The Who – Who’s Next 10/25/09 October 25, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.Tags: John Entwistle, Keith Moon, Pete Townshend, Quadrophenia, Roger Daltry, Tommy, Who's Next
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I listen to a lot of obscure stuff, no two ways about it. But I listen to some of the mainstream rock of the 60s and 70s. But not a lot. Why not?
Let’s take Boston as an example. Tom Sholtz’s debut LP is brilliant, full of melodic guitars that rock like crazy. It also sold umpteen million copies, got played to death on pop, rock, and top-40, and burned a cassette of itself in my brain. I do not need to listen to that album to hear “Long Time” or “Smokin’” — my few remaining brain cells have that covered. Although I wish I had hung on to the second LP, because I’ve been hankering to hear “A Man I’ll Never Be” lately. The late Brad Delp had one hell of a voice.
So this week I rocked out in the truck listening to Who’s Next. Twice. Sweet!
Who’s Next is the ultimate mature Who. Pete Townshend was experimental but not pretentious. Keith Moon still drew breath. And Glyn Johns engineered the first Who album that sounded modern.
Let’s dwell on that for a moment. The Who’s iconic 45s and early LPs — Sing My Generation, Happy Jack, Magic Bus, Sell Out, and even Tommy — all were produced by Shel Talmy or Kit Lambert. Both of them were honorable men who helped The Who achieve commercial success, as manager and as producers. The problem with both was that they did not understand the kind of stereo and fidelity we’ve now taken for granted for at least 35 years. As a result, all the Who’s early work — up to and including Tommy — sounds as if it were recorded in a paper bag.
Tommy was an unexpected success for The Who. Released in May, 1969, it was the soundtrack for that summer. Although The Who did not invent the format — that honor seems to go to The Pretty Things for their obscure LP S.F. Sorrow — Tommy popularized the Rock Opera. I have no doubt that Pete Townshend and The Who had hoped for stardom, but there is no way their wildest dreams could have imagined Tommy going double platinum — unheard of at the time for a double LP — and spawning hit singles for themselves, for other artists, and then a superstar ‘original cast’ to a non-existant stage show, an actual stage show, and finally a movie.
Up to this point, The Who churned out 45s every three months and LPs every six months, just like all the top-40 acts were supposed to; even The Beatles had done so in their early years. But after Tommy The Who was stumped. I can imagine the band meeting where everyone asks the same question: “How the hell are we gonna top THAT?”
They gave themselves extra time by releasing Live At Leeds in 1970, an excellent album of the band in its prime. They performed Tommy all over the world, until they said they wouldn’t any more — and then they continued to do it live.
By 1971 Townshend had written enough new material for two albums. He also had taught himself to play the (then) newfangled synthesizer. Although Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp were listed as “executive producers,” your ears tell you they were not in the control room. The band took production credit for itself, and Pete Townshend paid a lot of attention, but it was Glyn Johns who made the album sound real. The result is still awesome.
Who’s Next mixes Daltry and Townshend as lead singers, mixes acoustic and electric guitars, and adds piano and some very electronic sounding synth. The album includes classics that will hang around Townshend’s neck every bit as long as “My Generation” and “Can’t Explain.”
Pete had always taken the occasional lead vocal, but on Who’s Next the band settled in to a new pattern: Daltry would sing the extroverted and rock parts, while Townshend would sing the introverted and philosophical parts. This tidy organizing of the lead vocal was an important break with the contemporary reasoning in multi-voice groups like The Beatles — whoever wrote it got to sing lead. Daltry only had the very occasional writing credit; virtually all the material was Townshend’s.
Baba O’Riley – Was Meher Baba an Irishman? Townshend was a follower of Baba, and the eastern philosophy began to work its way into his music as he planned the aborted Lifehouse project. The song begins with something brand new for The Who, a recurring, stuttering synthesiser figure that continues throughout the track, even when drowned out by the other instruments. It is joined by an uncredited piano, then bass and Moonie’s drums. In fact, Keith Moon demonstrates why he was one of the three greatest rock ‘n’ roll drummers ever, with staggering fills, panoramic rolls, and unstinting energy. Roger Daltry was brilliant on this song of freedom: “I don’t need to fight / To prove I’m right / I don’t need to be forgiven.” Townshend sings the chorus over a quieter music bed, introducing the lyric “Teenage wasteland,” which is what many people think the song is called. Townshend’s brief guitar solo is concise and tasty. Then Daltry takes the “teenage wasteland” lyrics with a much more muscular delivery, culminating in his shout “They’re all wasted!” The band continues for another minute or so before the track ends with a rock version of a classical music cliche ending, along the lines of “We Won’t Get Fooled Again,” although a different cliche. I remember seeing them perform the song live, and how the synthesiser tape was still going when the band finished the song!
Bargain – opens with acoustic guitar and soft backwards electric. No obvious synthesiser, a more traditional Who rock number. Daltry tells the bargain: any self-degradation and ego loss is okay if it gets him into the girl (the Sally of “Baba O’Riley,” I guess). Beyond co-dependence and into the realm of creepy self-loathing. But Daltry’s vocal and the ensemble of John Entwistle’s fluid bass, Townshend’s various guitars, and Moon’s manic drumming would make this song sound great if the lyrics were the London phone book. Production by Glyn Johns is excellent, adding echo behind Daltry’s “The best I ever I had!” Townshend takes an introspective bridge over quiet backwards electric and acoustic guitar; Entwistle slides up his bass and Daltry goes back to rocking. For the final chorus the band extends the instrumental section between Daltry’s shouts, which stretches the tension even more. Again, the music extends far beyond the vocals; but when it seems finally to be over, an acoustic guitar comes back for one more lick or two. Whew!
Love Ain’t For Keeping – the least consequential song on the LP. Acoustic guitars. Daltry sings it. It’s a peaceful interlude for a person who understands the fragile nature of life and love, even when there’s a baby involved. Entwistle’s bass is especially fluid. The band sings harmony on the title line, and some uncharacteristic “ooohs” behind Daltry’s second verse and the instrumental passage…where Townshend plays lead on an acoustic guitar. Again, Townshend returns with an extra guitar lick, but this one dead seques into the next track.
My Wife – The Who didn’t let John Entwistle out very often, possibly because he was such a brilliant and funny songwriter. He also wrote himself ornate bass lines, where his practically was the lead instrument. The song is sung by a man whose wife is gonna kill him because he got drunk in public and she’s convinced he was with another woman. Entwistle uses humorous terms and phrases to get his point across — “I may end up spending all my money / But I’ll still be alive”, and “Gonna get a tank and an airplane” or needing a bodyguard who is “a black belt judo expert with a machine gun.” The instrumentation is very dense, augmented by Entwistle playing his own brass instruments and piano. It fits with “Heaven And Hell” and “When I Was A Boy,” two other Entwistle compositions done by the Who at about the same time. There is an extended passage where Entwistle’s horns play a burst, answered by the band’s instruments (and sometimes Entwistle’s own vocal) with “Keep moving!”
“The Song Is Over” — transcendent. It was supposed to be a keystone to the Lifehouse project, a project I have never really understood (possibly because Townshend never could explain it to anyone, hence it never was completed). It starts with Nicky Hopkins’ piano over Townshend’s lyric electric guitar lines, and it’s joined by Townshend’s introspective lyrics of self-doubt and disappointment — the song is a relationship that “stopped as soon as it began”. Then Daltry takes the muscular chorus of freedom and liberation, double-tracking: “I’ll sing my song to the wide open spaces / I’ll sing my heart out to the infinite sea / I’ll sing my vision to the sky high mountains / I’ll sing my song to the free”. There is an instrumental section with strong bass and drum and a bland guitar solo mixed too low. Then Townshend comes back for more downer lyrics, until Daltry finally takes over to end it — increasing echo as he sings the title song a few times, and then a line that would turn up on Townshend’s solo LP and the ‘oo’s Odds And Sods album a few years later — “The song is over / Except for one note Pure and Easy / Playing so free like a breath rippling by.” The band continues to play with increasing urgency and Keith Moon builds where you thought it wasn’t possible to build any more — and then it sinks to a cool ending. Nicky Hopkins adds some piano. It may not be “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” but it is a powerful song that had to be the last track on side 1 of the LP.
Gettin’ In Tune – wonderful loosey goosey rock and roll. More Nicky Hopkins piano, joined by a brilliant bass pattern. Daltry’s lyrics are honest: “I can’t pretend there’s any meaning here or in the things I’m saying — But I’m in tune / Right in tune / I’m in tune / And I’m gonna tune / Right in on you!” By this time the song is a full rocker, but with so many melodic elements — Daltry’s melody of “I get a little tired of having to say ‘Do you come here often?’”, Entwistle’s bass, Townshend’s short fills. Then it’s Entwistle playing fills with a lead figure. When they get back to the chorus, Daltry and the group exchange the “Right in on you” line a few times. You would expect Townshend to sing the bridge, considering how he and Daltry divvy up the singing on the album, but you’d be wrong. Daltry takes the bridge, finishing with the funky line “I’m just banging on my old piano / Getting in tune with the straight and narrow,” and a little more call-and-response from the band. Townshend’s harmony is very nice on the last bridge, then comes the final call-and response, with the band switching from left channel to right and back as they respond to Daltry.
Moon actually increases the tempo with maniacal drumming, and Entwistle’s bass becomes a firey lead instrument. The song may not mean diddly, but it sounds great and rocks like crazy.
Goin’ Mobile – Daltry sang all of “Gettin’ In Tune,” so Townshend takes all the vocals on “Goin’ Mobile.” Strong acoustic guitar and uncredited piano open, joined by an energetic Moon drum pattern. The verse uses a simple and memorable melody. Then there’s a downshift for the bridge, where synthesiser and electric guitar replace the acoustic, and the melody is narrower. But Pete finishes with a “When I’m mobile!” and we’re back to racing down the M-1. In a vamp Pete sings about moving, where he answers himself with a wah-wah guitar burst and short solo — while Keith practically steals the song. It’s another song of freedom, with my favorite Who lyrics of the album “Don’t care about pollution / I’m an air-conditioned gypsy / That’s my solution / Watch the police and the tax man miss me / I’m mobile!” Townshend’s “beep beep!” owes more to the Looney Toons’ Road Runner than to The Beatles’ “Drive My Car.”
