Yow! More than a year has gone by since my last posting on this page! Well, I now have hi-speed internet at home (thanks Provincial Mandate!), so here's some new old stuff I've been grooving on these days...
SIR DOUGLAS QUINTET : Honkey Blues
White Tex-Mex soul singer hides out in 1968 Haight-Asbury and, well, this is what you get. A soulful, bluesy, psychedelic masterpiece, Sgt. Pepper gone to San Antone...raw and jazzy, dry and swampy, bluesy and spacey...a poor old Texas boy in the big old freaky city...nothing else quite like this!
FUNKADELIC : Free Your Mind And Your Ass Will Follow
How far out do you wanna go? Jimi Hendrix a bit too tame for you? George Clinton and Co. back in the early 70's were anything but slick...this is raw, high volume, PSYCHO-DELIC funk at its freaky extreme...wear ear protection! Eddie Hazel's guitar is a relentless swirl of wah, fuzz, and echo, the beats are hard and funky, and the songs are joyfully sexy and relentlessly astute (FUNKY DOLLAR BILL should be the American national anthem)...this record is not for the conservative or tender-hearted!
LOUVIN BROTHERS : When I Stop Dreaming (Best Of)
Bridging the high lonesome sound of Bill Monroe and the pre-Beatles pop of the Everlies, Ira and Charlie Louvin mine old folk ballads, gospel, and "modern topical" ("Great Atomic Power") to forge a curious and sometimes frightening musical landscape. The music is proto-country, with mandolin, upright bass, and achingly perfect harmonies, but an apocalyptic darkness lurks in the corners: murder and Satan, blood and guilt and punishment, as well as the H-bomb, are almost ecstatically embraced, underscoring the inherent sociopathy of country music: happy toe-tappin' major chord tunes topped with lyrics seething with catastrophe and sin. Good stuff to listen to as you walk to the electric chair.
June 16, 2009
in
No high-speed, but still listening to music...just not posting!
List of highlights from the last month or so:
HUPMAN BROTHERS : Countin' Quarters
OTIS RUSH : Right Place, Wrong Time
CAT STEVENS : Tea For The Tillerman
ROD STEWART : Gasoline Alley
ALI FARKA TOURE : The River
PERFORMANCE : Soundtrack
BEATLES : White Album (one stereo channel at a time!)
List of highlights from the last month or so:
HUPMAN BROTHERS : Countin' Quarters
OTIS RUSH : Right Place, Wrong Time
CAT STEVENS : Tea For The Tillerman
ROD STEWART : Gasoline Alley
ALI FARKA TOURE : The River
PERFORMANCE : Soundtrack
BEATLES : White Album (one stereo channel at a time!)
April 23, 2009
in
This week's menu...
RUFUS w/ CHAKA KHAN : Rags To Rufus
YES : Topographic Oceans
DONOVAN : Wear Your Love Like Heaven
BOB MARLEY : Rastaman Vibration
RUFUS w/ CHAKA KHAN : Rags To Rufus
YES : Topographic Oceans
DONOVAN : Wear Your Love Like Heaven
BOB MARLEY : Rastaman Vibration
April 14, 2009
in
THE WHO : LIVE AT LEEDS (1970)
What passes for rock and roll these days pales in comparison to what was presented the night of February 14, 1970, to a small ballroom audience at the University Of Leeds. Four guys, one in a white boiler suit and red SG, a second with a long mane of curly blonde hair and fringe jacket, another with a jet-engine-powered bass guitar and the fourth with helicopter limbs popping sticks in the air and making absurd faces...yes, The Who were indeed LIVE AT LEEDS, and the Deluxe Edition double cd brings the entire concert into crushing perspective.
Fans of the original lp were treated to taut, raw versions of Substitute, Summertime Blues and Shakin’ All Over, and lengthy extensions of Magic Bus and My Generation. This lp gave a through-the-keyhole glimpse of The Who’s live show, in between the double-album rock opera Tommy and the polished FM staples on Who’s Next. But the cuts on the Live At Leeds lp were essentially just the encores of a two hour-plus show!
The Deluxe Edition cds puts it all in context: the band roars through an introductory set of unreleased tunes, covers, and early singles, then into the “mini-opera” A Quick One While He’s Away...then proceed to stampede headlong into Tommy, which even in its condensed-for-the-stage form is over an hour long. Then come the encores which form the original lp.
