Rock was a bigger genre in England than in the US. Arguably the two most successful acts were T-Rex and Slade. T-Rex managed to get one hit in the US, “Bang A Gong (Get It On)” in 1972. Slade didn’t score in the US until they had moved on to their heavy metal phase, going top-20 in 1984 with “Run Runaway.”

The failure of American radio to embrace both acts in their glitter periods is a crying shame.

My concern is for Slade, probably because I had the time of my life seeing them perform in a tiny dance club in 1975 or 76. Awesome, utterly awesome, and they were having a blast themselves.

Slade began life as an ur-metal band called Ambrose Slade in 1969. They were a four-piece band: Dave Hill on lead guitar, Don Powell on drums, Jim Lea on bass and piano, and Neville “Noddy” Holder as the lead singer and rhythm guitarist. Their Mercury album demonstrated an unhealthy obsession with Steppenwolf. Fortunately they were discovered by a man called Chas Chandler, who took over their management and studio production. Chandler had played bass on all the Animals hits of the 1960s, and as a manager he turned Jimi Hendrix into a mega-star. Chandler was a heavy hitter, and Slade got a new lease on life with him at the helm.

Maybe it was the band members, maybe it was Chandler. Somehow they grew their hair and started wearing bizarre costumes on stage. My favorite was guitarist Dave Hill, who somehow stayed upright on huge platform boots (all four of them wore some kind of platform boots). He wore some shiny silver space-age suit, and had some peculiar tiara-type thing in his hair. Lea and Powell, bless their rock-n-roll hearts, were two of the ugliest men in rock, on a par with Brian May of Queen and Ken Hensley of Uriah Heep; dunno what Powell was wearing behind the drum kit, but Lea was in some mish-mash of a costume that looked like it was stolen from off a Dr. Who set. Noddy Holder wore a tartan jumpsuit every bit as loud as the outfit Speck Rhodes used on the Porter Wagoner show, and a stovepipe hat covered in “Slade” buttons. They looked silly, but they were having so much fun that you were open to enjoying their act.

They began cranking out hits in England in 1971, and by 1976 they racked up 18 top 10s and eight #1s. They specialized in songs with cockney misspellings — “Take Me Bak ‘Ome,” “Mama Weer All Crazee Now,” “Cum On Feel The Noize,” “Skweeze Me Pleeze Me,” and the like. One of the cleverest things they did was invent a greeting with their fans, of bopping closed fists instead of shaking hands. It combined the coolness of a secret handshake with the practical advantage of keeping fans from grabbing them to pull them off stage.

Just like The Beatles had records on more than one label at the start of their career, Slade’s first American singles were issued on both Polydor and Reprise Records. Probably just added to the confusion that kept them off US radio. God knows I couldn’t get my Program Director’s attention until I became Music Director at a dinky commercial AM station — and since we went off the air after six months I wasn’t quite able to spark the groundswell of SladeMania I wanted.

Slade had a few LPs on Polydor, including an interesting live one (“In Like A Shot From My Gun” was pretty damn good, while their cover of The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Darling Be Home Soon” was a horror). The first Reprise album came in the fall of 1973, called Sladest. It was a winner!

“Cum On Feel The Noize” — like all their hits, it featured a simple but insistent melody, memorable bass and guitar lines, LOUD drums, and Noddy’s gravelly but friendly voice. They were proud of being a working class band: “So you say I’ve got a evil mind / And I don’t know why;” “So you think my singing’s out of time / Well it makes me money;” “So you think I got a funny face / I ain’t got no worries;” “So I’m a scruff bag, it’s no disgrace / I ain’t in no hurry;” “And you say I got a dirty mind / Well I’m a mean go-getter…” The chorus is irresistible: “So come on, feel the noise / Girls, grab the boys / We get wild, wild wild…” It was a #1 hit in England and made it all the way up to #98 in America

“Look Wot You Dun” – somewhat quieter. “You know what my freedom means to me.” That it was a #4 hit in England indicates how besotted the UK was with Slade, ‘cos it ain’t a great track.

