The Gilded Palace of Sin

You'll get no argument from me about Gram Parsons' role as the forefather of the "alt-country" movement, as well as an incredible influence on both country and rock music from the '70s through the present day. As an artist, Parsons' all-too-brief catalog has taken on a near-mythological status, the man himself deified with a fervor reserved for dead icons like Nick Drake and Tim Buckley that never achieved the fame and/or notoriety of a Hendrix or a Morrison.

As writer Bob Proehl shows in his excellent and insightful addition to Continuum's ongoing 33 1/3 series of books, as talented and visionary as Parsons was, he didn't do it all alone. Often overlooked as part of both Parsons' grand experiment in late-60s country-rock after he hijacked Roger McGuinn's Byrds, and as a founding member of the much-lauded Flying Burrito Brothers, without multi-instrumental talent Chris Hillman, neither the Sweetheart of the Rodeo (1968) or The Gilded Palace of Sin (1969) albums would have been the same, and indeed might not have existed without Hillman's invaluable contributions.

Proehl tackles The Gilded Palace of Sin album for the 33 1/3 series with an approach that is part historical and part critical. In truth, this is a difficult musical masterpiece to dissect…although the album's mix of rock, country, and classic R&B was undeniably unique, and it would take decades for it to be fully digested and spit back out by bands like Uncle Tupelo, it's an album of dichotomies, as well. The songs penned by Parsons and Hillman are among the best the two men would ever create, the tense chemistry between the two artists resulting in lyrics that were topical and timeless.

However talented the assembled musicians, however, much of the music on The Gilded Palace of Sin sounds tentative, weakly produced, and often times it is Parsons himself who fails to deliver in measure with the status he has since been accorded. Make no mistake – this is a classic album by any standards, but it is Hillman's voice that often soars in harmony with Parsons', and the impact of Sneaky Pete Kleinow's mournful steel guitar on the band's sound cannot be underestimated. In short, it was a true band effort, not just the GP show.

Proehl frames his book by quickly touching on Parsons' brief, but tumultuous membership in the Byrds, an artistic invasion if you will as Parson attempted to bring the vision of country music that he tried to create with his previous outfit, the International Submarine Band, to McGuinn's folk-rock hitmakers. Under Parsons' influence, Sweetheart of the Rodeo would become a different album than McGuinn originally envisioned, but in the end, one of the band's worst-selling albums would become, perhaps, its best-known based entirely on Parsons' meager presence on the final product.

Proehl offers up just enough biographical information on Parsons to explain his Southern heritage and country music inclinations, quickly plunging his protagonist into late-60s Southern California and the formation of the Flying Burrito Brothers with former Byrds bandmate Chris Hillman. Proehl divvies up each chapter according to Biblical sins, using "vanity," "envy," "sloth," "avarice," etc to frame the story of the band, and of key songs on The Gilded Palace of Sin album.

There's a lot drama here for Proehl to draw from…Parsons, a trust fund baby from a well-off Southern family had the money to ensure comfort and plenty of drugs to feed his growing habit, while the rest of the band struggled as the stereotypical "starving artists." A cross-country tour by train (Parsons was notoriously afraid of flying unless "doped up to his eyeballs") was a financial and artistic disaster, the barely-practiced band's performances outside of Los Angeles drawing meager audiences. The album, although receiving glowing endorsements from Rolling Stone magazine and counter-culture icon Bob Dylan, sold sluggishly and was mostly misunderstood by its target audience.

Proehl's descriptions of the culture, environment, and aspirations behind the album are lively, while his use of quotes from musicians and hangers-on alike helps put the story in proper context, fleshing out the story. Surprisingly, although Proehl included Hickory Wind, writer Ben Fong-Torres' biography of Parsons, in his research he seems to have neglected musician Sid Griffin's excellent biography of the artist, as well as John Einarson's acclaimed Hot Burritos book on the band, although he does include Einarson's Desperados: The Roots of Country Music in his bibliography.