The playing is brilliant, loud as fuck but also, at times, quiet as a deaf dumb and blind mouse. Tommy is epic, glorious, and tight, with each member demonstrating complete mastery of their respective instruments while blending harmonies and dynamics as a unified whole...and they play, turbo-charged and replete with leaps and windmills and spinning microphones, for over two hours non-stop.
Back in those days, a show was judged not only on its musical merits but on its length: The Who, Zeppelin, Allman Brothers, The Dead...they were all known for their marathon sets, and the sun might be coming up before the show was over. Perhaps it was just too damn loud to hear the fat lady sing? These days you’re lucky to get an hour and fifteen minutes. I tip my hat to the Who’s generation, at least the four guys in the band that night long ago when this recording was made...they not only show what rock and roll is capable of, but they set the bar pretty damn high.
What passes for rock and roll these days pales in comparison to what was presented the night of February 14, 1970, to a small ballroom audience at the University Of Leeds. Four guys, one in a white boiler suit and red SG, a second with a long mane of curly blonde hair and fringe jacket, another with a jet-engine-powered bass guitar and the fourth with helicopter limbs popping sticks in the air and making absurd faces...yes, The Who were indeed LIVE AT LEEDS, and the Deluxe Edition double cd brings the entire concert into crushing perspective.
Fans of the original lp were treated to taut, raw versions of Substitute, Summertime Blues and Shakin’ All Over, and lengthy extensions of Magic Bus and My Generation. This lp gave a through-the-keyhole glimpse of The Who’s live show, in between the double-album rock opera Tommy and the polished FM staples on Who’s Next. But the cuts on the Live At Leeds lp were essentially just the encores of a two hour-plus show!
The Deluxe Edition cds puts it all in context: the band roars through an introductory set of unreleased tunes, covers, and early singles, then into the “mini-opera” A Quick One While He’s Away...then proceed to stampede headlong into Tommy, which even in its condensed-for-the-stage form is over an hour long. Then come the encores which form the original lp.
The playing is brilliant, loud as fuck but also, at times, quiet as a deaf dumb and blind mouse. Tommy is epic, glorious, and tight, with each member demonstrating complete mastery of their respective instruments while blending harmonies and dynamics as a unified whole...and they play, turbo-charged and replete with leaps and windmills and spinning microphones, for over two hours non-stop.
Back in those days, a show was judged not only on its musical merits but on its length: The Who, Zeppelin, Allman Brothers, The Dead...they were all known for their marathon sets, and the sun might be coming up before the show was over. Perhaps it was just too damn loud to hear the fat lady sing? These days you’re lucky to get an hour and fifteen minutes. I tip my hat to the Who’s generation, at least the four guys in the band that night long ago when this recording was made...they not only show what rock and roll is capable of, but they set the bar pretty damn high.
March 22, 2009
in
INNERVISIONS : Stevie Wonder (1973)
I remember, long ago, engaging in a discussion as to whether John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, and Bob Marley might actually have been emissaries from an advanced alien race, “angels” if you will, sent to Earth to help nudge our wayward spiritual evolution back on course. These aliens could only sustain their human form for so long, hence all the premature deaths of rock stars such as Mozart, Keats, Rimbaud, Van Gogh, etc.
Well, Stevie Wonder is either an angel who figured out how to keep his human disguise intact, or a mortal Earthling who operates on quantum levels far beyond the constraints that keep most of us tethered to the mundane. Recently I’ve been hooked again on Innervisions, his 1973 masterpiece, and I would have to be a fairly accomplished poet to even begin to describe the genius and beauty on display within its grooves. This record capped an amazing run of releases (Music Of My Mind, March 1972; Talking Book, October 1972; then Innervisions in August, 1973) comparable only to The Beatles (Rubber Soul > Revolver > Sgt. Pepper) in terms of artistic expansion within a mere year and a half. And Stevie is only one guy, writing all the tunes and performing them largely by himself, with layered textures of keyboards and synthesizers, mindbending vocals, and eye-popping drumming. Talented guests (including Willie Weeks, Dean Parks, David T Walker) provide guitars, bass, percussion, and backing vocals.
