Ain't superstitious, but these things I've seen...

Moving on...

2009-03-29T15:49:00.000-07:00

Head on over and update your bookmarks.

http://aintsuperstitious.wordpress.com

OK, OK...

2009-02-18T13:14:00.000-08:00

"Ain't Superstitious, But These Things I've Seen..." will return.

On March 30.

With a new address, new file host and hopefully none of the rather unwarranted mass censorship by that which rhymes with frogger.

New interviews coming, new mixes, plenty of good tunes and good stories.

But confine this site for archival purposes if you ever need to know more than anyone needs to about something such as Oasis' Be Here Now. Or the good interviews and such.

And check back here for the new address on March 29.

P.S. - I ain't dead. Stop poking me with a stick. I'm just hibernating.

Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

2009-01-12T15:15:00.001-08:00

Well,good greetings to all you dear readers. I hope 2009 finds you well off thus far, albeit without any rumblings from this side of the blog.

I'm in the process of moving this blog's home and shifting servers, so on and so forth as to try to elude the ever-growing contingent of web police that seem not to take too kindly to music bloggers today. I suppose this was to be expected sooner or later, and while I have my opinions on the matter, I realize plenty of others do too, and for every action, etc. etc. But before they handcuff us too much, I will still try to impart some knowledge and tunes from some little corner of cyberspace in the near future.

When the new site is up and running, the address will be posted here.

Hang on just a little bit longer...

2008: 15 of the Best. #1...

2008-12-19T09:22:00.000-08:00

Alright folks, the list is complete and this year's 15 of the Best series can be downloaded in a zip file here (left click to go to download page). I'm going to be taking a holiday break, so I guess I'll talk to you again in a couple weeks when it's a new year. Happy Christmas, Merry New Year, etc. etc.

#1 - Old 97's - Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue

From: Blame it on Gravity
Label: New West
Released: May 13, 2008
Buy it: Here.

While Old 97's frontman Rhett Miller has always done well for himself in the spotlight both in terms of the band and his own solo endeavors, 2008 finally nudged that spotlight over in Murry Hammond's direction, however unwilling he might have been to embrace it wholeheartedly. In addition to a beautiful solo album, I Don't Know Where I'm Going But I'm On My Way, Hammond provided the masterpiece for the Old 97's new record too. Considering Blame it on Gravity contained the best material the band pulled together in seven (if not 11) years, that's no small feat. Described by its author as "Patsy Cline fronting Oasis," "Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue" perfected the heartbreaking country laments he'd contributed to every 97's album up to this point. As ethereal as it is devastating, the song proved that while Rhett's the showman and one able to turn the cleverest phrases, Murry is almost certainly the most affecting. Listen to the second verse again build to the bridge and chorus and then tell me this isn't the finest song released this year.

2008: 15 of the Best. #2...

2008-12-18T07:30:00.000-08:00

Ed. note: OK, I'm officially done with FileDen. With tomorrow's #1 entry, I'll include a link to a .zip file of all 15 of the Best. In the meantime, wait one day and read about #2...

#2 - Paul Weller - Have You Made Up Your Mind

From: 22 Dreams
Label: Island/Universal, Yep Roc
Released: June 2, 2008
Buy it: Here.

Essentially Weller's "White Album" (and not just because it met double-LP length standards), the Modfather decided to deconstruct the trusty band that had pretty much been there from the start of his solo career (or in drummer Steve White's case, the Style Council days), and basically build up everything from scratch with co-hort Steve Cradock and assorted friends. The album is unarguably the most adventurous thing Weller's ever done, but like the White Album, it's an awful lot of information all at once. Maybe I'm boring and old hat, but I find the album's best moments to be in the most standard Weller songs, and the blue-eyed soul of "Have You Made Up Your Mind" is easily the album's soundest driving moment. If my memory of the liner notes serves me correctly (which it usually does), it's Weller and Cradock handling all instruments and vocals on here, so therein lies proof that two English guys can constitute a good little soul band, and maybe Weller made the right choice in deconstructing his comfort zone. Who are we to argue? If most musicians his age were still turning out songs of this caliber, the world would be a better place.

2008: 15 of the Best. #4...

2008-12-16T06:48:00.000-08:00

#4 - The Last Shadow Puppets - Calm Like You

From: The Age of the Understatement
Label: Domino
Released: May 6, 2008
Buy it: Here.

Hand it to Alex Turner. When I pulled together my 2006 "15 of the Best" series and included "When the Sun Goes Down" off the Arctic Monkeys' debut, I noted great promise but also wary skepticism of the British press' overexcitement to always find the next big thing. This leads to a fantastic crash six months later, but not only has Turner continued to crank out smart, solid songs, he's also the only artist to appear in this year end list every year thus far. While The Age of the Understatement, his side project with friend and Rascals-leader Miles Kane wasn't genius through and through, it was a nice diversion down an off-road path that produced a few brilliant songs. "Calm Like You" is far and away the best, an almost insanely overblown and cinematic lament on the trials of unrequited love (Turner's really good at writing these), but one that almost understays its welcome and really makes you think about a lot of things. Life, love and the fact that if this is what the guy can do at the age of 22 in a side project, what else can he do? The Arctic Monkeys' new one should be out in 2009. I'm not doubting he'll stretch his run on this list to four straight.

2008: 15 of the Best. #5...

2008-12-15T07:49:00.000-08:00

#5 - Yael Naim - New Soul

From: Yael Naim
Label: Atlantic
Released: March 18, 2008
Buy it: Here.

While "New Soul" didn't quite enjoy the same phenomenon Apple spun with Feist's "1234" last year, the song got enough acclaim selling MacBook Airs to merit a hardcopy release of Yael's self-titled album worldwide. Already content with my now couple-years-old MacBook, I really paid no attention to the ad, other than the computer fit snugly in a mailing envelope. It wasn't until my trip to Germany early this summer that I got wind of the song one morning when it was playing one morning on MTV Europe in my hotel room as I got dressed for a run around Munich. "Good song!" I kept exclaiming, amidst singing the "la la la la la-la" refrains to myself for the rest of the day. I, of course, also stupidly thought I was that far ahead of all my friends when I returned boasting of the great new song I'd heard while abroad only to be met with chortled "You mean the song from that Apple ad?" responses. Nevertheless... I still find this song's charms resoundingly abundant and even after one listen in the morning, I'm bound to be repeating the "la la la la la-la" refrains for the rest of the day still. This is solid pop right here.

2008: 15 of the Best. #7...

2008-12-11T07:24:00.000-08:00

#7 - The Waking Eyes - Wolves at the Door

From: Holding On To Whatever It Is
Label: WEA
Released: November 4, 2008 (Canada)
Buy it: Here.

Admittedly, pretty much anything Manitoba's best kept secret would've done after 2004's Video Sound would have been an improvement. While that album spun a small handfull of brilliant tunes, it's hellbent slant to crack the alternative mainstream compromised the guys' ability to work in all sorts of musical textures, which they so eloquently diplayed on their 2002 debut, Combing the Clouds. While Holding On To Whatever It Is returned to that free and easy spirit, it also did so with some heavy-handed production, and a set of songs from guys who are really starting to perfect their craft. "Wolves at the Door" is unquestionably the album's most stunning moment, with Beatlesque chord changes (and Harrison-like lead guitar), the song's message of "I ain't payin' a dime" only resounds that much stronger in the flagging economy we're facing right now. Of course, even if we were all millionaires, this song would still kick fantastic ass, and therein lies the point of great music -- the ability to affect you no matter what your mood (or financial status) may be.

2008: 15 of the Best. #8...

2008-12-10T06:38:00.000-08:00

#8 - Ian McLagan & the Bump Band - Never Say Never

From: Never Say Never
Label: Maniac
Released: February 28, 2008
Buy it: Here.

Some of the songs on Mac's latest have been shoring up space in his weekly set at Austin's Lucky Lounge for the past few years, but Mac's songwriting (lyrically at least) took a drastically different direction following the loss of his wife, Kim, in 2006. Several songs on the album, including "Where Angels Hide," "When the Crying's Over" and "My Irish Rose" provide a bit of heartaching balance to some the looser R&B material that rounds out the rest of the record, but it's the album's title track that most perfectly delivers the man's feelings. I first heard the song live last year during a December Lucky Lounge set and the feelings it sparked were incredible. At the same time you want to buy the guy a beer and put your arm around him, you also want to just smile and go nuts for how brilliant the tune is. Thankfully, all that emotion carried over onto record and while it might not be a prototypical "go for the throat" album opener, it's really rather more like him to follow his old mate Ronnie Lane and go for the heart instead.

2008: 15 of the Best. #9...

2008-12-09T06:38:00.000-08:00

#9 - Alejandro Escovedo - Slow Down

From: Real Animal
Label: Back Porch
Released: June 10, 2008
Buy it: Here.

Big surprise - Alejandro releases another album and it's brilliant. Of course, simply waving it off as another great chapter in the Austin-based songsmith's catalog would be selling the album a little short. He never recorded a greater crossover threat (and the prospects looked real as he joined Bruce Springsteen on stage and opened for Dave Matthews Band this year, alongside showing up on the Late Night circuit and the Democratic National Convention). The whole of the album was co-written with Chuck Prophet and meant to tell his story in the music business. While reviewers quickly latched onto the fact that this was among the "rockiest" things he'd ever done, it was the album's more tender moments that really drove the point home. "Slow Down" closed proceedings, despite being the first song that Escovedo and Prophet wrote together. To say it set a standard would be an understatement. Anyone with half a romantic flare in their heart should be able to relate to this song, and as far as I'm concerned, couples looking for a first dance song at their wedding have a new contender to consider.

2008: 15 of the Best. #10...

2008-12-08T07:05:00.000-08:00

#10 - The Verve - Rather Be

From: Forth
Label: On Your Own
Released: August 26, 2008
Buy it: Here.

OK, we can call a spade a spade and concede that Forth wasn't the follow-up to Urban Hymns we were all hoping for and lord knows that had it been released in say, 1999, as opposed to 2008, it might've prompted a bit of a backlash. But the realization that Ashcroft on his own only reached greatness once in a great while and that even spotty Verve is better than no Verve at all certainly helped digestion of the new record. When it's great, it's great. And when it's not, it's not. But there are a few moments of inspired brilliance, and "Rather Be" counts, and also provides a nice anchor amidst a few too many drawn out jams. Yeah, it passes 6 minutes itself and yeah, the lyrics are kind of silly upon close review, but when Nick McCabe first throws in his guitar after the piano-led intro, you realize why Travis, Coldplay and all the lesser followers thereafter never had a prayer in matching the Verve. When the pistons are firing and Dickie truly believes what he's singing, doesn't matter how basic it might sound -- you're gonna find yourself believing too. Here's hoping they stick around this time.

2008: 15 of the Best. #11...

2008-12-05T06:30:00.000-08:00

#11 - Duffy - Delayed Devotion

From: Rockferry
Label: Mercury
Released: May 13, 2008
Buy it: Here.

Without a doubt, Duffy turned out to be arguably the most polarizing new artist of 2008, although it still kind of flummoxes me as to why. Sure the overexposure of "Mercy" didn't help her case, but I'd still argue it's a good (great, even) song. The "Pop Idol" background kind of knocked on credibility, but I'll take her over Clay Aiken (or any "American Idol" winner for that matter) any day. And maybe the comparisons to Amy Winehouse were a tad unfair, but as Amy herself has proven, there's a lot to be said for being able to show up for gigs coherent and on time. Plus, Rockferry brought Bernard Butler back into the limelight, and that's never a bad thing. Funnily enough, the album's best moment was never touted as a single, nor did it have any great input from Butler. "Delayed Devotion," like its peers on the album, ran that feel of "coulda-been-a-single-from-1965," but did it one better in delivering the best pop hooks and self-assuredness on the record. I don't care if you're a man or woman, if this song's chorus doesn't get into you and spark up a little fire, you might want to check your pulse. So forget all the baggage (or lack therof) that comes with Aimee -- just shut up and turn this one up.

2008: 15 of the Best. #12...

2008-12-04T06:46:00.000-08:00

#12 - Randy Newman - Potholes

From: Harps and Angels
Label: Nonesuch
Released: August 5, 2008
Buy it: Here.

After spending pretty much his entire career placing himself behind mis-shaped characters' eyes to write some of the most cutting and genius songs of the last 40 years, Newman finally came around to write what he deemed his "most personal" song on this year's Harps and Angels LP. "Potholes," apparently, is an autobiographical tale that praises the memory loss that comes with aging and relays a wickedly self-depricating tale of a little league pitcher who's one bad day on the mound would continue to haunt him several years after the fact. The song's charm has a lot to do with its downright earnesty, from his doubts about the ethics of the so-called fairer sex ("Fair about what?") to his frustrations with his father's proclivity to tell the same story several times over. But more than anything, I think it's his use of "Goddamn" that really had me digging this song. He did it elsewhere on the album -- to great effect at the end of "Only a Girl," and also turned in a more-than-proper reading of the word on the fantastic "Shame" from 1999's Bad Love. Frankly, I think it's a word that was meant for Randy Newman to say. No one else puts as much feeling into it. So enjoy the Goddamn song, Goddamn it...

2008: 15 of the Best. #13...

2008-12-03T06:33:00.000-08:00

#13 - Irma Thomas - Be You

From: Simply Grand
Label: Rounder
Released: August 12, 2008
Buy it: Here.

OK, so I find the absense of Allen Toussaint on this album a little suspect, but I do like the idea of paring down the sound behind one of New Orleans' all-time greatest female voices and pretty much relegating it to vocals and piano. Ellis Marsalis, Randy Newman and Norah Jones are among the ivory-ticklers that take a seat alongside Irma on the album, but it's this cut -- featuring Dr. John pounding the keys -- that provides the album's best moment and one of the best simple soul songs in years. The song was co-authored by the good doctor and Doc Pomus (lyricist behind the likes of "Lonely Avenue," "Viva Las Vegas" and "Little Sister"). This song's lyrics come like a wonderful gift from Pomus beyond the grave, while Dr. John lays down a fine performance and Irma, as always, just comes off as ridiculously talented and classy in her delivery. Also makes me wonder why no one has every promised to be my granulated sugar. After listening to this song, I determined it's one of the nicest compliments you can pay someone. So there's your New Year's resolution, folks -- promise to start calling dear ones your granulated sugar.

2008: 15 of the Best. #14...

2008-12-02T06:25:00.000-08:00

#14 - Blondfire - Lovesick

From: My Someday
Label: Tender Tender Rush
Released: March 25, 2008
Buy it: Here.

While My Someday served as Blondfire's formal debut LP, the New York-by-way-of-Brazil brother & sister combo already had a previous releases under their belt in terms of the fabulous "Don't Whisper Lies" EP (when they were known as "Astaire") and an iTunes holiday exclusive EP (when they were known as "Blondfire - formerly known as 'Astaire'). Their MySpace page touted influences like the Smiths and the Gilberto family, and those early EPs reflected some of those influences. The album, however, went more in the direction of 1980s acts like New Order (albeit with sexier vocals and a distinct lack of Sumner-style dancing). However, some songs culled a bit of the New York rock that helped solidify the early EPs and "Lovesick" is the best thing on the album -- a sharp, guitar driven groover that sees Erica Driscoll's vocals take an all out assault on the listener. The song has pitch perfect verses, a catchy chorus and that piece that so many other bands try so hard to attain -- the perfect middle bit. The siblings are still splitting time in low profile gigs in New York and L.A. Perhaps its time all the rest of us take notice so they can hit a few cities in between?

2008: 15 of the Best. #15...

2008-12-01T07:13:00.000-08:00

Alright folks, it's the start of December, which means the start of your favorite time of year and mine: when everyone with the most passing of interests in music reflects on the past 11 months and cobbles together their best of lists. This blog is no exception, but rather than ranking albums, we're all going to take a look over the next three weeks at the 15 best songs released this year. At the end, as always, you'll have a killer little mix tape or playlist for your fine self.

#15 - The Fireman - Light From Your Lighthouse

From: Electric Arguments
Label: MPL, ATO Records
Released: November 25, 2008
Buy it: Here.

And so here we are, the third teaming of Paul McCartney and Youth and the first one that forsakes ambient noise and grooves for more traditional song structures (although, albeit in that they have vocals and loose structure). Most reviewers are championing Macca's free spirit on the record - laying down one song a day for 13 days, and essentially entering the studio each day with little more than an idea. This formula plays to McCartney's strength in that the guy's got a knack for a hook and if he's not given time to finesse that idea and water it down, it can be pretty effective. Although some of the album's cuts show a lack of a solid idea to begin with and thus a sometimes frustrating 5-minute journey still ends up finding nothing. However, when it works -- as it does here -- it's a lot of fun. There's nothing at all complex about this song, with Macca forsaking the middle man and only laying down bass and falsetto guides to service the lead vocal and plodding along as if it's 1968 and he's got a great addition to the White Album. That it sounds like it could've fit in right after "Wild Honey Pie" is not strange, nor is it that Macca can still knock these out at his age. What is surprising is that Mr. Pizza and Fairy Tales seems to work so hard to steer clear of this "naff" stuff these days when this is where the damn wheelhouse is. Old dogs, new tricks, something something...

I'm Mr. White Christmas. I'm Mr. Cool.

2008-11-28T15:08:00.000-08:00

So I'm a liar.

Last year I promised that after compiling the fabulous Shake Hands With Santa Claus! mix, I'd never do another Christmas mix, as not only could that one not be topped, but I got so burnt out on Christmas music entirely that I couldn't imagine putting myself through another Christmas music wild goose hunt this year.

And yet, here we are.

While I don't think this mix tops last year's, I do think it equals it, and maybe keeping in mind the weeks of work last year's took, I was able to stay focused and put this together in a few days.

Plus, among the crappy Christmas music released year in and year out, there is some good stuff to pick out for saving, and well... here we are. This blog's THIRD annual Christmas mix.

Ladies and gentleman, Down the Chimney Tonight.

Down the Chimney Tonight

The 2008 "Ain't Superstitious, But These Things I've Seen..." Christmas Mix

DOWNLOAD IN A ZIP FILE FROM SAVEFILE (click on link to take you to download page)

01. The Nat King Cole Trio - All I Want For Christmas (Is My Two Front Teeth) [MJ Cole Remix]
Last year I included a remix along with the stipulation that I generally detest remixes, but once in awhile, they turn can be made pretty cool. MJ Cole's tuneup of this Nat King Cole version of one of the most annoying Christmas songs ever is not only far from annoying, but actually rides a nice modern groove and serves as a good opener for this year's mix. The rest of the 2005 compilation Merry Mixmas is hit and miss, but with most remix albums, there's usually at least one cool thing to be found. Here it is.

02. Louis Armstrong with the Commanders - Cool Yule
I don't know why, but along with "'Zat You, Santa Claus?," Louis' 1953 Christmas songs have reaped heaps of acclaim and inclusion in recent years, and of course, a lot of cred amongst music snobs, despite the fact they're turning up in movies like "Elf" and "Four Christmases" (the former of which is actually quite alright and the latter I don't really plan on ever seeing). I would have liked to have heard this more when I was young, but alas. I have it now, and so does everyone, but beans... it sounds good in the #2 spot.

03. Vashti Bunyan & Twice As Much - Coldest Night of the Year
My knowledge of Vashti and/or Twice As Much is incredibly limited, but this is culled from an anthology of her time on Andrew Loog Oldham's Immediate label, and it has a nice, mid-60s thickness to it. I guess we can all make assumptions as to why Vashti never got enough props in her own time (maybe the name wasn't unique enough?), but as with most 1960s music that flew drastically under the radar, it only makes finding it later that much cooler.

04. Mel Torme - Good King Wenceslas
Strangely enough, Torme didn't get around to doing a Christmas album until 1992, which is odd considering he'd penned "The Christmas Song" almost 40 years prior. Christmas Songs has a few nice moments -- it's pretty much what you'd expect a Torme Christmas album to be, but to his credit, he not only did his song, but bucked the trend that everyone seems to take with this song in doing it in the most traditional means imaginable. Thank God someone realized this could swing... albeit quietly.

05. Lou Rawls - Christmas Will Really Be Christmas
Lou's voice, I think, was almost as tailor-made for Christmas songs as Nat King Cole's was, and the fact that Rawls was a bit more adventurous with the kind of material he wanted to do in his career and on his Christmas albums (ranging from easy listening standards to this kind of more soulful original material) gives him a bit of a leg up. The sentiments here are pretty run-of-the-mill and the whole shebang comes and goes almost too quickly, but the fact that it's driven by a tight little drum and bass groove probably makes this track one of the most potent holiday numbers Rawls ever recorded.

06. Meiko - Maybe Next Year (X-Mas Song)
I'm still going through my crisis of trying to determine whether Meiko is OK to like or whether I'm buying into something that a lot of high school girls are, but in the meantime, she's still releasing pretty cool stuff. This whole song is kind of dark -- dude making the girl sin, girl gunning the dude down and, therefore, not expecting any presents from Santa this year -- but the big refrain of "Maybe next year I'll be good, maybe next year I'll be better" is pretty cool, as is breaking into "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" during the instrumental break.

07. Bing Crosby - Looks Like a Cold, Cold Winter
At my last count, Bing released somewhere around 4,029 Christmas records, and if any guy ever seriously wanted to make a play at being the official musical voice of Christmas, they'd have to take Bing down (and apparently he wasn't one to back off from a fight, either). I have no idea where this was originally culled from -- I pulled it from a recently released Crosby/Andrews Sisters compilation and not only was it a song I'd never heard, but it also wasn't too terribly schmaltzy. So there you go, listen to this and try not to think too much about the guy's temper.

08. Rotary Connection - Christmas Love
From Rotary Connection's 1968 album Peace, I think this song probably drove the people at Motown crazy. I think this is the kind of stuff Motown was shooting for with its Christmas songs, but if it's artists weren't trying to vamp up standards, its songwriters were predominantly writing non-secular material (despite having hits with secular originals like "What Christmas Means to Me"). Nevertheless, Rotary Connection turned in a vaguely Marvin Gaye/Tammi Terrell-sounding duet with this track, and (for my money, at least) momentarily bettered the Motown formula.

09. Randy Greer & Ignasi Terraza Trio - Wrap Yourself in a Christmas Package
When I think "Italian jazz" and an album recorded in Barcelona, pretty much the last thing on my mind is "Christmas," yet, here we are. This pull from 2005's Christmas Swings in Barcelona highlights one of Charles Brown's less famous Christmas tunes (everyone always goes right for "Please Come Home For Christmas" or "Merry Christmas, Baby"), and while this isn't as entirely endearing as the more famous stuff, it's not without its charms either. Plus, even if you are entirely indifferent to it, it says its piece in under two and a half minutes. I think it's pretty cool, though.

10. Booker T. & the MG's - Jingle Bells
Throughout the years, "Jingle Bells" has pretty much taken the mantle of being my most personally detested Christmas song. I loved it to death when I was all of three and four years old, but for the same reason that I loved songs like "London Bridge" and whatever they sang on "Sesame Street" - it was easy to remember and I learned all the words. Now I just find it innane. So leave it to Booker T. and Co. to cut out the vocals, replace 'em with organ and electric guitar and win me right back into this song's favor. I ask you, is there anything an organ can't do?

11. 747s - Blue Christmas
This was pulled from a 2006 indie Christmas compilation called It's Not Like Christmas, and while I probably would say I dig this (I'm a big fan of the 747s' lone album, Zampano), I think the fact that they stayed faithful to Elvis Presley's reading -- even down to the lazily spiraling backing harmonies -- is pretty cool and shows their true faithfulness to early rock and roll. I'd have liked a full Christmas album from 747s. Then again, I'd have liked another album of any kind from 747s.

12. Patti Page - Frosty the Snowman (Rondo Brothers Remix)
This was culled from the same Six Degrees Christmas Remix albums that culled last year's Louis Armstrong & Velma Middleton's remix. I'm not as up on this one as I am that or even the Nat King Cole one, but I think "Frosty the Snowman" can be a cool Christmas song, but everyone just seems to do it in an annoying or overly emotional way. Page's original veers toward the latter, but putting a bit of a thumpy beat underneath it and giving this thing some muscle does wonders.

13. Eric Reed (feat. Paula West) - Santa Baby
Pulled from the jazz pianist's 2003 holiday album Merry Magic, Reed does the impossible here by employing jazz singer Paula West and finding a medium in which to make me like this song, which I've always thought was grotesque in it's overstated attempts at sexiness. Don't get me wrong -- I like Eartha Kitt (particularly in "The Emperor's New Groove"), but it's when the Pussycat Dolls and pretty much any girl with half a breathy voice gets their hands on it, that I get a little peeved. West's delivery is a bit more direct and the jazzy backing really does wonders for this thing.

14. Over the Rhine - Darlin' (Christmas is Coming)
I had a big personal dilemma about putting this on the mix -- I don't even remember how I stumbled upon this song in that I don't know anything about Over the Rhine, and this song teeters a bit too close to the coffeehouse schmaltz that can produce some good stuff but also produce a lot of oversentimental crap. Ultimately, though, the quality of the tune won out, and as good music should, it earned its spot on here.

15. William Bell - Everyday Will Be Like a Holiday
Bell, probably most famous for "I Forgot To Be Your Lover," wrote some fantastic blues songs in his time at Stax -- "My Whole World is Falling Down" is especially worth checking out -- and this song pretty much follows that theme, just includes allusions to the holidays, and so, gets constituted as a Christmas song. Cheap way in, maybe, but who can't use a bit of William Bell (a.k.a. good soul) on their mixes? Certainly not me.

16. Brenda Lee - Papa Noel
Everyone knows Lee for "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" and thoughts of a Michael Jordan standup cutout circling the McAllister family living room on a train as Macaulay Culkin tries one of many early attempts to confound Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern. But on the original 7" of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," this cut was on the B-side. Maybe it's years of hearing the A-side, maybe it's the fact that I always thought it was a halfway cool song, but not entirely, I don't know... For my money, however, this song trumps the A-side and needs to get a bit more play. Here's my humble push for that.

17. Raul Malo - White Christmas
I don't know much about Malo or his recent Christmas album Marshmallow World, but I like this version of "White Christmas." Bing did the most famous version, the Drifters did the best version, and this finds the perfect medium. Putting a lot of emphasis on the baritone lead vocal, but balancing with a bit of a simple soul backing (in this case, just bass and fingersnaps), the song doesn't overstay its welcome. Which is good. Because in so many versions I've heard, it really does.

18. Belle & Sebastian - Are You Coming Over For Christmas?
Belle & Sebastian need to do a Christmas album. Seriously. From already putting round a fine version of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" to opting to cover (and do a good job of) "Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto" for a BBC session, they've showed their well versed at the holiday stuff, and have the panache to back up their choices. Even the originals -- like this one, put up exclusively on their website and MySpace page last year -- is terribly good. So why wait any longer? Let's get on that holiday album, you Scots.

19. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy - Mr. Heat Miser
I didn't like the late 1990s ska fad and to this day I've never seen "The Year Without a Santa Claus," but I like this version of this song. It's a bit of a left field choice, it's delivered with some verve and I can get away with putting Big Bad Voodoo Daddy on a mix, because it's under the catch all excuse of being a Christmas mix. Hell, if the Jonas Brothers recorded a good Christmas song... no. No, I wouldn't.

20. Old 97's - Here It Is Christmas Time
Rhett included a solo demo of this song on his MySpace page two years ago, and then last year it was posted on iTunes as an Old 97's song, so I'm guessing they pounded this one out in the midst of recording this year's fabulous Blame It On Gravity album. This runs a bit close to solo Rhett material (try not to think it's "Come Around" when that first chord hits), and the bit about "delicious peach pie" makes me roll my eyes a little, but c'est la vie. It's the Old 97's, right? I love the Old 97's. And for all it's shortcomings, this song is still pretty damn good.