Behind Blue Eyes -Acoustic guitar and Daltry begin it, with the band joining on harmony for the title words. Entwistle’s bass comes in half way through the verse, with melodic lines. There’s “oooh” harmony behind Daltry’s double tracked harmony lead on the second verse. The band sings harmony on what passes as the chorus. Finally Daltry sings the trigger words: “My love is vengeance / That’s never free”. The electric guitar kicks in and Moon plays that peculiar staggered beat that is such a hallmark of The Who. The band sings some harmony as Daltry pleads with his friends to not let him act like a fool – “When my fist clenches, crack it open” and “If I swallow anything evil / Put your finger down my throad”. There’s a brief rock instrumental passage, and then it’s back to acoustic guitar and full harmony on the final title words. Quite a trip, an excellent composition, and terrific execution that deserved to be a hit. However, I have a love/hate relationship with this song. I heart it because it is a great song, mixing Daltry rock and acoustic guitars with a great melody. But I hate it because its release as a 45 in America kept us from hearing the band’s next British single, “Let’s See Action.” More on this later…
Won’t Get Fooled Again – One of the songs from the 70s that will remain current forever because the lyrics are perfect. Three years earlier Mick Jagger was singing “Street Fighting Man” but by 1971 Townshend’s message was “Meet the new boss / Same as the old boss”. If a piece of music ever summed up the excitement, the hope, the futility and the disappointment of political revolution it is “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” It rocks from the opening electric guitar blast, with more ‘Baba O’Riley” synthesiser pattern recurring through the entire track. Musically the song is a textbook picture of the newly mature Who: wonderfully insane drums from Keith Moon; bass lines worthy of lead lines from John Entwistle; ballsy vocals from Roger Daltry; and aggressive yet melodic guitar from Pete Townshend. Two particular things come through on guitar. One is Townshend’s notorious “windmill” style, which is more than visual; it involves a rapid down-up-down strike of the pick across the guitar strings, with a distinctive sound ocassionally used by the Rolling Stones but patented by the Who. The other is an odd way of holding a note on the third beat to throw it into the fourth, which turns the rhythm a bit inside out and makes The Who a great band to dance to. There is a long sythesister instrumental section (the song is 8:31!) that resolves with a scream from Daltry. In concert, the lights had gotten dim during the solo, but suddenly the lights were back full blast as Daltry screamed and Townshend skidded across the stage on his knees. It was a great visual! Townshend later made fun of it by posing for Rolling Stone magazine to demonstrate the move — and to reveal the knee pads he wore under his pants. The song finally ends with another mock-classical music ending. Double whew!
Between Tommy in 1969 and Quadrophenia in late 1973 The Who released a string of 45s that included orphaned B-sides, and even a few A-sides that didn’t make it to real albums. One way or another most of them fit the sound and ethos of Who’s Next, so I burned them to CD for myself. Two of these tracks are amongst my favorite Who songs of all time.
“The Seeker” b/w “Here For More” 1970. It deserved to be an orphan. The lyric theme of “The Seeker” fits, as the singer has been “seeking low and high” for something. For what? “I asked Bobby Dylan / I asked The Beatles / I asked Timothy Leary / But he couldn’t help me neither.” The lyrics include some funny lines –
People tend to hate me
‘Cause I never smile.
As I ransack their homes
They wanna shake my hand.
and
I learned how to raise my voice in anger.
Now look at my face,
Ain’t this a smile?
I’m happy when life’s good,
And when it’s bad, I cry.
I got values,
But I don’t know how or why.
Musically, the band is completely together. Moon is great, Townshend is active and creative, Entwistle’s bass is worthy of the lead, and Nicky Hopkins is adding piano. Daltry’s vocals are great, but they always are. There is harmony on a late bridge of “I’m looking for me / You’re looking for you / We’re looking at each other / And we don’t know what to do!” The song could be seen as a spoof except we know that Pete Townshend was dead serious about his spiritual quest.
The flip side was written by Roger Daltry. “Here For More” is fake country music, with some very silly guitar from Townshend. But a psychologist would agree with the lyrics, “Whatever you think is the reason / Bet your life you’re here for more.” The chorus is an excellent example of Townshend’s windmill guitar sound, and also of that staggered third beat. The instrumental break features a pretty good guitar part from Pete, and the band harmony is nice throughout. Good luck finding the song though; the only CD pressing is on an import called Who’s Missing.
In the summer of 1970 The Who pulled “Summertime Blues” off Live At Leeds as a 45 (they were the third act to put the song in the American top-40, following Eddie Cochran’s original and Blue Cheer’s heavy metal remake). The flip was another one of John Entwistle’s gems, “Heaven And Hell.” It’s taken at breakneck speed, with Keith Moon starting out at 100 miles per hour. Of course Entwistle’s bass could be the lead instrument. The lyrics question basic Christian theology in Entwistle’s twisted funny way. “On top of the sky is a place where you go / If you’ve done nothing wrong” and “Down in the ground is a place that you go / If you’ve been a bad boy”, followed by the chorus “Why can’t we have eternal life / And never die? / And never die?” If you go to heaven you sprout feather wings and you fly round and round; if you go to hell you grow horns and a tail and you carry a fork. I like the harmony on the last lines of the chorus. The instrumental sections are searing, with Entwistle’s bass pushing Townshend’s guitars. Oddly, the song just ends…not quite a razor blade ending, but not three runs and a sustain, either.
I Don’t Even Know Myself – The B-side of the “Won’t Get Fooled Again” 45, summer of 1971. It opens like “The Relay” and “Join Together” would, with and unusual and quiet instrument (mouth harp here, wah-wah guitar on “The Relay,” jews harp on “Join Together”) that quickly explodes into the full band. This song makes the most extensive use yet of The Who’s prolonged third beat, giving it a distinctive sound and also making it a gem or a bitch to dance to, depending on how much you’ve had to drink. It’s another song of self-discovery, a theme that would come up again in Quadrophenia — “Don’t pretend that you know me / ‘Cos I don’t even know myself / Oooh, I don’t know myself.” The straight ahead rock verses and chorus alternate with a ricky-tick bridge that includes harmony; the arrogance of “don’t pretend that you know me” countered with “The door’s not shut as tight as it might seem.” Key lyric: “Don’t shiver as you pass me by, ’cause mister I’m the one who’s frightened / The police just came and left, they wanted me and no one else /
Don’t pretend that you know me…’” We’d hear this insecurity again in “I work myself to death just to fit in” on “Cut My Hair” on the Quadrophenia LP. Not only does the song include a Daltry scream every bit as good as the one on the plug side of the 45 (“Won’t Get Fooled Again”), it adds Townshend’s guitar with a slide up and quick slide down the fretboard. I love this song. I LUB IT sniff sniff…
Let’s See Action – Late 1971, hit in England, eventually tucked on to one of the million of collection LPs MCA has issued in America in an attempt to milk more money out of The Who. The lyrics aren’t much, although they continue Townshend’s love affair with individual freedom, and incidently with Meher Baba and avatars and that spiritual stuff. But musically, wow! Acoustic guitar and Nicky Hopkins’ piano open the track, and one of Daltry’s ballsiest vocals commences. The key to the verses is an electronic slapback; Daltry’s vocal comes back, on the beat, as if sung in response to himself. So we get “Let’s see action (Let’s see action) / Let’s see people (Let’s see people) / Let’s see freedom (Let’s see freedom / in the air (in the air).” The song uses the Who’s Next structure of an introspective bridge sung by Townshend; to a quieter accompaniment Pete sings “Give me a drink boy, and wash my feet…” Then, when you figure the song is about to fade out, the acoustic guitar slows down, and Townshend plays a short guitar lick. Then to a slow passage Townshend sings “Nothing…Everything…Nothing…” over and over, sometimes double tracking it. It’s an INNN-teresting section, as Bugs Bunny would say, but it does not ruin the sheer power of the earlier part of the track. This is one of my favorite Who songs ever.
When I Was A Boy – the flip side, yet another John Entwistle gem. He gets to play horns in a delicate intro; then Keith and Pete kick in and it’s a slow rocker; even Nicky Hopkins gets to add some piano. The lyrics are the star here; Entwistle contrasts the hopes and dreams and possibilities of his childhood with the bleak hopelessness of the present: “When I was a boy I had the mind of a boy / Now I’m a man, got no mind at all.” The song is practically a suicide note, it is so deliciously negative. “It’s been so long since the good days / It’s been so long / And I count up all the wasted years / The hopes and the fears / The laughs and the tears / And I wonder / Yes I wonder / I wonder what went wrong.” We have always assumed that Keith Moon was the crazy man in The Who, but this song might make you change your opinion. It’s important to remember that when John Entwistle died in 2002 at the age of 57 he was in bed with a Las Vegas stripper. I don’t think he was really suicidal.
Join Together – Summer of 1972. It opens with Entwistle playing an amplified jews harp (!), joined by Daltry’s mouth harp. Gradually it builds into a rocker, with Townshend playing a repeating riff on guitar. The band sings harmony on the title line “Join together in the band” — over and over and over. Lyrically it shares something with Tommy, the eccumenical appeal for everyone to “join together in the band,” no matter what they read or wear. Townshend’s guitar fills generally are short but sharp. If the song didn’t make it as a hit it’s because of the inexplicable central section where the song practically stops and recapitulates the jews harp intro. But ignore that and it’s a friendly rocker. The ending somehow fades out on a pennywhistle solo…
Baby Don’t You Do It – Presumably an outtake from the Live At Leeds concert, this 6 minute track is the B-side of “Join Together.” I did not know at the time that The Who had been doing the song in concert since 1965 and had recorded a studio version back then that did not see the light of day until after Keith Moon’s death led MCA records to bombard the world with Who collection albums. Keith lays down a drum beat, Pete adds some guitar, and John begins walking the bass like a lead instrument. Daltry yells “Get Down!” and leads into what I had always thought was a minor Marvin Gaye song. Didn’t care for The Band’s cover of it, either. But The Who rock the house. Did I say Entwistle practically plays the lead bass? The ending demonstrates the crowd loved the performance.
The Relay – Early 1973. It really is a second whack at “Join Together,” the songs are constructed exactly the same. It opens with Townshend’s quiet wah-wah guitar, until Daltry and the band jump in. Townshend also plays a second guitar in the right channel. There is some nice feedback guitar notes, which Townshend uses as music instead of noise. The group sings harmony on the title words all over the place. The solo after the first chorus is particularly tasty. The band starts an “aaaah” harmony and the song moves to the next verse. Lyrically the song is closer to “Won’t Get Fooled Again” than to “Join Together” — instead of inviting everyone to be part of a happy rocking family, the singer warns of pending authoritarianism: “Someone disapproves of what you say and do / I was asked to see what I could really learn you / Don’t believe your eyes, they’re telling only lies / What is done in the first place don’t concern you.” The solution? “Relay, there’s a revolution / Relay, hand me down a solution, yeah / Pass it on!” Yeah, meet the new boss… Even so, the band cooks. Townshend is unusually busy on guitar, and Moon is unusually normal.