In the end, the same creative and economic tensions that helped make The Gilded Palace of Sin a classic album also forced Hillman to fire Parsons shortly after the release of the band's sophomore effort, Burrito Deluxe. Hillman would later play musical matchmaker, pairing his former songwriting partner with singer EmmyLou Harris, thus providing the spark that would launch Parsons' widely acclaimed (and equally influential), albeit brief solo career. Proehl ends his telling of the tale with Parsons' tragic, but not entirely unforeseen death in 1973.

Proehl does a fine job of describing the musical dynamic in the band, Parsons' and Hillman's creative process, and both the triumphs and obstacles experienced by the Flying Burrito Brothers. Proehl's prose is entertaining and informative, providing the casual fan or newcomer to the Burritos' mythos an easy-to-use guide to the band's most important album, while still providing plenty of meat on the bone for longtime fans to gnaw upon.

More importantly, whether he set out to do so or not, Proehl places The Gilded Palace of Sin in its proper historical context, his emphasis on Hillman's role with the band in no way diminishing Parsons' importance. His work doesn't deflate the still-growing Parsons' mythology as much as it humanizes it and grounds Parsons' enormous musical contributions in reality, where they belong. (Continuum Books)

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Big Star's Radio City Revisited

The cult band to end all cult bands, Memphis rock legends Big Star were but a brief, albeit blinding flash of white light during the early-70s, the band literally going supernova before disappearing into the darkness of obscurity. The 1978 unauthorized European release of the band's long-shelved third album (alternatively titled Third and/or Sister Lovers) would spark the flame that started the Big Star legend, while the power-pop movement of the late-70s/early-80s, which would help shape bands like the Replacements, the dB's, and R.E.M., would fuel the myth machine and make Big Star's accomplishments seem huge.

Big Star's second album, 1974's Radio City, is widely considered to be the band's magnum opus. A masterpiece of British Invasion-styled melodies, rich harmonies, jangly guitars and Southern soul, Radio City was easily a decade ahead of its time and remains one of the most influential and beloved recordings of the 1970s. Writer/musician Bruce Eaton has taken on the unenviable task of dissecting the album for Continuum's excellent 33 1/3 book series, and he delivers an admirable job of not only cementing the album's long-held status as a masterpiece, but also explaining the charms of Radio City to those who might be unfamiliar with the work.

Eaton takes a straight journalistic approach to Radio City, compiling interviews with the parties involved in the making of the album. As Eaton notes in his preface, the Big Star story is often told by people far outside of the band's personal sphere, and bandleader Alex Chilton typically remains mum, refusing to speak in interviews, when he does them, about the Big Star days that everybody is so interested in. Eaton not only speaks with Chilton – his friendship with the reluctant cult idol spurring some honest admissions – but also with fellow band members Jody Stephens and Andy Hummel, and producer John Fry, among others. In lieu of the late Chris Bell, Eaton gets a hint of the guitarist and songwriter's point of view courtesy of his brother David.

What makes Eaton's Radio City an entertaining as well as informative read, however, is his own engagement and personal relationship with the album. Not unlike a lot of the 33 1/3 series' writers, Eaton's fascination with the Radio City album borderlines on obsessive; unlike any of the other books in the series that I've read, Eaton has actually performed many of the album's songs live as a musician, playing alongside Chilton on more than one occasion. In my mind, this provides Eaton with an important edge, an insight into the creation of the album that others writing about it lack.

Eaton does a fine job of tracing the formation of Big Star in 1971, and the many influences that helped make the band what it was, including Chilton's time with the successful blue-eyed soul outfit the Boxtops during the late-60s. The opening of John Fry's Ardent Studios is discussed in length, the studio an important venue that not only helped shape the sound of Memphis rock and soul music well into the late-70s, but also providing a "hands on" learning experience for the Big Star band members who played around with the equipment and honed their instrumental and songwriting skills.