And a Merry Christmas season to all you fabulous readers.

It's not as if I'm being sent off to war -- there are worse things in this world.

2008-11-26T07:00:00.000-08:00

The best thing about modern indie bands is that they don't shy away from the 7" format. In fact, the cool ones seem to try their damndest to make singles happen on vinyl before compact disc.

Of course, a lot of it is down to the label -- how much indie ethos and budget money it has -- but I've always thought it was cool that if you try hard enough you can find an Oasis or Arctic Monkeys single on vinyl. The downside, of course, is trying to whittle down the CD's two or three B-sides to just one choice, and almost without fail, bands (or labels) seem to pick the wrong one for the flip side of the 45 (case in point: Oasis choosing to back up the "D'You Know What I Mean?" with "Stay Young" as opposed to "Angel Child." I mean... WTF?).

Then again, on the occassions do pick the best of the B-side lot, you've got bits of vinyl that are as good as the iconic ones from the 1950s and 1960s (several of which already featured on this page), and in 2001, indie darlings Belle & Sebastian hit the nail on the head.

The group's just released BBC Sessions album highlights the band's formative years, when they called the Jeepster label home, threw out odd press photos and releases and released standalone singles and EPs with the alarming frequency of an en vogue French band from the 1960s.

Things would come to a head in 2002 when Isobel Campbell would jump ship and Belle & Sebastian headed to more cush studios and a bigger label for the Dear Catastrophe Waitress album (the turning point where the diehards were left bewildered and Johnny-come-latelies like myself got all hot for the beefed up sound).

Maybe what angered everyone so much was the fact that the group's last Jeepster singles, "Jonathan David" and "I'm Waking Up to Us" contained some of the strongest, smartest material the band had released yet and it was still flying defiantly under the radar. In fact, the former only climbed to #31 on the UK charts, but by shaving "Take Your Carriage Clock and Shove It" off the 7" version, the 45 of "Jonathan David" not only gives Stevie Jackson a long overdue spotlight, but makes for one of the best pieces of vinyl ever put out.

And it's November's call up for the "Fantastic 45s."

The Fantastic 45's

Belle & Sebastian
"Jonathan David" b/w "The Loneliness of a Middle Distance Runner"
Jeepster, 2001

Belle & Sebastian - Jonathan David
Stevie always has a knack for writing a charming song, although funnily enough, only seemingly to "cool B-side" or "deep album cut" standards. Even this song would've served as an exemplary B-side, yet it earns its A-side space by relating the feelings of every insecure male who's ever had to vy for a girl's attention when pit against the cooler dude, or, at least, the dude the girl is much more interested. Like a hero, he puts on a brave face to start -- "I know you like her / Well I like her too / I know she likes you / It's not as if I'm being sent off to war / There are worse things in this world. " But by the end, the reality of the situation seems a bit too much -- "You and her in the local newspaper / You will be married and you'll be gone." And if you say you've never harbored similar frustrations, well, you're nose is growing a bit there, champ.

Belle & Sebastian - The Loneliness of a Middle Distance Runner
In contrast to Stevie's cheery pragmatism, Stuart Murdoch's never feared taking the sad road without a pinch of salt when the sad road needs to be taken. True, this song doesn't have a suicidal plod, but rather a disarmingly breezy pace (which justly earned it space on this blog's 2007 autumn mix), but in conveying a bit of desperation to a girl that's either completely unaware or wholly unapologetic, it can't get more poetic: "So I take revenge in stories and dreaming of the time when we're on stage / "Have you seen the loneliness of a middle distance runner when he stops the race and looks around?" / I left the stage / "You've seen it now."" Yeah. Let that one sink in for a bit.

Both tracks can now be found on the Jeepster-era EPs collection, Push Barman to Open Old Wounds.

When all the elements conspire with shiny things that catch the eye.

2008-11-25T11:33:00.000-08:00

If you haven't heard the good news from the land down under (and a little to the east), New Zealand's favorite son is playing Pied Piper of Pop again and reorganizing the supergroup that performed a few shows for lucky Kiwis (who obviously aren't spoiled enough, it seems) and produced arguably the greatest live record ever, 2001's 7 Worlds Collide.

"You brought your guitar, right?"

To my great delight, the band's rhythm section of Radiohead's Phil Selway and Ed O'Brien, Soul Coughing's Sebastian Steinberg, resident demigod Johnny Marr and Lisa Germano will all be back, as will Neil's budding son, Liam.

However, Eddie Vedder's name hasn't popped up in the encore lineup, nor has older bruv Tim, but in their place (if not in addition to), we've been promised four members of Wilco, Don McGlashan and Bic Runga. Seems Neil's had enough of my "Yeah, I guess they're alright" indifference toward Wilco.

Well, fine. He got me into Eddie last time:

Personally I'm more excited to see Johnny Marr continuing to prove ever-capable and dependable and actually, I'm liking Bic Runga's talents being drafted into service.

Bic Runga - Precious Things
I have a friend who spent a few months in New Zealand and returned bearing a burned copy of Tim Finn, Bic Runga, Dave Dobbyn: Together in Concert for me, where I was first introduced to this song, from Bic's 2002 album, Beautiful Collision. An absolutely stunning voice, a great songwriter and certainly cool enough to keep company with the reuniting 7 Worlds crew. Maybe I should look into New Zealand tickets ... I'm sure in this economy, everyone can afford it.

I can feel it when you shine on me.

2008-11-21T10:09:00.000-08:00

Inspired by last week's" South Park," in which the show lampooned the "High School Musical" phenomenon, I hesitantly decided to watch a "High School Musical" clip over at YouTube and found myself as befuddled as the four boys about why this was so popular.

Of course, every time I flip past something on the Disney Channel, I find myself wondering the same thing, so given HSM is really just a Disney show with a huge bankroll, I don't get too bothered about it. I just find it incredibly funny that little kids think that is what high school is going to be like.

Any of those kinds of outbursts at my former high school and you probably wouldn't have been able to show your face around the halls for months afterward. Of course, even if you did, you wouldn't be able to see everyone pointing and laughing because your eyes would probably still be swollen shut.

But what I thought was really funny about the "HSM" video I saw is that it bought into that tried and true "Everyone is special in their own way and can shine like a star" theme that the Disney Channel, and every elementary school self-esteem lesson thrives upon. It's the exact thing they first sent up in last week's "South Park":

It's pretty ridiculous. alright, and maybe I'd be more uncomfortable with it if several artists I really admire hadn't blazed the trail for that kind of sentimentality in their own songs.

Who's really to blame for the "High School Musical" material? Greedy suits happy to feed off popularity amongst 11-year-olds by shoving a "You're special!" message down their throats or a bunch of artists we all know and love?

Frankly, I think it's the former.

For this month's Friday Five, we look at five songs that could easily have been written for "High School Musical." Yet, we still find them pretty damn cool.

The Friday Five

Stargazing, or, Why I Have Such a High Opinion of Myself

Earth, Wind & Fire - Shining Star
For better or worse, "September" has overtaken this song in terms of wedding reception and Republican National Convention popularity, but everything from this 1975 slice of smooth funk from the intro to the last note is pretty much ingrained in mankind's brain. A positive message and something you can groove to -- sound familiar? For all I know, a sh*t cover of this is buried in one of the three HSM movies somewhere, but I'm not going to sacrifice my blissful ignorance of the fact plowing through them to find out. I'd rather just keep on digging my copy of That's the Way of the World.

Jerry Lee Lewis - You're the Only Star in My Blue Heaven
These Gene Autry-penned tune doesn't have an all-encompassing message like the others on this list, but whoever wins the part of the muse here must feel pretty damn special about themselves. A lot of artists took stabs at this song, including two Sun Records residents, Elvis Presley and the Killer. Lewis' version never made it out as a popular single or on record until recent years when all his Sun recordings were compiled for box set anthologies. OK, so this doesn't have the balls of fire that, well, "Great Balls of Fire" did, but it still seems worth putting out.

The Kinks - Everybody's a Star (Starmaker)
Yes, old Ray is taking the theme from a more cynical point of view, but given the song's use in a rather HSM-feeling Target/Converse ad, the point might have been lost. No matter, as it's great rock and roll and one of the few true highlights of the otherwise lamentable The Kinks Present a Soap Opera album, so it's good that it's enjoying a second lease at popularity. I actually secretly hope that interior decorators are taking this song as a personal anthem. That would be very cool. But, then again, it doesn't matter what your occupation is...

Primal Scream - Star
Lord only knows who Gillespie and Co. were trying to appeal to in 1997 as a band of Scots singing about Rosa Parks, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King and American racial strife in the 1950s and 1960s. I suppose it's good material for a rock and roll song, but there just seems a bit of disingenuity what with the 20-odd years of separation between song and subject matter and the fact that the dudes don't live in Alabama. But God knows, I'll always give Gillespie and the Scream the benefit of the doubt. I just want to point out that this hails from Vanishing Point -- the album people still want Primal Scream to recreate and take new direction from. I personally think this makes Give Out But Don't Give Up look all the better.

Sly & the Family Stone - Everybody is a Star
This mellow pick-me-up was supposed to go on the 1971 album that Sly and the Family Stone never got around to finishing... maybe someone was a bit *too much* of a star, but it ended up as a B-side to the "Thank You" single and on the 1970 Greatest Hits compilation. "I love you for who you are..." eh? Yeah, I guess we can't pin that kind of sentimentality on the Disney bigwigs alone. Ah vell...

As I stare, an oil wheel comes sailing by and I feel like growing fins and falling in with the bricks, the bags, the rusty tin.

2008-11-20T09:59:00.000-08:00

Having a quick chat with my buddy Umaar yesterday, who must've been listening to some odd Stone Roses compilation that included the drum machine edit of "I Am the Resurrection," when he rather venomously questioned the intelligence of replacing Reni with a machine.

I've always harbored the same feelings about that mix, and actually, several of the single mixes of The Stone Roses tracks. Maybe I had a predisposed opinion because I love the album as much as I do and think each song on it works perfectly at its set length and mix. Trying to doll them up at all for the singles market seemed superfluous.

But that quick exchange and the fact that my trusty old CD copy of the album is starting to show its age with more tempermental sound systems got me thinking that the album is long overdue for a "Legacy Edition" update. 2009 will be the album's 20th anniversary --- why not then? But you would have to spare us the single mixes, though. Because that would just drag the whole thing down.

Even without the single mixes though, lord knows the demos and B-sides from that era are strong enough to constitute a good bonus disc and all could benefit from a bit of new studio polish.

And despite his massive distaste for drum machine remixes, Umaar pointed out he was unfamiliar with the B-sides from that era. So let's all first point and laugh at Umaar for missing out on some fantastic stuff... Haha, Umaar, "music snob" my ass, etc. etc. (Sorry, dude, it's all in good fun... please don't end new blog hosting negotiations because of that).

OK, now let's think about how a bonus disc worth of this stuff is arguably strong enough to stand up with The Stone Roses eponymous debut. Until the legacy edition arrives, these tracks can be found on The Complete Stone Roses compilation.

Never mind the Pollocks, etc. etc.

The Stone Roses - Where Angels Play
A lot of Roses fans consider this to be the ultimate Roses B-side, the song that thwarts any argument that 1994-1998-era Oasis was the quintessential B-sides band, and a tune that pisses all over anything on Second Coming and would've stood in good grace alongside anything on the debut. I don't know if I'd go that far. It's a great song that builds off three motifs (the quiet "Come with me..." bit, the midtempo "Godgiven grace" section that feeds off the same vibe that drove the album and the soaring "I don't need you" chorus that made people seriously think U2 might've had a contender for all-conquering band. Alas, alas...

The Stone Roses - Mersey Paradise
I've always dug this song. I don't know if it's meant to be a Machester-fired pot shot at Liverpool -- surreptitiously sinister lyrics delivered over a musical backing that's about as sunny as a 1965 Beach Boys song (and with harmonies to boot). Be it "If she were there, I'd hold her down, I'd push her under while she drowns" or "You can bet your life I'll meet a pike who'll wolf me down for tea tonight" it's certainly not a typical song you'd put on a mix for your girlfriend, but there's still enough energy and spunk (and that dead cool "oh yeah") to make this a pretty glorious track all the same.

The Stone Roses - Standing Here
Since "What the World is Waiting For" was TECHNICALLY an A-side, I think this cut gets my nomination for favorite Roses B-side. Squire turns the guitarwork dangerously toward the Jimmy Page-inspired avenue he'd take on (and many would argue ruin) Second Coming. But the song averts the hollowness of meaningless riffage with a lovely acoustic undertone, a beat that makes it sound like the whole thing is taking a magnificent tumble down a staircase, ridiculously gorgeous harmonies from Reni and a disarmingly charming set of lyrics. Well, except that "I could park a juggernaut in your mouth" bit. That's kind of forward. But still cool.

One more for me.

2008-11-18T07:31:00.000-08:00

OK, while news like this should find me as giddy as the day I found out the Verve or Kula Shaker were reforming, I find myself concerned.

And here are the top 10 reasons why I find myself uneasy about a Faces reunion...

10. Every news article I've seen simply alludes to the fact that Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood are "up for it." I'm not hearing about Mac and Kenney. Who cares if Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood are playing together? They do that every so often. It's not the Faces.

09. More disturbingly, Mac's oft-updated web page has yet to mention the thing. True, it hasn't been updated since Nov. 5, and apparently the big rehearsal has already taken place, but Mac's been the biggest champion for a Faces reunion in the last 10 years (the "Faces Reunion?" tab has been there as long as I can remember), so you'd think he'd find some Internet connection wherever he is to express his excitement.

08. Ronnie Wood, once the possessor of one of the finest weathered voices in rock and roll, now sounds like this. Egad.

07. With Rod Stewart's touring bassist?!

06. Okay, so Mac is pretty adept at singing Ronnie Lane's songs, but does that mean Stewart will let him?

05. This is what Kenney Jones is into these days.

04. This is what Rod Stewart is into these days.

03. This (and going MIA seemingly at will now) is what Ronnie Wood is into these days.

02. I'm not going to lie -- I like the scuttlebutt that says there may be a new album. That kind of excites me. But I don't like the fact that I have to justify being interested in something with Rod Stewart involvement again.

01. Ronnie Lane, "the heart and soul of the Faces," has been dead for 11 years. Never mind the bass, what he brought to the band in terms of songwriting, harmony, spirit and general fantasticness ... If it's "Stay With Me" that gets you excited and partying, it's "Debris" that keeps you around and makes you realize they really were genius. Come on, how can you call it the Faces without this? Would you take Marr out and still call it the Smiths? McCartney out and still call it the Beatles? Richards out and still call it the Stones? Plant out and still call it Led Zeppelin? Oh, wait...

From a Rod Stewart interview, Uncut, 2006

Not that the Faces output after Lane's 1973 departure was anything to sneeze at -- but I think it says a lot that they never could pull an album together after he left, Stewart started focusing on his solo career and Wood started lining himself up for the Stones gig. I'm all for nostalgia, but frankly - I'd rather see a year's worth of Mac's Bump Band shows than a rickety attempt to recapture something that truly can never be crystallized again.

Faces - Open to Ideas
This cut was penned and recorded in 1975, two years after Lane walked to find his own solo career, and for me it's up there with the band's very best stuff. It never made it out until inclusion on 1999's retrospective, The Best of Faces: Good Boys... When They're Asleep... and it's because of this that I like the idea of another album. But croaking through "Ooh La La" to stadiums? Doing "Maybe I'm Amazed" without Lane standing on a milk crate to share the mic with Stewart? I dunno. I might just save my money for a trip to Austin at the end of the tour...

You might like to hear my organ.

2008-11-17T07:11:00.000-08:00

Plans for new file hosting, and maybe a new site are still ongoing, but I figured, why shut down things entirely in the meantime? If the battles continue, the battles continue, but I'm not relenting yet.

So, it being Monday and all ...

The Get You Goin' Track

Sly & the Family Stone - Dance to the Music

Even if you ask her, my mother would insist she has no defined musical taste. She could list off a bunch of artists she likes, but if you asked her for a favorite album, artist or song, she'd wave off the question. "Oh, I don't think about specifics like that," etc. etc. But I think more than anything, it was my mom who got me into good soul music -- she always turns up Sly & the Family Stone when they come on the radio and this was one of the first tracks I can remember knowing pretty much all the words to when I was but a wee lad. It's an interesting song, culled from Sly's 1968 album of the same name, back when he was still pretty much an undisputed virtuoso, and not a mohawk sporting enigma who doesn't have his mic turned up properly. There's a chorus, but the verse is basically just "How to Construct a Pop Single 101." Although, of course it gets infinite bonus points for a quick organ feature. But even as basic and arguably innane as it may be, it does make you want to move.

Into a (temporary) holding pattern.

2008-11-12T08:06:00.000-08:00

Frequent visitors to these parts will notice a distinct lack in updates and now, even more awesomely, a load of dead links to posted songs.

Not just my blog, but several music blogs are getting a bit more thoroughly policed these days (this was inevitable, but nonetheless frustrating to have the rollers arrive at my doorstep). I kind of understand the copyright issue frustration on bands'/managements' parts, but it's not like I just post songs and leave them up forever, do I? It's all within legal 2-week parameters and I also provide links to buy the music if you so like it -- it's all over there in the ground rules to the right.

As a writer, what frustrates me more is Blogger just coming in and wiping out posts entirely. I don't mind deactivated links as much as I mind my creative outlet being rendered completely for naught. Friday's post was a good one. But unless you saw it Friday or Saturday, now, you'll never know that, will you? Caramba...

Also, my file hoster is continually deleting my accounts, so I don't know if that's a related issue or just more fun altogether, but the converging of all these events makes me think it's about time for a rethink. But don't worry ... we're coming up to an important time of the year (Christmas mix pending, annual 15 of the Best rundown...), I'm not going to leave you all out to dry.

Just gimme a few minutes to ponder this one.

He visited Ain't Superstitious, But These Things I've Seen... and was all, "WTF, buddy?!"

I find more clouds of gray than any Russian could guarantee.

2008-11-06T13:17:00.000-08:00

As the first week of November nears an end, it's time to dip into the first of our blog's monthly series -- your favorite excuse to see bad use of Photoshop and mine -- Vs.!

This month we pit two artists not particularly known for shying away from political or public debate issues in their respective heydays taking on a song written long before either of their respective heydays.

It's Declan vs. the 10,000th Maniac by way of Gershwin. Elvis Costello and Natalie Merchant vying for the better 1990s version of "But Not For Me."

Don't know why Gershwin nostalgia became such a hot ticket in the 1990s, but two major tribute albums were culled -- The Glory of Gershwin in 1994 with a bunch of A-listers going under George Martin's production and adding Larry Adler's harmonica to proceedings and Red Hot + Rhapsody: The Gershwin Groove taking on a bit more of an indie vibe in 1998.

The song was written by George and Ira back in 1930 and maybe saw its most famous airing in 1943 by way of Judy Garland, but stacked up against other numbers in the Gershwin catalogue, it's never really enjoyed the notoriety of, say, a "Summertime," "Rhapsody in Blue" or "Someone to Watch Over Me."

And frankly, I think Bobby Darin's original, "Not For Me" in 1965 is the best song out there to use those three words in its title.

But I digress.

The key to both tribute albums was a faithfulness to originals as opposed to getting overly clever with modern arrangements and trying songs in unflattering lights. Some things you don't mess with, you see... Gershwin is one of them.

But whereas Elvis Costello not only had George Martin overseeing affairs and Gershwin's own harmonica player on tap (and went so far as to sing the extended intro to the song), it's actually his version that falls a little flat. Natalie's version of "But Not For Me" is often cited as one of the weaker moments on Red Hot + Rhapsody, but I think the song plays to her strengths far better than it does Costello's.

Elvis wants to do this kind of music -- he's got a penchant for standards and slow, grandiose piano led numbers, but while albums like North and his little operatic ideas may get him a bunch of respect for doing something new, they don't get him a lot of sales or acclaim. People still want to hear "Pump it Up," you see. But the thing is, when Elvis does the old numbers and gets swinging, it's actually f*cking fantastic (see: Costello's cover of "Let's Misbehave" in De-Lovely).

Merchant, however, got exponentially autumnal with each passing album following her exit from the Maniacs, her voice aging like a rich wine and finding more comfort in billowy, piano-led numbers. Her cover of "One Fine Day" for the god-awful movie of the same name was the damn thing's only bright spot and her penchant for solo spots at the piano during her shows kind of proves that material like "But Not For Me" is really right in her wheelhouse.

Neither version is particularly astounding, but then again, the song -- which doesn't do self-pity as well as other popular songs, let alone Gershwin ones -- ain't the best material to begin with. Still, as a point of comparison, it's interesting to pit Costello against Merchant, and in this round I have to hand it to Natalie.

But that's just me. Your thoughts?

Elvis Costello vs. Natalie Merchant
"But Not For Me"

Elvis Costello - But Not For Me

Natalie Merchant - But Not For Me

She would make a scene for it all to be ignored. And wouldn't you be bored?

2008-11-05T11:21:00.000-08:00

Apologies for it already being Wednesday and me just now getting into this week's blogging, but there was some business to attend to Monday and yesterday.

Plus, from the looks of several of my friends' away and status messages, it seems that unless I'd done some kind of political-related thing yesterday, it probably wouldn't have been read with much interest anyway.

But alas, a new dawn is on the horizon for the country, and we can get back to what really matters -- bands taking each other to task!

I've always kind of figured Jack Bruce would be a bit of an as*hole to have a prolonged conversation with -- the guy obviously has an ego the size of Asia and when you stop and think about it, it's probably not surprising that Cream only managed about a three-year existence, but reading today's NME, I can't help but want to buy the man a beer:

Speaking to Classic Rock, Bruce said: "Everybody talks about Led Zeppelin [reforming], and they played one f*cking gig – one f*cking lame gig – while Cream did weeks of gigs [during their 2005 reunion]; proper gigs, not just a lame gig like Zeppelin did, with all the [vocal] keys lowered and everything. We played everything in the original keys.

"F*ck off, Zeppelin, you're crap. You've always been crap and you'll never be anything else. The worst thing is that people believe the crap that they're sold. Cream is 10 times the band that Led Zeppelin is."

Damn! Granted, this is something that probably should've been in the music papers 39 years ago, but I really admire Bruce for taking aim at Zeppelin.

Look out, Jack's got something on his mind.

I don't question the musicianship or inherent talent Led Zeppelin had, but I fail to see how anyone could call them particularly innovative. British rock and roll had bent itself in the heavier direction in the late 1960s (Beatles' "Helter Skelter" by way of the Who's "I Can See For Miles"), and a whole new crop of "heavy boys" was springing to life out of that puddle, and Led Zeppelin were arguably the best of that particular breed, but flash solos and wailing have never particularly done it for me. If you've got songs that push 20 minutes, you're covering for a lack of good ideas.

That's not to say I consider Cream to be God's gift to rock and roll, although I do think they got the best Eric Clapton's ever had to offer and I'll take Cream over the Jimi Hendrix Experience any day (I'm really asking for it today, aren't I?), but in terms of innovation and direction for music? Yeah, Cream did more than Zeppelin. And in much shorter time, too. Think about a run of singles that weaves from "Wrapping Paper" to "I Feel Free" to "Sunshine of Your Love" to "Tales of Brave Ulysses" to "Anyone For Tennis" and "Badge." Honestly, that's as varied a palette as even the Beatles were offering at the time.

And admit it -- Cream being able to play everything in the same key in 2005 as they had in 1968 is really, really impressive.

Cream - Strange Brew
While it might be prudent to go with a Bruce song for today's post, I can't help but put this awesome Clapton number up on offer. This is the reason Cream were amazing -- basic blues with almost ridiculously over-the-top trying-to-be-psychedelic lyrics and crap production that makes a band with that much muscle sound paper thin. Yet... listen to it. Nothing's lost. That's a good tune, it clocks in under three minutes and it stays stuck in your head for hours. Mindblowing. And enough of an argument in itself to trade in Led Zeppelin IV for Disraeli Gears.

To freak out or to be beautiful?

2008-10-31T11:02:00.001-07:00

I'm usually against reposting songs, but given that this is an awesome song and somewhat apropos of All Hallow's Eve, what the hey.

The Doors - Who Scared You
Recorded during The Soft Parade era (consequently, my favorite Doors era), it still befuddles me why this song never got pinned on the album and why it was left as one of only three songs that obtained non-album "B-side" only status. But for those who found it, well, what a treasure. And if you've got the dosh, Perception is worth picking up.

Happy Halloween everybody.

Y arriba y arriba.

2008-10-30T14:04:00.000-07:00

After a slight preview of winter 'round these parts that even offered up a bit of snow (already... caramba), warmer, more fallish weather has returned to Madison.

But regardless of the weather, my calendar says November is but a short couple of days away and I still have to get the last of my monthly series out of the way.

For this month's Fantastic 45's series, we take a look at the 7-incher offered up by the second most popular artist to be taken in Clear Lake, Iowa plane crash on Feb. 3, 1959, the young Ritchie Valens.

Valens (born Richard Valenzuela) was only 17 when the small Beechcraft carrying him, Buddy Holly and J.P. "the Big Bopper" Richardson inverted shortly after takeoff that cold morning and plowed into a nearby cornfield, and had only amassed eight months' worth of recording time in his short career.

Still, in that short time, he was not only able to put himself at the forefront of the rock and roll movement, but also essentially blaze a trail for Latino music into the American mainstream.

While any visit to huffingtonpost.com today would have you believe this is still a country pinned under conservative craziness (which I don't entirely dispute), think about things in the mid-to-late 1950s for a minute. This was a time when Elvis Presley had to be filmed from the torso up because his spastic hip gyrations were too suggestive. This was a time when Pat Boone had to rerecord Little Richard's hits, because Little Richard himself seemed just a tad too crazy for good old fashioned home listening. Ray Charles was slowly stoking a fire with Atlantic Records, but the real advent of soul wouldn't arrive until the next decade. So for a Latino to come charging into the fray singing a song entirely in Spanish? That was almost unheard of.

Even Valenzuela's latino name had to be chopped in half to make him more marketable to the American public.

But in less than a year, he was able to make a name for himself and make millions of kids across America realize language, heritage and all those other grounds for prospective racism don't mean a damn thing -- especially when there's a good song afoot.

Oh, and isn't it more amazing that "La Bamba" was actually a B-side?

The Fantastic 45s

Ritchie Valens
"Donna" b/w "La Bamba"
Del-Fi, 1958

Ritchie Valens - Donna
Named after Valens' high school sweetheart, Donna Ludwig, this song continually amazes me, because at its core, there's nothing really amazing about it. Its lyrics are the kind of stuff a teenager in love would think of, the melody is nice, but it's not the sweetest thing ever to grace rock and roll music -- I mean, I've listened to the song hundreds of times looking for that je ne sais quoi that makes it timeless, but I can't find it. Then I realize ... I've listend to the song hundreds of times. I've known a few Donnas in my life in a peripherial sense, never dated one, but still -- the reason it does resonate is because it's the kind of stuff a teenager in love would think of. Every somewhat shy dude (and I'd wager even non shy dude) has felt this way at some point in life. And if you can't turn on the radio and find someone singing a song that identifies your own pain, then what is music for?

Ritchie Valens - La Bamba
I took six years of Spanish if you combine the semesters I spent in such a class from junior high through college. Only recently did I stumble upon these chords on my guitar (C, F and G for anyone interested or dense as me not to have figured it out already) and look up the lyrics for the song and try to decipher them. I always think it's funny that most Spanish hits up to that point had been translated into English for popular American consumption (e.g. "The Girl From Ipanema" and "Besame Mucho"), but no one bothered with "La Bamba." Mainly because when you translate it, it's kind of awkward ("In order to dance the Bamboo, you need a little grace. A little grace and another thing. And higher and higher..."). Frankly, it sounds better in Spanish anyway, but I also think "I'm not a sailor, I'm the Captain! I'm the Captain!" would sound fabulous in English too. But again, the fact that you had millions of white teenagers in 1958 going mental for this song said a lot. And why not? With an opening guitar lick like that, who's going to argue?