Wasp Man – The B-side, where Moon makes up for having been ‘normal’ on “The Relay.” “Wasp Man” is an instrumental, other than Moon’s occasional shouts of “Sting!” and “Wasp man!” Townshend makes liberal use of that windmill down-up-down guitar stroke playing a simple three chord progression. Daltry plays some nice harmonica. Keith must have been too busy ‘singing’ to step out on drums; the rhythm track is very basic. Unless you are a Moonie, this is Who filler. Fun, but filler. Sometimes I skip past the track.
Water – the last of this string of orphan songs. It came out at the end of 1973 as the B-side of the teaser track from Quadrophenia, “Love Reign O’er Me.” I love the intro to the song: some dreamy guitar, and Daltry chants (with light guitar responses) “The foreman over there hates the gang / The poor people on the farm get it so rough / Truck drivers driving like the devil / The policeman acting so tough/ They need water / Cool cool water / They need water / And I’m sure there isn’t one of us here who would say “no” to somebody’s daughter.” Predictably, everybody in the band shouts a staggered “NO!” That done, Townshend’s rhythm guitar and Moon’s drums start the song proper. The uncredited piano probably is Townshend’s. If there is a theme to the song, it’s vaguely environmental; the whole point of the song is that everyone needs water — “and maybe somebody’s daughter.” Moon steps out with some lively drums. The chorus has a nice descending chord progression. The bridge includes the delightfully adolescent line “I saw your daughter at the oasis / And I’m beginning to blister.” On the last chorus Daltry holds off on his final shout of “water” while Keith builds extra tension just by hitting a bunch of unexpected beats. Daltry’s eventual completion of the chorus is cathartic, and he shouts and vamps for awhile. Townshend plays an honest to god guitar solo — something he rarely does. The band cooks into the fade. When the song is done someone can barely be heard shouting what sounds like “champagne!”
Personally, I like Quadrophenia. By Numbers was okay and contained the unexpected novelty hit “Squeeze Box.” Then came Who Are You, with the creepy legend “Not to be taken away” on Keith Moon’s director’s chair. I followed the Who until Keith Moon’s unfortunate death in 1979, although it has to be said he did it to himself — he mixed a LOT of alcohol with the the prescription drug he was taking that was designed to make him sick if he drank. Moonie was a brilliant drummer, on a par with John Bonham of Led Zeppelin and B.J. Wilson of Procol Harum. After the shock of Moon’s death, the band hired Kenny Jones from The Faces. The albums that followed, Face Dances and It’s Hard, just did not matter. The group mostly disbanded in 1983, although the lure of easy money led to several reunion tours. In fact, one was about to begin in 2002 when John Entwistle died after what Wikipedia calls years of cocaine abuse.
Pete Townshend was one of the more creative band leaders to come out of the English Invasion. As the guitarist in a power trio he did not have the freedom to develop as a lead guitarist (George Harrison knew John Lennon was playing the chords, just like Keith Richard and Brian Jones could depend on the other to play rhythm); instead, his writing and arranging were as creative in their way as Ray Davies’ Kinks. However, an insecurity crept in after Quadrophenia, and what strikes me as growing neurosis has limited Townshend’s talents since. Meanwhile Roger Daltry, with one of the finest rock voices ever, somehow never broke through as a solo artist — his work in McVicar was superb, but didn’t sell. He turned to acting, and had ongoing roles in TV shows like Highlander, CSI, and Sliders.
I promise, the next thing I listen to will be suitably obscure!
Carolyne Mas 10-11-09 October 11, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.add a comment
Talk about obscure, but talk about GOOD. Carolyne Mas, the lady from New York city with a big, big, BIG voice. She wrote strong melodies with catchy choruses. She sang great harmony with herself. Although her lyrics occasionally sagged, every song had some killer lines. I have no idea why this woman isn’t an internationally recognized superstar.
Her debut LP was eponymous, released on Mercury in October, 1969. She wrote everyting on the LP, three co-written with guitarist David Landau. Drummer Andy Newmark is the only name I recognized when the record came out.
If there is a theme to the LP, it is the question of sanity. “It’s No Secret” is about an intense person, while “Stillsane” and “Call Me (Crazy To)” are explicit.
What an incredible album!
Stillsane: New York City rock and roll, with a strong sax and an irrisistable melody. “You may think you’re crossing the line / You may think you’re losing your mind, but / Stare in their faces, stare in their faces…”
Sadie Says: The persona is a middle school girl whose self esteem is bolstered by friend Sadie. Great lyric, expecially with a 15 year old persona: “I go downtown, I go there every day / I like to raise a little hell / I like to piss away my pay.” The chorus is driven by her great self-harmony as she tells us why Sadie is so vital to her: “Sadie says “boy don’t you worry” / Sadie says “it’s gonna be alright” / Sadie is older and knows more than I do / And I believe what Sadie says is right.”
Snow: Fan-fucking-tastic. The woman’s voice is so strong and so sure, she can jump an octave in mid-syllable. It’s a love song to snow, and I never took it as a drug reference; instead I see it as the flip side of Jesse Winchester’s different song of the same name. Winchester hated snow; “As soon as I heard that four letter word / I was making my plans to go.” Carolyne Mas embraces it: “Don’t wanna go to Rio / Don’t wanna fly south / I”m looking for a good time / Right here in the snow”. She ends one verse by playing with the melody, singing “Every every everything is so quiet / You can almost here it fall.” Then she shouts “Oh, listen!” before turning into the chorus. There is no way to describle her sustain, the comfortable control she has over her voice. The closest comparison is completely inappropriate, because it’s Mama Cass Elliot — but Mas doesn’t sing 40′s goodtime songs, she’s belting modern (1979 version) urban rock. “Snow” is one of three utter masterpieces on the LP.
It’s No Secret: tempo changes at the end of the chorus, then speeds back up for the next verse. The singer is still carrying a torch for a man who has left her. The chorus is “Everybody knows just how much / I love you / Everybody knows just how much / I love you / Baby / It’s no secret;” keep in mind she chants the “I love you”s with a strange childlike inflection that makes you think maybe the woman (the persona, not Mas) is just a tad overwrought. One verse includes the wonderful lines “Some uptown man is on the phone / I know I’m not that tired of being alone.”
Call Me (Crazy To): another masterpiece, with Mas supplying grand piano as well as another powerful and smoldering vocal. It’s a relationship that ought to work but it doesn’t. Why not? Killer lines of the entire album: “We both like the same things / But we don’t go about them the same way.” The chorus is pure pop at a very slow tempo, with compelling harmony and lyrical emotion to break your heart, “Call me, call me / You should listen to me, me to you / And you know that you should Call me, call me / I do listen to you, am I crazy to?” Her overdubbed vocals cascade over one another on the fade, and only a few seconds before the sound fades away there is a Carolyne in the right channel chanting “na-na-na-naaaaah” that floors me every time.
Quote Goodbye Quote: If the Jackson 5 had been white. The chorus is a total rip of “A-B-C” and is every bit as infectious as when Michael and Tito and Marlon and the boys sang it with different lyrics. Her man left to go to the store, saying he’d be back in a few minutes; instead he left a note that said “Quote, goodbye, quote / that’s all he wrote”. Funny, danceable, pop, and good.
Never Two Without Three: the most New York City track on the record, with a modified Phil Spector beat (but not production values, not at all). The weakest lyrics, too. “There’s never, no never / Never two without three” is the thrust of the chorus. She’s hung out with the boy twice, they’ve kissed twice, there has to be a third time. “On the other side of Sixth Avenue” she sings, “I lay me down to rest” before inviting the boy to “love me once on the floor”. The melody sustains the song, with a catchy chorus and strong saxophone.
Do You Believe I Love You and Sittin’ In The Dark: I do not understand these songs, it’s as if some other Carolyne Mas wrote and recorded them. But hey, this was 1979; in a mild way these are punk songs. Often I skip past both tracks.
Baby Please: the third masterpiece. A BIG song, BIG production, BIG vocal. The chorus is slow, but intense: “Baby please, is it true? / You don’t feel the way I do? / Baby please, tell me now / Baby I can’t wait ’til the end of the line.” Strong lyric: “I suppose it’s very clear / The way my eyes well up with fear”. Her voice is so powerful and so controlled, her pitch is great, there’s no vibrato, she just sings her ass off.
I vaguely remember being disappointed by her second LP on Mercury, and didn’t bother to keep it. But the debut — it was one of the first albums I digitalized to CD when the technology changed.
Carolyne Mas remained active in Europe for many years. Currently she lives in Florida and has retired from the music business; instead she runs an animal rescue shelter. Her official website, http://www.carolynemas.com/, says her Mercury LPs have finally been reissued on CD. I can vouch for the first one.
The Hollies on Imperial 10/11/09 October 10, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.Tags: Allan Clarke, Bernie Calvert, Bobby Elliott, Burt Bacharach, Graham Nash, Hal David, Jack Bruce, Ron Richards, Tony Hicks
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The earliest Hollies LP I enjoy thoroughly is the last one released on Imperial, Stop! Stop! Stop!. Released in February 1967 just as they were moving to Epic Records in America, the LP includes two top-30 hits and a bunch of other good stuff. As usual, it was produced by Ron Richards.
What’s Wrong With The Way I Live: Pure Libertarianism. “People should live their life / Leaving me to mine.” Tony Hicks plays some banjo, while Allan Clarke, Graham Nash, Hicks, and Bernie Clavert give some typically great harmony. I particularly like the “do-do-do-do-do” lines Graham Nash sings in the instrumental break.
Pay You Back With Interest: The Beatles influenced everybody. On “We Can Work It Out,” the Beatles went from a 4/4 time signature to 3/4 on the bridge. It was a move so outrageous that Leonard Bernstein pointed it out on his “Inside Pop: The Rock Revolution” TV special in 1967. Nash and Clarke noticed it, too. “Pay You Back With Interest” starts with the verse in 3/4 time, then takes the choruses in 4/4. Bells play a lead line during the instrumental break. I love how Bobby Elliott’s drums keep going and fade away after the vocal part of the song ends. It peaked at #28 in the US just as the group’s Epic debut “Carrie Anne” was released.
Tell Me To My Face: Graham Nash with what passed for an Indian or Arabic melody, and no harmony. He thinks his ex was wrong to break up in an unsigned lettter; she should tell him to his face. Hicks’ lead guitar part is simple and concise.
Clown: More Nash. A clown as an example of a rejected lover keeping a stiff upper lip, but the punch line is that the clown paints the smile on his face upside down. Gotta say, I hate this song.
Suspicious Look In Your Eyes: Allan Clarke doesn’t trust his girlfriend, but that’s okay because she doesn’t trust him. By the second verse the band is singing a “bop-bop” harmony behind Clarke. It is energetic and refreshingly innocent. Merseybeat was both, and the Manchester Hollies came across the same way.
It’s You: The flip-side of the 45 of the LP’s title track. Some sophisticated chord progressions on the chorus, and Graham Nash wails the hell out of his harmonica.