Most of all, Eaton captures the band chemistry and the emotions that went into the making of Radio City. Founding member Chris Bell had left Big Star before the album's recording in a disagreement over Chilton's growing dominance over the band, but Bell's fingerprints can be felt on songs like "September Gurls" and "Mod Lang" nonetheless. Chilton's raw vocals and fretwork are perfectly complimented by Hummel's bass and Stephen's imaginative percussion. A combination of factors went into creating the magic of Radio Star, and Eaton manages to squeeze a lot of narration about these factors out of the various players.

All in all, with 33 1/3's Radio City, Bruce Eaton captures that most elusive of qualities, "telling a stranger about rock & roll" with his loving literary account of the album, separating decades of myths and misrepresentations with the real story behind this classic band and its essential masterwork. (Continuum Books)

Want more Big Star goodness? Check out Bruce Eaton's Big Star book blog!

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Double Nickels On The Dime

Although San Pedro's favorite sons the Minutemen are almost universally praised, they are too often overlooked in favor of lesser punk bands like the Misfits or the Germs. True, the band's landmark Double Nickels On The Dime album is typically named as one of the genre's standing classics, but methinks that, much like Rodney Dangerfield, the Minutemen never really get the respect they deserve. I'd be willing to bet that many young punk rockers these days are more familiar with Green Day, NoFX, Hot Water Music or even the Misfits than with the Minutemen.

This is an oversight that author/professor Michael T. Fournier is trying to correct with his 33 1/3 series book on the Minutemen's Double Nickels On The Dime album. A well-known music journalist that has been published by both online and print magazines like Pitchfork, Chunklet, and Perfect Sound Forever, Fournier also teaches students at Tufts University about the history of punk rock. Fournier often uses Double Nickels On The Dime in his classes, exposing a new generation of punk fans to this incredible album.

The Minutemen were originally formed as the Reactionaries in San Pedro in 1980 by guitarist/singer D. Boon, bassist Mike Watt and drummer Frank Tonche, along with a second guitarist. George Hurley would replace Tonche, the other guitarist would disappear, and the trio changed its name to the more familiar Minutemen – mostly because the bulk of the band's songs didn't extend beyond the 60-second mark. Signed to SST Records, the Minutemen released its Paranoid Time EP in 1981, following with a full-length album, The Punch Line, later that year.

The band built its reputation by touring anywhere somebody would book them, often travelling with Black Flag, and even playing with R.E.M. at one time. By the time that they recorded their fourth album, the two-record Double Nickels On The Dime, the Minutemen had created an eclectic trademark sound that mixed hardcore punk with free-form jazz and scraps of pop, folk, and rock music. Only one of the album's 44 songs comes within spitting distance of 3-minutes in length, most falling comfortably in the one-and-a-half to two minute range, each song a short, sharp shock like a poke from a high-voltage cattle prod.

Fournier dissects the album, side-by-side, song-by-song, supplementing his own substantial insight with comments and memories from the Minutemen's Mike Watt, fellow musicians like Black Flag's Chuck Dukowski, and other friends and followers of the band. Fournier tells how the album's sequencing came to be, diving deep into each song and exploring the creative energy behind every tune. By covering the album as he does, the writer also provides plenty of back story, band history, and an overall glimpse into the early-to-mid-80s west coast punk rock scene.

If Fournier's classes are anything like this book, they'd be a lot of fun to sit in on. Fournier writes with an easy-going tone, combining the enthusiasm of the unabashed fanboy with the everything-but-the-kitchen sink style of the modern music journalist. It makes for a complete story, to be sure, but also provides the reader with new insight into and newfound appreciation of the band's work.

Although I don't believe that the Minutemen get anywhere near the respect they deserve, the continued efforts of Mike Watt, combined with the support of fans like Michael T. Fournier, has kept the band's flame burning bright. If not for frontman D. Boon's tragic death in 1985, the Minutemen would certainly have made the jump to a major label and a larger audience along with friends like Husker Du and Sonic Youth. Still, the band's legacy and influence is enormous, largely fueled by the excellence of Double Nickels On The Dime. (Continuum Books)

(Click on the book or CD cover to buy from Amazon.com)

Slayer's Reign In Blood Revisited

Slayer's Reign In Blood album is, perhaps, the most brutal, chilling, and uncompromising heavy metal album in the history of the genre…and also one of the most influential. Released in 1986 to mixed reaction from the fledgling metal press and almost ignored by a mainstream music media that had its collective nose up in the air, Reign In Blood has withstood the test of time, emerging two decades later to stand as not only a landmark of all things metal, but also as an illustration of the limitless creativity possible in rock music.