She totally confused all the passing pirahnas.

2008-10-29T15:45:00.000-07:00

CONFESSIONS OF A 90s SURVIVOR

The Presidents of the United States of America - Lump
From The Presidents of the United States of America

Despite the fact that both "Lump" and "Peaches" established the Presidents of the United States of America as the cool off-kilter buzz band for 1995, I never bought the album. Creating something so consciously quirky is walking a fine line – you know it'll be left field enough to garner attention and if it's any good at all, that's just a bonus.

The thing is you're also working yourself into a corner right away. Novelty acts don't have a long shelf-life, and if they can put out three successful singles, it's a miracle. (The only reason Weird Al is still around is because he keeps appealing to 14-year-old boys … any long time fans of Weird Al are single and still live with their parents, mark my words).

The fact that the Presidents only managed two successful singles says a lot. For the fans then who would say the Presidents weren't novelty, I would counter that listening your two frontmen's instruments as "bassitar" and "guit-bass" says otherwise. For the fans now that would say they weren't novelty, I would counter a little time in the sunshine could do you the world of good.

But the fact of the matter is that, at least in America, the popular music scene ached for a bit of wackiness in 1995. Alternative music was floundering in the wake of Kurt Cobain's suicide and Pearl Jam's overt reluctance to carry any big symbolic torches. Britpop was slowly coming over with the tide, but the number one spots on MTV, VH1 and Billboard were pretty much any genre's for the taking on any given week. The Presidents seized the opportunity.

And maybe that downsizes the significance of "Lump" a little bit, as in "Well, those were the couple weeks that year when we were feeling a little kicky." But that was the great thing about popular culture in the 1990s that doesn't exist anymore thanks to the fact that your computers now want to tell you everything you like based on the fact that you have an Elvis Costello song in your iTunes library. Too high a premium is put on individualism these days. There was a time when it was considered very normal to like "Lump" as much as you liked TLC's "Creep."

But there was a reason "Lump" was popular (and better than "Peaches") – it put a fabulous set of lyrics over an insanely catchy hook and came and went in under two and a half minutes. It was something you could dance, headbang and/or mosh to, and it also had couplets like, "She slipped a twenty between the sheets and life limped along at subsonic speeds." Basically, the kind of stuff that could even make eggheads grin a little.

And, like the asshole he is, Weird Al killed it shortly thereafter. The first time you listen to "Gump," you might have a bit of a chuckle, but then you realize how inane and quickly dated it is, so you want to distance yourself from everything associated with it, including the movie and the song that inspired the bad parody. Some songs are too big for Weird Al to completely knock down, but when one novelty floats a balloon and another novelty aims to pop it, there's nothing to stop it.

All I'm saying is, it's been 13 years now. It's safe to go back to this water. It's actually quite refreshing.

I'm sorry now I ever went away.

2008-10-27T08:06:00.000-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

Mel Tormé - Comin' Home Baby

What's this? The Velvet Fog is really going to get us going this week? Surely you jest, Paul ... No, not at all. Despite his longstanding relegation to crooner status -- which isn't a bad thing, especially as it helped round out arguably two of the funniest minutes in television history -- there was a time when he kicked some ass, albeit somewhat unwillingly. With a short lived stint on Atlantic Records in the early 1960s, Tormé was steered in a direction away from the jazz standards he'd stakes his career on in the decade prior. Atlantic gave him some beefy R&B material to counter the dominating rock and roll scene in American music (which Tormé brusquely dismissed as "three-chord manure"). The pairing didn't stick long, but "Comin' Home Baby" was his only formidable hit in the early 1960s, and its parent album of the same name also got some acclaim. The track sounds like something Ray Charles should've been doing, but amazingly, the fact that Mel Tormé is singing it doesn't detract from its essence a bit. This thing smokes.

I try time and time again.

2008-10-24T07:13:00.000-07:00

Well, look at that, it's already everybody's favorite time of the month... time for the Friday Five.

'Round this blog's parts, there's never been a shortage of love for the "High Priest of New Orleans Music," Mr. Allen Toussaint. In addition to granting Ain't Superstitious, But... an exclusive interview, stuff that Toussaint has wrote, produced, performed or had even the smallest hand in has found it's way to this blog's space. And as there's enough of such material in the music world to go around the world a few times, I don't plan on stopping that anytime soon.

While Toussaint's career has enjoyed a resurgence in the last couple of years thanks in no small part to the attention directed toward New Orleans after August 2005 and his wonderful album with Elvis Costello, 2006's The River in Reverse, the fact of the matter is that even though you might not have known Toussaint's name prior, you knew his work.

Whether it's sitting behind the mixing desk while LaBelle belted out "Lady Marmalade" or Dr. John laid down "Right Place, Wrong Time," handing over the words and music to Benny Spellman for "Lipstick Traces" or essentially being the right hand man for pretty much all of Lee Dorsey's finest moments, few a historic moment in rock/blues/soul/R&B has passed without Allen's touch.

Toussaint's catalogue is also popular stomping ground for any artist that needs to round out an album, and while his first claim to fame was writing songs to make other artists famous, it didn't take long before other artists and other artists still latched on to the material he was cooking up in New Orleans.

This month we take a look at five popular Toussaint originals that weren't done by artists for which they were specially written, but popular names who couldn't resist the songs' charms all the same. More amazingly, I managed to do this without Robert Palmer. That guy covered enough Toussaint for his own Friday Five. But I digress...

The Friday Five

Everybody Loves Allen

Bill Cosby - Get Out of My Life, Woman
Alright, so it's not as direct and straight to the gut as Lee Dorsey's popular version, but the Cos put his own unique stamp on this song for his 1968 album Hooray for the Salvation Army Band! in which he also lampooned the Beatles, Sam & Dave and Bobby Hebb. Lots of bands have done this song. LOTS of bands. But no one before or since has ever done the song quite like this. And I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

The Ohio Players - Mother-In-Law
Before these dudes hit the funk gloryland with "Love Rollercoaster," they were still producing some great stuff that went unnoticed in the late 1960s. This version of Toussaint's early 1960s hit for Ernie K-Doe is one of the most unique versions of this ode/lament to the old lady's old lady and is probably the best thing on offer on their 1968 album Observations in Time. Notice how they make this more of a conversational piece among dudes -- very relatable, no?

Paul Weller - Hercules
Aaron Neville had the biggest hit with this Toussaint number in the early 1970s, but the Modfather dusted it off and took his cues from the Neville version for his own stab at it on the 2004 covers album, Studio 150. While the album was probably the most derided/unloved of Weller's solo career thus far, it's not because of a lack of good (or well performed) material. Fans just tend to get itchy when they know you're capable of good writing on your own and you make a covers album. Leave this stuff to B-sides, you know? Anyway, despite the mass overlooking of this album, certainly a good half of the record deserves another look, and this is a big part of that half.

Ringo Starr - Lipstick Traces (On a Cigarette)
Ringo's obviously got a bit of a Toussaint jones, having convered "Sneaking Sally Through the Alley" on his criminally horrible Ringo the 4th album. 1978's Bad Boy was pretty much just as horrendous, but the common thread between the two album was that when Ringo did a Toussaint song, things seemed to get momentarily better. While Benny Spellman had the original hit with this in 1962, the fact that it was specifically written for a guy with a low voice and probably not much range put it in Ringo's wheelhouse. This ain't the best version of the song out there. But it ain't the worst either. You could write Ringo and tell him that, too. But you might not get a reply.

Willie Harper - A Certain Girl
"A Certain Girl" -- another song Toussaint wrote to further Ernie K-Doe's career in the early 1960s -- is probably one of my all time favorites and the fact that Toussaint always slides it into his live sets these days makes me ridiculously happy. A lot of people have done pretty good versions of the song, including Warren Zevon, but New Orleans blues guitarist Willie Harper took it in a whole new slinky direction in 1967. This version's kind of hard to come by, and while it's not quite in the same league as K-Doe's take, it scores several points for new direction and the backing vocalists here -- "You gotta tell me!"

If you're hung up, and you wanna get down.

2008-10-23T11:10:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year to the delight of nobody (besides fans), Primal Scream released yet another new album that took the band in a new direction from that of its last, although it retread some ground already covered, and thus, got a general critical panning and a feeling of "move on."

The disappointment is not that people are missing out on a great album (it's good... damn good, in fact, but it's not their best), but that the general mindset of Primal Scream seems to be "Heard it before, thanks anyway."

It's a kind of a painful alley for the Scream to find themselves on -- indeed the dual oomph of 2000's XTRMNTR and 2002's Evil Heat brought the band all sorts of praised for innovation and forward thinking not seen since they'd bestowed Screamadelica upon the unsuspecting masses in 1991.

But in trying to gain an oversight of the band's (whisper it, please) legacy, most critics would fashion that those three albums (and maybe 1998's Vanishing Point) are the only ones worth any thought, and they're far off.

Because the early pre-Screamadelica stuff isn't as sharp and focused as what would come after, but there's still traces of genius after, and all their retro thinking glory that came in the last 14-odd years wasn't all bad, either.

But for many, 1994's Give Out But Don't Give Up was the moment when the Scream shot themselves in the foot and resigned themselves to a life of "once important" that could only be shaken with industrial-style albums devoid of solid hooks.

For me, Give Out still f*cking rocks.

Primal Scream
Give Out But Don't Give Up
Creation, 1994

01. Jailbird
02. Rocks
03. (I'm Gonna) Cry Myself Blind
04. Funky Jam
05. Big Jet Plane
06. Free
07. Call On Me
08. Struttin'
09. Sad and Blue
10. Give Out But Don't Give Up
11. I'll Be There For You
12. Everybody Needs Somebody

First things first. Let's all admit that Screamadelica was a great album. Who's going to dispute that? I didn't think so. Now let's all admit that Screamadelica got too damn big.

Timing is everything in music -- not just in the arc of a band's own career, but in the timeframe in which you put out a record. Had Screamadelica been released a year after it was, it still would've been impressive, but it wouldn't have been earth-shattering. Grunge would have completely taken over by then and Primal Scream would've looked they were either A.) Painfully hanging on to a now bygone era or B.) Embarassingly late to their own party.

But coming in right as the Stone Roses began their exile, the Happy Mondays set their sights on self-implosion of the most fantastic nature and Madchester finally went home for a bit of sleep, Primal Scream jumped in with the afterglow and come-down lullabies. It stunk of hope, optimism, shared highs and made the remix cool. It won the first Mercury Music Prize and served notice to a band that had been toiling away for almost an entire decade prior to no avail in Scotland.

The logical train of thought would be that backlash was inevitable, but given how Give Out But Don't Give Up is remembered now, I almost think Screamadelica II would've been a safer bet.

But not content to trod the same ground twice and with a serious Muscle Shoals jones in their boots, the Scream headed for America to make a down and dirty rock 'n' roll album.

Sure, a lot of it sounds like an almost paltry attempt to remake Exile on Main Street and Sticky Fingers at once, but anybody who thinks that Bobby Gillespie hadn't already been honing his Mick Jagger impersonation years prior is out of their f*cking minds.

The thing that killed them this time out was the same thing that got them all acclaim three years prior: timing. A year after Give Out was released, Britpop was at full sail and bands were being praised for looking retroactively to the giants of yore. Had "Jailbird" or "Rocks" been released in 1995, Oasis, Blur and Pulp might have had some serious elbow room to concede.

But this was released before Noel Gallagher effectively and emphatically deemed Beatles-aping the new black and everyone took note. We'd all do well to remember that before Britpop hit, the last big fad sweeping the world was Ace of Base. Stacked up against The Sign, Give Out But Don't Give Up sounds all the better (and more durable), but then ... so does Exile on Main Street.

Now to call the album unashamed Stones-aping through and through is doing a disservice. People tend to forget that George Clinton's services were employed on this record as well, it's just that George Drakoulias named seemed to percolate higher. Mr. P-Funk's imprints on the record, the title track and "Funky Jam" both carry a lot of swagger and put the band in a territory where you probably wouldn't find a lot of other Scots. "Funky Jam" actually makes me really dig an instrumental. Ask my colleagues -- that's no small feat.

There's also healthy soul on the album, thanks to long-since departed female vocalist Denise Johnson, who provides a hell of a lull at the album's midway point with "Free" -- a song that any dude or dudette who's ever experienced a bruised heart can relate to -- and a lot of proper cross mojo-nation. "Call On Me" is probably the best example -- all the guitar licks of a Lynyrd Skynyrd hit and all the horns, piano and souled backdrop of a Stax staple.

Given that he's the lead singer and effective face of Primal Scream, Bobby Gillespie's role in the album is reserved at best. Sure, he's taking lead on all the singles, but there's a lot of instrumental work and willingness to hand over the mic to Denise as the songs call for it.

But, to the detractors, Gillespie is this album's (and many albums', if not the Scream's entire) downfall. Frankly, I've never understood the bile spit in his direction. He's not the greatest lead singer of all time, but you can't fault the guy for not singing with passion or conviction. Sure, he's not rewriting William Blake with couplets like "Dealers keep a dealin', theives keep a theiven, whores keep a whorin', junkies keep scorin'," but don't even act like you're not totally sold by the time everyone's proclaiming, "Johnny ain't so crazy -- he's always got a line for the ladies" in "Rocks." Even the plea of "Jesus Christ" on the fadeout of "Big Jet Plane" sounds genius.

Anyone who wants to make rock and roll intellectual needs to have a drink and hear a joke. Not that there's not a place for intelligence in rock and roll, but overanalyzing one of the most simple and effective means of expressing human joy is like putting your dog through a series of IQ tests. Sure, you can, but the poor thing probably just wants a nap and a meal. He doesn't ask much for your love.

But it's not to say the album is without its faults -- "Struttin'" goes on too long and while the last two songs are sweet, they don't reach the same heights as the gorgeous "(I'm Gonna) Cry Myself Blind." The bigger problem with them is they close the album on a softer note when one more proper bang seemed to be in order.

The point is, Give Out But Don't Give Up didn't deserve the subsequent caning it got and Primal Scream didn't deserve the onus the album put upon them as the ever-present almost-rans. If Give Out But Don't Give Up had been the debut album by some Memphis outfit in 1994, it probably would've been hailed as an exciting new direction from an area of the country that hadn't had a lot to say for itself in several years. But when a group of Scots coming off the back of an ecstacy opus put it out, well... it's just uninspired retro sh*t.

I hate music critics. I really do. If you like rock and roll even a little, go get this album.

I said no one could take your place.

2008-10-21T15:34:00.000-07:00

My apologies to people that have been visiting this blog on a daily basis waiting for updates and active links.

Still trying to figure out what happened with my server basically wiping out a load of my files, but in addition to that, I spent Thursday and Friday of last week in Milwaukee, with the exceptions of Thursday night (back to Madison to see Alejandro Escovedo) and Friday night (down to Illinois to start a back and forth series of runs between Chicagoland and Madison over the weekend).

Would've got a "Get You Goin' Track" up yesterday, but wasn't anticipating an 11-hour work day.

Excuses, excuses...

I've reupped some of the songs on from the last few posts that were wiped out, and now have my head back in the game and will get back to posting.

And to show my commitment...

Maxine Nightingale - Right Back Where We Started From
This pull from her 1975 album of the same name has become ridiculously popular as of late, thanks in no small part to it's inclusion in "The Family Stone" when Sarah Jessica Parker wobbled around drunkenly to the tune. I've always thought it was pretty good R&B, even if it does teeter on cheesy (I think it's the violin and horn parts, frankly), but it's a good example of Motown emulation after Motown's heyday that actually works. To this day, people are trying to emulate that sound, and it seldom works.

Temporary insanity.

2008-10-15T15:03:00.001-07:00

Problems with my file hoster -- most links from the last 2 weeks are inactive. This will be resolved soon. Goes to show you though, you gotta keep up! Go get the autumn mix while you wait...

I know better than that.

2008-10-15T13:04:00.000-07:00

There's this great episode of "King of the Hill" where Hank gets a tad alarmed by the music his son is listening to when he comes into his son's room and sees Bobby wearing a mop on his head and pretending to play air guitar.

Hank then escorts his son to the music store where he vetoes a stack of CDs Bobby intends on buying, and imparts this fantastic fatherly observation: "When I was your age, we had these things called songs. They were two-minute stories about falling in love or burning down Georgia. But I guess Hollywood decided we needed more criminals yelling about their lady friends'... baby-places."

Anyway, Hank ends up approving a CD by a group called 4-Skore based purely on the nice harmonies on the record ("Kinda sounds like the Beatles before they went nuts in India"). He doesn't realize he's allowing his son to get into a boy band manufactured for prepubescent girls until a few weeks later when he chaperones his son to a concert.

This is the problem with MTV and VH1 no longer playing videos. I don't know what I'm getting into anymore, and last night I got into a self-titled album by an artist named Meiko, who self-released it last year. The record companies caught on this year and put out physical copies. They're always one step ahead, aren't they?

Brilliant album -- insanely catchy songs, good pop sensibilities, but its rampant popularity on iTunes and MySpace has me thinking I might also be the laughing stock of every blogger or visitor to this site who's previously told me I have good taste. I mean, at least they knew I was being facetious when I did that New Kids on the Block post...

I realize I might have a lot in common with a 14-year-old girl for thinking this lady is cool.

Say what you want, but the Internet and the ability to comment on pretty much anything does not make for good social gauging, however contradictory that might seem. Sure, the album topped iTunes' "folk" chart (let's not pretend iTunes charts aren't dangerous, either), and her stint at SXSW this year had to buy some considerable credibility if dropping a casual curse word on the record didn't.

But there's still something in the album's sheen that makes me think some smartass is going to point me in the direction of an "Ohmigod Meiko is 2 kewl for realz" chat room to further discuss what I perceive to be her songwriting and musical merits. She is from L.A. (sorry, L.A., but you are a little suspect... you gave Kenny Loggins too much work, for one...).

I'm not saying it's bad bubblegum or trying to discount the music here. Indeed, I listened to the album a few times last night. And liked it a bit more with each spin. But without being able to turn to VH1 and see John Fugelsang interview her or her fans outside of one of her shows, how do I know what crowd I'm running with here? And Fugelsang sucks on America's Funniest Videos anyway. I miss 1997.

But even if I am a laughing stock for appreciating this record, so be it. I mean, I still defend Hall & Oates.

Meiko - Boys with Girlfriends

Just... if you're in a car and see me in the next car over and singing along ... beep or something to remind me where I am.

Of course, she ended up dead from radiation.

2008-10-13T09:56:00.001-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

Super Furry Animals - Hermann Loves Pauline

Pretty much everything from the Super Furry Animals' 1997 Radiator is twisted genius, but this pull, primarily about Mr. Albert Einstein is probably the best moment. Hermann and Pauline were Albert's parents' names and the song is filled with fantastic observations on his childhood set against an almost mechanical backing (and the repetition of "We have ways of making you think!") make it pretty damn engaging on first go. Also has the sideways lyrics that show why most people find SFA so damn endearing (e.g. "Marie Curie was Polish-born but French-bred -- Ha! French Bread!"). There's a lot of great moments in their catlogue, but this still ranks really high amongst all of them. And it's a good kick in the butt to get you in gear this week. The video is also worth checking out.

Girl, it's a mighty rough road to Lynchburg -- I hear the bridge has been down all year.

2008-10-10T06:52:00.000-07:00

Last night I finally got around to acquiring and listening to Robbie Fulks' 2001 album, Couples in Trouble, which I suppose has become kind of the hidden treasure in Robbie's catalogue.

For whatever reason, the album's kind of been buried in Robbie's catalogue (iTunes doesn't carry it and its hard to locate in even the good indie stores), which is kind of strange, because it struck me on first listen as kind of a watershed moment for the guy.

Fulks' charm has always been his ability to marry raw observation with unmerciful self deprication in his lyrics and leave it all over an amazingly tight musical background. Couples in Trouble is almost like a musical version of a Raymond Carver anthology -- 12 short stories about, well, I suppose the title gives it away.

And while there are a few humorous turns of phrase, it's a lot bleaker than the majority of the rest of his stock, but that's not entirely a bad thing. It also forsakes the alt country genre he helped make formidable (whether he of any of his compatriots will now admit it or not) for more of a straightforward musical spine. Basically, no "F*ck This Town" in sight.

And that's not a bad thing. The main reason I dig Lyle Lovett after all is his ability to shift tunes to proper musical backdrops and a willingness to foray into previously unchartered territory if it works for the greater benefit of the song. One such pull from Couples in Trouble does just that. And it also provided me with one of those awesome moments where you're absolutely in love on the first listen.

Robbie Fulks - Brenda's New Stepfather
Everything about this tune's sentiment is ugly. The kind of dude they make Lifetime movies about -- a leering, perverted new squeeze for Mommy who really has his eye on the daughter. Lines like, "Hey little hotpants, I'm your daddy, no matter how hard you scratch" don't go far for making a solid case for the guy, but something about the prohibition-era jazz backing and the concession that he is at least, "a large-hearted divorcee" somehow endear the narrator enough to merit listening to his tale. It's a thrilling little three minutes that takes the best elements of Tom Waits, Lyle Lovett and George Jones, puts 'em in a cauldron, and turns the finished product sideways. And it deserves to be heard by more people, dammit.

We'll meet at a point and go our separate ways.

2008-10-06T14:26:00.001-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

747s - Night & Day

Unlike Richard Hawley, but certainly like the Rascals, 747s' main claim to fame was their association with the Arctic Monkeys, when lead singer Oisen Leech shared lead vocal duties with Alex Turner on their cover of "Baby I'm Yours." It's a great cover, but given the strength of the 747's lone album, 2006's Zampano, it was terribly unfair for an Arctic Monkeys B-side to be their only shot at the brass ring. Zampano is chock full of great Liverpudlian rock, Beatle references and enough "What Would Paul McCartney Do?" gumption to stand on its own feet. But according the the band's Wikipedia page, it was one and done as now the 747s are no more. Blast. At least we have the album, and this scorching opener which is about as awesome pop rock as awesome pop rock gets. Plus the dude singing it is named Oisen. And you're telling me I can't have these guys anymore but I can have My Chemical Romance? Le sigh. Big time.

I might've gone, but what for?

2008-10-03T10:43:00.001-07:00

You know, I was really excited three days ago.

October baseball constitutes arguably my favorite time of year sports-wise, and with the Chicago Cubs a part of it for the second straight year, I was feeling even more positive about the next few weeks. They had the best record in the National League, arguably the best lineup top to bottom, the deepest rotation and were defensively sound.

All of the sudden, our pitchers can't throw strikes (which doesn't seem to matter, because even if Los Angeles is swinging at the junk, they're still knocking it out of the park), no one in one of the scariest top-to-bottom lineups in baseball can get a hit, much less drive in a run and the defense? All four infielders commit an error in the same game.

Now I'm not going to go off on a tangent about curses, but ... damn. The Cubs are making it look like the Washington Nationals could've had a better time handling the Dodgers.

Anyway, that explains my absence from blogging over the past couple days -- I have my playoffs routine, and that always takes priority. I wish I didn't feel like the two days weren't wasted entirely, but such is the temperment of the baseball gods. They giveth, and they taketh away... eth.

But with a new Oasis album out Tuesday, and towering collection of CDs to my name and a deep library in both my iTunes and iPod, music remains a nice bit of salvation. And as I'm already three days into a new month without having posted yet, I better get on the horse and unload the first of our monthly series, Vs.

This month we take a look at two late 1980s takes on a song originally written in 1940. Duke Ellington wrote a big band instrumental that year called "Never No Lament," which did well for his orchestra, but two years later, a wordsmith by the name of Bob Russell dropped some verses on the piece and it was forever after to be known as "Don't Get Around Much Anymore."

Both the instrumental and with-lyrics versions have enjoyed great success over the years. And since pretty much everyone who was anyone took a crack at it in the 1940s and 1950s, the song quickly earned its status as an American standard. The only downside to that, being, Rod Stewart had to cover it as part of his "Great American Songbook" series. And that's a big downside, folks.

ANYWAY... the song's most popular format, as evidenced by the versions of Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald is soft jazz with a bit of swing. Slow enough to convey the bummed-out-ness of it all, but also upbeat enough as to not sound suicidal.

In 1988, Paul McCartney released a Russian-only album of rock and roll songs that Soviets might have not otherwise been able to have access to previously under Communist rule. Titled CHOBA B CCCP (translation: Back in the USSR), the goodwill feeling of the album was a nice touch and while some of the stuff on the album didn't sound as powerful or well thought-out as his 1999 rock and roll covers album, Run Devil Run, it did have its merits. One of those being the inclusion of "Lucille." Seriously, when Macca lets rip on that song, I'd argue he sings it just as strongly as Little Richard.

He also provided an early 1960s-Cavern rock style treatment of "Don't Get Around Much Anymore" that kind of betrayed the general mold the song had taken in the 40-odd years up to that point. But besides muffing the opening lyric, the song actually works well as a rock and roll tune. The lyrics are in the same vein that all the formative rock and roll songs based themselves on anyway, so it seems like a natural link, and Macca and his band of studio hands turned it over quite nicely.

A year later on the other side of the Atlantic, Harry Connick, Jr. experienced his coming out party into national prominence when he was asked to do the soundtrack to "When Harry Met Sally." Although Connick already had some records to his name, none of them reached the scope of the audience that the prototypical romantic copy did (and still does), and it was forever after that America would become somewhat besotted with his way retro stylings and jazzy deliveries. I'm still not so sure about the foray into acting, but I don't think it was reason enough for American women to reject Connick and take Michael Buble to their bosoms instead. Seriously, girls? Michael Buble is glossy, made-for-order crap. The sooner you realize that, the better.

Anyway, Connick interpreted a few standards on When Harry Met Sally: Music From the Motion Picture and "Don't Get Around Much Anymore" was on the shortlist. Taking the exact opposite direction McCartney had, Harry slowed the song down to a suicidal pace which screws up some of the verse deliveries. He kind of realizes it's not right about 2/3 of the way through and speeds it up to a little faster than the Ella-pace in an attempt to redeem things, but by then, the moment's kind of passed. It's not a horrible version, but one wonders what it would've sounded like if Harry had done it a few years later for "Sleepless in Seattle" instead. By then, he'd found his feet... here, he's still testing things out.

Suffice to say, despite it's obvious thumbing the nose at the standard version and its fluffed first lyric, I take McCartney's version. But that's just me.

You?

Paul McCartney vs. Harry Connick, Jr.
"Don't Get Around Much Anymore"

Paul McCartney - Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Harry Connick, Jr. - Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Everybody knows where you go when the sun goes down.

2008-09-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

I've always felt a bit weird about going into talking about Ray Charles or Johnny Cash after the likes of "Ray" and "Walk the Line," because even though I knew of their work before the movies, I only knew about it somewhat passively.

So if I go into detail about them, then there's that whole, "Oh, well they only think I'm interested because of the movie now," which isn't the case. I know, it's a rather paranoid problem to have, but I think a few music "snobs" will attest to it.

Anyway, for this month's entry in the "Fantastic 45s" series, we've got the Man in Black. And since it's 2 years on from the movie now (even though FX is playing it a lot lately), you can rest assured it's not because of "Walk the Line." Capiche?