From the get go, Stevie challenges us, teases us. “Too High” tickles your musical senses, taking dissonant clusters of vocal harmony and triangulating them up and down the scale, a melody backed by chords with names music professors could argue over for hours, jumping down a descending whole tone staircase like a stone bouncing off a cliff. In anyone else’s hands, the first thirty seconds of this album would be unlistenably complex, yet Stevie makes it sound fun, exciting, inviting. Next thing you know you are bopping along to the sad tale of a young girl who dies of an overdose! A far cry from any Motown hit formula, and Stevie makes it easy to absorb...dissonance and tragedy in the context of a funky pop song. Next up, “Visions” is as delicate as a bee’s wing, while “Living For The City” is nothing less than cinematic, the hard luck story of a country boy who winds up in a New York prison. “Golden Lady” follows, one of the most beautiful love songs ever, its simple melody underpinned by chord changes that can only be called sublime. “Higher Ground” is a joyous funk spiritual, while “Jesus Children” questions the faith of the overly fervent. “All In Love Is Fair” features a vocal performance that could blow down the walls of Jericho. The gently exuberant advice of “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout A Thing” and the cautionary “Misstra Know-It-All” conclude the song-cycle, making us wish the girl in “Too High” had heard these final songs first...
This record can make the sun shine when you are feeling down, get a party moving, or provide good company on the road, while addressing some of society’s most perniciously universal issues (racism, poverty, drug addiction)...the beats are funky, the electric pianos warm and enveloping, the songs segue into one another seamlessly...you are on a sailboat in the tropics, then soaring like an eagle on rising currents of emotion...walking the streets of the ghetto and then gazing into the eyes of your dreamlover...each song is a masterpiece unto itself, and listening to the whole album will humble you and make you glad to be alive and witness to what music can achieve in the hands of a master. And, for musicians, learning these tunes is an advanced course in song structure, chord movement, melody and harmony on a par with any classical composer (except that your toes never stop tapping and you can hum the melodies to yourself without a degree in music theory).
Innervisions is simply a record that speaks to everyone, anyone can enjoy it, and no one should be without it.
I remember, long ago, engaging in a discussion as to whether John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, and Bob Marley might actually have been emissaries from an advanced alien race, “angels” if you will, sent to Earth to help nudge our wayward spiritual evolution back on course. These aliens could only sustain their human form for so long, hence all the premature deaths of rock stars such as Mozart, Keats, Rimbaud, Van Gogh, etc.
Well, Stevie Wonder is either an angel who figured out how to keep his human disguise intact, or a mortal Earthling who operates on quantum levels far beyond the constraints that keep most of us tethered to the mundane. Recently I’ve been hooked again on Innervisions, his 1973 masterpiece, and I would have to be a fairly accomplished poet to even begin to describe the genius and beauty on display within its grooves. This record capped an amazing run of releases (Music Of My Mind, March 1972; Talking Book, October 1972; then Innervisions in August, 1973) comparable only to The Beatles (Rubber Soul > Revolver > Sgt. Pepper) in terms of artistic expansion within a mere year and a half. And Stevie is only one guy, writing all the tunes and performing them largely by himself, with layered textures of keyboards and synthesizers, mindbending vocals, and eye-popping drumming. Talented guests (including Willie Weeks, Dean Parks, David T Walker) provide guitars, bass, percussion, and backing vocals.
From the get go, Stevie challenges us, teases us. “Too High” tickles your musical senses, taking dissonant clusters of vocal harmony and triangulating them up and down the scale, a melody backed by chords with names music professors could argue over for hours, jumping down a descending whole tone staircase like a stone bouncing off a cliff. In anyone else’s hands, the first thirty seconds of this album would be unlistenably complex, yet Stevie makes it sound fun, exciting, inviting. Next thing you know you are bopping along to the sad tale of a young girl who dies of an overdose! A far cry from any Motown hit formula, and Stevie makes it easy to absorb...dissonance and tragedy in the context of a funky pop song. Next up, “Visions” is as delicate as a bee’s wing, while “Living For The City” is nothing less than cinematic, the hard luck story of a country boy who winds up in a New York prison. “Golden Lady” follows, one of the most beautiful love songs ever, its simple melody underpinned by chord changes that can only be called sublime. “Higher Ground” is a joyous funk spiritual, while “Jesus Children” questions the faith of the overly fervent. “All In Love Is Fair” features a vocal performance that could blow down the walls of Jericho. The gently exuberant advice of “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout A Thing” and the cautionary “Misstra Know-It-All” conclude the song-cycle, making us wish the girl in “Too High” had heard these final songs first...