High Classed: “We got a good thing going, we got us.” It is a comedy track worthy of Sonny & Cher. The lyrics contrast her posh background and his poverty (“you eat caviar and I eat toast”), with deliberately hokey punctuation from trumpets and…is that a tuba? No, a trombone. Clarke sings that they have to sneak around to be together because “if they saw us together / Your friends would cut you dead / I’ve seen it happen, I know.” A fun throwaway.
Peculiar Situation: takes a similar scenario but treats it seriously and sympathetically. The woman is a busy professional but “when you’re busy you find time for me.” Their relationship is very equal, they aren’t afraid to admit when they might be wrong, they get along great. The twist? “We’re lovers, but we don’t make love / But when these things mean so much to us / Well that’s all right.” The harmony is particularly nice on the chorus, and they modulate on the last chorus to boost the excitement of the song. Quite nice, actually.
What Went Wrong: The singer is confused and hurt that the woman doesn’t love him back anymore. “What went wrong with our love” is the complete lyric line in context. Very punchy orchestration behind Clarke’s lead vocal. Filler.
Crusader: There is some Graham Nash I love, but there seems to be a lot that I hate. When he exercised his “creativity” the band got weird stuff like this. No harmony, pretentious lyrics.
Don’t Even Think About Changing: “When people put you down it’s ’cause they’re jealous of you” is how the song begins. Is this where Billy Joel got the idea for “Just The Way You Are”? Same theme, I love you as you are so don’t go changing. Energetic and innocent.
Stop! Stop! Stop!: Probably the only pop song about a drunk trying to grab a belly dancer while she’s performing in a nightclub. Tony Hicks’ banjo plays an insistant pattern into a drone, which creates a sense of being off-balance. The singer wants the girl. When he finally steps into her spotlight “she stands lost for speech.” Immediately “heavy hand upon my collar throws me in the street.” The rationale? “Can’t they understand that I want her? / Happens every day.” The band sings harmony on the title line that emphasises each of the exclamation marks. Incredibly sophisticated and well executed. The track made it to #7 in America.
I added some odds-and-ends when I burned the CD from vinyl. There were a few leftover tracks on Imperial in 1967.
After The Fox: actually from 1966, and actually on United Artists. It’s from the soundtrack of the Peter Sellers film of the same name. Sellers plays a professional thief. It’s a novelty song, with Allan Clarke singing questions, and Sellers answering in a thuggish voice. It’s full harmony on the chorus of “After the fox, after the fox, off to the hunt with chains and locks.” Although the chorus is catchy, UA was crazy to bother to release this as a 45. Some historical notes, though: the song is written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David; Bacharach is playing piano; and the bass is by a session musician named Jack Bruce.
On A Carousel: A #11 hit in early 1967, never on a real album. The verses add vocal lines, and the choruses are full harmony. Hicks’ banjo plays the turnarounds in the chorus. The chorus is as complex as on “Bus Stop” in that it keeps adding different pieces, each more memorable that the preceding. So the chorus goes
On a carousel,
On a carousel,
Round round round round round round round with you
Up, down, up down with you…
all describing what a merry-go-round does, as the singer tries to catch up to the girl he is singing to.
All The World Is Love: B-side of “Carousel,” and the first psychaedelic song the Hollies did (they would do several more on Epic in the next year). Calvert’s bass is the anchor, playing a repeating motif that makes the verses seem like a drone. It is a test run of a later song they called “Try It,” but it’s enjoyable as it is. Nice harmony on what passes for the chorus.
I finish up the CD with the B-side of “Pay You Back With Interest,” which was the final new 45 on Imperial. The label was trying to squeeze extra profit off a band that had deserted them (they would try again a few months later with a re-issue of “Just One Look”), but there were only so many songs in the vault. So Imperial dragged a track off the Hollies’ first UK album (on Bus Stop in the US, their fourth LP stateside) to be the flip side! “What’cha Gonna Do ‘Bout It” is energetic and fun, and bursting with the innocence of the 1964 British invasion. Even by 1967 the harmony was dated, just like for The Beatles the simple song structure of “She Loves You” was old-fashioned by the time of Sgt. Pepper. I don’t know about you, but when I hear “She Loves You” or even “Sie Liebt Dich” I jump up and dance and sing my damn fool head off. “What’cha Gonna Do ‘Bout It” provokes a similar albeit less extreme reaction.
I love The Hollies. I even love them after Graham Nash is gone, although I ruefully admit that his departure knocked the energy out of the group. They coasted for another two years or so until the pop spark was completely worn out. They managed a few later hits — “He Ain’t Heavy He’s My Brother” and “The Air That I Breathe,” but both were songs written by outsiders, and their main claim to fame was the fabulously professional harmony arrangements. Me, I happen to like fabulously professional harmony arrangements, but the Hollies were done as a meaningful part of rock history after the Moving Finger album in 1970.
Dusty Springfield 10/9/09 October 9, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.Tags: Brian Epstein, Cilla Black, Formica Blues, Francois Hardy, Jane Birkin, Je T'Aime...Moi Non Plus, John Franz, Judith Durham, Life In Mono, Lulu, Marsha Hunt, Millie Small, Neil Tennant, Pet Clark, Pet Shop Boys, Sandie Shaw, Serge Gainsborough, Siobhan DeMare, Walker Brothers
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I never listen to greatest hits albums. When I like an artist, I like most all their stuff so I listen to the full albums. I like to be familiar even with their clunkers, which is why every few years I pull out The Rolling Stones’ Their Satanic Majesties album.
But there are a few artists I came to later, after the original library already was deleted. And in my musical world, that covers Dusty Springfield.
I wish I’d seen her live. There’s a YouTube video of her performing “You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me” that’s great — she’s in a long white dress, and she acts out the lyrics with hand motions, very histrionic — and absolutely fitting the song.
Mercury put out a box set of her material a few years ago, but the Polygram promo man couldn’t steal me one. I had to settle for the single disc Very Best Of. And it’s a lot of fun. It covers her on at least three record labels, so I’d call it comprehensive.
I Only Want To Be With You: glorious mono. She outdoes Lesley Gore in the same territory, sounding pre-Beatles 60s. The horns are strident, the instrumental passage is taken by violins, and Dusty’s voice cuts through it all. The busy arrangement is by Ivor Raymonde, who along with a guy named Reg Guest [NOT Elton John in disguise] must have done 99% of the record orchestrations in England in the 1950s and ’60s.
Wishin’ And Hopin’: The inspiration for dozens of later songs with the theme “this is what you gotta do to get that man”. Slow verses, with a more upbeat chorus that features the same sort of chick backup singers that were on everyone’s records in 1963, from Ray Charles to Lloyd Price. Period stuff. I love how long Dusty holds the last note while the horn finishes its motif.
“You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me” – This is how continental Europe made dramatic pop music in the 1960s. “You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me” has a sweeping melody that makes use of Dusty’s wide vocal range, loud strings, and drama. Thematically a precursor to “Angel Of The Morning” when Dusty sings “believe me, I’ll never tie you down”.
“Stay Awhile,” my personal favorite of the early Dusty music. Maybe because it wasn’t much of a hit in America so I didn’t get overloaded by it. It is the only British example of Phil Spector worship I’ve found from the era. The drummer is miked the way Hal Blaine was for Spector, and Dusty’s voice sails over it all like Darlene Love’s or Veronica Bennett’s. “I’ll make you glad that you are mine!”
Son Of A Preacher Man — jump forward to Dusty’s comeback hit on Atlantic. Great song. Production values are the same as on Aretha Franklin’s “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” — listen to the way the horns are used as punctuation, and how the production is almost binaural instead of stereophonic. It’s not just Dusty in 1968 copying Aretha from 1967; it’s Dusty’s producer Arif Mardin having learned at the elbow of Jerry Wexler.
I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself – Bacharach and David, but it sounds very European. Another wide melody to show off Dusty’s range, and a lot of dynamic changes from verse to chorus. Rather a sad song, really, a woman going all to pieces because her man is gone. Often I forget that it was Dionne Warwick, not Dusty, who had the hit with this song.
All Cried Out — A puzzle. Distinctive melody, Dusty in great voice, sympathetic orchestration, and not a hit in the US. Part of the melody sounds like Freddie Scott’s “Hey Girl” from 1963. Pop in a period way, but an inferior song that even Dusty couldn’t save.
“In The Middle Of Nowhere” What a funny song –I’m in the middle of nowhere, getting nowhere with you. The chick singers are back.
“The Look Of Love” is the quintessential English language European song of the decade (I say English language to differentiate it from the even more archetypal 60s Europop of Jane Birken & Serge Gainsborough’s “Je T’aime…Moi Non Plus” and everything ever done by Francois Hardy). Despite “Casino Royale” being the most recent James Bond movie, this song was the theme from the original 1967 comic version that starred Peter Sellers, David Niven, Woody Allen, Orson Welles, and Ursula Andress. The song may be the most serious thing in the movie, and it is brilliant. The sax solos are wonderful — a sax plays the melody with isolated notes, no sustain, as if the player were out of breath; then it sustains to show it can, especially the trill at the very end. The movie was a joke, but Dusty’s performance was nominated for a Grammy award. Although Siobhan DeMare sounds nothing like Dusty, her duo Mono used the same sound and feel on their Formica Blues CD and “Life In Mono” single in 1998; the entire disc seems based on this and maybe three or four other of Dusty’s songs.
“Little By Little” more second rate pop. Not everything from the 60s has held up.
“I Close My Eyes And Count To Ten” has a dramatic arrangement, with a wide dynamic range from relatively quiet verses to intense choruses. We think of counting to ten as a technique to prevent your anger from getting the better of you, but Dusty uses it as disbelief — when she opens her eyes the man of her dreams is still there with her. The angst of the vocal is a mismatch, unless you want her to be afraid her man is walking out on her.
“Some Of Your Lovin’” is a typical teen love lyric — “I’ll keep on loving you ’til the day I die.” That may very well be composer Carole King playing piano.
“Guess Who” is from 1964. The staccato piano sounds as if James Brown sampled it two years later for “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World”. Very, very moody and dark.
“Goin’ Back” is a song I will forever identify with The Byrds, and their version on Notorious Byrd Brothers from 1968; as an American, theirs was the first version I heard. Carole King wrote it at least two years earlier, and Dusty has a riveting version that went top-10 in the UK but barely saw the light of day in the US (it was mistakenly put on the first pressing of one of her Philips’ Greatest Hits albums). The orchestration is limited to the bridge and an instrumental section before scaling back to solo piano. The difference in her lyrics from Roger McGuinn’s is interesting; for instance, where the Byrds sing “A little bit of courage is all we lack,” Dusty sings “a little bit of freedom is all we lack.” It is a great song, and to the British Dusty’s version is the definitive one.
