Music Madness

The most brilliant pop song of them all (Full Of Conjecture edition)

Hey gang, we're still here.

So, lately, I have been working my way through the tremendously fascinating catalog of Wilco, with immeasurable thanks given to fellow contributor Andrew. There have been numerous back and forth discussions (if only you could read those threads) on the vagaries of their oeuvre and in the middle of one of these, I mentioned how I picked up a hint of a Big Star sound. This was agreed and then Andrew mentioned that one of Jeff Tweedy's big influences is/was Big Star leader Alex Chilton.

This got me intrigued about going back over my Chilton collection and reminded me of how much I absolutely love "The Letter" by Chilton's first band, The Box Tops. Give a listen.

 

Now, granted, it's not the most well constructed song ("Good Vibrations" arguably takes that distinction), nor is it the deepest in terms of content. It's the utter meaninglessness that makes it an outstanding piece of late '60's pop brilliance.

Written by Wayne Carson Thompson, who also gave us "Always On My Mind", and recorded by The Box Tops in 1967, the song hit #1 in America and gave the world its first taste of a then 17 year old Alex Chilton. Listening to his voice, you would have no idea that he's a junior in high school. Chilton takes words that are, essentially, a goofy concept (going-home-to-my-baby is nothing new, even in 1967 when rock was still in grade school) and gives them an emotional heft that conveys the feeling of urgency that young love can twist the insides of a young man.

Besides Chilton's vocal interpretation, another aspect of the song that is fascinating and, at the same time, frustrating is the violin section that comes in toward the end of the song. The tone of the violins give you the sense that you're only in the middle of the tune, when in reality you're at the fade out and it's over before you know it and it's the truncation that makes the entire song. Had this song gone on for one more verse/chorus, it would have been just a mediocre tune. By cutting it off at just under 2 minutes, producer Dan Penn unknowingly assured that it would be a pop "standard" that would be covered by a host of artists well into the new millennium. Among those that have given their version are slouches like Joe Cocker, The Beach Boys, Al Green and Peter Tosh and all-timers like Shaun Cassidy, John Davidson and Lee DeWyze.

Like I hinted at in the headline of this piece, this is a highly subjective pick. That's the beauty of music kids!

The Clocks - She Looks a Lot Like You

 

This may very well be the best power-pop gem of the 1980s that you've never heard. Did I mention they're from Wichita? Also, give "Nobody's Fool" a listen. They're like a Midwestern version of The Cars.

Going backwards

Been neglecting this here thing for longer than I should have. As I suspect happens with most of us who love music, what we listen to is based on whimsy, floating in the ether and hard to explain. Or sometimes it's something as simple as the death of a legend (Donald Dunn, MCA, etc.). For me, it's usually the former.

As of late, I've been going back. When I say back, I mean, the newest thing I've listened to is my find of finds, an original stereo pressing from 1966 of 'Pet Sounds', my all-time favorite album. Now, when I say "newest thing", I'm speaking strictly in terms of sounding current at the time of its release. Side note: I'm also listening to a Robert Johnson LP from 1961, but that's because without him, there's nothing.

The above is not to say that I haven't been listening to artists who are currently making music (Beach Boys reunion aside). What it means is, I'm becoming obsessed with young-ish artists making music that goes back further than 'Pet Sounds' or even Bill Haley and the Comets. Here's an example:

 

And another:

 

Yet another (this fella is only 23 by the way):

 

And last, but not least, a 25 year old who can channel 60's r&b, soul and retro fashion better than any Idol contestant or liquor ad:

 

The genesis of this recent obsession is nebulous. I think I have a deep appreciation for those that look backwards but don't just ape what's come before. I also like the honesty of the sound and the sincerity of the delivery of material. Perhaps I like the sense that there's a subset of musicians that understand that, basically, everything that's good or will be good (in a long-lasting sense) has already been done so why not go back and mine some of that ground and interpret, re-package and pay tribute to yesteryear. Whatever the reason, I feel a revitalized love of this older music and it has resurrected my long dormant collection of the source material, from Blind Willie McTell to Son House to Howlin' Wolf to Johnnie Taylor. What I take away the most is the sense that not all is lost and we can still make a game out of this increasingly mediocre culture of music.

P.S.-congrats to Amy Winehouse, 315 days sober today.

Under the Bowie Knife: Why I Love David

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.
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• 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.
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• 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.
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• 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.
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• 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.
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• 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."
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• 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.
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• 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.
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• 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...
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• And, to come full circle, in David Lynch's Lost Highway.
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Sorry if this is long and annoying. This is a love letter to my favorite musician.

Justin Townes Earle, "Automobile Blues"

 

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? 

Summertime Blues/Twenty Flight Rock

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"

 

 

Take It Away Lucky

In my daily quest to find music from a time when the world was better comes this gem.

 

Underrated artist: Terry Reid

As a follow-up to Eric's post about the lovely Maggie Bell -- and to make another Led Zeppelin connection -- this week I've been spinning Superlungs by Terry Reid, one of the forgotten artists from the across the pond.

You can read his full story here, but the long-and-the-short of it is that Jimmy Page offered him the gig to be Led Zeppelin's lead vocalist, an offer which he turned down for a few different reasons. It was probably for the best; while Reid does have an impressive set of pipes, I have trouble placing it in the context of Zep's tunes.

There's a reason the four musicians in Led Zeppelin came together at the time they did. Reid made a few records and toured, built up a following, but then slowly faded into rock's history pages merely a footnote. Here are a few tracks for your listening pleasure.

 

 

 

Raise your fist and make the devil horns

I'm just in that kind of mood.

 

Dan Auerbach - "Trouble Weighs a Ton"

Posted without commentary, other than listen to The Black Keys, Dan Auerbach and Hacienda. It will do you good.