In his excellent 33 1/3 series book on the album – part of Continuum's respected series that dissects one important album at a time – writer D.X. Ferris pulls off an admirable tightrope walk. As both a fan and a critic, Ferris manages to convey a sense of excitement about the album even as he pulls the reader headfirst into the world of Slayer. By talking to band members, other musicians, friends and other people around the band at the time, hardcore fans…even respected studio engineer Andy Wallace…Ferris pulls together as complete a picture of the making of Reign In Blood as you'll likely ever read.

After establishing the album's bona fides and importance, Ferris jumps into brief, albeit insightful, mini-bios of each of Slayer's band members. By outlining the distinct and disparate personalities of the players, Ferris brings greater weight to the band's chemistry and subsequent accomplishments. He discusses the band's initial flirtation with, and eventual signing by super-producer Rick Rubin to his Def Jam label. Rubin himself is also the subject of a fascinating profile by the writer.

With a true fan's enthusiasm, Ferris goes on to outline the creation of Reign In Blood, from the album's earliest writing stages through the final mix, and even the making of the cover art. In doing so, he takes the reader behind the scenes into the heart of Slayer's creative process, spotlights how Rubin works in the studio, and describes how the album's songs were developed. This might sound like it would be a dry, boring read, but Ferris tells the tale with humor and intelligence. The context that Ferris includes, combined with the comments and insider information provided by over four dozen interview subjects, together they paint a fascinating story.

Ferris delves into the aftermath of Reign In Blood's recording…CBS Records' refusal to release the album, controversy over the album's gruesome cover art, even questions over Slayer's alleged satanic leanings. Targeted by Tipper Gore's Parent's Music Resource Center (PMRC), Slayer shows were picketed by right-leaning Christian groups. Rubin subsequently moved his Def Jam Records from CBS to Geffen Records for distribution, kicking off a long and beneficial relationship for both labels (and Slayer).

Finally, Ferris breaks down the album song-by-song, a critical dissection that puts each performance under the microscope, lending every song the benefit of hindsight. It's one of the most interesting sections of the book, serving to dismiss some old controversies and, perhaps, ignite some new firestorms, blending observation with opinion (both those of Ferris and the folks he interviewed) to provide each song with deeper contextual roots. The book closes with the legacy left behind by Reign In Blood, the influence the album had on later generations of musicians, and its long-standing importance in the face of the temporary nature of pop music.

Ferris is a fine writer that brings a professional tone and journalistic approach to his fanboy appreciation for the band. His prose is easy and free-flowing, both engaging and informative. The best that could be said is that if you don't already own a copy of Slayer's Reign In Blood, this book will prompt you to go out and purchase the album. It is the perfect companion to Slayer's groundbreaking effort, one of those rare music books that compliments and enhances the art it covers. (Continuum Books)

(Click on the book or CD cover to buy from Amazon.com)

The Who Sell Out

The Who Sell Out is, undeniably, one of the legendary rock band’s most adventuresome yet lighthearted of albums. A tribute to the notorious pirate radio stations that operated off the coast of England during the mid-60s, The Who Sell Out mixes Pete Townshend’s uncanny ear for melody (songs like “Glittering Girl” and the Top Ten hit “I Can See For Miles”) with made-up jingles and fake radio commercials that echo the sounds then being heard by UK teens from stations like Radio London.