Dusty’s early material was produced by Johnny Franz, who also produced the two US albums by The Walker Brothers. It is believed he helped steer songs to Dusty, and in that way helped define her career up to 1968.
Dusty had to leave Franz when she left the Philips record label. When she moved to Atlantic Records Arif Mardin — years before his blow-out success with the Bee Gees — was assigned to her. The result was Dusty In Memphis, an utterly brilliant album that mixes total classics (“Son Of A Preacher Man”) with things that now are dated time-capsule pieces (“The Windmills Of Your Mind”). Dated, yes; but excellent examples of what blue-eyed nightclub soul sounded like in 1968
Who were the women of the British invasion? Judy Durham of the We Five (that’s a joke, son)? Cilla Black? Sandie Shaw? Helen Shapiro? Lulu (well…almost)? Millie Small and Marsha Hunt were great singers but never had the chance to make much of a difference. There were only two female singers in England who mattered during the onslaught of music that came with The Beatles. Pet Clark was really a glorified pop singer of the pre-Beatles style, although “I Know A Place” gave Beatle manager Brian Epstein the title for his autobiography (“a cellar full of noise”) — so maybe there was only one. Dusty, Dusty, and Dusty, that’s all there was.
Just how cool was Dusty Springfield? Ask Neil Tennant of Pet Shop Boys. The Boys teamed up with Dusty in 1987 for a smash hit, “What Have I Done To Deserve This;” they had more hits together in England, although not stateside.
Dusty Springfield is the reason I am a sucker for women with too much eye makeup.
Jimmy Webb I 9/25/09 September 25, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.Tags: Albert Lee, counter-melody, countermelody, Fred Tackett, Ian Matthews, Jesse Ed Davis, Jesse Winchester, Jim Webb, Jimmy Webb, Joni Mitchell, P.F. Sloan, Susan Webb
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Most people don’t pay attention to song writers, only to the performers. So most people don’t know who Jimmy Webb is — but if you’re in a certain age range you know all the lyrics to maybe a dozen of his songs. He started writing hits while an employee of Johnny Rivers, working at Soul City Records. His first hit was for The Fifth Dimension, “Up Up And Away.” Then came several for Glen Campbell — “By The Time I Get To Phoenix,” “Wichita Lineman,” “Galveston,” and “Where’s The Playground Suzie” [written about his kid sister Susan]; ultimately the baroque “MacArthur’s Park” for Richard Harris. He also wrote “The Moon’s A Harsh Mistress” that Judy Collins recorded, and “The Highwayman” and “If You See Me Getting Smaller” for Waylon Jennings and his outlaw buddies. He remains active, but concentrates now on soundtracks.
He attempted a solo recording career, and that’s the Jimmy Webb I love so much. His voice is accurate, although not particularly musical (well, more than Sonny Bono’s was). But no one can sing material like the writer can, and unless you’re Bob Dylan, no one wants to sing most of your material unless you’re the one who wrote it. He is not a mainstream performer. I doubt he ever sold 100,000 copies of any of his solo LPs.
My favorite Webb albums are And So: On and Land’s End, but I’m familiar with most of them. This week I put Words And Music in the truck. It’s his first real LP, from 1970 [Jim Webb Sings Jim Webb came out earlier, but it was demos released against his wishes after he first became famous).
I'm not crazy about Fred Tackett's guitar, it's too jazzy for my taste. But I quite like Webb's orchestrations and arrangements. His later albums have more interesting material and therefore are better to my ears. Even so, I like Words And Music.
"Sleepin' In The Daytime" is about musicians and/or junkies. The guitar is effective, but I don't care for it. Often I skip past this track.
"P.F. Sloan" is a masterpiece. Yes, it uses the name of LA songwriter P. F. Sloan but has nothing to do with him (although I believe Sloan later wrote a song called "Jimmy Webb"). Lyrical imagery is wonderful: "My old friend Trigger up and died / And now they've got him stuffed and dried / You know they tanned his hide, he's crucified / He's staring glassy-eyed out of the parlour door" and "The London Bridge was finally found / They moved it to another town / And now all the people gather round to watch the bridge fall down / But I don't think it will no more." And having lived through the 70s I have no problem with the dated verse "Nixon's come, he's here to stay / He's taken all my sins away / Heard it on the news today / It set my ears to ringing." There is a brilliant countermelody on the last verse; the melody and interplay are great even though it's hard to understand the lyrics. I love the accordian, the occasional fiddle, the la-la-la-la chorus, and the supersonic harmony of his ultra-soprano sister Susan.
"Love Song" has a tremendous bass line from Tackett under Jimmy's nice piano. Pretty love lyrics, and sister Susan's harmony. "Let my life be your love song."
"Careless Weed" makes use of his childhood experiences growing up on a farm in Oklahoma. It's a hymn to unwanted plants, a/k/a weeds (maybe marijuana?), talks about the farmer who will "bring his hoe down now" to kill it, and about how carefree is the existence of a weed.
Webb is a devoutly religious man who even named his eldest son Christian. This is the only LP where he writes and sings any religious music, although it's all way too avant garde to make it to a hymnal. "Psalm One-Five-O" makes literal use of that scripture, praises to God particularly through music and instruments; Webb lingers on the psaltery and the harp. Not exactly dissonant, but hardly the box harmony of southern gospel either white or black. I am not a religious man myself, but I enjoy this track.
"Music For An Unmade Movie (in three parts)" is pretentious but I like it anyway. The three sections segue. "Songseller" would later get its own reworking, plus would become the title of a book he went on to write about how to compose songs. I'm sure it's my own experience in radio programming that helps me like the song, because it is written to the old fashioned "promo men" who would twist arms, guilt trip, or bribe station Program Directors into playing particular songs. The chorus starts with tremendous harmony lines that go up and down at the same time, and it ends with the words "Why can't you get this record played, this record played, this record played..." There's a verse about stealing a "magic sleeve" from The Beatles so now he can play like George and Ringo; and like Paul in "Paperback Writer" ["I can make it longer if you like the style / I can change it round"] Jimmy sings “If you want me to I’ll sing about fucking.”
Part two is “Dorothy Chandler Blues,” a reference I don’t get but it’s about a theatre critic who is an asshole. It starts as a rocker with more religious lyrics — “I wanna be a rock and roll Christian.” Later the tempo downshifts, it’s just an electric organ, and Jimmy sings “How many songs of love have you written in your life sir? / How many have you destroyed?” He labels theatre critics as spoiled jerks, the only ones who don’t have to pay for their tickets, but who write bad reviews because they had a fight with their wife. Nasty. Nice melody too. Later the tempo picks up again, and Jimmy sings “Let’s have a little talk with Jesus, Let’s tell him all our troubles.” Another Beatle trick follows — studio laughter to break the religious mood, like the Fabs used after “Within You and Without You” on Sgt. Pepper.
Except the religious lyrics don’t end, they just get more apocalyptic. The last part of the trilogy is “Jerusalem,” another modern Christian song that you’ll never hear in a church. “I heard the voice of Jesus say / Get your wife and family and everyone you love / Boy, you better get out of L.A. / And the Lord said “right now”". Imagine the story of Abraham set in southern California. It is funny how Jesus and God keep warning Jimmy to RUN. “Might not the Lord be too soon?” says the modern man, who for some reason thinks God gives a crap what he thinks…
“Three Songs” is an interesting musical mixture of “Never My Love, “Let It Be Me,” and a song called “I Wanna Be Free”. He explains somewhere that he felt the lyrics of one responded to the lyrics of another, but I think that’s a load of dingo’s kidneys. But it is very pleasant harmony, and once again Susan Webb’s soprano soars.
The album finishes with “Once Before I Die,” yet another showcase for Susan. The lyrics pick up on the ending of the Three Songs, because the main lyric at the chorus is “Once before I die / Oooh, I’m gonna be free.” Two verses, arranged so you’re surprised there is a second one, and then it fades away. I especially like the way he changes the phrasing and timing of the title lines as he repeats them in each chorus.
It is a pleasant album. Most of it is accessable like his top-40 hits, although the Psalm and the Music For An Unmade Movie have challenging parts.
I like the later albums because he clearly became more confident in his writing and in his own performing. His lyrics became less abstract and more particular and concrete. Some, like “Laspitch” and “High Pockets” tell terrific stories.
Land’s End would be a winner if only because of Ringo Starr and Joni Mitchell. But his writing and arranging are so strong — I’m a sucker for good Phil Spector-influenced songs like “Crying In My Sleep” and “Just This One Time.” Also, the extended orchestration on the title song still blows me away.
I was surprised three years later when he released Mirage. It has the two songs Waylon did, plus “The Moon’s A Harsh Mistress,” and a remake of “P.F. Sloan” — not as good as the original version, but it’s always a treat to hear a great song.
Then he fell 0ff my radar screen for five years. Some lyrics on Angel Heart made me think he had battled an alcohol problem, but that’s just my imagination; I have no idea what he was doing between 1977 and 1982.
To me, one of the highlights of some of Jimmy’s work is the harmony of his sister, Susan. I was knocked out in the summer of 1977 when ABC records released a solo LP of hers on their Anchor subsidiary. Bye Bye Pretty Baby was produced by Jimmy, and used some of the same Los Angeles musicians, like Albert Lee, Jesse Ed Davis, and Fred Tackett. Jimmy arranged a few tracks, but he didn’t write anything for the album. She covers things as disparate as the ancient ‘rock’ hit “Tragedy” as well as Joni Mitchell’s “A Case Of You,” Jesse Winchester’s “Isn’t That So?”, Ian Matthews’ “Same Old Man,” and CSN “Helplessly Hoping.” But the high spots to me are “Tommy And The Rah Rahs” and “Dance To The Radio.”
Eventually I’ll feel like listening to more Jimmy Webb. It’ll be worth the wait.
Manfred Mann 9/19/09 September 19, 2009
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How many Manfred Manns are there?
First there’s Mike Lubowitz, the South African born keyboardist who became the individual called Manfred Mann.
Then there’s the pop group fronted by Paul Jones, the band that made “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” and “Pretty Flamingo” (and the British remember “5-4-3-2-1,” the original theme of the 60s TV rock show “Ready Steady Go”).
In 1966 Paul Jones left the group for a solo singing and movie career. He is a charismatic stage presence — enjoy him if you get to see one of those 60s revival concerts during a public television pledge drive, he really is quite good. He starred in the movie “Privilege” with Jean Shrimpton, one of the Carnaby era supermodels (her sister Chrissie dated Mick Jagger for a few nanoseconds) — and then completely disappeared. It was thought his departure would doom Manfred Mann the pop group.
Instead, Manfred Mann the musician found a replacement singer who also could write songs. The band did not change its name when Michael D’Abo joined, but let us call that version Manfred Mann Mark II.