Cash wasted no time in plowing into music after moving to Memphis in 1954, quickly befriending Luther Perkins and Marshall Grant and tossing his plans to be a radio announcer aside in favor of being someone that might actually be played on the radio. With Sun Records in its formative stages, Cash, Perkins and Grant headed down to try to persuade Sam Phillips into signing them up, but after a rehearsal session that saw a bunch of spiritual songs played, Phillips famously retorted: "Go home and sin, then come back with a song I can sell."

The result of that advice was Cash coming back with his first 45's worth of material, "Hey Porter" and "Cry Cry Cry." Neither song had the outlaw image he'd affix to his look, sound and music shortly thereafter, but there was still a bit of rebelliousness in each cut -- the A-side's outright thumbing of the nose at land north of the Mason-Dixon Line and the B-side's fair warning to a runaround girlfriend.

Sun released the single in 1955 and Johnny Cash was formally introduced to the world. What's impressive about the single is that while it's rather thin in sound and tentative compared to the attitude he'd be spinning shortly thereafter, you can say that about a lot of legends' first releases (Hello, "Love Me Do"). Maybe it wasn't as wild out of the gate as Elvis Presley's 1954 debut on Sun, "That's All Right," but Cash established a voice of authority early on.

And for my money, the single's B-side might be his all time finest moment.

The Fantastic 45's

Johnny Cash
"Hey Porter" b/w "Cry Cry Cry"
Sun, 1955

Johnny Cash - Hey Porter
It's kind of strange that this song went on the A-side, given that it's certainly the weaker of the two, but maybe it's more upbeat delivery and easy hook secured its billing. Essentially a two-minute love letter to Tennessee and the south in general, the idea's been carried off in better fashion ("Georgia on My Mind," "That's Right (You're Not From Texas)," "Southern Nights," etc.), but we can go easy on him for this being his first spin. And even more credit for the fact that Cash actually penned the song too. Not even Elvis could say that about his first (or, in fact, any) of his singles.

Johnny Cash - Cry Cry Cry
Interestingly, while the single's A-side did nothing for Cash in terms of chart popularity, the country charts actually picked up on this B-side and it peaked at #6. In hindsight arguments can be made about the standards Cash sings about here and his own infidelities around the time, but what's interesting to think about here is how this song kind of blazes Cash's trail and steps off the well-trodden country music line. While legends before him (Hank Williams) hadn't been afraid to sing of their despair at the thought of their ladies up to such shenaningans, Cash here at no point feels sorry for himself in the matter. Sure, he stays awake waiting and asks questions, but he isn't the one cry cry crying. It's just, "Alright ... you'll be sorry." And really, that's a good attitude to have.

I like it and I want it and I just don't need to stop it.

2008-09-29T09:33:00.001-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

Happy Mondays - God's Cop

While the Mondays' seminal 1990 opus Pills 'n' Thrills and Bellyaches might be better known for cuts like "Kinky Afro" and "Step On," I think most Mondays fans and even casual listeners would agree this track is the album's real dark horse. Even though it never enjoyed single treatment, the track is a perfect amalgamation of everything that made the Mondays great -- lyrics that teeter carelessly between menacing and nonsensical, some of the most cocksure delivery ever put before a microphone and a helplessly intoxicating musical backing designed to get you moving. I've been listening to this song for years now and I still haven't the faintest idea what it means. But for a quick pick me up or in my most egregious moments of self-righteousness, this is usually the soundtrack.

The day would surely have to break.

2008-09-25T13:46:00.000-07:00

Bob Dylan UnderCover
Case 8, George Harrison

George Harrison - If Not For You

For all the "quiet" and "shy" pigeonholing he got in this time with and after the Beatles, George Harrison certainly made himself a viable commodity in the days of the Fabs' split, touring with Delaney & Bonnie, getting behind John & Yoko's "War is Over" campaign, and making frequent transatlantic trips to write and record with his longtime friend Bob Dylan.

While Harrison's version was not only a solid piece of his three-LP proper solo debut, All Things Must Pass, it's probably also the most immediate Dylan cover this series has offered yet, with Dylan's original version on his New Morning album having been released just one month prior to George's album.

Harrison actually learned the song in the summer of 1970 when he partook in sessions for New Morning that didn't actually end up on the album, but subsequently made it out in bootleg form. Whereas Bob took a rather straightforward, light beat on his version, Harrison and producer Phil Spector caked the song in slide guitar and a shuffling tempo for All Things Must Pass. And while the album also featured the fabulous co-written "I'd Have You Anytime," it's "If Not For You" that would kind of define the two's friendship for years thereafter, with Harrison performing at Dylan's 30th anniversary tribute show and the two of them even attempting to put it into "The Concert For Bangladesh."

Swore he just saw Elvis playing poker at Dunes.

2008-09-23T11:02:00.000-07:00

For a reason that now escapes me, I was discussing my still-standing crush on Full House's Aunt Becky with a friend last night, who kindly pointed out that she had seen a preview of the new "90210" show featuring the lovely Lori Louglin.

I haven't seen the commercial yet, and I can pretty much guarantee I won't be watching that show, but when talk turned to other "typical" celebrity cougars men take interest in, I was kind of surprised to think that Loughlin isn't one. I mean, jeez. She's the only one who ever made Jerry Seinfeld cry. Although I *think* Bill Simmons added her to his Rene Russo/Diane Lane All-Stars team. And no, I didn't go under the alias of Wilson there. So even if he didn't add her to the roster, I'm not alone in my convictions. Oh, wait. He did put her in.

Anyway, I was then asked what other cougars I felt were worth pursuit.

Rather serendipitously, my iTunes playlist was on shuffle and Sleeper popped up. I know I've relayed my enthusiasm for Louise Wener on this blog's space before (and this video is always worth mention), but for some reason I always neglect to mention her when that kind of "you and any celebrity" talk comes up. Probably because no one knows her. While it's easy enough to say, "She was the singer in a '90s British band," most people immediately think I'm talking about Elastica's Justine Frischmann (who also had it going on in her own right), but it's not even worth me trying to sing "Inbetweener" or "Nice Guy Eddie." The confused look remains.

And while maybe it's all too much of a pushover for me now that she's joined the literate world as a writer, I still kind of wish the solo album that was supposed to happen after Sleeper's demise did. She always could write a good pop song, even if anybody that does know the band only rates their debut Smart as anything worth its salt. For my money, the two subsequent albums were better, and you can expect blog posts in the future explaining why.

Of course, as it turns out, the song that came on last night and is now probably my favorite track is pulled off Smart.

Sleeper - Vegas
Although I have yet to read of Wener's novels, this song is proof enough that she'd probably be a good storyteller too. The song takes a very Kinks-ish aesthetic and paints the picture of a lonely man desperate for escape that makes it and seems to screw it up anyway. The version of the song they did for the video was crap (although the video itself was alright), but it's the album version featured here that really drives the feeling home with Louise's counterharmonies on the choruses. I mean, come on. "Took him 40 years to plan his route of escape." Understated genius. You gotta love it.

But the clouds were there, blocking out the sun.

2008-09-22T11:07:00.000-07:00

While Madison and most of the Midwest, at least, seems to be in the throes of an Indian summer, today does officially mark the first day of Autumn, and means it's time for another mix 'round these parts.

Last year's autumn mix got a lot of nice response, and while it may have already cashed in classics like the Kinks' "Autumn Almanac" and Chad & Jeremy's "A Summer Song," I actually feel that despite those songs' absences this time around, this year's compilation is a certainly an equal if not an improvement. And if you still have last year's mix, well hey -- now you can double the time of your autumn drives or (considering gas prices and all) walks.

I will restate the rules I posted last year for the perfect autumn mix and swear that I abided by all four again this time around:

1.) The perfect autumn mix should provide a perfect soundtrack to long drives or walks through areas bursting with autumn colors. You should be able to look at the trees around you, listen to the music, and go "Yep" at the perfect symmetry.

2.) A lot of people are excited about autumn, but the passing of the summer season and all that comes with it is never the easiest thing to let go. The music employed should provide a healthy balance between this dichotomy. For whatever reason, acoustic guitars and light, brush stick drumbeats seem to work perfectly. But don't go diving into your backlog of MTV Unplugged CDs -- because that's not ALL that works in autumn, it's just the basis.

3.) The weather is never lovely, though it's never terrible, either. It's somewhere in between. It's never quite comfortable, but it's never thoroughly uncomfortable, either. The music must match this. You want things that sound cool. Not cold. And certainly not hot. Coolness is essential in an autumn mix.

4.) The perfect autumn mix should also be the perfect soundtrack to a lonely, mildly depressed afternoon spent alone. Don't ask me. I don't make the rules. That's just how it works.

'Nuff said, eh? Here's round two, and once again -- I'll bet you 10 bucks you don't find a better autumn mix anywhere else.

Click on the links to go to each part's respective SaveFile download page.

Download Part 1 (tracks 1-10 in a .zip file)
Download Part 2 (tracks 11-20 in a .zip file)

01. Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong - Can't We Be Friends?
In addition to opening this year's autumn mix, this track kicked off Ella & Louis' first album together in 1956. It's kind of a strange song when sung as a duet -- both the female and male kicking themselves for misreading potential romance, but when you think about how neurotic the mind (male or female) goes when relationships are kicking off, this might actually be the most realistic reading of the song ever. It's kind of a downer, sure, but the breezy jazz backing behind Ella and Louis also makes this the happiest reading of the song ever too.

02. Ronnie Lane - Tin and Tambourine
The closing cut from Ronnie Lane's 1975 Ronnie Lane's Slim Chance is just one of several instances of the simple folk brilliance that Ronnie tapped into after walking away from the R&B and rock 'n' roll of the Small Faces and Faces. On paper, "It's just another dream of tin and tambourine, but it's got me on the run again..." doesn't look like much, but just try to tell me it doesn't sound like scripture when Ronnie sings it and that little harmonica comes in behind it.

03. Harry Connick, Jr. - A Wink and a Smile
The original that Harry contributed to the soundtrack of "Sleepless in Seattle" in 1993 also kind of became the movie's central theme, and with good reason -- it's probably the most representative microcosm of the simplistic romance the movie taps into (which makes it a good date film, even if Bill Pullman's character is way too much of a pushover). I know this is a bit "sunny" for an autumnal mix, but even single, melodramatic folks can enjoy this song. And for the record, I do drive a hip, double-dip, tip-toppy, two-seat Pontiac. And this song makes me pretty friggin' proud that I do.

04. Paul Weller - Up in Suze's Room
While the Modfather continues to spin some of the best romantic songs out there, he doesn't often weave particularly "sexy" songs. 1997's rocky and somewhat underrated Heavy Soul had two -- "Mermaids" and this breezy little tune full of suggestive innuendo and pangs of psychedelia. In the context of that album, this song hits like a cool breeze. On an autumn mix, it just keeps the feeling rolling, and Steve White's tight shuffling beat maintains that feeling like a tightly wound Swiss watch.

05. Spoon - Paper Tiger
There's something cold and angular about the minimalist instrumentation and effects that anchor this song (and most of 2002's Kill the Moonlight), but Britt Daniel's delivery is warm enough to keep it out of winter territory and while the song paints a pretty bleak picture, the ending assurance of "The new war will get you, it will not protect you, but I will be there with you when you turn out the light" is one of the best things anyone's said in this post 9/11 world that politicians like to talk about way too much.

06. Jon Brion/Shelley Duvall - He Needs Me
Brion spruced up this track from Robert Altman's "Popeye" soundtrack for his own soundtrack to the criminally underrated "Punch-Drunk Love" (indisputable proof that Adam Sandler could be great if he wanted). There's a really off-kilter charm to this song -- Duvall's singing isn't terribly off, but it is just enough (although you also must picture her as Olive Oyl singing it), and even though the song (written by Harry Nilsson) teeters dangerously between endearing and annoying, it falls more toward the former. And Jon Brion's accentuation keeps it there firmly.

07. Stone Temple Pilots - Sour Girl
I've blogged about this track before, which is my favorite STP offering. For being known as a primarily alternative outfit, they actually have quite a few songs that boast an autumnal feel. Maybe sticking this on the mix is a selfish way to get the song played again, but it also fits into the ebb and flow of proceedings (and autumn in general) quite magnificently. I think it's down to the bass here more than anything else.

08. Ray Charles - Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying
This is not a souled out cover of the Gerry & the Pacemakers hit from 1964 (although now I kind of wish there was one), but instead a cover of a 1946 tune that Joe Greene wrote and Charles featured on his 1959 LP, The Genius of Ray Charles. The production on this one is really interesting, while the lazy beat and orchestration are really warm, Ray's piano has a cold, distorted effect (evidenced mainly on the solo) and Ray's pained singing on the last lines (particularly "And I just don't want you no more") is also kind of desolate. But all together, it's rather pretty.

09. Colin Blunstone - Caroline Goodbye
Blunstone's finest moment after the demise of the Zombies doesn't get as much play as it should, which is tragic considering he didn't just sing this song -- he also co-authored it and lo and behold, it might be one of the very best break-up songs ever. The song builds beautifully, the orchestration gives it an incredibly regal feel, and I contend there might not be a more perfect song for a drive on an overcast autumn day. Listen to that opening acoustic guitar... that's the sound of leaves falling on the road ahead of you.

10. Natalie Merchant - San Andreas Fault
I still think Natalie's solo debut, Tigerlily, got a bad rap from which it never recovered. The reviews were pretty harsh, and despite the fact that "Carnival," "Wonder" and even "Jealousy" were popular despite the negative reaction, the album still kind of seems like an afterthought. After Motherland came out in 2001, I revisited Tigerlily and from the first few seconds of this track, I remembered this always was a great disc. There are more than a couple moments as lovely as this.

11. Old 97's - In the Satellite Rides a Star
It was hard for me not to put one of Murry Hammond's solo tracks from his latest I Don't Know Where I'm Going But I'm On My Way, but this song has always been one of my favorites (and one of the very few truly fantastic moments on 2004's Drag it Up), and really, a perfect fall tune. Last year's mix featured the Rhett-led "Busted Afternoon," which is another fantastic wistful regret song, but whereas Rhett can say wonderful things in a highly literate way, Murry always leans toward simplicity, but to no less effect. "Ain't a good woman who rolls out of sight when she could honestly stay awhile," isn't just a line, you know. It's a creed.

12. Belle & Sebastian - She's Losing It
While I'm kind of one of those anomalies when it comes to Belle & Sebastian fans -- a guy who actually strongly prefers their more recent efforts to their early stuff, I am willing to admit that among the almost-too-light fluff on several of their early records, their were also moments of absolute pop brilliance. Like this cut from their 1997 debut, Tigermilk. Blinding chorus, and I know I'm not the only one who thinks more songs like this need trumpet solos.

13. Liam Finn - Gather To the Chapel
Okay, so it's kind of a comedown after the fun Belle & Sebastian just kicked up, but even though this song is about the funeral of a dear friend, listen to the harmonies, the melody and how effective the chorus is, despite just repeating, "Everyone gather to the chapel." Sure, Liam sounds uncannily like his dad Neil, but what's more encouraging is that he picked up his pop's fantastic pop sensibilities. As far as I'm concerned, the world can never have too many Finns writing songs.

14. The Greenhornes (feat. Holly Golightly) - There is an End
This fantastic tune sounds like it was plucked straight from 1965 even though it was recorded for the soundtrack to 2002's "Broken Flowers" (in which Bill Murray tried with lesser success to repeat the formula that made "Lost in Translation" pretty awesome). Teaming the Greenhornes with Holly Golightly was about as awesome of an idea as was Jack White basically fronting the band and changing its name to the Raconteurs ... I'd have dug an album's worth of Holly/Greenhornes stuff. Tapped right into that Kinda Kinks era sound.

15. Frank Sinatra - I Guess I'll Have to Change My Plans
Much like Ella & Louis did with "Can't We Be Friends?," Frank takes a bummer of a tune and turns it into a wistful and pleasant ditty. While lyrically it may have been more at home on one of the torch albums like Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely, No One Cares or In the Wee Small Hours, the musical backing made it fit nicely onto 1957's A Swingin' Affair. And really, why wouldn't you want to snap along to lyrics like, "I think I'll crawl right back and into my shell, dwelling in my personal hell"?

16. Roger McGuinn - Jeanie With the Light Brown Hair
The former Byrds main man did a hell of a job taking this ancient Stephen Foster tune to his 12-string Rickenbacker and effectively turning it into a "Turn! Turn! Turn!"-era Byrds song for the 2002 Foster tribute, Beautiful Dreamer. Like "A Summer Song," this song references the preceding season and its soft air a bit more, but let's not kid ourselves -- this is an autumn tune in every audible sense.

17. The Kinks - I Go to Sleep (Demo)
The Kinks never recorded a proper version of this song, only leaving this Ray Davies-and-piano test run as the band's only audible attachment to this song. While the Pretenders would later record a proper version of the song, this ghostly reading of it is still the most effective, despite the tape whistle at the song's beginning, the fact that the piano keeps imperfect time and the minimalist backing vocals only reinforcing the idea that the author might've only had this song half-finished. But when you consider several finished songs don't strike the nerve this does, that's kind of sobering.

18. Lyle Lovett - Once is Enough
While 1989's Lyle Lovett and His Large Band flexed the most musical muscle Lovett had fronted to that point in his career (and to a fantastic effect), it was when he stripped everything away for this song to close proceedings that he proved that while a lot of extra bells and whistles and ornamentation are all well and good, the heart of a good song doesn't need a lot of flash to make it effective. Just needs a few good chords on the acoustic, a clever-as-hell lyric and solid delivery. Oh, but a few blues singers to back you up also helps.

19. Ride - Endless Road
While I'm just as happy as most Anglophiles would be about the recent resurgence in Ride's popularity, I'm positively distraught by the fact that people want to discount the band's final two albums, Carnival of Light and Tarantula as not adequately measuring up to their shoegazing predecessors. Sure, the waves of distorted guitars were gone and it all seemed to go "horribly" retro, but what the hell is wrong with that? Listen to this song. Listen to that organ. Listen to the wistfulness and regret in Andy Bell's voice. Listen to the overstated Oxford accent when he sings, "One night by the fire, somebody is tawlking." This is one of the best things Bell ever wrote. It counts, dammit.

20. Paul McCartney - Junk
Originally written during the near-overproductive period that led to the Beatles' White Album, this song didn't make a formal showing until McCartney's self-titled solo debut in 1970, but it got two showings there, one with lyrics and one instrumental. While the instrumental would've been an equally effective way to close the mix, something about the lyrics to this song have always broken my heart since I first heard it when I was about 11. He actually makes you feel sorry for pieces of junk. And in a weird way, it makes it a more effectively bittersweet closing and a nice summation to the range of feelings autumn brings.

Here's to a fantastic fall. Drink lots of cider. Hard or otherwise.

If you've got troubles, then I've got 'em too.

2008-09-19T12:47:00.000-07:00

Of all the personal heroes and celebrities I've met in my lifetime, the one that inevitably really impresses everyone (whether their a fan of his or not) is Lyle Lovett.

And while I've always enjoyed meeting and talking to people who's music I've admired for a long time -- none of that "Don't meet your heroes" stuff has ever proven true for me, but then again, I might never actively pursue a meeting with certain people because of that rule -- no one's ever shocked me more than Lyle.

The guy is the most gracious, humble and understated guy for a man of his stature (both physically -- even though the hair adds more than a few inches -- and in celebrity). He's always more interested in talking about people he admires than he is talking about himself and more interested in discussing songs that made him want to be a musician than his own work.

In a way, it's kind of refreshing when a guy who could be completely arrogant if he so chose shies away from walking around with his chest out, but the other side of the coin for me is when someone who deserves to strut a little continually defers kudos. I'd actually really love to hear him boast about something like "Her First Mistake." When you write a song that good, it's more than merited.

But Lyle's tendencies to share glories have served him well over the course of his career and also led him to share the mic on more than a few occassions. For this month's Friday Five, we look at his best duets.

The Friday Five

Gotta Lovett: Lyle's best duets

Al Green & Lyle Lovett - Funny How Time Slips Away
The point of the fabulous 1994 compilation Rhythm, Country and Blues was to show that while Ray Charles pretty much perfected the merging of soul and country with the Modern Sounds series, he didn't have to have the last word on it, and throwing two celebrities from opposite sides of the fence could actually make a lot more sense than it would seem. It seems unfair to have Lyle represent country, though, doesn't it? The guy's done country songs, yeah, but he's also done jazz, rock, blues, bluegrass... hell, even bossa nova. So while putting Al and Lyle together was an all around beautiful idea that paid off in spades, you don't really get any country here... just some great soul. And it's also worth noting how well Lyle stands up alongside a voice like Green's.

Asleep at the Wheel feat. Shawn Colvin & Lyle Lovett - Faded Love
While he doesn't have the name or recognition of say a Hank Williams or Johnny Cash, Bob Wills has almost, if not just, as many tribute albums to his name. The California-born Asleep at the Wheel did their own in 1999, Ride With Bob, enlisting all sorts of collaborators and working as backing band for Lyle and Shawn on this old Wills track. It boasts a nice vintage feel and is probably one of the more understated things Lovett's done in his career, but it makes it nice for me to know that Colvin did something worthwhile once in her life after all. Sorry, but "Sunny Came Home" just never cut it for me.

Francine Reed & Lyle Lovett - What I Don't Know
Reed still tours with Lovett's famed Large Band as the 17-piece's cheif soul/blues voice, and while her turns on stage with the likes of "Wild Women Don't Get the Blues" whip crowds into as much of a frenzy as "That's Right (You're Not From Texas)" or "I've Been to Memphis" do, she's also shared some good duets on Lyle's albums -- most notably "What Do You Do/The Glory of Love" on Lyle Lovett and His Large Band. When she put her own I Want You To Love Me record out in 1995, Lovett returned the favor, penning this blistering opener and performing another fantastic but relatively obscure duet.

Lyle Lovett & Keb' Mo' - Till it Shines
While the pairing of Lovett and blues man Keb' Mo' was a fantastic idea and this song from the soundtrack to the 1995 movie, "Mumford," is a nice enough result, it also really makes me wish they'd have done something original. Come on... a Bob Seger cover? Maybe it's me -- I'm admittedly not the hugest fan of Mr. Night Moves, but I have a lot of friends that are. There's something a bit too ... not subtle about his music. Then again, Lyle and Keb' Mo' make me think it (well, this track at least) ain't so bad after all, so kudos, boys.

Randy Newman & Lyle Lovett - You've Got a Friend in Me (Duet Version)
Far and away Lyle's most famous duet, and while the genius pairing of Newman and Lovett also yielded another song (the less amazing "Long Tall Texan" from Lovett's Road to Ensenada LP), it's another case of "while this is great, man, what could have been..." Think about it. "Political Science" meets "Good Intentions." "Short People" meets "She's No Lady." Oh, the sarcastic, literate, snarky possibilities are just too much to comprehend. Maybe it's better they did a kid's song. As it goes, the cheif theme from the "Toy Story" soundtrack is still friggin sweet.

And here's a great clip of them doing it live.

Have a great weekend, all.

We translate for you.

2008-09-18T13:40:00.000-07:00

I had this idea for a Friday Five series a couple months ago regarding politically incorrect songs that are pretty good, but you probably couldn't get away with writing or releasing now.

Usually when a Friday Five idea hits me, I already have two or three songs in mind and then start thinking about other options, scouring my massive music library and search engines for other viable candidates.

For the politically incorrect list, I thought of two songs immediately and then couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head or in my library (which is probably a good thing). Started searching for politically incorrect songs on Google -- found a hilarious and viable candidate in "Wives and Lovers," but didn't find much beyond songs with a lyric or two that could be a tad offensive and not really compare to songs that are pretty much off the mark as a whole. So that led me searching for racist songs, and when I realized a few short moments after I was actually Googling racist songs, I felt very bad about myself and aborted the idea entirely.

I mean the point was to dredge up a few good tunes that you just can't do today, and I think the fact that I could only find two conceivable options in my library proves I don't sit around all day beating my chest about being a white male. Nor do I want to spend an entire post defending a list of songs that do.

And yet, roll back the curtain on some of the most popular songs and writers of the 20th century, and it was kind of surprising how many people did this kind of thing without comedic reasoning.

Perhaps the greatest culpirt of don't-think-twice-about-it, just-wanna-be-funny racism in early days was the Walt Disney empire. You're probably never going to see a big remastered, anniversary 2-disc set of "Song of the South" (even though it spawned a song everyone and their brother knows - 'Zip a Dee Doo Dah"), and certainly that "Oh boy, ferras, ret's rock the joint" moment in "Everybody Wants to Be a Cat" seems a bit harsh now. Lord knows there's enough in the backlogues for blogs, dissertations and books.

But to me, nothing's a patch on "What Made the Red Man Red?" from 1952's "Peter Pan" soundtrack. It's actually jaw dropping to think about the lyrics now (What's worse? The fact that they say "ug" because of a rather homely mother-in-law, the fact that it openly brags about being the "real story" or "Hana means what mana means and ganda means that too"? ... Or how about the "Squaw get'um firewood" aside?) It's just one "Oh my God..." moment after another. It's also the best song on the soundtrack and one of the better songs Disney put out in the 1950s.

The Jud Conlon Chorus - What Made the Red Man Red?

Going to Marquette University and taking my fair share of Sociology classes raised my awareness of Native American sensitivity somewhat -- after all, when I went to Marquette, I was a Golden Eagle (and, temporarily, a Gold), while when my Uncle went there 20 years prior, he was a Warrior.

I'm certainly not going to start a debate on how racist the Cleveland Indian is or "The Chop" or Cheif Illiniwek's dancing, but I will say, you're never seeing a Disney movie with a song like THAT in it again. Think about it -- the songs in "Mulan" sounded pretty damn western, no?

Another one that's a bit less shocking, but still probably couldn't be gotten away with today is Johnny Preston's 1960 single, "Running Bear." Preston was from Port Arthur, Texas and a rockabilly star of some repute in the 1950s, but actually took the name "Running Bear" to promote the single in 1960.

Preston didn't write the song -- few people know it was actually penned by J.P. "the Big Bopper" Richardson, who died the previous year in the plane crash that also killed Buddy Holly and Richie Valens. Of course, the song was actually recorded in 1958 with the Big Bopper and George Jones doing the "hoomba hoonga" backing vocal chant and war cries.

That's actually probably it's most politically incorrect moment -- the verses themselves aren't so bad, just a 'Romeo and Juliet' style story that ends with a drowning instead of a misconstrued double suicide -- but you know, you probably couldn't get away with two portly white Texans performing such shenanigans today. Although it also seems a bit improper to break things up with the "swing rock" style chorus. Not that I'd call the verses "pure" or "true" by any means, but it just seems like screwing things up further by adding a bit of sax to everything.

Still... (alas) it's a pretty good little song.

Johnny Preston - Running Bear

And lest I try to justify myself further and look even more like an idiot, I digress...

'Cos I never want to stop you from being who you should.

2008-09-16T08:40:00.000-07:00

Pretty jazzed here -- seeing Paul Weller in Chicago tonight.

Last time the Wella fella hit the Windy City was September 2005, so suffice to say, these appearances kind of have added depth when they occur, being that new blue moons happen with more frequency ... I think ...

At any rate, it's a good excuse for the Chicago and Midwest Anglophiles and Mods to put on their best clobber and have a good night out. Don't think I'm holding out -- got a very nice Beatlesque military jacket cleaned and ready, some nice new shoes, and my hair's the moddest it's looked in about six years (we take this stuff seriously, you know).

Obvious Monseiur Weller and all facets of his career have been featured at length on this blog, so it's always somewhat of a challenge to find new Weller-related stuff for you guys to dig (shouldn't have blown that Carleen Anderson duet a few weeks ago, but at least you got it, right?).

But I think I've found some true diamonds in the rough for you today.