“Gudbuy T’Jane” – THE quintessential Slade single. “She’s a dark horse, see if she can.” Choruses don’t get any simpler than “I say she’s so young, so young” repeated over and over again; on the coda it morphs into “She’s alright, alright, alright.” It is a wonderful piece of music. Cannot explain why it only made it to #2 in the UK.

“My Friend Stan” – silly nonsense verses about problems that friends Stan, Jack, and Pete are having. But the chorus is typical infectious Slade: “And from the way you blacked my eye / I know you’re the reason why / And from the way you fixed his tie / I can see you been gettin’ to him.” #2 in England.

“Skweeze Me, Pleeze Me” – “You know how to squeeze me / (Oh yeah!) / You know how to please me / (Oh yeah!)” — what a rocker! Includes a lyric now considered very politically incorrect: “When a girl’s meaning ‘yes’ she says ‘no’.” This was #1 in mid 1973, but already they were making fun of themselves, referring back to “Take Me Bak ‘Ome” and to their misspelled song titles. A bit like The Beatles including snippets of “Yesterday” and “She Loves You” in the fade of “All You Need Is Love.”

And then comes “Take Me Bak ‘Ome” — #1 in England despite a very weak melody. It’s a story of picking up a drunk girl named Sidney and telling her to “take me back home” with her so they can get it on. Her boyfriend shows up though, and Noddy splits “without saying goodnight.” Best parts of the song are an instrumental passage, and the drum licks on the chorus when the rest of the band stops as Noddy sings “It was alright, it was alright.”

“Cos I Luv You” – Slightly quieter, with a fun rhythm. An actual love song, with no irony or misogyny. Nice guitar break from Dave Hill bouncing from channel to channel, and Don Powell must have patented a particular drum hit that sounded like a distant atomic explosion. The closest thing to a sensitive side Slade showed — “When we’re miles apart / You still reach my heart / How I love you.” Did I say it went to #1 in England?

“My Town” — wasn’t a 45, and I think it should have been. The Beach Boys bragged about their school in “Be True To Your School,” but Slade tells the visitor to pack up because “This ain’t your town / This is my town.” Strong melody on the chorus, with some rudimentary call-and-response, which demonstrated the band’s musical growth. Kick-ass chorus makes a great sing-along. Dave Hill plays two guitar lines on the instrumental break.

“Get Down And Get With It” – A cover of a song by Little Richard, written by Bobby Marchand. It was their first hit in England, reaching #16 in early 1971. Surprisingly good piano from Jim Lea. Several times Noddy gets to chant with no instruments behind him, exhorting everyone to have a good time, to clap your hands and clap your feet (a later LP would be called “Stomp Your Hands Clap Your Feet”). An excellent ensemble performance of an obscure song. It actually has a more detailed melody than their original songs, and in its way it sounds dated. No question this had to be a barn-burner in concert (although I have no memory of what it sounds like on Slade Alive).

“Mama Weer All Crazee Now” – opens with a wolf howl. “I don’t want to drink my whiskey like you do / I don’t need to spend my money but still do.” The chorus is “Ma-mama we’re all crazy now” repeated a few times. Good melody, hand claps, everybody singing on the chorus, and Dave Hill playing nice guitar turnarounds. #1 in England and it deserved it.

Sladest is a bitchin’ album. No heavy philosophy, just superb 3:00 melodies and a non-disco dance beat throughout.

Noddy Holder broke up the band around 1990 and has become a successful institution on British television. In 2000 he joined The Beatles as a Member of the Order of the British Empire (MBE). With tincture of time England looks back on Noddy and Slade with tremendous affection. Jim Lea now records solo. Don Powell endures despite brain damage suffered in an auto accident, and with Dave Hill has formed Slade II with various new musicians.

The energy cannot get higher than Slade cranks it up on this album. These yobbos were GREAT!

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