It was Taj Mahal's 70th birthday yesterday. He was 28 when he laid down this smokin' track. Wish I would've paid closer attention to his current tour schedule; he was in Kansas City two days ago at Knuckleheads, the quintessential venue for this brand of blues. Sigh...
I apologize profusely for having been absent for such an extended period of time; however, this absence has not been devoid of music. I went on a little spree the last weekend and dug around record shops in KC. I managed to get an original Roy Orbison "Crying" 45 for three dollars in near perfect condition.
I also grabbed guilty pleasures such as Kenny Loggins' "Danger Zone" and The Trampps' "Disco Inferno" as well as fantastic tunes like "Stray Cat Strut" and Stevie Wonder's Songs in the Key of Life.
This sidequest from the blog also had me falling back in love with the works of David Lynch. After finally seeing Dune, this marks my having seen all of his major works including three times through Twin Peaks. During Blue Velvet, I fell back in love with another work by Orbison: "In Dreams," a song that has been argued to have the greatest opening line ever written.
But the title of the post doesn't relate to all this Orbison, Ryan. What the hell, man.
Not the point.
I have been on the most massive Bowie kick in the history of Bowie kicks. During my record haul, I nabbed Ziggy Stardust (which I already have on newly-pressed vinyl as it's my favorite album of all-time), Hunky Dory, and Let's Dance on CD. But even before this, I had Ziggy, Low, and "Heroes" checked out from Hale. I've made m way through his entire discography this past month or so. He may be the most important male solo artist to his era. But what astounds me about this man is is sheer range, diversity, and adaptablity.
His late sixties folk/acoustic sound in songs like "Space Oddity" fit well with the times.
After The Man Who Sold the World, Bowie released Hunky Dory which is a peek into the glam rock that Bowie would symbolize and become god of. Letting his vocal chords loose to perform wailing choruses became commonplace but never boring. The second track on Hunky, "Oh! You Pretty Things" is a prime example of this.
Aladdin Sane is as clever an album as the pun the title contains. The magnum opus, arguably, the faux-'50s "Drive-In Saturday:" a song about a group of young people in a drive-in watching, ahem, certain films because they've forgotton how to procreate.
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars is the greatest concept album ever. There is no argument. A story of earth's ending in five years due to lack of resources and a starman coming to spread hope who ultimately is killed by what he loves: rock and roll. Explicitly stating "TO BE PLAYED AT MAXIMUM VOLUME" on the back of the album, this album is very in-your-face with imagery, wailing vocals, and kick-ass guitar. Mick Ronson's work on the outro solo to "Moonage Daydream" is spectacular and comes in as my personal favorite guitar solo behind David Gilmour's "Comfortably Numb" work.
Soul Bowie is my friend Nick's least favorite Bowie. He may be my favorite Bowie. His Young Americans album is marvelous and contained his first #1 hit on the Billboard charts: "Fame" (featuring John Lennon in the background). This is not the best work on the album though. The best song is a variation on Luther Vandross' touring band's song "Funky Music (It's a Part of Me)." Vandross' group opened for Bowie on several occasions. Bowie liked what he heard and "Fascination" was born.
Then came the Berlin Trilogy: Low, "Heroes", and Lodger. All produced by Bowie himself alongside Brian Eno and Iggy Pop, these three albums, behind Ziggy, are considered his best work. The mainly-instrumental Low has its set of wonderful tracks like "Speed of Life" and "Sound and Vision" and Lodger has it's catchy UK hit "DJ" and the crazy "African Night Flight."
But "Heroes" is his best work from the Trilogy. Around this time, Bowie was getting much more sentimental in his writings. His lyrics became personal. His song "Beauty and the Beast" reflects on Bowie's identity crisis during his massive cocaine abuse especially during the Station to Station recordings that came before the Trilogy. Bowie has admitted that he does not remember recording the album at all because of his cocaine addiction.
Bowie's late '80s-early '90s albums are not bad at all, but, as with most artists, nowhere near as great as their first works. The Thin White Duke's second #1 hit was the total '80s pop "Let's Dance" off the album of the same name. He also had, on the same album, the Iggy-penned "China Girl" and the catchy "Modern Love." Then Never Let Me Down came a bit after and the title song is very much influenced by the calm electronic sound of the time.
From the '90s on, there's nothing exceptionally noticeable about Bowie's work. His voice, much like Leonard Cohen's, got much deeper and allowed for a new type of music to be made. The only place in the US Bowie showed up with this music was in the opening titles of Se7en with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman...
And, to come full circle, in David Lynch's Lost Highway.
Sorry if this is long and annoying. This is a love letter to my favorite musician.
This kid makes shooting a man in Nevada seem adorable. Always wondered though why the perp in the song would do time in a California State prison for a crime committed in another state.
Just when I think I've seen and heard all the hot licks and funky rhythms he can rip out of a six-string, Justin Townes Earle absolutely destroys this Lightnin' Hopkins tune and throws me for another loop. Nobody's pickin' like this.
C'mon, Justin, when's the live/solo blues album coming out?
I don't particularly like summer, but I love this song. I wanted to be Eddie Cochran when I was a kid, these two songs are why. Now, someone explain to me why Jeremy Renner has not been cast as Eddie in a movie of his (tragically) short life.
And this beaut from the film "The Girl Can't Help It"