This record can make the sun shine when you are feeling down, get a party moving, or provide good company on the road, while addressing some of society’s most perniciously universal issues (racism, poverty, drug addiction)...the beats are funky, the electric pianos warm and enveloping, the songs segue into one another seamlessly...you are on a sailboat in the tropics, then soaring like an eagle on rising currents of emotion...walking the streets of the ghetto and then gazing into the eyes of your dreamlover...each song is a masterpiece unto itself, and listening to the whole album will humble you and make you glad to be alive and witness to what music can achieve in the hands of a master. And, for musicians, learning these tunes is an advanced course in song structure, chord movement, melody and harmony on a par with any classical composer (except that your toes never stop tapping and you can hum the melodies to yourself without a degree in music theory).
Innervisions is simply a record that speaks to everyone, anyone can enjoy it, and no one should be without it.
March 13, 2009
in
Even before seeing High Fidelity, I have always hated the "Top Five/Ten/Fifty/100" list. My musical preferences change as often as my socks, and what fits the mood for today may be totally out of whack tomorrow. For some reason, tho, I recently filled out a Top Ten Albums survey on Facebook and received some interesting and encouraging feedback. This gave me the idea to keep a diary of what I'm currently diggin' in order to share my listening habits, inspire discussion, and perhaps turn folks on to some under-appreciated gems as well as occasionally embarrass myself by revealing a few guilty pleasures. So here goes!!
What better place to start than SUN SESSIONS by Elvis Presley? 1954, the birth of rock'n'roll! (Although if you dig back through the early 1950s and late 1940s you can hear plenty of what sounds to me like pure unadulterated rock'n'roll, but that is a whole 'nuther topic). I've never been a huge Elvis fan...these recordings, his first two RCA records, and his pre-Army singles are all the Elvis I need. Certainly, his mythic impact on youth culture and future sonic pioneers cannot be underestimated, but this can't be attributed to his song-writing or boundary-shattering creative achievements. He was simply the primary icon, the first "rock star", and others (Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly) would soon supply the artistic substance that would carry rock music to a level beyond mere "teen marketing phenomenon". (I can't help but wonder how much Elvis' plummeting artistic decline had to do with the Beatles brazen insistence on releasing original tunes, even when potential hit singles by outside writers were presented to them? In other words, did they equate following managerial/record label "standard procedure" as artistic suicide, preferring to go down in flames with their integrity intact than sell out to guaranteed but bland commercial success? Hmmm...future topic...).
So, what about these Sun Sessions? Cool songs, yes, drawn mainly from bluegrass or blues, but presented in a nervous, twitching, pulsating treatment that sounds like the singer has his fingers in a light socket, propelled by relentless backbeats and pumping rockabilly guitar. Is it country, or is it blues? Is it black, or white? Is it old, or new? It is both, and neither. Ambiguity in recorded form. Thus was rock'n'roll born, the ultimate music of synthesis and appropriation, taking a little of this and a little of that and mixing it up with plenty of volume and explosive energy. Elvis' vocals really shine, simultaneously smooth and exultant, but this is also the sound of the BAND: slappin' bass, train-beat drums, and most of all Scotty Moore's sublime guitar breaks, all processed through generous gobs of Sun's slap-echo. Somehow, Sam Phillips captures lightning in a bottle, using humble technology to harness pure energy and transfer it onto vinyl plastic...a full-blown performance leaps right out of your little bedroom radio speakers! And while Elvis would certainly go on to achieve absurd peaks of commercial success with movies and mansions and comebacks and Las Vegas purgatory (the man's CADILLAC went out on tour for him!), in my opinion he would never surpass the pure rockin' energy of these first few singles, singing bizarre hillbilly versions of "Milkcow Blues" and "That's All Right Mama". Teenagers in America went apeshit and began pumping millions into the economy, while across the sea kids like John Lennon, Keith Richards and Jimmy Page heard these recordings and decided to forgo proper educations and wise career choices...they wanted this man's job!