Simon Dine produced Weller's latest 22 Dreams (don't believe the cynicism, it may be a bit long and have distinctive vanity project trappings, but there are also a handful of tunes on there that rank alongside his very best work), but he's actually been an acquaintance of Weller's for years. He also heads up the sample-crazy and modern dance music for Mods troupe Noonday Underground in England, which gave Weller's 2002 single, "It's Written in the Stars" that fancy vintage vibe.

Certainly one to return favors, Weller showed up on two cuts to spruce up Noonday Underground's fantastic 2002 album, Surface Noise.

Still stylin'.

Noonday Underground (feat. Paul Weller) - I'll Walk Right On
I know this song was a single abroad, but Noonday Underground's relative obscurity on this side of the Atlantic meant this song was about as easy to obtain (much less recognize its existence) as the original 12-track pressing of the Kinks' Village Green Preservation Society (dammit... too obscure a reference... shoulda said "Sarah Palin interview"...). At any rate, the song is one of Weller's finest moments ever and it's a damn shame that only the ravenous fans (hello, I'm Paul) caught wind of it at all. It's also a damn shame he chose those shades for the video.

Noonday Underground (feat. Paul Weller) - Thunder Park
Not as immediately exciting as "I'll Walk Right On," and Dine gets a little too trigger happy with the effects knobs on the control desk, but this brooding number weaves nicely into the framework of the album and could've worked well as a Weller solo tune too. Actually, it says a lot for the album itself that even with as good as this is, it's one of the lesser moments on Surface Noise. Seriously, don't take that Amazon link for granted. You can probably find it used really cheap somewhere. It's worth it.

Onwards and upwards.

Wanna make a deal, but it's much too late.

2008-09-12T14:06:00.000-07:00

Long time visitors to the blog are already very familiar with the high regard I hold Mr. Crispian Mills in as a pop songsmith.

Kula Shaker are currently busy at work on their second album since reforming which makes me a very happy dude, but I thought we'd take a little aside today and take a little look at what Crispian did after Kula Shaker disbanded in 1999 as part of our continual appreciation of underrated (or entirely unnoticed) albums.

The Jeevas
"1-2-3-4!"
Cowboy Musik, 2002

01. Virginia
02. Ghost (Cowboys in the Movies)
03. You Got My Number
04. What is it For?
05. Once Upon a Time in America
06. Don't Say the Good Times Are Over
07. Scary Parents
08. Teenage Breakdown
09. Silver Apples
10. Edge of the World

Because of my personal non-sexual craziness about Crispian, it's very hard for me to write about this album in an objective manner. I could, of course, but the skeptics out there who think Kula Shaker suck and Crispian Mills has it dead easy since being Hayley Mills son and all would probably furrow your collective brow at my ramblings.

So, then, let me say this. This is not the best album that Crispian's ever been a part of.

But even if it was the most unlistenable piece of garbage ever to be committed to compact disc and sold in the free-market (which it truly isn't), I still would've been among the first to own it. Yeah, I have it that bad.

Personal stories are more fun to read anyway, so here's three years in the life of Paul...

Sometime in the fall of 1999, when the Internet (or more specifically for us, America Online) was becoming a common household commodity and I was wasting my half-hour limit per night on Oasis message boards, someone mentioned what a great tune Kula Shaker's "Shower Your Love" was.

I had never before conjured up interest in the band. I remember reading an article in People Magazine about them when their debut album, K, looked set to make the same thunderous impact in America that it had in the UK (which it never did), but the article didn't excite me enough to go buy the record. Sure, I liked "The Parent Trap," and yes, I even watched those primitive episodes of "Saved by the Bell," but I didn't think just because Ms. Bliss had a son, it made him or his band worth my time.

But on that light message board recommendation, I checked out "Shower Your Love" and was formidibly impressed. It was fun, catchy... effervescent, even. No more reccomendation was needed. In the throes of a heady CD-buying addiction which ultimately cost me thousands of dollars (I honestly can't figure out now how I ever got the money), I bought K and Peasants, Pigs and Astronauts and just became engrossed.

Being really nice guys, they decided to break up that very month.

So it goes. You deal with disappointment in life, and being a Cubs fan, I was conditioned for it at an early age.

But it didn't stop me spending time in which I was supposed to be editing the high school yearbook (how cool was I?) online at crispianmills.com, monitoring progress of his solo album. There were cool little 1-minute RealPlayer clips, and promises from him that the songs were sounding "real purty." The album was all but an inevitability and I just counted the indefinite days until it saw release.

Well somewhere along the way, Crispian got disenchanted with the whole idea. Maybe it was the material, maybe it was the chemistry with new people, maybe it was the pressure of still being committed to the big suits at Sony. Whatever the case, the album was shelved, and soon logging on to crispianmills.com kicked you to a Kula Shaker memorial page. I graduated high school and went off to Marquette ... spending my downtime on eBay collecting Kula Shaker import singles in a vain attempt to fill the void that was supposed to have been filled by new material.

I'd helplessly keep checking onto crispianmills.com, waiting for the day when there might be some update as to the Prodigal Son's whereabouts and happenings as opposed to the same goddamned picture of Kula Shaker playing live again and again and again.

And then one day it happened. It kicked me to a new site... thejeevas.com. And there I was in my freshman dorm room, late one night, FLIPPING THE HELL OUT. He had a new band! He was playing live again! There were new songs! Sure, he seemed to be free of major label shackles and playing only the smallest dives in England, which didn't exactly look good in terms of chances for playing on this side of the Atlantic, but maybe there would finally be a new album? Hopefully? Yes?

I waited patiently all summer... downloaded all the rough sounding bootlegs from people who'd essentially shoved a tape recorder into their pockets at shows, and then the announcement came. The album was coming, but not to America. In the European and Japanese markets only.

Like any true fan would do, I ignored the ethics of college student spending and killed two months' budget for pizza by opting insanely to spend $35 on a single compact disc. Why so much? Because it was coming from Japan. But I wasn't going to save $15 and have the European version. After all, the Japanese version had two more tracks on it! And I'd waited YEARS for this new material, dammit.

My friends soon found me insufferable... I was rushing back to the dorm every day to see if the package had arrived. I'd get visibly upset with my dorm's mail room if people weren't working some days and deliveries couldn't be made. "I'm expecting a very important package!" I'd say. I'd tell my friends excitedly again and again about the CD I would soon be getting from Japan, while they'd roll their eyes and say a bunch of insulting things toward me for spending such money on a CD that Tom could probably go download illegally off the internet right that very second (Tom was the first to lose CD buying ethics, and forget that magic of holding a booklet in your hands -- this was not an option of any kind, and besides, there weren't enough people in the world after it to get it popular online at that point).

Finally the day came, and really, I was a little underwhelmed.

How could I not be? In essence I'd waited 3 years for the goddamned thing and anything short of Pet Sounds, Revolver and Urban Hymns combined would've been a disappointment.

But I listened to it a lot. And got to love it. A lot.

People that talk about the Jeevas now kind of compare it to Americana-type rock, Crispian taking after Tom Petty, etc. etc. To me, it wasn't necessarily a wild change in direction -- the same pop sensibilities that had guided Kula Shaker songs were still there, it was just that it was a lot less grandiose, cosmic and eastern influenced.

It was also a guy who sounded vindicated to be out of the big wigs' hands. While I would've preferred an original as opposed to wasting space by including a cover of the Undertones' "You Got My Number," it's impossible to deny how much fun it sounds like the band is having. And at any volume, "Once Upon a Time in America" is as exhilarating as "Hey Dude." "Virginia" is a blast (or... if you believe Crispian, a witch), and "What is it For?" is as beautiful and heartbreaking as "Drop in the Sea" or "Light of the Day."

But for me, the album's two best moments lie in "Teenage Breakdown" a breathtaking little number originally intended for the aborted solo album, and "Ghost," an update of a song by a band called Bucky about a boy whose girlfriend dies, and then he rides around town on her bike in a vain attempt to recapture the feelings he had spending time with her.

I first heard the song in bootleg form, and couldn't get over how brilliant the line "The bike that I ride's got brakes and it's got gears, a bell and a basket in which to catch my tears that I cry every night I spend without that girl..." truly was. It blew me away.

And soon enough, people in my dorm started overhearing the record and asking about it. And one day, Tom asked to borrow it so he could copy it. I felt a little sheepish about it, given all the hell he'd given me for purchasing the album from the far east and talking it up to such heights that couldn't possibly be lived up to, but I figured it'd be better to have someone to talk about the Jeevas with than not.

Two days later we're down in the dining hall at dinner.

"So, how do you like the Jeevas?" I ask.

"OH MY GOD," he replies. "It's all I've listened to! That one song! About the girl who dies! And her bike! And he's riding it around and crying! But the basket's on it! And it's catching his tears! I mean... oh my God!"

Soon enough, everyone else at the table starts asking about the record.

Heh heh heh heh ...

I traded all my stops for a pillow made of rails.

2008-09-10T06:42:00.000-07:00

THE "AIN'T SUPERSTITIOUS, BUT..." INTERVIEW: MURRY HAMMOND

The Old 97's founder on punk rock ideals, joining Patsy Cline with Noel Gallagher and the prolonged birth of his new solo album: "Before, I just had no enthusiasm for doing a solo record, because I thought there was no point in doing something if I didn't have something to say."

* * * * *

In a perfect world, Murry Hammond might have been able to get out on the road a little more this year to push his new solo album, I Don't Know Where I'm Going, But I'm On My Way. After all, he said he doesn't want to disappoint any of his fans.

As it goes, we'll have to settle for a handful of solo dates between now and year's end. But Hammond will be the first to tell you that timing always seems to work out in the end, and while he might not be able to strike out on his own that much at the moment, it's for good reason.

The Old 97's, which he founded with Rhett Miller 15 years ago, are incredibly busy promoting their latest record, Blame it On Gravity (proving to be both a critical darling and one of the band's most commercially successful outings to date), and he's also got a new son, Tex, at home who doesn't like when his pop's not around.

"And being away from home for a long time is very uncomfortable," he said. "It's of tantamount importance that he doesn't suffer just because I'm a musician."

It's a highly unlikely prospect. Hammond audibly beams when talk turns to his son, and our interview was momentarily suspended because Tex began crying for daddy.

So perhaps it's striking in a way that a devoted family man who finally found the voice to do a solo record in weekly sets in the First Christian Church in Burbank, Calif. still writes songs tinged with regret and heartbreak.

For longtime 97's fans, I Don't Know Where I'm Going… (which can be streamed online at Last.FM) is the solo album that you could expect was brewing as far back as when Hammond was writing the likes of "Sound of Running," "Old Familiar Steam" and "Valentine." The album's three main themes: trains, spirituality and regret are all presented in the rustic fashion of his heroes such as the Carter Family and Hank Williams.

But inspiration came in unlikely places.

"I actually went online and read a lot of epitaphs," he said. "I mean, there are funny ones, but there are also ones that are high poetry. Things said in an effective and highly emotional way."

Listening to cuts like "Wreck of the 97" (a Hammond original, mind you, not a cover of the Johnny Cash song on which his band's name was derived), it's no surprise.

"That's the biggest regret song on there," he said. "It was written about somebody that I once considered a friend, but wasn't very good to and I ended up losing that friendship."

While such subject matter is fertile ground for songwriting, Hammond hesitates to call it therapeutic.

"I don't know that writing those songs shakes those feelings out entirely," he said. "When it comes to grief, there can be comfort, but when it's just boy-girl things, I don't know that it does one damn thing besides give me a chance to squawk. And that's it. Then I still have to deal with the mess I've created."

But Hammond says his songwriting hangs chiefly on two guides: the Beatles and Johnny Cash, and he said he's more comfortable writing the down-to-earth, regret style music in the Cash style.

"'Can't Get a Line' (on the Old 97's Satellite Rides album) was me having fun trying to write on the Beatle end of things," he said. "And there's a song on the new record, 'This Beautiful Thing,' which I just wrote for my wife that's a Beatle-y thing. I just wanted to write a song I could sing to her in my living room. But I think I'm better when I do the Johnny Cash-type stuff."

Fans can engage in that debate on their own time, but Murry said he's also happy not to have the chief songwriting responsibilities within the Old 97's.

"Rhett is a supremely talented songwriter and would be the primary songwriter in this or any band he's a part of," he said. "I don't really like the notion of stardom and celebrity in music. That's very creepy to me, so I've shied away from the spotlight. I've always felt like more of a team person, but doing that doesn't give you the focus to do a solo record."

It explains the long gestation period for I Don't Know Where I'm Going…, but even though he's got the solo record now, Hammond still isn't buying into the spotlight. He personally bankrolled the recording and packaging of the album, ships mail order copies out from his California home and even personally fills the orders for the album from amazon.com.

"It's very DIY," he said. "The boxes are out in the garage where the dogs sleep … I realized, you don't need a label. I have these stubborn punk rock ideals I grew up with, and I guess I've never gotten rid of that."

One wouldn't expect to find such ideals within church walls or presiding over an album as rich in locomotive musings as it is in religion (with a bit of beautiful yodeling thrown in for good measure), but Hammond said what drives him musically today isn't that far detached from what did in, well, other younger days.

"Any kid that's ridden around on a skateboard for four years of their life during their teenage years knows it," he said. "I just had the country version of that. You live in your mind during that time, and that's where music really gets to you. It's my life."

* * * * *

GIMME FIVE (MORE):
Five Burning Questions For Murry Hammond

Favorite Beatles Song?
"Tomorrow Never Knows"
"I first heard it when I was six, and it was just so imaginative and other-worldly. The sounds and everything just amazed me. I got Revolver as a Christmas gift that year – my parents had asked my brother which albums to get me, so I got that and Paul McCartney's Ram, but it was 'Tomorrow Never Knows' that really blew me away. Even though I didn't know or understand what they were talking about, it just sounded incredible. I played that to death. And 'Yellow Submarine,' of course, because it's a kid's song."

Three songwriters, living or dead, you wish you could sit down and write a song with?
Sarah Carter, Hank Williams, Johnny Cash
"Sarah didn't write much, but what she did was kind of those church recipe book lyrics, which I thought were great ... Hank is so far up on the pedestal. Johnny's a little more down to earth, but he was so clever. But I think of the three, Sarah would be the closest to what I do. "

If you had to pick one song you've written that you think really sums you up as a songwriter, what would it be?
"Most of the stuff is in the past, but I suppose 'Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue' on the new record really is the closest to being a full representation. If you can imagine – and I told the guys as we were going to record it – Patsy Cline standing up and singing in front of Oasis. It's got the sad kind of country thing, but I also wanted it to sound like Noel Gallagher was back there. It's very rootsy, but it also has its head in the clouds, which is very me."

You're going to be doing a lot of driving this month, what's your road music going to be?
"I'm actually going through a period where I can't listen to anything with words in it. So I've been listening to a lot of Stars of the Lid, some choral music and this kind of Buddhist, new age kind of throat singing. Not that real throat singing, but stuff like David Hykes and Jim Cole. It's the spaciest music you'll ever hear. I'm also taking books on tape, so I'll have the new David Sedaris with me, and probably Jim Wallis' God's Politics. Because I need to hear some hope about the new evangelicals, and get away from this Neo-Con stuff."

What's the one song you wish you could have written?
"In answering that, I suppose you have to look at it like you wish you could've written it, but given the chance, you also could have. I suppose it would be 'I Saw the Light' by Hank Williams."

* * * * *

Upcoming Solo Dates

Sept. 19, St. Louis, MO - Off Broadway

Sept. 20, Chicago, IL - Schuba's

Sept. 22, Arlington, VA - Iota Club and Cafe

Sept. 23, Raleigh, NC - Berkeley Cafe

* * * * *

Hank Williams - I Saw the Light
While this Gospel-tinged 1948 single by one of country music's first icons wasn't an immediate success and seeemed to run contrary to what was happening in Williams' personal life, it's become one of his most enduring tunes and proof that despite his vices, he remained a spiritual person. And given the chance, Murry indeed might have been able to pull this one off. It wouldn't sound too out of place on I Don't Know Where I'm Going... Can be found on any number of Hank Williams retrospective collections, including the authoratative The Complete Hank Williams.

Old 97's - Old Familiar Steam
One of Murry's first train-themed contributions for the Old 97's, and one of the rare instances where the song's cheif writer turned over vocal duties to the band's other main voice (the other being when Murry sang the predominantly Rhett-written "Crash on the Barrelhead" from 1999's Fight Songs). While the band's 1995 album Wreck Your Life for Chicago's Bloodshot Records was one of the alt-country movement's defining LPs and a cornerstone for many 97's fans, this is without question the record's most dreamy and ethereal moment, helped in no small part by Don Walser's ghostly yodeling on the song's outro.

But you could not look around.

2008-09-09T09:48:00.000-07:00

Let me say this: I like watching a good tumble.

It's how I'm wired. I find mishaps funny, and although embarrassed and aching, am usually able to laugh at myself when I take a fall on ice during our world-renowned winters up here.

I was also the guy laughing his head off when fights broke out in high school, mainly just because of the way they broke out. Wimpy slaps at each other, with everyone quickly gathering around, chanting, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" I'll be the first to admit I was never the standard of cool at that age, but even I could see how ludicrous it all was.

Then there was this one time that a fight broke out during a high school soccer game I was playing in. Between my two teammates, no less. They'd been jawing at each other the whole game and finally it reached a head. One dude was twice the other's size, but the big guy charged at the little one, shoved him, sent him flying. Little dude landed, got back up and charged back at big dude. Meanwhile I'm standing at my right-wing defender position doubled over in laughter.

But I actually find this video incredibly hard (and scary) to watch:

Now, I know your first thought is going to be, "Well it's because you're on Oasis fan." While I am a big Oasis fan, I actually think I'd get the same uneasy feeling if it were anybody getting that shove. Even if it was one of the unsuccessful guys out of NSync. But maybe not Lou Diamond Phillips ... I don't know.

The thing is, it doesn't matter who that is, that's just a stupid, cheap shot. Anyone can push someone over from behind who's not expecting it. It's why Godzilla still won't talk to me, actually. No, I wouldn't ever do that kind of thing.

But you know, if Noel had seen it coming, braced for it and still got knocked over, then it'd be embarassing but I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it.

It's funny reading the comments on various sites reporting on it, which either are hardcore Oasis fans calling for a near military force attack on the culprit (who is FORTY-SEVEN years old, by the way), or people who have hated Oasis since 1994 and see this as just desserts for a band that's made a career on being agitating louts. You know, cos they didn't write decent songs or anything along the way (sorry, the Oasis-loving side of me had to get that out).

I don't know if I buy into the whole, "Oh God, it could have been another Dimebag Darrell situation" argument. "If ifs and buts were candy and nuts..." etc. The problem here is the guy went after someone who wasn't expecting it. And Noel was playing a really nice guitar, too. I mean... ethics, people.

But seriously, if you're going to be an idiot, let 'em know you're coming. Cos while the Noel video isn't funny, this truly is:

And by the way, I can't wait until The Shock of the Lightning comes out and all the reviews hit, because you know everyone's going to have a blast with Noel singing, "Falling down is all that I've ever known..." now. I'm surprised all the people who want to make light of it haven't caught that yet. They all just keep citing, "Catch me if I faaaaaaaall, Lyla."

I actually thought it'd be really appropriate to post Chumbawamba's "Tubthumping," for you, but then I remembered I actually like my readers.

And while this maybe obvious, the soul/funk-tinged option is always the preferable one.

War - Why Can't We Be Friends?
While I've always loved the brilliance of the song title (pulled from the 1975 album of the same name) juxtaposed with the band's name, the fact of the matter is that top to bottom, this is just a pretty cool song. Yes, Smash Mouth almost ruined it forever and yes it's never going to sound as good as it does when Homer Simpson is timidly making his way toward a boxing ring, but c'est la vie. Conceived as a noble little "why be racist?" argument, it's probably not the strongest case ever made against hatred in general, but it makes a good point. Especially to those jerks that come over and drink all your wine.

I'll tell you once more.

2008-09-08T11:36:00.000-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

Electric Light Orchestra - Don't Bring Me Down

Well, since we're talking about Jeff anyway... This has never been one of my favorite ELO tracks -- its ridiculously overproduced and is pretty stupid at it's core, but there's something about a driving backbeat (no matter how unnecessarily effected) and big thumping bassline over it that just puts a bit of action in my feet. This cut wrapped up 1979's Discovery album, which is known by ELO fans who think they're too clever by half as "Disco? Very!" (ugh). It isn't the best album, and really marks the moment where they started to teeter off into that dangerous "we take ourselves too seriously but we also don't really care anymore" territory. The song also annoyed the hell out of me in college because of this dude we knew with the last name Bruce. Whenever I tried to tell my roommate a story involving this kid, he'd always interrupt with "Don't bring me down, BRRRRRRRRRRUCE!" Eventually I stopped hanging out with the kid to avoid having to share stories about him. Yet in spite of all that works against this song, it still puts a good charge in me. Maybe it's the handclaps.

Oh, it's a long, long time...

2008-09-04T12:06:00.000-07:00

It must be getting nearer to the changing of the seasons again as Madison's having it's run of odd weather now.

While Tuesday was the hottest day of the year thus far (can't believe it waited 'til September, but I'll have you know... I've made it thus far without having to turn on my air conditioner once -- low natural light and old fans actually do work well when properly mixed), yesterday saw temperatures drop considerably, and today we're under the first cold rain of summer.

I know summer's hold is now inching off... autumn's just more than two weeks away (and yes, you can expect a new mix to mark its arrival) and with the influx of kids to Madison (they get younger all the time don't they), it seems time to bid adieu to the long days of summer and the singledom that all my roommates once had. Married fools. Oh well, more fish in the sea for me, or something...

So while September hasn't gotten off to the best start for my dear Cubs who are 0-3 this month, the Brewers have followed suit and kept the Cubs lead at 4.5 games for the time being, and while I'm a bit worried about our pitching hiccups from top to bottom, I noted that at this time last year we were only 1.5 games up. So... a little more breathable thus far.

And as has become an annual tradition at this blog when August turns to September, it's time yet again to feature another version of the month's trademark song. Last year we had the Godfather of Soul, the year before we had the Chairman of the Board, and this year?

I don't think he has a nickname... the Brummie with the 'Fro? The Producer of the '80s? The CEO of ELO? Whatever...

Jeff Lynne - September Song
As I've said here multiple times before, Lynne's 1990 solo debut, Armchair Theatre, should have been a formidable hit. It featured all the traits of the hit songs he'd produced in the 10 years prior (even George Harrison himself), came out between the two successful Traveling Wilburys albums and was the first body of work to put the man up front since he'd left the rabidly successful ELO years earlier. But for whatever reason (and it couldn't have been for a lack of quality songs -- sure, there were a few duffers, but there were also a few to stand up with the best of anything he'd ever done), no one seemed to pick up on the record and it's remained deleted by Warner Bros. for years. Even talk of resurrecting it for a remastered legacy edition in recent years stammered with reminders of the album's first try at any commercial success. Nevertheless, sprinkled in between the new originals, Lynne dropped in two standards, this song and "Stormy Weather" in tribute to his mother. Hey it may not be Frank or Jimmy Durante, but this version certainly has its charms.

I have a history of losing my shirt.

2008-09-03T12:21:00.000-07:00

CONFESSIONS OF A '90s SURVIVOR

Barenaked Ladies - One Week
From Stunt

Even after all these years, I've never quite been able to pinpoint exactly what audience Barenaked Ladies caters to. I certainly never noticed them before Stunt and the song we feature here today damn near blew up the country in 1998, but from what I can gather, there was a certain niche of college kids that always thought "Brian Wilson" or calling an album Born on a Pirate Ship was pretty damn clever.

But that's not to say they were a college band, either. Oh sure, a Barenaked Ladies song at a good college kegger isn't a far fetched calling, but you didn't find college radio DJs (or at least I didn't) pining over the advance copies we received of "Pinch Me." Certainly not when we all had to set our sights on propping up Starsailor as the next big thing (I'm not saying we were smart).

It's not to say Barenaked Ladies appeal to dumb college drunkards like Jimmy Buffet does -- they seem a bit above that -- but they're also certainly not the kind of acquired taste that music snobs would ever dare to lend their approval to. It's like they're stuck being the 1965 Beach Boys -- good times, fun tunes, maybe there's some genius hidden there, but they ain't done a Pet Sounds yet to prove it.

And maybe that's alright. There's a place in the world for good, fun pop songs, and while none of the Barenaked Ladies' "hits" after "One Week" or "It's All Been Done" seemed to reach the masses in the same way those forebearers did, it's not to say they've been deplorable, either. Well, except for that "I made you say underwear" line in "Pinch Me."

The reason "One Week" was all but inescapable throughout the summer of 1998 is audibly evident -- it's f*cking catchy as sin. But it's also a microcosm of everything the band seems to be -- they can write a decent formulaic pop song (love gone perhaps irrevocably wrong), but add their own twist of weirdness to it that's also kind of fun (read: most successful Canadian rapping since Snow).

Don't even begin to tell me you didn't try to memorize the "Chickety China..." sequence when this song was at its zenith. For high schoolers of the time especially, it was as important a ticket to social acceptance as was quoting bits of dialogue from "There's Something About Mary." Plus, the flashy-ass video was pretty damn fun to watch.

In fact, I'm a film minor, and studied the films of Akira Kurosawa, rate "Ikiru" as one of my all-time favorites, yet every time I hear his name now (and forevermore) I will think, "K, I don't make films, but if I did, they'd have a samurai." And I'm sure people have the same associations for Leann Rimes, wasabi, Sting, X Files, Harrison Ford, and whatever else the dude rattled off in his asides.

Maybe it was the fact that "It's All Been Done" didn't have the same frenetic all-over-the-place format that, while successful, it (or anything thereafter) just never dominated like "One Week." Then again, maybe it has to do with Canadian humor. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of pretty much anything Canadian, but while Martin Short is an undisputed genius, it's usually wasted on sh*t films, isn't it? "SCTV" was good, but it's the weirdos that get obsessive about it, isn't it? Kids in the Hall, well... no, don't say anything bad about the Kids in the Hall. They are and forever will be awesome. And everything they're associated with. Totally. Even "Spice World."

But I remember visiting Toronto in 2004 and seeing promos for some Barenaked Ladies retrospective at the top of the CN Tower, and something about Canadian pride. Four years later, I still can't put it into words, but something about that explained every enigmatic thing about the Barenaked Ladies and who they truly appeal to to me.

And maybe there is a bit of genius in there. But should it be unearthed? I don't know. Who really discusses the complexities of "California Girls" anyway? It's just a fun song ... right?

I just can't believe the loveliness of loving you.

2008-09-02T11:14:00.000-07:00

Well I hope all you dear readers had a lovely, lovely weekend.

I did... got to see some old friends, spent well too much money and went to a water park for the first time since I was in 2nd grade. This included a run down a 10-story speed slide that is pretty much damn near vertical and kind of a harrowing self push over the edge, but... I wasn't scared. If I was still in 2nd grade, sure... but now that I'm 25... different story entirely. Sure, I was still a bit wobbly for about 15 minutes afterward, but I did it, dammit.

ANYWAY, it's a new month now... ba de ya, we're all dancing in September, and onto the first of our monthly series, "Vs."

This month's battle gets a little animated as we enlist the first truly great animated band into the mix (I hesitate to call Alvin and the Chipmunks truly great) and pit them against one of the defining soul voices of his or any time.

It's the Archies vs. Wilson Pickett.

The song, "Sugar, Sugar," I'm sure you know. The Archies, you probably know even better than I do. I had no interest in the cartoon or comic... and from the brief history lesson I got on them, I think they're all kind of fools. The lead singer was called Archie? That's the best they could do for their band name? I'd get caned if I started a band and demanded it be called "The Pauls." Although actually I like the look and sound of it... maybe if I find other players named Paul...