I LOVE MANFRED MANN MARK II! They were a brilliant pop music band. Although they had only one hit in America, a cover of Bob Dylan’s “The Mighty Quinn,” they regularly cluttered up the charts in England until all the steam ran out in 1969. English hits included Dylan’s “Just Like A Woman,” Randy Newman’s “So Long Dad,” “Semi-Detached Suburban Mr. James,” “Ha Ha Said The Clown,” the wonderfully bizarre “My Name Is Jack,” the bluegrass staple “Fox On The Run,” and their swan song “Ragamuffin Man.” I ignore the instrumental releases by the group because instrumental music bores me, but I will note I didn’t think there could be a worse version of “Sweet Pea” than Tommy Roe’s until I heard Manfred Mann Mark II’s. The group also turned in the excellent, jazzy, atmospheric soundtrack to the obscure film “Up The Junction.”
Manfred Mann Mark II fused some jazz leanings that became stronger with time and an incredible pop sensibility. This version of the group included Beatle Buddy Klaus Voorman on bass, Mike Hugg on drums, and Tom McGuinness (later in McGuinness-Flint) on guitar, as well as Manfred Mann the musician doing keyboards.
I’ve dug up many a British import LP and CD of Mark II’s music. I finally burned a CD of the American The Mighty Quinn album along with significant 45 A- and B-sides. It’s always a treat to hear it, and this is why………
The Mighty Quinn is a mild psychaedelic album, in the same ballpark as the first Traffic album. The lysergic feel comes mainly from the production; all the instruments are compressed and carefully arranged even in the mono mixes (STAY AWAY FROM THE RE-CHANNELED VERSIONS, they are uniformly awful!). The songs are love songs, of course; and being from 1968, a bunch of them deal with the assumption of getting married. I have a lady friend who was more defensive than I realized about living with her boyfriend; she once demanded I take the LP off the stereo.
Is there anyone in the English speaking universe who does not know Manfred Mann Mark II’s “The Might Quinn”? When the 45 came out in January of 1968, Dylan had yet to release a version of it; but the Great White Wonder bootleg album was widely available and included Dylan’s demo of the track. The Manfreds popped it up big time, and added the catchy harmony that you sing every time True Oldies Channel plays it. It deserved to be a world-wide #1 hit. Mono only.
“Ha Ha Said The Clown” is a silly piece of uptempo pop drivel that I love. It went top 5 in England, beating out a version by The Yardbirds that actually used the same backing track. The lyrics make no sense at all, but the title line always explodes out of the song. Mono only.
“Every Day Another Hair Turns Grey” is a ballad with lovely harmony on the choruses. Drummer Mike Hugg wrote it. The theme is a woman who is disappointed with her lot in life — the passion has gone from her marriage even though she still loves her husband (“And her husband, once a good lover, now he seems to be more like a brother”); and her kids are grown and married (“She misses all the noise and rows that children make”). The instrumental passage that follows has the sounds of kids playing mixed into it. The melody is very strong, and the lyric is sympathetic. It is a great piece of work.
“It’s So Easy Falling” is another by Hugg. “It’s so easy falling in love with you” is the repeating chorus line, accompanied by catchy harmony. It’s piano driven, with a few shifts in instrumentation or tempo that make it seem even bigger. The vocal slows and deliberately drags at the very end.
When the folk icon Leadbelly did “Big Betty” he sang it as “Black Betty.” The Manfreds rocked it up with an electric piano part swiped from Steve Winwood on “Gimmie Some Loving.” Probably was a barn-burner of a dance song in concert. It’s a throwaway on vinyl, but a very good one.
“Cubist Town” uses pretentious lyrics to paint a Picasso or Matisse picture. The lyrics dwell on the colors of things in the town with a mild melody. But the chorus melody is very strong, and the harmony is typical of what Manfred Mann Mark II did so well.
Michael D’Abo had written a song or two before joining Manfred Mann Mark II. Working with a not-yet-famous Rod Stewart he wrote “So Much To Say (So Little Time To Say It In)” and “Handbags And Gladrags.” D’Abo wrote “Country Dancing” that opens side 2 of The Mighty Quinn album. While not as outrageously Romansch as “Those Were The Days” would be a few months later, it uses eastern European rhythms and cadences to tell the story of a dance on a wedding day. “Clap hand, sing along We’re all country dancing.” Very lively and energetic and un-pop.
“Semi-Detatched Suburban Mr. James” was a #2 hit in England. It should have been named “…Mr. Jones” as in Bob Dylan’s “You know something is happening but you don’t know what it is, do you Mr. Jones” — but it occurred to someone that using “Mr. Jones” would be taken as an insult to the recently departed lead singer Paul Jones. So with a minor adjustment or two to the rhyme scheme it became “…Mr. James.” It’s intended to make fun of bourgeois marriage conventions — giving up your friends, buttering the toast, taking doggie for a walk. The irony is the opening verse: “So you finally named the day When wedding bells will chime / I was sorry to hear you say You’re gonna be his, not mine.” So the singer’s problem is not with aforementioned friends, toast, or doggie; it’s that she’s not marrying HIM. I find the song hilarious because of this. The melody is very pop, the chorus more so, and the harmony is great. Mono only.
I love D’Abo’s song “The Vicar’s Daughter.” it is a ballad, driven by electric upright piano and some strings. The singer is about to get married, but he can’t help but think about his womanizing past and especially kissing the vicar’s daughter “that summer’s day when I was ten years old.” He remembers chasing her around the church to kiss her, and how she smiled when he caught her; “her innocence is something I still miss.” It is a lovely song. Uncharacteristically there is no harmony on the track.
“Each And Every Day” got recycled five years later by Keith Hampshire and turned into a top-5 hit in Canada under the title “Daytime, Night-Time.” Very, very, very pop. There is no chorus, exactly; like some Beatles songs the structure is verse, verse, bridge, verse. The singer is bragging that his girlfriend loves him daytime, night time…each and every day. But it’s mutual, they “got a feeling going for each other, yeah, And I love her, yes I love her…” Flat out great!
The album ends with D’Abo’s “No Better, No Worse,” which may be the weakest song on the album. The harmony round on the chorus is very good, but not very pop. It uses a trick from the album version of The Beach Boys’ “Help Me Rhonda,” in that the song abruptly returns to full volume when you think it is fading out.
I burned a bunch of other material to the CD. More Manfred Mann Mark II that I like, almost none of it from any LP.
“Just Like A Woman” was their first 45 with D’Abo. They cleverly rearrange the song to open with the chorus; that may be why it was a bigger hit (in England) for them than it was (in the US) for Dylan. Actually, I find the track bores me. There is no subtlety to the lyric delivery, so Dylan’s thoughtful lyrics are wasted.
The flip is “I Wanna Be Rich,” a hilarious track that has a great chrous — although with some awkward lyrics. For the most part it is grand, though:
Money – I could buy me all the things I want to buy
Anything that took a fancy to my eye
Money – how I love the feel of money in my hand
But it runs through all my fingers just like sand
Here it comes now
Money, money – I want a lot
I want a lot more money than I’ve got
Money, money – I want a lot
I want a lot more money than I’ve got
I wanna be rich
What’s worth living for if you’re gonna stay poor
I wanna be rich
To live like a king would mean everything to me, to me
Money – now then I could live my life the easy way
And not break my back working every day now
Money – How I hate to think this feeling I feel is greed
But the more I get the more I seem to need now
The honesty of the lyric is refreshing.
Along the same lines is “Morning After The Party,” a blues where the singer is hung over. The girl he fancied “is passed out on the floor, but in the light of day she don’t look so good no more.” Best lyric is “And there’s a hole in my pocket where my money used to be / I’ve got the morning after the party blues.” No harmony, no attempt to be pop, just a bitingly mean song that is very good.
“Feeling So Good” likewise is not a pop song. It’s more like a writing exercise, and a successful one at that. D’Abo and others (or D’Abo multi-tracked) sings a near-round over a bare minimum of instrumentation for two phrases, then stretches it out with “Feeling so good and free…” Somebody sings a repeating bass “So good” as periodic answers. The harmony is striking. Just not pop.
“So Long Dad” was not a hit for them, possibly because it is one of Randy Newman’s nastiest songs. It is very pop, with the chorus of “So long dad, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la”. The instrumentation is adventurous, with some disciplined but tough guitar lines.
“By Request – Edwin Garvey” was the non-LP B-side of “The Mighty Quinn.” It is musical comedy, almost vaudevillian, and probably very British. The only things I can think of that comes anywhere near it are The Beatles “You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)” and a bizarrity by The Definitive Rock Chorale called “Variations On A Theme Called ‘Hanky Panky’”. Using a Rudee Valley voice, the singer announces various personalities. His persona of Edwin Garvey then sings a twisted love song that sounds as if it fell out of a USO V-Disc recording from 1943. This track is not for the squeamish. But if you are as musically demented as I am you will ROTFL. What is doubly crazy is that this was the lead track from the English album that included “The Mighty Quinn.”
“Up The Junction” is from the soundtrack album Manfred Mann Mark II recorded in 1968. Very mild jazz with some rock sensibility. There is harmony, and a pleasant but not very compelling melody to the chorus. I’ve been listening to this for 40 years so I like it quite a lot. Your mileage may vary.
“My Name Is Jack” was top-10 in England. It is an obscure John Simon (not Paul Simon) song from a movie called “You Are What You Eat.” The Manfreds kept the original structure — particularly the comic drum part — but they lost the jazzy piano and added some great harmony. Also, D’Abo has a much better voice than John Simon. I think the word “Wacky” describes the song. “My name is Jack and I live in the back of The Greta Garbo Home [for Wayward Boys And Girls].” The original version, like Simon’s, has a lyric about “here comes Superspade”; the band had to recut that line for the 45 to turn it in to “superman.” The track is absolutely hilarious. It reached #8 in England, but only crawled to #104 in the US.
The flip side of the “My Name Is Jack” 45 demonstrates that Manfred Mann Mark II was getting bored with pop success. The group began in the early 60s as a blues band, and by 1968 they were getting more interested in jazz and ‘progressive’ sounds. The B-side is “There Is A Man,” written by guitarist Tom McGuinness. The lyrics are from a lunatic asylum:
There is a man that sits in the corner of my room
No one else sees him
When I tell them there is a man who sits in the corner of my room
They beat me
(We beat him)
Oh go away, you’re not really there
Don’t come back another day, please
The second verse begins
There is a man who brings me jewels in my milk
No one else sees him…
Here the sparse, non-rhythmic accompaniment turns into a jazz guitar riff, and the singer speaks: “They say I may go home soon. Wouldn’t that be nice? I’d like to take that man with me to use as a doorstop, I’m sure that mummy wouldn’t mind, even though he is dark and furry and hasn’t got very nice habits…” The song turns into a mid-tempo jazz piece with lead flute or recorder. There is a brief repeat of the “There is a man” part, and then the jazz goes for another minute. This is not music made by a band wanting to be top of the pops.