Regardless, "Jughead" woulda been a better name for the band.

The Archies' music material was essentially an ever changing lineup of studiohands able to crank out some bubblegum pop for the late 1960s and early 1970s masses, and while none of their songs ever quite gained the popularity that "Sugar, Sugar" did, it's still amazing to contemplate the success a group of animated characters had on popular music charts.

It probably also made the creators cringe a bit. While Gorillaz arguably wouldn't have existed if not for the template set by the likes of the Archies, at least Gorillaz can drop a few silk screens down and play a show. The Archies could never capitalize on the live market, and in a day and age when live music was equally as important as records and spots on the likes of "The Ed Sullivan Show" were also must-haves for successful singles, the Archies never got to milk that. Of course, they had their own cartoon, so I guess it evens out.

As for the Wicked Pickett, it's kind of hard to pinpoint when he lost the edge that he had sharpened so soundly on Atlantic just a few years earlier in the 1960s. We all know how camp he was in the 1980s after struggling through the 1970s, before ultimately redeeming himself with the It's Harder Now album in the late 1990s. But I'm guessing right about the time of 1970's Right On! is where it all went wrong.

The album barely cracked Billboard's Top 200 and essentially included a string of covers that management (or -- hopefully not -- Pickett) thought he could lend a bit of soul credo too, but the production was so flimsy, it ending up sound more cartoonish than, well... the Archies.

Given my fondness of Pickett's peak era stuff and my general wariness of all things grossly manufactured, it pains me to say this, but Wilson really should've stayed the hell away from this one.

The Archies vs. Wilson Pickett
"Sugar, Sugar"

The Archies - Sugar, Sugar

Wilson Pickett - Sugar, Sugar

Your thoughts?

Arson on my mind.

2008-08-28T12:21:00.000-07:00

Here's a fun pairing for you.

Bandit Records has just released Burn Your Playhouse Down: The Unreleased Duets, a collection of duets George Jones has recorded over the years with the likes of everyone from Tammy Wynette to Leon Russell.

While it's kind of a headscratcher of a release (all the recorded duets had previously been left off other George Jones albums because apparently they weren't up to snuff, so essentially what we have here is a bottom-scraping collection ... for a guy who's still alive ... er ...), the album actually does have a few interesting moments. And from a guy who likes the brand of country music that Jones is best for about as much as he likes dentists, that says a lot.

Sure, Jones lived the rock and roll lifestyle when it came to drinking, but you're probably not going to hear "He Stopped Loving Her Today" or "(I Was Country) When Country Wasn't Cool" the next time you come around to my place.

Still, Jones wrote "Burn Your Playhouse Down" which was covered amazingly on the Proclaimers' debut album, This is the Story, so ... that gets some major coolness points in my book.

And what does this collection hold? Why, a version of that song with none other than Keef sharing the mic with George!

George Jones & Keith Richards - Burn Your Playhouse Down
This was actually recorded back in 1994 and why it never made it out until 14 years later is kind of beyond me ... it's kind of ragged sounding, but anything with Keith's vocals usually is, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Gotta love Keith's slipshod guitar solo before the sharper pedal steel work comes in... the old studio pros weren't going to let this go TOO "alt country" now, were they? Actually the charm of these two substance survivors swapping rather scary threats to a runaround who done 'em wrong sounds about as hardcore old school as you can get, and aside from the eye-rollingly obligatory "Thank you, Keith," "Thank you, George!" at the end, this is probably one of the best versions of the song out there.

Slide one.

2008-08-27T09:28:00.000-07:00

First, an update on why posts haven't been as frequent as of late:

Lots of travel. Splitting time between the job's Madison and Milwaukee offices, and a road trip to Omaha this past weekend have not allowed me a whole lot of time to write up some good music posts for you dear readers. To you, I apologize. I do try to update as regularly as I can, but hey hey, I watch the days roll away...

I also apologize to anyone who's driven to Omaha through the whole east-to-west length of Iowa. Jesus Christ...

Now, back to the music.

The end of August is already upon us, and I have yet to get to this month's Fantastic 45.

Well, problem solved.

We've featured 45's on here before that had the good fortune of a song's B-side becoming the beast that made the single as successful as it was, but arguably the most famous case of a B-side not only moving a few copies of a 45 RPM, but also defining a career has to go to Gene Vincent and his Blue Caps.

While it was "Be Bop a Lula" that effectively got the rockabilly pioneer signed to Capitol Records, the label somewhat mystifyingly left the song off Vincent's debut album for the label and also chose not to release it as a standalone single. But Vincent's publisher, Bill Lowery, who signed Vincent to a publishing deal based on the strenght of the song, got Capitol to promise to put the song on the flipside of Vincent's "Woman Love" single, released in 1956.

Getting a leg-up on the label itself, Lowery had a bunch of promotional copies pressed highlighting the song's B-side and sent them out to radio stations across the country. So when Capitol finally released the single, it was one of those rare instances where the singles-buying public paid incredibly little mind to the song on the A-side.

As it goes, "Woman Love" isn't a BAD song -- God knows Capitol Records has made some questionable moves in its history (one can't help but think of their calls to Brian Wilson in 1966 and 1967 demanding more surfing songs), but they're also not the kind of company that's going to knowingly release pure crap. Well, maybe nowadays (hello, Yellowcard), but not back then.

Compared to a song that even three-year-olds can sing, though, how could it win?

The Fantastic 45's

Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps
"Woman Love" b/w "Be Bop a Lula"
Capitol, 1956

Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps - Woman Love
There's nothing terrible about this song -- indeed it's the same formula that made pretty much of all Vincent's 1950s output popular. Few simple chords, that breathing/singing combo that no one before or since has really done quite as effectively (basically an Elvis impression so good it became paradoxically original) and a steady enough beat that it could be danced to romantically or in a more care-free manner. Thing about it is, the coolest thing about the song is when he calls out "Slide one!" before the first guitar solo. It's a fine enough song, but it's not one that really seems to stick in your head after listening. Considering this was the latter half of the 1950s, when the singles market ruled and labels looked for stuff that would leave lasting impressions, it makes Capitol's insistance to give this "A" billing all that more of a head scratcher...

Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps - Be Bop a Lula
I have a theory about this song. As I've met a lot of people in my life that know music on all different levels, from barely anything to psychiatric-ward worthly levels of obsession, I've never come across a person that doesn't know this song. And the weird thing is, even if it's not this original version, people still know the song through some outlet. I think the version I've heard more than any other is the one Paul McCartney did to open his "MTV Unplugged" show, but even before I heard that, I knew this song. I want to say I heard it on oldies radio in my youth, but I can't pinpoint the first time I heard it or when it stuck. It's this song that you just seem to inherently KNOW. I think children born into the world after 1956 came out of womb with this song in their heads. God knows how it got there... maybe it'd been there before 1956, and Gene Vincent was just the first person to take a guitar to this idiotic little phrase stuck in his mind. But for whatever reason... rock and roll and popular music is still forever in its debt.

I don't wanna scream out loud and wake up on my own.

2008-08-22T12:22:00.000-07:00

So, the new Oasis single is hitting US airwaves, and the video has leaked online. I'm quite pleased with it, but then... I'm an Oasis fan, so I go into it with my own prejudices.

Plus, it's the latest in that trend started by "Go Let it Out" in 2000 of "comeback" singles after nearly 2-year long droughts, so fans always rush toward it like a literal oasis in the desert, and critics sharpen their teeth and start deciding how best to again turn the phrase, "same sh*t, different day."

Hotpress quickly dismissed it, although their reviewer lost severe points for trying to look well versed in the band's back catalogue but being unable to distiguish the 1994 "Fade Away" from the Be Here Now track "Fade In/Out." Sure, the titular similarities are there, but when you're talking about one song's merits using the other one's title... you look really stupid.

Anyway, the review closed with this potshot at the Oasis comeback singles of the decade thus far:

"It should sound good live, but it's not a good song. As far as Oasis comeback singles go it's up there with 'The Hindu Times'. Indeed this could be their worst comeback single yet....nah, 'The Hindu Times' was pretty poor wasn't it? (I digress, I must have blocked out 'Go Let It Out')."

I always thought "The Hindu Times" was a decent enough song, although I also think it would've been better had it retained the drum loop that anchored the song's demo. But worst comeback single?

Them's big words, because Oasis singles (maybe to a lesser extent this decade) have always been pretty special affairs in terms of quality B-sides. By the looks of it, "The Shock of the Lightning" actually looks to be the worst Oasis single ever. One B-side. And they've crossed the rubicon -- it's a f*cking remix. Le sigh.

Thoughts on "The Hindu Times" aside, the fact of the matter is the single's two B-sides were both pretty great songs, and showed a side of Noel that he hadn't (up until that point) really touched before.

Oasis - Just Getting Older
An almost identical demo of the song had trickled out to Oasis fans and bootleg hoarders when the pile of demos for songs that constituted 2000's Standing on the Shoulder of Giants found their way out of the vaults. Noel's reflective, post drugs side really came into blossom on that album and it's B-sides -- "Gas Panic!," "Where Did it All Go Wrong?," "One Way Road," "Carry Us All" etc. But to hear the guy who wrote lyrics to "Rock and Roll Star" and "Cigarettes and Alcohol" drop a line like "Staying in / I can't be bothered / Making conversation / With the friends that I don't know" less than a decade later was still kind of jarring. Nevertheless, it's still a pretty song and bucks standby references like the Beatles and Paul Weller in favor of a little more celestial Pink Floyd vibe.

Oasis - Idler's Dream
People always take potshots at Noel's lyrical ability and while inane couplets run rampant in Oasis back catalogue, too few are willing to concede that once inwhile, Noel can write a really beautiful lyric, and if you go back to "Hey Now!" or even further to "Slide Away," you know he's been able to do it for awhile. I've always felt that "Idler's Dream" is one of the most severely underappreciated things ever released by Oasis, and I also wonder if it'd been released in their mid 1990s heyday, it'd be just as legendary a B-side as something like "The Masterplan." Sure, it's just a slow ballad, but listen. No guitars, beautiful harmonies, a light touch of orchestration. It's almost Oasis doing the Smiths' "Asleep." Just a little less suicidal. I think...

And considering these two self reflective moments, backed THIS song... it's hard to say "The Hindu Times" package was bullheaded or one-dimensional, isn't it?

Too late I finally see.

2008-08-20T15:41:00.000-07:00

Maybe I was too young (or... not even around) for "Happy Days" during its heyday and maybe I didn't have any interest when Nick at Nite picked it up on reruns, but I can appreciate nostalgia.

And in Milwaukee, nostalgia for it runs pretty rampant. People want to know where Leon's Frozen Custard is and what the connection is. Morrissey namechecked the show and "Laverne in Shirley" during his Milwaukee stop in 2004. It's about as synonymous with the city as Miller beers or racing sausages.

But doesn't anybody find it funny how crazy it is that it's all related to a FICTIONAL goddamned TV show? I mean, I've read articles about the tourists that flock to the original Brady Bunch home and I'm sure there are Seinfeld themed tours throughout New York, but do they have statues of Mike Brady in California? Of Cosmo Kramer in New York?

Well they have a statue of the Fonz in Milwaukee now.

Hey, as far as tourism goes and everything else, bada bing. I'm sure I'll stop and laugh at the thing next time I'm in the city. But aren't statues supposed to be of relatively important historical figures, particularly pertinent to the area upon which their statue is located? The fact that the show was shot in Los Angeles and Henry Winkler is from Manhattan doesn't bother anyone around here?

Well, c'est la vie.

Ayyyy... etc. etc.

God knows the Brett Favre statues might not come as soon as we all thought (and thank God for that).

Rod Stewart - What's Made Milwaukee Famous (Has Made a Loser Out of Me)
Alright, alright... it's about booze, I know, but it seems a propos. And I also know it's Rod Stewart and not Jerry Lee Lewis, but I actually prefer Rod's version. Plus this is the time when he was splitting duties with the Faces, so it's still that era when it was acceptable to like him. This ended up as B-side to the "Angel" single, but it can now be found on any amount of compilations, including Reason to Believe: The Complete Mercury Studio Recordings.

Exist to cease.

2008-08-18T11:09:00.000-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

Primal Scream - Detroit

Between 1997's Vanishing Point and 2002's Evil Heat, Primal Scream pretty much blew away the blissed out psychedelia and early 1970's Stones-fuelled rock and roll that had propelled their popularity to that point, instead turning to more distortion, aggression and an industrial feel that pretty much anchored three albums. While critics applauded the band's forward thinking (and now lament the fact that they've reverted into the rock and pop ways ... hooks?! gasp! ...), there's no arguing that while Vanishing Point, XTRMNTR and Evil Heat all were exciting, dangerous and progressive, they all were kind of like lasting headaches too. It's not to say there weren't pangs of brilliance, but an hour's worth of pseudo-metallic clanging just doesn't produce the same pleasure as Screamadelica once did. For an instantaneous rev-up or call to arms, however, look no further. This 3-minute slice from Evil Heat sounds like a slightly malfunctioning factory line, alludes to Communism, violence and sex, and also employs the vocals of the Jesus and Mary Chain's Jim Reid. Four minutes might've been too much, but as it stands... it should pump you up for the week ahead.

Something you'll remember.

2008-08-15T12:23:00.000-07:00

The recent news that the Coral are about to release a "singles collection" (read: best of) kind of pissed me off.

First off, this is a band that's still young and while they're productivity may have slowed down a little bit, it seems a bit premature to do a singles collection. Their first album was released six years ago... shouldn't there be like a 10-year limit before you go ahead releasing singles collections?

And of course, while most Coral fans will likely sigh at the news and say they'd prefer something new, the record label still will try to dupe us into buying the disc with the promise of a new track, which, sadly, sounds like a B-side from five years ago.

Never have schemes been hatched on fans that are worse than the greatest hits with one or two new tracks. The completisits among us spitefully shell out full price for one song, and more often than not, it sounds like it was written and recorded under the premise of, "Hey I know you guys are on break and all, but we have the hits album coming in November and it'd be nice to have a new track to tack on to that."

The failures exist and exist at almost every corner: Blur's "Music is My Radar" sounds like a depressing afterthought after 17 other generally fantastic singles, people might argue the Stones' "Don't Stop" isn't SO bad, but sandwiched between "Beast of Burden" and "Happy" on 40 Licks, it sounds dreadfully out of place... and I believe I've already committed enough bile to "All You Need is Me" and "That's How People Grow Up" to Mr. Morrissey's latest hits package in previous posts.

Then there are the artists who you wonder why they even have greatest hits... Lisa Loeb's could be 11 new songs around "Stay" for all I know, and even though you only know one song by the Crash Test Dummies, they have a greatest hits package with 13 other songs they consider just as valid.

But, of course, once in a great while, artists reach deep down and find the strength to write a song for a hits set that's just as potent and awesome as the other chart toppers it shares space with. For this month's Friday Five, we celebrate five such instances.

The Friday Five

Among the Greatest: *New* songs for hits packages that were quantifiably fantastic in their own right

Crowded House - Instinct
The recent Crowdies reunion might make you forget for a minute there that there actually was a decade that they didn't exist and Neil Finn was putting out fine albums under his own name and with his brother. When Crowded House first split in 1996, they didn't do so under the acrimonius terms other successful bands do, and actually gave their following a bunch of nice parting gifts, from a bigass farewell concert at the Sydney Opera House to the retrospective Recurring Dream: The Very Best of Crowded House, which not only offered up the must-haves like "Don't Dream It's Over," "Something So Strong," and "Weather With You" -- it also offered up three solid new tracks. This was the first single pulled from the album and while it didn't have the same worldwide appeal as "Don't Dream It's Over" did 10 years prior, it did prove to be the boys' most certifiable chart showing since "Weather With You." Plus it's a very cool song.

Earth, Wind & Fire - September
This might just win the award for best new song ever added to a greatest hits set ever. With EWF putting out The Best of Earth, Wind and Fire Vol. 1 in 1978, the soulsters tacked this track on for everyone who already had all their other stuff, and in a day and age before MP3s and instant new song availability, it helped move a hell of a lot of copies. "September" went on to become the group's most substantial hit, and not only is it pretty much a prerequisite for every wedding reception you might ever go to, it's placement in Old Navy ads will almost certainly have you thinking performance fleece and fairly priced T-shirts upon listening. Plus it's a very, VERY cool song.

OutKast - The Whole World
While OutKast's popularity gained strength with each album they put out in the 1990s, it was 2000's Stankonia that really blew the duo to astronomic heights on the back of "Ms. Jackson," "So Fresh So Clean" and "B.O.B." To put out a greatest hits set the following year was an obvious marketing ploy and considering it'd be another two years still before "The Way You Move" and "Hey Ya!," rather ballsy too. But Big Boi and Dre Present... OutKast provided three great new cuts, and this track not only proved a certifiable hit, but also snatched the boys a Grammy.

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers - Mary Jane's Last Dance
This cut and cover of Thunderclap Newman's "Something in the Air" were the two new cuts used to round out 1993's Greatest Hits, and with a catalogue as stacked as the Heartbreakers', it wasn't necessarily easy going to create something that would play nicely alongside "American Girl," "Refugee," "The Waiting," "Free Fallin'," and "Learning to Fly," but this cut still proves to be one of Tom's most enduring songs... and not just among potheads and Indiana residents, either.

U2 - Sweetest Thing
I suppose it's kind of strange that this perennial college favorite would include a "new" song on a chronicle of their best 1980s work, but then again, the fact that it was just a reworked version of a song from that era justifies it. As it turns out, this is really the only U2 song I actually have time for and even though it shares space on record with "Sunday Bloody Sunday," "With or Without You" and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," this was the only track I saved to my computer before I dropped the damn disc off at an exchange. There's something very genuine, unpretentious and not preachy here that's almost impossible to find in every other U2 song.

But I should have known better, and I should have seen sooner.

2008-08-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

I know it's nothing new, but it seems like within the last couple of years, someone flipped a switch that called the hipsters' attention back to the Zombies.

It's fine by me, really -- they were a great band and probably were unappreciated in way that was similar to the Kinks (i.e. a body of solid work, but only two or three songs that the collective world population can identify). But it's the recent revisionism for the Zombies' 1968 opus/swansong Odessey and Oracle that has me particularly flummoxed of late.

Sure it's a great album -- "Care of Cell 44," "A Rose for Emily," "This Will Be Our Year" and "Time of the Season" all occupy space within the record's grooves, but at what point does it stop becoming an "underappreciated gem"? Certainly if the authors are parading around the world performing the album in its entirety, that moment's passed ... hasn't it?

And it's fine if it has -- Rod Argent and Colin Blunstone deserve the kudos. I'm not sure it merits a Pet Sounds or SMiLE style airing, nor am I saying it's less deserving than lesser albums that have also seen live in-its-entirety airings (Hello, If You're Feeling Sinister).

But if it's the case that we're now going to officially take it out of that "lost classic" category it's inhabited for years with the likes of The Village Green Preservation Society (which, rereleases aside, STILL isn't near as popular as you'd like to believe) and put it into the pantheon of The White Album and Beggars Banquet (if not Revolver and Exile on Main Street) ... can we all stop pretending we're so very hip for recognizing its genius?

After all, there's a related lost classic out there that you still might not know about.

Colin Blunstone
One Year
Epic, 1971

01. She Loves the Way They Love Her
02. Misty Roses
03. Smokey Day
04. Caroline Goodbye
05. Though You Are Far Away
06. Mary Won't You Warm My Bed
07. Her Song
08. I Can't Live Without You
09. Let Me Come Closer To You
10. Say You Don't Mind

While Rod Argent didn't really have to worry about what to do after the Zombies split in 1968, the rest of the band that didn't posess his songwriting gifts kind of were going adrift (well except Chris White, who hung around with Rod in the ensuing months and years).

But despite having some of the most regal pipes to come out of the British Invasion (especially on the Mod -- whether they were or not -- circuit), Colin Blunstone opted not to jump right into solo territory and instead took a desk job. Unsurprising that a man who'd pretty much experienced the buzz of the 1960s from the front of the stage didn't find it satisfying for that long and rang up his old friends after a few months.

While One Year features Chris and Rod in parts, it's kind of a two-faced album. One face recalls the music he'd made with the Zombies -- simple but effective pop songs like "Mary Won't You Warm My Bed" and "She Loves the Way They Love Her" which would be pretty standard in almost anyone's hands, but gained some kind of authority with Blunstone's vocal bestowed upon them.

The other face was orchestrational meditations or covers of songs by folk troubadours like Tim Harden. And surprisingly, it's this facet that actually dominates the record. In the same way that it's very hard to compare this (or anything) to Nick Drake, it's very hard for me to listen to this album and at least not think musically about Drake's debut, Five Leaves Left. It's an autumnal, heavily orchestrated and decidedly solemn affair.

That said, just because there's no "She's Not There" or "Tell Her No" in sight, it doesn't mean it's not entirely grey, nor is it uninspired.

While the majority of the record is comprised of songs that Blunstone merely interprets, he does steal a writing credit on "Caroline Goodbye," which, incidentally, is far and away the album's most stunning moment. Written about the end of his relationship with model Caroline Munro, the song proves both lyrically exquisite and musically as deep and solid as anything the Zombies ever did. This song alone sells the album. The rest, really, is just bonus.

But, the rest is quite good too. And it's still not immediately avaiable to the masses, either. While One Year can be found on sale on import-only basis around the internet, and iTunes cobbled together some of the songs with other early 1970s Blunstone efforts and outtakes for a "partial album" (I f*cking hate those) offering, "One Year" still awaits the proper rerelease that would merit a bunch of shows in its honor.

Maybe it's time. Next time you see the Zombs, why not call out for "Caroline Goodbye"?

You say potato, I say potato.

2008-08-13T12:21:00.000-07:00

I don't usually like writing on this topic, because I always end up sounding like the very individuals I'm criticizing, but ... (deep breath) ... here goes.

Writers are assh*les.

Ah, that felt good. Now, I know what you're thinking: "But Paul, aren't you gainfully employed as one? Does not your business card read 'Staff Writer' as your title under your name?"

Yes it does, and yes, I obtained a Bachelor of Arts degree in Writing-Intensive English from Marquette. And it was while sitting through the (perceived to be easy) workshops on different styles of writing, ranging from fiction to poetry to business, thatI feel I really earned my degree.

Because there is no room as stuffy as the one filled with individuals who think they're no less than God's handpicked scribe for the world. And workshops never go less than two hours.

That's God's light guiding my pen, you know...

I've had editors tell me I sometimes fail to write with a sense of inherent authority (probably because I don't always write about the Small Faces or Kula Shaker), and I can see the problem there in writing for a publication that's trying to define an authoratative voice for itself.

There's room for improvement in my work. There always will be. I recognize that. I look through my past articles and grimace at some and beam at others. I think I'm passable -- good, even -- but I wouldn't delude myself into believing I'm the best. A lot of writers do. And a lot of writers find a mountaintop, however small it may be, from which to proclaim their thoughts and beliefs.

Well-travelled writer/musician/editor/web-designer/what-have-you John Mendels(s)ohn recently ascended one such mountaintop to bid adieu to my locale. In doing so, he ruffled a few residents' feathers (really, the post-story commentary is probably more entertaining and works to prove a lot of the points he was making that pissed so many people off in the first place).

Now, there are places I've visited in this country that have not rubbed me well, but outside of friendly conversation, I usually don't go into it because of the weight it carries with it. For instance, there's a particular baseball team and neighborhood I frequented several years ago in St. Louis that get right up my nose. Is it fair for me to say, "I hate St. Louis"? No. It's quicker, sure, but it's not fair. The point being that I met decent people in St. Louis and saw some nice areas. But if I come on here and talk about what a hole it is and lump a city's collective personality into impressions made on me by a few pricks, people are right to lash out.

It's why Mendel(s)sohn's caveat that "I made some friends in Madison with whom it would give me pleasure to stay in touch for however many years I may have left, people as sweet and generous as any I’ve known" buried in the midst of his two-fingered parting shot to the city doesn't really justify things. Because it doesn't read like, "Among the idiots and unprofessionalism, there ARE decent people there," it reads like, "Among the idiots and unprofessionalism, there are decent people there?" It's the classic, "I'm not racist! I have a friend who's (insert race/denomination under question here)!"

People are going to get angry when someone points out something that maybe should be talked about when it isn't. But the trick of it is doing it in a fashion that doesn't imply that you're looking right down your nose at everyone. Because this is really a society that, more than ever, asks, "And who the f*ck are you?!"

And as fair as it is for Mendels(s)ohn to point out a city's shortcomings, it's also just as fair for that city's residents to turn around and ask him just who he thinks he is.

And I think a lot of writers need to ask themselves that question.

But then again, I'm not about to let you point out to me that in criticizing writers who seem to demand others to be like them, I'm actually saying, "Hey, be like me."

So there.

Mel Tormé - Let's Call the Whole Thing Off
Oh, right, this is a music blog ... This classic cut from 1956's Mel Tormé Sings Fred Astaire seems more than a propos after my little rant, and I think it buries hatchets nicely. This song can be pretty annoying, but Mel really taps into the charm of it. It's hard not to smile at this one.

My moon's a naked, cold star.

2008-08-11T14:48:00.000-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

The Stills - Helicopters

I just received an advance of the new Stills album, Oceans Will Rise, due out later this month. I've only listened to it once, and it sounds good -- seems like Tim Fletcher's taken back a bit of the songwriting helm, which was relinquished to Dave Hamelin big time on their last outing, Without Feathers. A lot of fans got a bug up their collective butt about Without Feathers, figuratively crying "Judas!" as the Canucks traded in the loud, expansive sound of Logic Will Break Your Heart for a bit more of a retro feel (even though I still don't know where the original Joy Division comparisons for Logic came from...). I quite liked Without Feathers and will fight tooth and nail for it and most of Hamelin's songs on it, but Fletcher's two main contributions to the record, "Halo the Harpoons" and this incessant little builder, were without a doubt the record's best moments. The Stills are touring the US over the coming weeks, so if they swing by your locale, check 'em out. They're great live, and this song is pretty badass in concert, too.

Gonna dance on the floor in the round.

2008-08-08T12:09:00.000-07:00

I was working on a story earlier this week and my editor told me to bring the person I'd quoted at the top of the story back to the end too. Apparently it's a nice way of rounding things out.

I'd known this of course, and ususally I do that anyway, but I had my iTunes on shuffle last night and some Ian Brown came on.

We used Ian to kick off this week, and while I usually have personal rules about using an artist too frequently unless its part of a series, the fact that it can incorporate another of this week's subjects in the mix too seems kind of serendipitous.

For B-sides to singles pulled from his Golden Greats album in 2000, King Monkey covered two of the King of Pop's most popular tracks from almost 20 years earlier in his own inimitable way.

Brown's readings of "Thriller" and "Billie Jean" are interesting in that while their covers of iconic songs by a Manc that can't really sing, they still somehow seem to work. "Billie Jean" works a bit better than "Thriller" -- I've always kind of thought Brown had a go at "Billie Jean" and it worked and gave everyone in the studio a giggle, so they tried another one and the joke just wasn't quite as funny anymore. It's not that it's horrible, it just doesn't quite have the same effectiveness.

Ian Brown - Billie Jean

Ian Brown - Thriller

I don't think anyone ever got Jacko's opinion on it... or John Squire's... too bad.

And after all ...

2008-08-06T13:22:00.000-07:00

Check your watches, kids, it's time again for Vs.!

This month we look at a song that essentially defined Britpop and still winds up in college dorm rooms across the country by poorly late teens and early twenty-something faux troubadors trying desperately to get the cool girl from the other dorm to spend the night.

You all know it -- Oasis' "Wonderwall."

The popularity of the song is certainly enough to justify a "Confessions of a 90s Survivor" post -- perfectly released as the world prepared for Beatles reunion and turned their minds back to the music stylings of 30 years prior. Oasis had unapogetically pronounced their Beatle leanings on their debut album Definitely Maybe a year prior, but it was with the December 1994 single "Whatever" and (What's the Story) Morning Glory? that they actually started really sounding like the Fabs. Go on, tell me "Wonderwall" doesn't sound like a Rubber Soul-era outtake. Or "She's Electric" for that matter...

Amazingly, the song never managed to make its way to the top of the pop charts in the US or UK despite its rabid popularity, but that really didn't seem to matter so much as its mother album opened the floodgates for Britpop on both sides of the Atlantic.

Such was the height of Gallaghers & Co.'s fame in 1995 that a bootlegged recording of Noel and Liam arguing for 19-odd minutes charted and anything even loosely associated to the boys found rabid popularity (he's always been great, but don't think for a second that Paul Weller would've experienced the renaissance he did in the 1990s without the promotion of Noel Gallagher).

More astonishingly, even piss takes of Oasis garnered unprecedented popularity, and that's where the Mike Flowers Pops steps in. Commissioned by a BBC Radio 1 DJ to do lounge-style send ups of popular songs of the year, the group's first project was the aforementioned Oasis hit.

With vinyl pops and cracks added for good measure, the recording had the BBC staff in stitches, and they even started claiming it was "the original" version of the song. Despite the obvious joke, the suggestion still got Oasis' lawyers (who'd already heard from the likes of the Coca-Cola Company and Stevie Wonder's men in the course of one short year) understandably nervous, and they called Noel for reassurance that he hadn't perhaps, subconsciously stolen a whole set of lyrics from an old lounge song buried in his subconscious.

Given Noel's love of Burt Bacharach, it wasn't a far-fetched worry, but Noel and the rest of Oasis were bemused enough by the cover to let it be released as a single, despite their stance not to allow parodies of their songs to surface.

Maybe unbelievably, the Mike Flowers Pops version of "Wonderwall" made it just as high in the UK singles charts as Oasis' version had -- #2. And if you don't think this is a particularly odd occurrence, I ask you: if a lounge parody of "Soulja Boy" had been released earlier this year, do you think it would've found any popularity on actual charts? Think about that for a second. That's the kind of weight Oasis pulled in 1995.

And I don't think you can argue that Oasis version is, and forever will be, the best version of the song (yes, I'm talking to you too, Ryan Adams). But for style and being as interesting as it is laughable, Mike Flowers Pops gets some big points here.

Oasis Vs. The Mike Flowers Pops
"Wonderwall"

Oasis - Wonderwall

The Mike Flowers Pops - Wonderwall

Your thoughts?

I'm livin' lonely, baby.

2008-08-05T12:31:00.000-07:00

Distressing news out of England today as Michael Jackson is set to release another album.

Another Greatest Hits album.

The twist this time is that he's going to let British fans pick the tracklisting, which I'm sure will mean it won't end up far off from the first disc of the History set, the Number Ones compilation, The Ultimate Collection or The Essential Michael Jackson. And this from a guy who hasn't put a new album out in seven years.

Look, I'm all for looking back with reverence to the pre-molestation/let's make as many jokes about him being a white woman/is he still friends with Macaulay Culkin days of Off the Wall, Thriller (to a lesser degree, of course) and the untouchable Jackson 5. But when you put out five (probably more than that) career retrospectives out in the course of a decade, you have some serious personal issues you have to deal with.

And I think it runs deeper than the creepy share-your-bed-with-kids thing.

Oh, christ...

Because after all, why do we look back on everything prior to 1993 with such reverence? It's because aside from the circus that spun out of control after Thriller (pet monkeys and Brooke Shields dating included), and the fact that he decided to stage one off concerts every five years in locales like Budapest, Michael Jackson was always a great songwriter.

The operative word is "was." Things started slipping drastically with that first hits set, History, when dude tried to run out a new album on the second of a two-disc set. Funnily enough, when the album was rereleased as a one-disc retrospective, only the first half of the set survived. And while "Scream" was formidably popular, I don't think anyone held any thoughts that it was of the same ilk as "Billie Jean" or "Rock With You."

Things got even more crushing with 2001's Invincible when "You Rock My World" came out and teased us all into believing that despite becoming more than a bit of a freak and all around disturbing to look at, much less envision shacking up with minors, he might have found the fire again. But a stupid spoken word exchage with Chris Tucker on the track's intro and the inherent debate that hung over the believability that Michael could be so brazen as to march over and pick up the "bangin'" muse in question kind of put out its temporary fire. And let's not kid ourselves -- Marlon Brando and all, the video sucked. So did the rest of the album. On the plus side, it set the stage for arguably the greatest album review ever.

It could easily be the effects of aging -- few artists are able to capture the same fire they had in their 20s, Paul Weller and Alejandro Escovedo aside (and Escovedo gets a pass, cos he only really started when he was almost 30). But even Paul McCartney, who's sixty-friggin-six now can still be counted on for a couple decent tunes on his new albums.

And is requesting another "Billie Jean" or "Rock With You" too much to ask? Most times I would say yes. But with Michael I say no. Here's why.

Michael Jackson - Stranger in Moscow
This is a beautiful f*cking song. It's also a complete waste of my time and yours. Michael had a fantastic melody and idea here, but he got lazy with the lyrics, receded into his "just let me be" bunker, and foresaked all notions of musical sanity by approving whatever the hell that processed beat is to be the song's backbone. I'm a firm believer that song's cores can cut through horrible production, dated styles and several degrees of kitsch. How else would you explain my knowledge of Hall & Oates back catalogue? But when you have a million dollar idea, and just let it go to waste like this, you're doing every passing fan of music a disservice. There are songwriters out there who would kill to have that melody as a template. And the fans that unapologetically stand up for you no matter what? "Kremlin's shadow belittlin' me / Stalin's tomb won't let me be." Er... wtf, dude?

The problem is we request another "Billie Jean" and "Rock With You" and all Michael understands is, "Repackage 'Billie Jean' and 'Rock With You.'"

I've already got the remastered Off the Wall, thanks.

Don't squeeze too tight.

2008-08-04T14:12:00.000-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

Ian Brown - Sister Rose

Aside from the overlong orchestrational intro (a byproduct of being placed on a themed-if-not-conceptual album of sorts), when this track finally kicks into gear, King Monkey's back to business. Last year's The World is Yours certainly wasn't Brown's finest moment on record, but it did have a couple solid moments, and this one -- which cashes in on the same simple couplets/no unnecessary attempts to sing formula that made the likes of "Dolphins Were Monkeys" and "F.E.A.R." successful -- is probably the best of those few. There are few British artists that bend nicely toward the hip hop genre and maintain a cool about them, and Brown's certainly one of them. That doesn't make chances of a Stone Roses reunion seem any more likely, but while all of us might keep our fingers crossed regardless, you gotta respect a guy who stays true to his conviction to move forward. Now if he could just figure out the concept of an all around solid album ...

Just like you were a miser.

2008-07-31T13:28:00.000-07:00

So every week, I like to peruse the iTunes store and check out the new celebrity playlists. The stupidity of what some of these celebrities write is going to merit a Friday Five one of these months, I promise.

The other day I somehow, with morbid curiosity, checked out the soundtrack page for the recent Alvin & the Chipmunks movie. I, of course, didn't see it -- computer animated chipmunks don't do it for me, and as much as I dig Jason Lee, he just isn't a David Seville. Of course the posters for the movie which had the Chipmunks looking like gangsta rappers turned me right off. But the funny thing is that in an effort to make them look more modern, they actually made 'em look like something straight out of a Grandmaster Flash video.

Anyway, the 30-second sample of the new version of "Witch Doctor" was enough to guarantee that never under any circumstances would I give up a second of my time for the movie.

"How could they do that to the Chipmunks?" I thought. The Chipmunks were a huge part of my childhood -- the 1980s Chipmunks, that is, with Chipettes and that old lady that got stuck being their mother in tow. Sentimentality for that show ran high for me, of course, as it was pretty much a staple of my childhood, and people tend to not like seeing such enshrined memories pissed all over by Hollywood for a cheap gimmick to try to peddle to kids. The previews for "Beverly Hills Chiuaua" should be proof enough that Hollywood heads are bastards like that, but the funny thing is when you look back, it actually was pretty cringe-worthy when I loved it too.

See what I mean?

Talkin' bout my generation.

Which means that like everyone, you have to go back to the days of the "original" chipmunks, back in the late 1950s and early 1960s when that f*cking Christmas song made its way onto vinyl to irritate us every December thereafter. Don't get me wrong, I like it once or twice. But by the time it gets to December 15 or so, and I've heard that song about 30 times, someone's gonna get an ornament thrown right at their head. But maybe Patton Oswalt can make me laugh about it this year.

But to bring it back where I started from, the 30-second iTunes clip of the new "Witch Doctor" made me realize, more than ever, what a great track the original one was.

David Seville - The Witch Doctor
The joke, of course, is that this was done as a novelty record. "David Seville" was actually a stage name for Ross Bagdasarian Sr., who, apparently, was the first guy to think that speeding up tape was pretty damn funny. I suppose when he was a kid, he didn't have the access to tape speed control devices like kids my age did, but wasn't there a knob on the phonograph that at least made the record spin faster? Anyway ... Bagdasarian wrote and recorded the song, duetting with sped up version of himself and, lo and behold, the Chipmunks were born.

I'll be honest. I detest the very idea of the last Chipmunks movie. I'm afraid to search YouTube for anymore cartoon clips from the Chipmunks era I grew up loving. And I still hate Nickelodeon for knocking those out in favor of rerunning the 1960s originals as I was coming out of adolescence and into my teenage years. What 11-year old wants to watch 25-year old cartoons? Huh? But for all I now can't stand about the Chipmunks, I love this song. And this is the damn thing that started everything.

Who gets blamed whenever you're in trouble?

2008-07-30T12:48:00.000-07:00

So I checked a calendar today and noticed it's almost the month's end and the blog here still has yet to roll out the last of its monthly series, the Fantastic 45s.

Today, we take a look at Declan MacManus, or more commonly, Elvis Costello and that punchy little single he put out in 1978 that got a bunch of people (especially the United States) all hot and bothered, "Radio Radio."

Although it hadn't made the cut on the UK version of his landmark album This Year's Model, Columbia Records decided to tack it on the US version that came out 2 months later. Columbia didn't, however, want Elvis out there on US television doing a song that openly criticized major broadcasting and payola.

Kind of an obvious thing for Columbia to request, really, but why they thought Costello and the Attractions should instead perform "Less Than Zero," a song about Oswald Mosely on "Saturday Night Live" is less apparent. Famously, Elvis stopped the song a few bars in, told the audience there was no reason to do the song here and, in very punk fashion, ripped into "Radio Radio." Infamously, it got him kicked off the show for 12 years.

Then in very non punk fashion, he bought into the nostalgia and kitsch of it and recreated the moment for "Saturday Night Live"s 25th anniversary special. Still, pretty good performance.

If there's any problem with the infamy of the song, it's that it serves as people's first intro to Elvis Costello and therefore, what to base your first impression on. Not that it's a bad song to take that mantle, but you gotta feel kinda sorry for the kids that hear it and go, "No thanks," and miss out on the likes of "Pump it Up," "Big Tears," "Shipbuilding" or even "God Give Me Strength."

Of course, now "She" is apparently becoming a wedding staple, so that can't help his cause much. But I digress ...

The Fantastic 45's

Elvis Costello & the Attractions

"Radio Radio" b/w "Tiny Steps"

Radar, 1978

Elvis Costello & the Attractions - Radio Radio

There was something to be said for young Elvis, who could spit out songs as politically confrontational as this with as much as ease as he could a song like "Alison." Say what you will about the crop of young artists that came out of the late 1970s British punk movement, but few (even Weller) were dropping words like "anaesthetise" onto A-sides of potential Top of the Pops material. The byproduct of its punk flagship status is that every young up and coming garage band inevitably learns the song and now you got kids with frosted tips and iPods singing about how their radio dial broke 'cos it's old. Really? Nevertheless, whatever miserable byproducts iconic songs bring with them, it still is an iconic song.

Elvis Costello & the Attractions - Tiny Steps

A charming enough song that works as a nice yang to "Radio Radio"s yin, even if mellowness is only found in the song's music. The entertaining part of this song is that it folds right into almost every other song recorded during the This Year's Model era. You listen to this and it really doesn't sound so far off from another B-side from the era, "Big Tears." Thank God Elvis was the lyricist he was -- few people can pull about 20 songs from the same musical idea.

The A-side can now be found on The Very Best of Elvis Costello and the Attractions while the B-side recently showed up on Rock and Roll Music.

From the west unto the east.

2008-07-29T12:52:00.000-07:00

Bob Dylan UnderCover
Case 7, Paul Weller

Paul Weller - I Shall Be Released

Although by 1995, Paul Weller and his rejuvenated solo career were drawing comparisons to Neil Young more than the likes of his early career peers (Elvis Costello), inspirations (Small Faces, Kinks) or quickly rising hero worshippers (Blur, Oasis), Weller got into a rather nice habit of tackling covers for B-sides or personal use, and went after this 1967 Dylan single to backup his own "Out of the Sinking" single, which would prelude his 1990s commercial high water mark, Stanley Road.

While never shying away from covers over the course of his career, Weller has always maintained that he only goes after songs that he thinks he can better. It's basically the reason that while he'll state his avid fandom of songs like "The Autumn Stone," "Days" or "All I Do is Think About You," you'll never find his own versions of them. But you will find enough to make up multiple albums -- Studio 150 (which also included a cover of Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower") -- included.

Does the Wella fella's "I Shall Be Released" top Mr. Zimmerman's? I have to say so. Vocally, it's no challenge (although it'd be funny to ask my sister which version she prefers as she hates both Bob's and Paul's voices), but I also think that Weller tapped into a great folk-feel reservoir in the period between Wild Wood and Heavy Soul that he's really never recaptured.

There's something inherently auspicious in this reading. The musicianship is far from the best of Weller's career and the production also isn't as polished as several of his other recordings, but there's a simplicity that he tapped into on this and other Stanley Road-era B-sides and outtakes like "It's a New Day, Baby," and a cover of "Out on the Weekend" that never quite cropped up again in later folky outings like "Going Places" or even as recently in "Light Nights" (which are both still fantastic). In the mid 1990s, it was a different Weller. It was a Weller that earned his rights as an elder statesman, but still attacked music with a "you gotta hear this" attitude. There wasn't just an eagerness to show people up with his songs -- there was a tenacity to put stuff out as quickly as his fresh faced mates in Oasis were. And maybe what lacked in top shelf refinement more than made up for in charm.

He's still attacking music with an audible hunger these days, but a lot more of that elder statesman status is assumed (and also audible) these days.

You don't even have to wear that little bustier.

2008-07-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

The Nicholas Tremulis Orchestra - You're Famous Baby

I can't be too hard on my good buddy Mike and his lady friend Kristen, because in addition to letting me crash at their fabulous new digs in the Little Italy part of Chicago this weekend, they also did provide an assortment of Goose Island beers for my arrival Friday. It's just that they also bought a load of Budweiser and Miller High Life cans, and as the Goose Island went first, the duration of Saturday was spent polishing those off, and I can't even begin to explain how much I dragged Sunday, let alone did not want to come to work today. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way on a Monday. And for myself and the rest of us, there's this wonderful opening track from the Nicholas Tremulis Orchestra's 2003 album, Napoleon. Fittingly, NTO, like Goose Island, comes right out of Chicago and there's little you can do to resist the coolness of this track which rattles off famous (or infamous) names in much more awesome fashion than, say, "We Didn't Start the Fire." If you ever see a Nick gig coming up in your locale, don't pass it up. The man puts on a fabulous show.

In the beggar's house of wasted thoughts.

2008-07-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

So this past weekend I returned to Milwaukee again for my former college roommate's wedding. It was a nice time. I spent too much money, but it was all worth it and you hope that kind of opportunity only comes along once for the just wedded.

Anyway, I had to make a quick run up to Grand Avenue Mall with another one of the groomsmen who'd forgotten to pack black socks for the weekend and might've looked kind of ridiculous in his tux without them. We ran up to the mall in drizzling rain, an hour before we were supposed to be suited and booted for the ceremony and while he tried to find a cheap pair of black socks, I took a look around the old mall.

It's been years now since I'd last stepped foot in the mall and I know tons of remodeling work had been put into it, but coming in through Boston Store like I always did (cos I was always coming from the west, you know), the first proper mall store I'd always see was a Sam Goody. Now vacant.

"My music store's gone," I said to Tony. It wasn't really my music store. In Milwaukee, Atomic Records still holds that title, and even though the only album I think I ever bought at that Sam Goody was A Rush of Blood to the Head (oh, and Speakerboxxx/The Love Below), there was still a tinge of sadness to see a big, black empty room now standing there.

"Well, that happens to a lot of music stores," Tony retorted.

It's true. And the very reason it's happening, I'm sure is because of pages like these and the rapidfire acquisition of music anyone can have through the internet is killing off the need for the likes of Sam Goodys and FYEs. Really, I don't think I mind... I'll always take the independent stores anyway, but who knows how long those will last too.

In a way, I like what the internet's done. I'd have to, wouldn't I? But with it comes complete lack of surprise. You can hear every step of a song's concoction from earliest demo through final cut by means of an artist's MySpace page, website or any number of blogs. The other day I was reading all the updates for Oasis new album with all the other Oasis fans eagerly awaiting Dig Out Your Soul (bad title and worse cover). I don't think I like knowing track lists months before I have the album. Somehow, it just makes the wait seem impossibly longer.

And while iTunes is all too happy to offer up bonus tracks and digital booklets with new releases, you just don't really get the treats anymore, do you?

Like, for instance...

The Coral
Nightfreak and the Sons of Becker
Deltasonic, 2004

01. Precious Eyes
02. Venom Cable
03. I Forgot My Name
04. Song of the Corn
05. Sorrow or the Song
06. Auntie's Operation
07. Why Does the Sun Come Up?
08. Grey Harpoon
09. Keep Me Company
10. Migraine
11. Lovers Paradise

The best thing about young bands is their appetites and prolificacy. Look at the Arctic Monkeys -- they're just a shade older than this blog, but they've already got two albums under their names, a few EPs, plenty of non-album B-sides and although they didn't put out anything new this year, their frontman did.

Their heroes the Coral were much the same way in their early days. While their self-titled debut in 2002 was about as schizophrenic as rock records come, it was also really really good. They did an about face (or maybe just smoked some weed) the next year and mellowed into folkier tones on 2003's Magic and Medicine, which was also really good.

I still don't know what to constitute Nightfreak and the Sons of Becker as, but I will say that from a marketing and band reputation standpoint, it was a stroke of genius. With a few songs that still needed to get out of their systems, apparently, the Hoylake sextet went to the Welsh country side toward the end of 2003 for a week and a half and just dabbled.

The results weren't a patch on their previous two records, but it's not to say there wasn't some fun in the songs, and what's more, the band's label found itself with another album on its hands. Okay, so maybe this stuff wouldn't go to Q or Mojo and get blanket five-star reviews or "Liverpool's Second Coming" subtitles, but Coral fans could be expected to enjoy a bit more musical whimsy (read: madness) from the boys. They'd been conditioned for it.

So Nightfreak landed in UK shops in January 2004 with a slashed price tag and notice from the label that it was "more of a mini album," or, say, a "stop gap" between Magic and Medicine and the next album proper.

Brilliant.

See what that does is it automatically makes you forgive the fact that only about half the tracks on there can be counted as proper songs and it also deflects negative criticism because it builds an innate "Look, they didn't HAVE to do this, but they thought it would be fun for their fans while they wait for the next album" justification.

Clever, huh? Even at 11 tracks (more than suitable album length), the run time didn't top a half hour (but early Beatles albums barely did), but no matter what the content was (and some of it was crap), it was made clear before you even put it on that it shouldn't be taken seriously.

In America, it came as a free bonus with the US release of Magic and Medicine. And I remember walks to class in the early part of 2004 with a walkman (iPods were still too new and expensive) in my bag and CD of choice for the day inside it. This disc got a bit more play than the proper album.

For all it's impunishible faults, Nightfreak actually contains enough good stuff to make you think it was really nice of the Coral to do. With a bit more polish, "Sorrow or the Song" could've easily been a single on any of their albums, and while "Venom Cable" sounds like the simplest little jam on the simplest little riff, it also works out to be incredibly fun. "Lovers Paradise" would make a fine epilogue to any album and "Precious Eyes" too wouldn't seem out of place on other Coral LPs.

The finest moment, however, is "Grey Harpoon" -- a song that was concocted on the spot in the studio and done with enough street-savvy panache to make you half expect Snoop to swoop in and start a "With so much trouble in the LBC" rap when James backs off the mic. Seriously, try putting it on your next party mix and see if anyone bats an eye. I'd bet you if anything, you get head nodding and a few "What is this?" inquiries.

Ultimately, Nightfreak bought the Coral a bit more time to flesh out better ideas that would arrive on The Invisible Invasion in 2005. Since then, the Coral seemed to have backed off a little (they're only releasing albums every OTHER year now, lazy sods...), but you wonder if today, even four years later, they'd be able to pull off a Nightfreak. An unapologetic stop gap made for fans and fans alone. Sure, they could put it up on their MySpace page, but you'd still have the people that swoop in and go "This new album sucks," and the message boards full of "Are we supposed to take this for real?" arguments.

It's the kind of thing that will die with the music store. Because let's face it, there's no feeling quite as nice as picking up something you know one of your favorite bands made for you and their other fans alone. And picking it up at a cut price.

I don't care if you really care.

2008-07-23T14:24:00.000-07:00

CONFESSIONS OF A '90s SURVIVOR

The Cardigans - Lovefool
From First Band on the Moon

There are bands that will end up stuck in this series even if I do like more than one song by them simply because the song that defines them also defined a point in the 1990s. The Cardigans have a few good songs to their names. Maybe not enough to justify a double disc "Best Of" containing a whopping 46 tracks that was released earlier this year, but certainly more than one or two tunes.

Of course, none of them will ever compare to "Lovefool," and not just because of the tidal wave it brought with it with opportunisitc placement in Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet which, we all really remember for the Leonardo DiCaprio tremors that would grow to rapturous earthquakes a few months later with Titanic. Well that and how weird Shakespearean dialogue really seemed set against modern backdrops. I know it was supposed to be artsy, and it still gives high school freshman teachers a good reason to kill an afternoon of class time, but ... admit it. Even with its soundtrack, it's all a bit much, isn't it?

ANYWAY, those that weren't grooving to "Lovefool" during the movie certainly got their opportunity in the following months when the song swamped modern radio, and the video, featuring Nina Persson's ridiculouly blue eyes, became an hourly fixture on MTV and VH1.

It was really enough to make you hate the song -- I was dating my first proper girlfriend at the time, and we were at a roller rink (how cool were we) when the song came on and another friend came up and proclaimed, "THIS IS YOUR SONG!" It wasn't -- we didn't have a song, but there's no way in hell I'd ever let someone else decree what my song with someone else is, let alone have it be a flavor of the month. Call me a snob if you will, but the only reason this other friend made that statement was so she could spin the song four times when we gave her a ride home and justify it by saying, "It's your song! We have to listen to it!"

No effin' way.

But considering that if it were a month before or after, "our song" could've been Savage Garden's "I Want You" or the Spice Girls' "Wannabe" for that very same reason, I guess we were lucky.

Of course, we broke up after a few short weeks and I haven't talked to the girl in years.

But the reason that sentimentality can run high for "Lovefool" is that while it burned white hot in its moment of popularity, that moment didn't last unbearably long (like say "Truly Madly Deeply" 's moment did). And it still sits as the best offering in the Cardigans' catalogue because it's short and sweet and has an unbelievable hook. The fact of the matter is that in the '90s or any era, "Lovefool" is simply a great song.

Besides the knockout chorus, the verses go right for the jugular with a desperate woman pleading (in a lyrically fantastic fashion, no less) over a great guitar hook and a hi-hat and bass drum driven beat you can dance to. Lo and behold, disco ethics worked in 1997. Think about the dance hits that year and all the processed beats that propelled them. Pretty cool when you think this is an acoustic set driving it.

Girls liked it because they could relate to the singer's passion and envision themselves singing it to the cottoned ears of the football team captain, while guys like me who could never PAY for that kind of attention liked to hear that women could be so helplessly ridiculous about a dude. Of course, the joke was we couldn't be noticed by the girls who couldn't be noticed by the football captain. Makes you wonder who, then, I couldn't notice, eh? If by chance you're that very person reading this, accept my apologies. I know it's probably far too late for us now, but I understand your pain.

And even if you take that as cold comfort, we'll always have "Lovefool." Or a mutual friend to remind us that we do.

Give me your hump.

2008-07-21T12:45:00.000-07:00

Comin' atcha every Monday with a reason to shake off the "Why must I work?" blues, it's...

The Get You Goin' Track

The Bonzo Dog Band - You Done My Brain In

As madcap as they were awesome, the Bonzos (or, The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band) were the definition of alternative in the 1960s -- a ridiculous thumbng of the nose at the popular music of the day in favor of odd lyrics, vaudeville style music, humor that rivalled Monty Python's own just a few years later and albums that merit glorious remastered rereleases to this day. This cut, the lead from 1969's Keynsham actually ditches vaudeville for backbeat rhythm and blues and even though it lacks in length, the substance crammed into its short spin more than makes up for it. Neil Innes (later to become Ron Nasty of the Rutles) pleads for mercy from a girl of ... well, strange proportions. It could make you laugh, it could make you scratch your head, it could make you wonder just who the hell these guys were, but from the second that beat kicks in... you're theirs.

I'd say someday I'm bound to give my heart away.

2008-07-18T02:39:00.000-07:00

And since we're on a nice little little roll all of a sudden, let's follow up one monthly series with another, the Friday Five.

For today's Friday Five we look songs that John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote, but handed off to other artists to run and have hits with.

The Lennon/McCartney songwriting partnership, of course, is arguably the greatest in music history, rivaled only in lasting popularity (maybe) by the likes of Rodgers and Hammerstein or the Gershwin brothers. And while the songs they wrote for the Beatles have etched a personal spot in the memories of everyone with even the most passing interest in music as a whole (that's saying a hell of a lot, really), such was the height of their powers in the 1960s that seeing the brand name even on other artists' records usually guaranteed a hit too.

And while few would doubt the genius of their collaboration, the strength of the brand might best be summed up when Paul McCartney cooked up "Woman" for Peter & Gordon in 1966. The pair had hits (even a #1) with three other Lennon/McCartney tracks, so it seemed a given that "Woman" would prove to be successful as well. But suspicious that their hits were coming only because his and John's names were attached to the records, McCartney pushed the record to be credited to the pseudonym of Bernard Webb. The thought was, if a song was good enough, it should be a hit regardless of the name(s) of its author. "Woman" may not have been as instantaneous catchy as some other efforts, but it was a rather grandiose piece. But with Webb's name attached, it climbed only as high as #28.

While few would complain about a Top 30 record, the standards set by John and Paul in the 1960s were instantaneously recognizable and such that falling short of the Top 10 was certainly near-worthy of deeming a failure. Now the likes of PJ Proby, the Applejacks, the Strangers, Tommy Quickly and even the Rolling Stones all saw Lennon/McCartney castoffs they tried in fall short of Top 10 status.

Others, however, got to enjoy a little taste of Beatlemania.