Four months later, in December 1968, Manfred Mann Mark II released “Fox On The Run” and watched it go top-10 in England. Writer Tony Hazzard is an Englishman who had written “Ha Ha Said The Clown” as well as some hits for The Hollies, Herman’s Hermits, and Lulu. What I don’t understand is how this very song was to become a standard for American bluegrass bands like The Seldom Scene. Anyway, it’s a pop masterpiece. Concise, catchy melody, and full harmony throughout. The chorus uses the same trick The Band used on “The Weight,” (and the Beatles and The Isley Brothers before them used on “Twist and Shout”) where the singers add to the harmony on one word. Finally they slow down the last line of the last chorus, and finish up with a slow drum track and the sound of howling…foxes, I guess. But by then the DJ is talking over the fade and so the weirdness didn’t matter. The song is a pop masterpiece.
The flip side was almost a repudiation of pop success. The song uses a slow rock arrangement that seems to feature piano or harpsichord. The singer dreams about living in the country with just a few friends because there are “too many people lost in my world / too many boys and too many girls”. Another singer chants “We made you what you are / It’s because of us that you’re a star” but D’abo definantly responds “No, that’s not quite true.” Later the tempo picks up and a rock guitar takes over. Not at all pop, but fascinating. This was the inside story of a band about to disintegrate.
“Ragamuffin Man” was their last 45, and another top-10 hit in England. It sounds like it could have been by Tony Hazzard, but in fact came from Mitch Murray and Pete Callander, two veterans of the English equivalent of the Brill Building pop machine with a list of pop hits as long as your arm for acts like Gerry & The Pacemakers, Freddie & The Dreamers, The Tremeloes, Cliff Richard, Vanity Fare, Georgie Fame, Paper Lace…. It opens with a loping uptempo beat, great bass work, and tasty guitar fills. The chorus is irresistible, with a piano fill that goes directly to the pleasure center of your cerebral cortex. The harmony is more elaborate than usual, which adds to the total effect — but it’s the melody and the piano that clinch the deal.
The flip side can be considered the last song from Manfred Mann Mark II. Aptly called “A ‘B’ Side,” it’s more than five minutes of jazz. Slow tempo, with lead flute over fuzz bass, keyboard, and restrained drums. Guitar adds various fills behind the vocal section. The “chorus” is D’Abo singing “Ah….” that morphs into the flute. Some time signature changes. An organ solo sounds exactly like Garth Hudson on The Band’s “Chest Fever.” It is an interesting track, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with what made Manfred Mann Mark II such pop chart successes. It really was their way of saying “And if you didn’t get the message on “Too Many People,” FUCK YOU!”
How bored were the members of Manfred Mann Mark II? Manfred Mann the musician almost immediately formed a group he called Chapter Three to make progressive rock — their song “Joybringer” had a great melody and arrangement, but was not intended to be a pop hit. After a couple of years Mann the musician came up with Manfred Mann’s Earth Band. That configuration stumbled on a few hits, most memorably of Bruce Springsteen’s “Blinded By The Light.”
Sometime in the 1980s most of the erstwhile members of Manfred Mann Marks I and II started playing together for occasional gigs and oldies shows. Because Manfred Mann the musician does not participate they call themselves The Manfreds. On occasion both Paul Jones and Michael D’Abo will sing with the group. This is probably the lineup I saw on public TV when I saw a dynamic Jones perform “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” during the last pledge drive.
UK Fontana Records has released several strong collections of Manfred Mann Mark II. “Chapter Two: The Best Of The Fontana Years” has 20 cuts, while “The Very Best Of The Fontana Years” has an overlapping 18 tracks. The definitive release is “The Ascent Of Mann;” 53 tracks on two CDs, including the “Superspade” version of “My Name Is Jack.” Michael D’Abo wrote liner notes for it that are informative, but also annoying. It’s not like he’s a jerk or anything; it’s just obvious he has put Manfred Mann Mark II behind him and he really doesn’t have any passion left about that music. It’s weird to realize I care more about the music than he does.
David Bowie 9/15/09 September 15, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.Tags: Bowie, Mick Ronson, Mike Garson, Ronno, Spiders from mars, Trevor Bolder
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I love David Bowie’s glitter-rock period. The folk stuff was okay — the two albums on Mercury — but it wasn’t until Ziggy Stardust that I flipped. My best gal-pal of the era was likewise infatuated with his music. It was 1973, 1973, she’d put eye liner on me and we’d wear outrageous clothes and head out to whatever night spot we could afford. We also got to see Bowie in concert a couple of times, including a fabulous theatrical performance at The Fabulous Fox Theatre in Atlanta. I think he came through town a few months later doing the David Live ‘thin white duke’ tour and played the Omni — I think that’s the show where I helped my friend hook up with Bowie for the time of her jail bait life. Ah, sweet memories.
Ziggy begat Alladin Sane, and after the Pinups detour begat Diamond Dogs. I love l-u-v all four of these albums. Mick Ronson was at the peak of his skills, and Mike Garson was a versatile pianist who could do Grand Hotel ballroom and BritRock Freakout — often in the same song.
This week I drove to work with Alladin Sane. The downside was having “The Prettiest Star” and “Panic In Detroit” going through my head all day.
Consider it a given that the words “I love the song…” begin every paragraph.
“Watch That Man,” great rrrrock. “He may look like a jerk / But he could eat you with a fork and spoon.” The chick singers were the British equivalents of The Sweet Inspirations, I guess, although Linda Lewis is the only one I’d ever heard of individually.
The title song, and the underlying pun of the record — is Bowie singing about someone named Sane, Alladin, or about a lad insane? Garson’s piano is very weird on this track.
I love the song “Drive In Saturday.” Neo-50s rock with space age lyrics. The chorus still floors me: “His name was always “Buddy”! / And he’d shrug and ask to stay / She’d smile like Twig the wonderkid / And turn her face away / She’s uncertain if she likes him / But she knows she really loves him / It’s a crash course for the ravers / It’s a drive-in Saturday.” And I love the verses that treat contemporary stars like Mick Jagger as if they are still revered as legends a century later; “Try to get it on like once before / Like when people stared in Jagger’s eyes and scored / like the video film we saw.” Bowie got to honk on his saxophone (later he posed with it for the Pinups sessions, as well as posing with Twig The Wonderkid for the cover shot). There is a peculiar repeating pattern near the end, with Bowie and the backing band singing “it’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a” ad nauseum, I dislike the section, and I sing along with it every time.
“Panic In Detroit” to my Libertarian brain is making fun of Che Guevera and all those “Escape From (wherever)” movies. Great rock chords, and superb bass work from Trevor Bolder before he graduated to the fringes with Uriah Heep and Wishbone Ash [that is gently mockery, thank you]. Some faboo lyrics — “The police had warned of repercussions / They followed none too soon,” and on the surprisingly musically weak bridge “I jumped the silent cars that slept at traffic lights”.
Never cared for “Cracked Actor,” just a tad too pretentious for me, even though I already knew about Bowie’s background in mime and theatre. Except how can one resist the adolescent lyrics “Suck baby suck / Give me your head”? All told, I think The Velvet Underground did the concept better on “New Age.”
“Time” is the absolute showstopper. Some day I will get my hands on a video of the “1980 Floor Show” concert Bowie did on The Midnight Special, that performance is superb, and Ronno’s guitar is mixed a little louder [I guess Bowie and Ronson had a falling out at some point. Ronno's guitar is mixed much lower on the CD of Bowie Live than on the vinyl]. A glam-rock pop star singing about the inevitability of age and death? The lyrics are great, with references to New York Dolls’ drummer Billy Murcia like “Time, and quaaludes, and red wine / Demanding Billy Dolls / And other friends of mine”. Then there’s “Goddamn you’re looking old / You’ll freeze and catch a cold / ‘Cos you left your coat behind / (take your time).” As that verse gets to the section about “Breaking up is hard / But keeping dark is hateful” Ronno and the backing singers do a countermelody of syllables, plus Ronson plays a fabulous wonderful superb solo that continues into a short instrumental break, then concludes with some down-shifting hammer-ons that resolve into Bowie’s “La la la la” section. You may have other favorite Bowie songs, but “Time” is right up there with his very best work. Ever.
“The Prettiest Star” is bouncy and poppy and would not get out of my head most of Monday. Even now, 36 years later, I might know the track better if it wasn’t instantly pushed out of my brain by the hilarious cover version of The Rolling Stones’ “Let’s Spend The Night Together.” Here Garson plays great freakout piano and Bowie puts a pre-punk punk reading on the lyrics. The spoken section before the last chorus is great — Bowie, sounding like a bespotted yobbo, says “They said our love was too young, but our love comes from above. DO IT!” and whipsaw back into the deranged chorus. I don’t know what prompted Bowie to cover this song, but I’m pretty sure it’s what spurred him to do Pinups a few months later.
Bonno and Bowie shine on “The Jean Genie.” It is one of Bowie’s hardest rock tracks ever; at the Hammersmith “last live show” concert he flabbergasted Ronson by having Ronno’s guitar idol Jeff Beck come out on stage to play on the track. I have no idea what the song is about, poor little greenie, who sells you nutrition and keeps all your dead hair for making up underwear… I guess everyone’s Bob Dylan influences sometime ran out of control. I have no idea what the chorus means, but I sing it at the top of my lungs when it comes on: “Jean Genie lives on his back / Jean Genie loves chimney stacks / He’s outrageous he screams and he moans / Jean Genie, let yourself go-o-oh”.
The album ends with another masterpiece of a totally different stripe, “Lady Grinning Soul.” This is the song where Mike Garson plays a grand piano that sounds like part of my childhood, when the summer wind blew ballroom dance strains across the valley from the Grand Hotel on the side of the adjoining mountain. “She’ll come, she’ll go / she’ll lay belief on you”. The adolescent humor of the some of “Time”‘s lyrcs ["Time, it flexes like a whore / Falls wanking to the floor / Its trick is you and me, boy."] is gone, it’s a grownup talking to a grownup when he sings “Touch the fullness of her breast / Feel the warmth of her caress / She will be your living end.” Meanwhile Garson’s lush piano, Bowie’s disciplined sax, and even a simple descending guitar riff from Ronson add up to a great finish.
Wow, wow, wow. Have I said I love this album?
It’ll probably be awhile before I pull out Pinups or even Diamond Dogs. Although I gotta say “When You Rock And Roll With Me” is one of my favorite songs of all time period the end…
Jackson Browne again 9/12/09 September 12, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.Tags: Byrds, Chelsea Girls, Eagles, For Everyman, Jackson Browne, Nico, Saturate Before Using
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As often happens to me, listening to an album spurs me to listen to more by the same performer. Last week I played Jackson Browne’s third album, Late For The Sky. I had to go back to the first two after that.
Asylum Records says Jackson’s debut LP was eponymous, but the cover art of a wineskin makes everyone — me included — refer to it as “Saturate Before Using.” It came out in March 1972, about a month after the 45 of “Doctor My Eyes” began to get airplay. Only a few tracks qualify as rock; most of it is folk styled. Jackson was beginning to get the song-writing thing down, although he would get better and better at that.
No David Lindley, no Doug Haywood. There were some ‘famous’ people playing on the record, most notably harmonies from David Crosby. Lee Sklar and Russ Kunkel from James Taylor’s and Carole King’s band play on it, along with Jim Gordon. Jesse Edd Davis plays guitar on one track, and Albert (not Alvin) Lee plays on two. Craig Doerge, whose career never happened, plays some piano. Considering The Byrds were one of the first artists to record Jackson’s songs, including “Jamaica Say You Will,” it’s fitting that the last Byrds lead guitarist, Clarence White, plays on Jackson’s recording of the same song.
There are more ‘love’ songs on this than on Late For The Sky. “Jamaica Say You Will” is about a relationship that fails when Jamaica’s father, a sailor, finally makes good on his promise to take her sailing with him. The melody is super, the chorus is very strong, and David Crosby is a great harmony singer.
“Under The Falling Sky” is another love song, The arrangement hasn’t held up, though; the uncredited bongos that sound like Joe Lala on a Stephen Stills and Manassas song are annoying.
“Doctor My Eyes” is about the aftermath of an affair. Is the pleasure of being aware, alive, and in love worth the pain that comes afterwards?
“Looking Into You” has a lot going on in it, but part has the sweet love sentiment that nothing in life is as good as what he sees when he looks at his lover.
“My Opening Farewell” is a lyric muddle about a relationship ending badly.
The albums tackles more weighty themes that eventually blossomed on Late For The Sky. “A Child In These Hills” is about leaving “the house of my father” and fitting in to the world.
“Song For Adam” is about death, coping with the suicide of a former friend. “They say that Adam jumped, but I’m thinking that he fell.” Folk melody and instrumentation, with a viola to boot.
“From Silver Lake” is another lyric muddle, too obscure to have much punch. A brother leaves and does or does not take his wife with him, then eventually returns with no mention of the wife. The most notable part of the song is musical: it’s Jackson’s first use of a countermelody, which is a very Angeleno technique that Jimmy Webb and Randy Newman favor. It’s not a very well executed one, but Jackson got to be very good with it on “The Fuse” and the “Doolin-Dalton Reprise” he co-wrote with The Eagles. I happen to love the trick.
“Something Fine” is an adolescent song, about figuring out which of the possibilities of life to pursue. Plus the drug reference of Morocco and “a taste of something fine.”
The part of “Looking Into You” that isn’t a love song is the eerie nostalgia of a 20-something. “I looked into a house I once lived in / About the time I first went out on my own.” Some of the lyrics are remarkably personal and universal. He knocks on the door of his old house where strangers now live. “the people who kindly endured my odd questions / Asked if I came very far / And when my silence replied they took me inside / Where their children sat playing on the floor.” As in “Something Fine,” the song mostly is about figuring out where you fit in to life, the universe and everything.
I particularly like “Rock Me On The Water.” A precursor of songs like “For Everyman” and “After The Deluge,” it deals with the possibility of apocalypse. One verse includes explicitly Christian references, which quickly disappear from Jackson’s writing: a seabird gliding in once place like Jesus in the sky, grabbing the gospel plow, and “When my life is over / Gonna stand before the Father”.
A fun fact to know and tell for old radio hands like me is that Jackson’s second single was “Rock Me On The Water.” But not the version that is on the album. Radio doesn’t like songs with :00 vocal starts, so Jackson and David Crosby and that unnamed bongo player got liquored up or worse and re-did the song. The harmony is ten times better, with Jackson’s vocals ending or starting verses layered over the harmony of the chorus. Of course I had to digitalize the 45 and burn a new version of the Saturate Before Using CD that includes both takes of “Rock Me On The Water.”
Then I had to pull out the second album, For Everyman, and listen to that, too.
The original pressing of the LP came in a die-cut cover. The front cover was really a big hole that let you see the picture printed on the inner sleeve. It was an expensive trick, reserved for only the first pressing.
And we finally hear David Lindley on guitar and fiddle, and Doug Haywood on bass and harmony.
“Take It Easy” and “These Days” may be Jackson’s most famous songs. “Take It Easy” opens the album, a fine version, and the swirling Leslie guitars segue into the next track, “Our Lady Of The Well.” Jackson frames the album well, using the same technique to connect the final songs that end side two, “Sing My Songs To Me” into the title track.
Jackson’s earliest recording of “These Days” is backing Nico on her Chelsea Girls album in 1968 or so. But when Greg Allman recorded the song for his first solo album, he loosened up the timing and improved the arrangement tremendously. Mrs. Browne did not raise her baby boy Jackson to be a fool, and he acknowledges Allman’s “inspiration” for his own version.
“Ready Or Not” made me laugh the first time I heard it, and I’ve never stopped. It’s a silly story song, about his girlfriend getting pregnant and the two of them leaving their running around behind and settling down. “But I let her do some of my laundry / And she slipped a few meals in between / Next thing I knew she was all moved in / And I was buying her a washing machine.” There’s also a great adolescent pun on the expression “getting into her jeans” — in the first verse, a clue to her condition is that she’s having trouble doing it; the second verse, which recaps their meeting, was an occasion where Jackson was having trouble doing it. Hee-hee.
As for as blatant eroticism, go with “These Times You’ve Come.”
I love the title track. “For Everyman” tackles the same territory as “After The Deluge,” American apocalypse. He talks about the need for being told what to do. Jackson doesn’t mean being ordered to do things, he means someone sharing some wisdom about what the right thing to do is. “Who’ll come along and hold out that strong / But gentle father’s hand?” the song asks. From a political standpoint, though, Jackson evolved to believe government could tell the difference and therefore authoritarian liberalism is the answer. Why is big government always the answer if your guys are in power? That’s not meant as a knock against the left; the American right has the same blind spot. Libertarians are the only ones who have figured out that YOU have the answer for YOU and that government should get out of your way. Anyway, the song is great, and clearly is a transition from the folkiness of Saturate Before Using to the sophisticated philosophy of Late For The Sky.
The Harder They Come 9/6/09 September 6, 2009
Posted by sebastianmusic in Uncategorized.Tags: Bob Marley, Desmond Dekker, Island Records, Jimmy Cliff, Maytals, Melodians, reggae, soundtrack, Wailers
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In 1973 it was so cool to know about Reggae music. Bob Marley still drew breath. Toots And The Maytals were hot. Island records was releasing more than just English folk music. And I went to see the movie The Harder They Come. It starred singer Jimmy Cliff as Johnny Too Bad (as opposed to Chuck Berry’s Johnny B. Goode). The Jamaican English was so thick that I remember subtitles through parts of the film.
I haven’t seen the film in 36 years — although the image from a victim’s point of view of getting his face razor slashed will never go away. But the music… I listen to the soundtrack a lot. I like it so much that I actually spent full price — $16.99 — for the CD.
Jimmy Cliff was the only person on the LP I’d ever heard of; he had had a minor hit of “Wonderful World, Beautiful People” a few years earlier. Maybe I had seen the names “Maytals” and “Desmond Dekker” in the pages of Rolling Stone Magazine, but I’d never heard their music. I was so ignorant of reggae that I didn’t know it was a big deal that Bob Marley’s music was not included, not even as composer.
I find a little Jimmy Cliff goes a long way, but his four songs (plus two dub versions) are well within my tolerance level. His lyrics are so positive, so libertarian, that I love the tracks. A dear friend who spent several years as Political Director of the national Libertarian Party counted Cliff as one of his favorite artists (right up there with Led Zeppelin and Kansas) because of the lyric message.
“You Can Get It If You Really Want” says you can accomplish anything you want, just get off your ass and do it.
The title track prescribes tenacity in the face of opposition; it’s a downright call to revolution. I love the verse “I keep on fighting for the things I want / Though I know that when you’re dead you’re gone / But I’d rather be a free man in my grave / Than living as a puppet or a slave.” The spirit of ’76 lives!
“Sitting In Limbo” is uncharacteristically ambivalent. He knows he’s about to change things, but there’s no particular reason or story. Still sounds good, though.
“Many Rivers To Cross” is a brilliant song regardless of genre. Percy Sledge did a wonderful note-for-note remake and it’s just as good. It’s a love song — “My woman left me and she didn’t say why / Guess I’ll have to cry.” But it’s also a song of resistance and individuality, “Many rivers to cross / And it’s only my will that keeps me alive / I’ve been kicked, washed up for years / And I merely survive because of my pride.” The backup vocals are great, oddly better recorded than Jeannie Greene’s ensemble on the Percy Sledge version.
The album finishes with dub versions of “You Can Get It If You Really Want” and “The Harder They Come.” It’s like karaoke versions, but with some of Cliff’s vocals remaining.
Then are the guys I’d never heard of and their wonderful little slices of reggae.
Scotty and “Draw Your Brakes”. “Stop that train, I want to get off”. I have no idea what the hell it’s about, I can’t understand half the lyrics, and I sing along with it anyway.
The Melodians and “Rivers Of Babylon.” Right up there with “Many Rivers To Cross” and “No Woman No Cry” as my favorite song of the genre. It’s a Rastafarian gospel song with delightful box harmony. “How can we sing King Alpha’s song in a strange land?”
One of the two Maytals’ songs is “Sweet And Dandy.” Seems to be celebrating someone’s wedding. All I can make out is the chorus, which repeats those words over and over. Oh, and something about drinking cola wine.
The other Maytals’ cut is “Pressure Drop,” an angry song later covered by Robert Palmer. “Pressure gonna drop on you.”
The Slickers’ “Johnny Too Bad” could have been the theme of the movie. Johnny Too Bad seems to be the Jamaican equivalent of what John The Conqueror is in American Black mythology — the tribe member who stands up to the alien power structure and thrives. Johnny is walking down the road with a pistol in his waist. He’s just robbing and a-stabbing and looting and shooting, Johnny you’re too bad. There is a religious image of the rock that provides no hiding place, with the very vague implication that Johnny Too Bad will end up dead or worse. Great song.
Last is “Shanty Town,” the only contribution from Desmond Dekker And The Aces. “Mama shoot, mama loot, mama wail in Shanty Town.” Seems to be about how rough life is for the rude boys if even mama is getting in on the action. I’m probably not hearing the words correctly.
The music is so energetic and so innocent — even when the lyrics are about shooting and looting. I imagine reggae has evolved just like other musical idioms have, so for all I know this soundtrack screams “1973!” to a reggae aficionado. To which I say, “so what.”