The Friday Five

Five Top 10 Lennon/McCartney Singles the Beatles Never Enjoyed

Billy J. Kramer & the Dakotas - Bad To Me
Given how instantaneously catchy it is, it's still a mystery to me why the Beatles passed off "Bad To Me" to Billy J. Kramer & the Dakotas. It's likely it could've been a simple management decision by Brian Epstein, but the song drips with the catchiness that most early Beatle hits became so famous for. Apparently on the original studio tape, Lennon can be heard discussing harmony parts with Billy, but when this single went to press in 1963, there was almost no doubt it was going to be successful, and with another Lennon/McCartney castoff on the B-side, "I'll Be On My Way" (which the Beatles can be heard doing on the Live At the BBC compilation), Kramer and his boys bagged their first #1. While the Dakotas also had a hit with "Do You Want to Know a Secret," two other Lennon/McCartney giveaways, "I'll Keep You Satisfied" and "From a Window" also made it to the Top 10 for them.

Cilla Black - It's For You
Cilla Black had a great voice, but given it was the era that produced the likes of Dusty Springfield and Motown kept pushing out one amazing female talent after another, it's hard to say whether Black would've made it on her voice alone if she wasn't a Liverpool native that found herself in the right place at the right time. Seriously. She was a coat check girl at the Cavern in the early 1960s, when you know who were playing at almost hourly intervals. Brian Epstein signed her to his budding stable and George Martin was on hire to produce her records. Her first single was a 1963 cover of a McCartney-led song, "Love of the Loved" that the Beatles had included on their rehearsal tape for Decca Records. The song didn't impress the people at Decca, and Black's version didn't impress many people either, topping out in the singles charts at #35. While most artists might enjoy that for a first go, having the Beatles name attached should have promised more, and it was viewed in the EMI camp as a colossal failure. Black then recorded two singles by more "professional" writers shot her up the charts. When it came time for the fourth single, McCartney felt bit by the competitive bug and pulled this song from the very best that he'd not held for the Beatles. "It's For You" is an amazingly sophisticated song -- even for the Lennon/McCartney partnership, considering it was 1964 -- and while it wasn't dripping with the pop sensibilities of a "I Want to Hold Your Hand" or "She Loves You," the public recognized it was good enough to get to #7.

The Fourmost - Hello Little Girl
When the first volume of the Beatles Anthology was released in 1995, the world at large got to hear the infamous Decca audition tape that Dick Rowe famously turned down, forever casting himself as "The Man Who Turned Down the Beatles," or, "The Biggest Idiot in the Music Business. Ever." But listening to the tape, or even a healthy sample of it, proves Rowe was justified in his decision. While the performances are fine, they're not great, and the Lennon/McCartney originals included ("Love Me Do" among them) give no real foresight as to what might come. The Lennon-driven "Hello Little Girl" was one of the songs, so it was natural that the Beatles would cast it off, but given the fact that Black had stumbled with another Decca tape cast off, "Love of the Loved," it seemed odd that Brian Epstein and EMI would try to get the song into the mainstream yet with another act in his stable. While Gerry & the Pacemakers took a pass at the song, it was ultimately the Fourmost that went to press with it in 1963, and what do you know, got to #9 in the charts with it. The Beatles were present at the session, but if you didn't see the Lennon/McCartney name on the single (actually note at the time that the billing still went 'McCartney-Lennon'), you'd probably accuse this of being a horrible Beatles knock off. I still do. It's just too bad they wrote it.

Mary Hopkin - Goodbye
After 1966, Lennon and McCartney got a little more tight about giving away their songs. Any number of reasons could be offered -- increased drug use scaling back productivity (if not quality), Epstein taking more of a backseat as the rest of his stable floundered and only the Beatles excelled ... who knows? But following Epstein's death in 1967, the boys were looking for new direction and with the inception of Apple Records in 1968, the Beatles not only had their own playhouse, but also a stable where they could breed talent they saw fit. Lennon did his thing with Yoko, George Harrison took the likes of Jackie Lomax and Billy Preston under his wing and McCartney got behind young songstress Mary Hopkin and a group called the Iveys, which would soon change its name to Badfinger. Commercially, anything at that time that McCartney got involved in was a surefire hit. While Lennon wanted to go in more avant garde territory with songwriting, McCartney had long since cracked the code on how to manufacture pop hits, and its telling that his demo of "Come and Get It" (which can be heard on the Beatles Anthology 3) was taken almost note for note by Badfinger. "Goodbye" was a song McCartney had kicking around since the Beatles' India trip in 1968, and as Macca assumed production duties for Hopkin's first single, "Those Were the Days" and her first album, Postcard -- it's almost natural that he lined himself up for her second single, not only producing it, but giving her something he didn't see fitting on a Beatles album of the time. Abbey Road's loss was Hopkin's gain as "Goodbye" climbed to #2 in 1969. It's interesting that both "Goodbye" and "Come and Get It" both topped the charts in 1969, but only "Goodbye" retains a Lennon/McCartney stamp. The Badfinger tune carried Macca's name alone ...

Peter & Gordon - A World Without Love
Alright, so Peter Asher and Gordon Waller WEREN'T in Epstein's stable at NEMS, but the fact that Paul McCartney was an item with Asher's older sister Jane for the better part of the 1960's gave the aspiring musician a nice in to the recording business. Like "Bad To Me," it's hard to figure out why "A World Without Love" DIDN'T become a Beatles song -- it has all the hallmarks of a Beatles hit, especially a 1964 one at that, but Macca was charitable enough to pass it off to Peter and Gordon, who rode it straight to #1. Considering its lasting success on both sides of the Atlantic, it's arguably the most famous Beatles song the Beatles never did. The duo also got picking at three other Lennon/McCartney tunes, including the aforementioned "Woman," "I Don't Want to See You Again" and "Nobody I Know," the final of which also cracked the Top 10.

Enjoy your weekend, kids.

This can't look so bad.

2008-07-17T11:02:00.001-07:00

It's time again ...

Mixed Messages

Who's confusing us? Bernard Butler
What about? His preference for the muse's presence.

Bernard Butler's career arc undoubtedly deserves a full scale review like I gave to his hero Johnny Marr earlier this year. Perhaps I will yet ... although that's a lot of work ... hmmm ...

Regardless, Butler's found himself back in acclaim for being the main man behind the desk for Duffy on her big-time "you-want-soul-without-the-trips-to-rehab-and-nauseating-Sun-coverage?" debut album, Rockferry. Butler even co-wrote several tracks.

Of course before that, there was the on and off again McAlmont and Butler project, his "arrival" in taking lead guitar duties in Suede, then famously falling out, then reuniting with Brett Anderson in the Tears, working with the likes of Bert Jansch and being a sideman or producer for everyone from Paul Weller to Cajun Dance Party. He even spent a week in the Verve.

And while maybe he found more success in the Britpop heyday with David McAlmont, he also had a none-too-shabby outing on his own with two solo albums in 1998 and 1999. Now, they're not looked back with much reference (and methinks its about time for a rethink of Friends and Lovers), but the good thing about it is, you can swipe them for ridiculous prices at the Amazon marketplace.

It was a single from each of the two albums, People Move On and the aforementioned Friends and Lovers that provide our point of confusion. You need look no further than their titles for glaring contradiction: "Stay" and "You Must Go On."

Both songs appear to be about a girl (though I'm only taking them on the surface here, folks, feel free to write in and surprise me that one of 'em's about Jesus or something and render this whole post irrelevant -- I might not reply), possibly a romantic interest, but even if they're about random friends, it's still confusing.

"Stay" is without question, Bernard's most beautiful song (solo, at least). A slow building plea for someone (what else?) to stick around that makes it from a plaintive acoustic guitar to crashing drums and air guitar-worthy licks, while "You Must Go On" is consistently upbeat and (obviously) forward thinking.

Perhaps the contradiction can most easily be explained in the narrator's apparent state of mind for each song: "Stay" reeks of desperation from a guy caught with someone who implicitly feels the need to keep moving, while "You Must Go On" kind of puts the shoe on the other foot. Here, the narrator is the one saying "get on with it," while the subject can't seem to get over ruminations (and sad ones at that) about experiences already had.

In the latter, Butler urges his muse to look upon the experiences more favorably ("So cherish the days when we searched for caves and paddled our feet in the midday heat -- Your mother would scream if she heard you'd been, well it's just as well we carried on and on and ... "), but in "Stay," he can't seem to get the subject to even think about thinking ("I tried to believe what you say -- that you won't change if you just stay").

Pro-lingering: Bernard Butler - Stay
Anti-lingering: Bernard Butler - You Must Go On

So what does Bernard want?
While I'd like to believe that songwriter's put more heart into things they believe, and as such, since "Stay" is overflowing with emotion, he's more of a reflective guy, the fact of the matter is that Bernard's personal career says otherwise. Look at everything he's done. Sure, "Stay" is still his finest moment, but what's the album it's from called?

You don't have to worry with me.

2008-07-16T12:35:00.000-07:00

I know I have to be sensitive about such matters and try to avoid upsetting people as best I can, but ... damn, dude.

I love Ronnie Wood. I really do, but wasn't this happening just two years ago, too? Now granted, I have no personal history with substance abuse, nor have I ever even seen a rehab facility in person (they tried to make me go, and I said ... sorry), so I can't really make any informed observations or instigate converstation beyond, well, good for him and bless him much for trying.

But then I think about all the biographies I've read about people that battled addictions and came in and out of rehab repeatedly before ultimately ending up in an ugly end. I still think the constant eyes on Pete Doherty and Amy Winehouse aren't merited (they've only really got a couple good songs to their names apiece), but it seems to me the more its celebrated, the more you think of a role you have to live up to. Maybe I've read too many of the extreme books, and maybe that "Intervention" show tries to tell me otherwise, but I think once you get to a certain point, it kind of stops working. Does it mean people should stop trying? I suppose not. But at what point do personal choices become other people's business? At what point does inevitable become, for lack of a better of term, inevitable? I don't mean to sound unreasonably cold, but substance abuse-related illness or death for people 40 and under somehow merit the word "waste." What of the elders?

I suppose it can't be easy for a guy like Wood -- you bump into one of the Faces (much less a Rolling Stone) in a social situation and you're going to want to buy him a drink, aren't you? But something about a 61-year old guitarist taking spins in the revolving door saddens me. Or maybe it's just that it's news at all saddens me. It can't be easy to have to keep fighting at that age, much less have to do it with widespread public knowledge. Personal will can be a funny thing, but it's also still personal. Is it fair for me to criticize a 61-year old alcoholic? Not at all. But, then, if its afforded international news space, it is our talking point, is it not? What, at this point, does Ronnie Wood owe us? If, as it's been reported, it's his desire to "run off with an 18-year-old cocktail waitress," who are we, at this or any point, to criticize? If your last name isn't Wood, don't reply.

Well?

Ron Wood - Cancel Everything
If I were to criticize Wood for anything in a direct manner, it might be the decision to sing lead on a record these days. His voice ain't what it used to be, but that doesn't mean there's not some gold in the vaults. This shambolic little cut from 1974's I've Got My Own Album To Do features him and Keef practicing "the ancient art of weaving" before even joining the Stones. It's kind of a propos, and regardless of (possibly) losing a wife, falling off the wagon and doing it all for a waitress well ... it doesn't change the fact that he's got some great stuff behind him. Hell, people still talk about Michael Jackson's old music with reverence, right?

If you don't leave the world behind.

2008-07-14T12:47:00.000-07:00

The Get You Goin' Track

Weezer - Keep Fishin'

Spent the weekend at the family cottage oop north, put my iPod on shuffle and hooked up some speakers to keep the vibes good while (and when) the sun shone down. This cut came on and caught the ears of one of my young cousins, who quickly recommended it would make for a good "Get You Goin' Track" today. Someday I plan on writing a big post about Weezer and why I don't understand their continuing appeal, nor Rivers Cuomo's apparent "genius." But I do admit they do have flashes of simplisitic brilliance and this is one of them, from 2002's Maladroit. Someday I'll sit down with my cousin (who wasn't even born when the Blue Album rather undeservedly cemented its authors in music history's hallowed halls) and discuss music at great length with him. We'll talk about Rivers and his shortcomings. But for a few short minutes this weekend, this song was able to rev up a kid that still hasn't refined his taste in music (although, impressively, he knows all the words to the Beatles' "Help!"). Whatever your prejudices may be, this song should get you goin'. Even if you refuse to admit it to your friends and colleagues.

I hop right into that car of mine and drive around the world.

2008-07-10T20:11:00.001-07:00

Well I put this up now because I'll be working from Milwaukee Friday, and thus, unable to provide a good proper, week ending post.

I always have mixed feelings about going back to Milwaukee. I'm often asked if I could ever live there again. I don't know. And it's not a knock on the city -- indeed, I go back many times a year if not for work-related activities, then for Marquette basketball games, to catch up with old friends, concerts, etc. etc.

It's just that I kind of feel like the Milwaukee chapter of my life is over.

Not that it was a bad run. When I first arrived there in the summer of 2001, it was a little daunting. I was about to start college, living in a fairly big city on my own for the first time in my life, and while I had family nearby to call upon, I still kind of felt like I was in an urban jungle. The fact that Marquette stands in one of the city's less affluent neighborhoods certainly didn't put a suburban, middle class raised boy at the greatest of ease.

Of course, I learned to love it and am actually glad that I ended up living in rougher areas -- there's a lot to be said for how it changes your perception of life in general.

But seven summers ago, I was a bit scared. First off, movies like "Animal House" and "Dead Man on Campus" scared the living piss out of me before I arrived. I seriously thought college was a place where you thumbed your nose at academics for the greater good of getting drunk and hooking up with random girls and then had to deal with consequences like... having to find a suicidal roommate/or potentially killing off your roommate so you could pass a semester on sympathy vote.

Suffice to say, I learned quickly it wasn't like that and am now able to enjoy both movies now.

But the other thing that weirded me out straight away was walking back to my dorm building the first day after orientation to see a rather portly individual standing in the middle of 18th Street, puffing on a cigarette and singing Dion's "The Wanderer" at the top of his lungs for anyone that would listen. I mean, the visual humor of a man of his stature loudly and proudly proclaiming that he'll "Kiss 'em and love 'em 'cos to me they're all the same" was good enough, but he actually went the extra mile and pantomimed actions like tearing open his shirt to show the name of Rosie on his chest.

But you know... you can't point and laugh in that situation. The dude was three times my size. He could've obliterated me in one fell swoop. So you think "Oh my God" to yourself, run inside to your dorm room, laugh safely behind closed doors and then tell others what you saw.

When I told my friend Kyle he said, "Oh yeah. He was out there singing yesterday. I thought 'F*ck it' and went right over and joined him."

Kyle adapted quickly. It took me at least another three days.

But now whenever I hear that Dion cut, my mind drifts back to my first moments fending for myself in Milwaukee. And as I'll be drifting to Milwaukee Friday, I think it's only proper that this song gets some play.

And when she asks me which one I love the best...

Dion - The Wanderer
For as great as late 1950s and early 1960s rock and roll is, my common critique is production values and the fact that many songs never quite got the punch they deserved. Seriously, listen to a lot of Elvis' early stuff. It's great, but how much better would "Teddy Bear" have been with a stronger backbeat? I can't complain about Dion's stuff though. This and really the rest of his 1961 Runaround Sue album packed a real wallop. Listen to that drumbeat. And listen to how much stronger it makes Dion's egotistical little proclamations sound.

But if you want it, here it is.

2008-07-09T13:15:00.000-07:00

So I know as the year unfolds, I'm quite privy to say I'm excited about this, I'm excited about that, and there will be this in November to look forward to.

But then when these moments actually occur, I'm rather tight lipped. The main reason for this is because I usually horde new music over the course of the year to prepare my annual "15 of the Best" series in December and give thoughts, opinions and second degrees on the biggest surprises of the year (and let downs from bands I'd had high hopes for).

This summer's been a little difficult in me trying to deal with the fact that Alejandro Escovedo now has management bent on making him the celebrity he deserves to be. I've been a staunch Escovedo backer for a few years now and would be the first to say that I can't really think of anyone more deserving to be as celebrated in the pantheon of greats. But I also admit its a little strange to see him opening for Dave Matthews and sharing stages with Bruce Springsteen (and let's not pretend for a moment that this isn't just a little heartbreaking). The new album, of course, is typically glorious. But I just pray the days of those intimate performances at Shank Hall or the High Noon Saloon don't morph into annual stops at Alpine Valley. The clubs never were going to make him as rich as he deserves to be, but the love inside those walls was pretty grand. I hope it's not lost.

On the other hand, I've no reservations about the success that the Old 97's are getting on the back of their latest, Blame it on Gravity. The record's quite astounding if you've not heard it yet, actually one of the most solid top-to-bottom offerings I've heard thus far this year. Maybe my cynicism of their own celebrity-club status was tempered by the band's appearance in the Jennifer Aniston/Vince Vaughn vehicle The Break-Up a couple years ago, but whatever glad hands, photo ops and celebrity blog exposure comes for the boys this time around, I'm all for it. Even if the video is a little silly.

Trusty.

Then again, maybe I'm also safe in the knowledge that however great the album is, New West Records is never going to have the power to navigate an all out assault that would mean week-long stints on the Sunset Strip or a live Today show performance. Sure, they can show up on the Good Morning Texas, and that's fine. But they're also probably not gonna make the jump out of the clubs anytime to soon. Which is fine -- it's where it is best, after all. Can you imagine them in a stadium? Oh, never mind.

The great thing about the 97's new record and really the 97's in general is that while they dabble in a plethora of different styles, they've always stayed orbiting around a rock-pop meets proper country center (read: proper country, not that CMT business).

Maybe the twang's straightened out a little, but aside from production value, I find little that separates the Old 97's of 1995 from the Old 97's of 2008. Critics are likely to bemoan such a fact, but I doubt I'm alone when I say I really appreciate it.

To illustrate my point:

Old 97's - Garage Sale
This is a cut pulled from a strange little 10-inch EP released in 1995 that featured the 97's on one side, and Funland (later to become Melt, later to become immortalized in the Old 97's "Melt Show" on Too Far To Care) on the other, but both performing the same two songs (one of each's). Here's the 97's take on the Funland song, which I actually find preferable to their own offering, "Stoned." You put a bit more polish on, raise the bass and, really, this wouldn't sound out of place on Blame it on Gravity. Say what you will about progress, but I know a whole bunch of people that will talk instead about devotion.

Did I leave your mind when I was gone?

2008-07-08T11:55:00.000-07:00

Today I have a pretty cool find for you.

British soulster Carleen Anderson has found her way onto many of Paul Weller's records, perhaps most notably as the second lead vocal on "Wings of Speed," the ethereal track that closed the landmark 1995 Stanley Road album, but you'll find her voice peppered over many of the man's solo recordings, so it's kind of fitting that the Modfather would eventually return the favor.

Weller lent his voice to a fantastic duet of "Wanna Be Where You Are," a great old soul cut made most famous by a very young Michael Jackson on his Got To Be There album. The cut was pulled as a single in the UK, but it never got much play and even though it slid onto Anderson's 2006 album Soul Providence, the relative obscurity of that album too meant that even though this track is but two years old, it's already something of a rare commodity.

Carleen Anderson (feat. Paul Weller) - Wanna Be Where You Are
First off, let's not kid ourselves -- the track doesn't come anywhere near the energy or spirit of Jacko's take on it back in 1972, but the modern soul groove is nice touch, and Weller's voice still blends quite nicely with Anderson's. I kind of wish they'd at least kept the tempo of the Michael Jackson version, I think it loses something in being slowed down to a more sultry pace. But for what it loses, it also gains bucketloads of maturity.

No football hero or smooth Don Juan.

2008-07-07T11:38:00.000-07:00

It was barely past noon today when my buddy Umaar said this:

"Dude, I'm gonna need a good Get You Goin' Track today. I'm struggling to keep my eyes open."

For him and all the rest of you totally unpsyched to be back to the grind following a long weekend, here ye be.

The Get You Goin' Track

Stevie Wonder - Uptight (Everything's Alright)

While the argument that Jack Black began in High Fidelity about Stevie Wonder's 1980s-and-beyond crimes rages to this day, it is completely without merit to disavow anything he did up to about 1976, and certainly during his mid-1960s heyday at Motown. Besides penning many of the hits that would forever become label signatures, the energy and enthusiasm he brought to his own early recordings was unmatched by most soulsters of the day, and makes me long for days of Mod clubs that I never knew in the first place. Sure it's Monday, but the second that backbeat kicks in, it's Saturday night and you wanna be out on the dance floor in a sharp new suit. Indisputably one of the greatest "poor boy falling for a rich girl" songs ever. "But it's alright if my clothes aren't new -- out of sight, because my heart is true." Damn straight. From his 1966 album of the same name.

The end of an empire is messy at best.

2008-07-04T10:18:00.000-07:00

Happy 4th of July everybody.

I know I've been an absentee blogger this week -- trust me when I say it has to do more with being under the weather (found out it was heat exhaustion, hooray) than anything else.

So I'm spending my three-day weekend recovering, and I was thinking of doing an ironic-style 4th of July post -- you know, songs by people that look at America and say "Well... it's not all THAT great, you know..."

But you know what? I'm not a big patriot flag waver, but I'm also not gonna knock my home. In a strange way, it's kind of disheartening to spend time abroad going, "I'm American, but ... I didn't vote for him, you know. A lot of us don't like him either ..." It makes me feel like Alec Baldwin. And no one should have to feel like that.

Unsurprisingly, Randy Newman summed it up best. He's got a new album coming out in August with a full-fleshed studio version of this song, but if I was gonna do a 4th of July post, it kind of came down to this and this alone:

What am I supposed to do?

2008-07-02T10:03:00.000-07:00

Happy July everybody.

I'd have had a post yesterday, but I spent the majority of it sprawled over my couch in a comatose position (Tylenol Nighttime in the daytime does that to you), wondering why the hell my salivary glands were working over time and if I might ever be able to swallow something again without feeling like knives were going down my throat.

I feel an itsy bit better today (well enough to post at least), and since now we're already ankle deep in a new month, it seems now's as a good a time as any to reset the monthly series.

Plus I'm in a fighting mood. Vs.!

It's always nice when artists do a song by their heroes as opposed to a song they just kind of like, because it always seems there's a bit more reverence involved. For instance, Paul Weller once did a heartfelt cover of William Bell's "My Whole World is Falling Down" for a BBC session (which ended up on the B-side of the "You Do Something to Me" single), and Bell actually got word back to the Wella fella that he'd quite enjoyed it. It meant enough to Paul to relay the story in the liner notes to the Fly on the Wall boxset, and if you go back and listen to the track, you can tell he's doing it with a lot of love... not feeling his way around (and wondering which route to take) like he did on his cover of "I'd Rather Go Blind."

A hero to many groups of the British invasion was the great Arthur Alexander, an Alabama-born singer that found success in music in the early 1960s and quickly put a young John Lennon under his spell. While his songs would be covered by both the Beatles and Rolling Stones amongst many others, Alexander felt he was getting a raw deal in the business and walked away. He spent almost the rest of his life driving a bus until a bunch of his old friends and backing musicians dragged him out of retirement for one more album in the early 1990s. He died shortly thereafter.

Alexander never had the pipes to match with his soul contemporaries, and many of his arrangements (perhaps having to do with an Alabama upbringing as opposed to a Chicago or Memphis one), seemed to have a little more of a country feel to them than a tight pocket R&B one.

I've always figured his greatest song to be "Soldier of Love," which was covered by the Beatles for a BBC session (later released, along with Alexander's "A Shot of Rhythm and Blues," on 1994's Live at the BBC) and then brought to much more popularity by Pearl Jam, who covered it on the No Boundaries benefit album. But a close second is his lovelorn parting message to a girl that's found another dude, "Anna (Go To Him)."

Featuring a thick soul (and almost over-the-top) back drop, Alexander calmly and coolly agrees to let Anna go for another guy, even though this seems to be a continuing pattern for him. You have to wonder which girl is gonna get the "For Christ's sake! No! You said you loved me, dammit, why won't you stick around?!" treatment. It's kind of like Bill Pullman's Walter character in "Sleepless in Seattle." Of course you're rooting for Tom Hanks. But I'm sure most guys still kind of feel bad for Pullman (or at least his character ... because Bill Pullman kind of sucks in general), who gutlessly lets the woman he's about to marry run off to the Empire State Building to meet a guy she's only had the most fleeting of contact with over the past year. It's like ... WTF?

Alexander's single was put out in 1962 and tacked on to his album You Better Move On, which was also released that year. It gave the Beatles little time to learn it, but considering Lennon's reverence for the man, it's unsurprising they did and put it into the 3-hole on their debut album Please Please Me in 1963.

Vocally, Lennon gets a few more points for really letting the inherent frustration of the situation fly: (seriously, listen to him wail "Every girl I've ever had breaks my heart and leaves me sad"). Unfortunately, the music back drop doesn't carry the same punch as Alexander's. Now granted, a thousand apologies could be made for the Beatles here -- the whole of their first album was recorded in 585 minutes, they've admitted to being nervous in the studio, and the album was done in a rather slapdash manner to try to cash in on their quickly mounting popularity, but George's guitar just doesn't create the effect that the piano does on Alexander's version. And Ringo's drums just ain't as deep. And so whereas Alexander's voice may not reach to the pained depths that Lennon does, the music goes way deeper.

I gotta give Arthur the edge here. You?

Arthur Alexander vs. the Beatles
"Anna (Go To Him)"

Arthur Alexander - Anna (Go To Him)

The Beatles - Anna (Go To Him)

Dorothy was right, though.

2008-06-30T11:16:00.000-07:00

It's Monday and I'm posting. You know what that means ...

The Get You Goin' Track

Arctic Monkeys - Old Yellow Bricks

Admittedly I've been listening to a lot of the Last Shadow Puppets recently and admittedly I'm a bigger fan of the Arctics' B-side material than I am of their album cuts, but this pounder from last year's Favourite Worst Nightmare is easily among their very best work. I think Turner works well against the lush '60s Bond-style arrangements the Last Shadow Puppets staked their debut on, but his voice is also a perfect fit for these tracks which runneth over with immediacy. Sure, it's a Franz Ferdinand-esque call to arms and while it's hard to call it fantastically original, the fact that it's such a pulsating call to arms to go back home once in awhile always strikes me as entertaining. Of course, maybe it makes your Monday at the office that much longer. C'est la vie.

How does it feel?

2008-06-26T13:06:00.000-07:00

Bob Dylan UnderCover
Case 6, The Rolling Stones

The Rolling Stones - Like a Rolling Stone

While it probably should've seemed like an inevitability, it took the Rolling Stones almost 30 years to get around to covering arguably Dylan's most lasting song which (incidentally) bears their moniker.

Perhaps a little self-conscious about it (notice how Keef closes proceedings with a near-sarcastic "Thank you, Bob"), it also stands to reason that the band never took it up, because they'd have been much more interested in covering a Muddy Waters tune anyway. Sure, Woody and Keef have graced the stage with Bob, but even when Bob went into his "Judas" period in the mid 1960s, there was still a tangible distance between his music and that of the stock of British artists that either claimed to love him (Beatles) or hardly give a rat's ass (Kinks).

Still, with one of the most audible grains of salt ever committed to acetate, the boys plugged a live rendering of the song into their 1995 album Stripped, a collection of live cuts and acoustic readings. The strength of the Stones' reading of the song (despite omitting the "frowns on the jugglers and clowns" verse) didn't go unnoticed by the honchos at Virgin, who put the song out as a single and used it to propel Stripped to a #9 position in both the US and UK. In the UK, the single climbed to #12, the highest charting single the Stones had at home during the decade.

And as it stands, it's a pretty damn good cover. Going down to employing the trademark organ, the Stones get right to the heart of the song's shambolic glory, even if Mick doesn't hit the subject matter with same knowing smirk as Dylan did on Highway 61 Revisited. Still, there's a lot of reverence here, and the genuine feel paid off. It's not better than Dylan's, but of the countless covers of the song, it's right up there among the very best.