Author John Dougan attempts to dissect and analyze this classic album with his book The Who Sell Out, part of Continuum’s rightfully acclaimed 33 1/3 series of books. The result of Dougan’s efforts is a delightful trip in the wayback machine to the swinging sixties of London and a British music scene dominated by the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks and the Who. Dougan sets the stage for the story with a personal recollection, talking about the differences between him and his father, not only in their musical preferences, but also in their relative degree of musical fanaticism. Whereas family and obligation caused his father to put aside music as an adult, the younger Dougan – not unlike many of us children of the ‘50s – became hopelessly addicted to rock & roll, an affliction that the author has obviously carried to the present day.

It was his unquenchable thirst for new music…a trait also shared by many collectors and critics…that led Dougan to discover the British Invasion and, subsequently, the Who. In a strange twist of fate, however, it wasn’t until he was in his 20s that this hardcore Who fan finally added a copy of The Who Sell Out to his personal library. Such are the fortunes of the music fan, and when Dougan describes living in a “cultural backwater” in Massachusetts, many of us can identify. I remember living in a rural suburb of Nashville, my lifeline to the outside world consisting of copies of Creem magazine, dog-eared by constant reading, and the irregular packages of promo albums sent for review by my editor Rick Johnson at Sunrise.

Dougan lays the groundwork for the recording of The Who Sell Out by going into the history of the UK pirate radio scene with some detail. I find this aspect quite fascinating, the thought that a handful of illegal offshore stations like Radio London and Radio Caroline could have such a cultural impact is mind-boggling. There was nothing like this phenomenon in the United States – pirate stations stateside were erratic, disappearing frequently, and were greatly limited by America’s size and geography. Dougan provides interesting details on the history of England’s state-sponsored media, the BBC’s reluctance to embrace rock & roll an important deciding factor in the creation and popularity of the UK pirates.

Dougan’s discussion of ‘60s-era art and art theory is equally fascinating, his exploration of the influence of these factors on Pete Townshend’s work ties together disparate snapshots previously provided by the band’s biographers like Dave Marsh and Richard Barnes. No artist lives in a vacuum, and Townshend was certainly no exception, and the opportunities to immerse one’s self in radical and thought-provoking cultural scenes during the era were seemingly endless. There was an almost unbelievable co-mingling of art and commerce in those days, unthinkable by today’s “alternative” mindset, but much of what we think of as classic works from the ‘60s were fresh, original and unabashedly commercial.

It was from this miasma of art and commerce that Pete Townshend conceived of The Who Sell Out. Townshend’s aim was not, as the album’s title implies, to actually “sell out” but rather to offer listeners, as Dougan describes it, “a celebration of the zeitgeist, a joyous reaffirmation of the discrete cultural elements that had defined British postwar popular culture and the Who as a pop art musical experience.” Townshend correctly found British pop culture to be less cynical and more positively-oriented than that of America, and it’s true that the British have, and continue to embrace a much wider range and diversity of cultural media.

Dougan recounts the creative and technical obstacles that were overcome during the making of The Who Sell Out and, sadly, tells of the album’s immediate commercial failure. A bit too cerebral, perhaps, for mainstream audiences, the album’s fortunes waned after the last chords of “I Can See For Miles” disappeared from the charts. Undaunted, the Who would go onto greater triumphs and tragedies but, strangely enough, The Who Sell Out continues to hang around, 40 years after its initial release. An intriguing and many-layered work of art, the album continues to win converts and influence people long after its “sell by” date has expired. Just as importantly, Dougan outlines how the album was a vital work, aiding the Who’s transformation from a chart-topping pop band into a legendary rock band.

The Who Sell Out is a worthy addition to the 33 1/3 series. Dougan’s prose is lively and informative, his insights well-considered and crafted by spending most of a lifetime living with and considering this often overlooked album. His account of the cultural forces that helped shape Townshend’s work is immensely important in a historical context, and I can see myself referring back to this tome in the future. Unlike many of the well-written books in the 33 1/3 series, Dougan’s The Who Sell Out provides a textural framework that actually enhances the listening experience rather than merely supporting an album’s critical credentials. Dougan’s efforts made a fellow Who fanatic listen to The Who Sell Out with fresh ears, and for that I thank him! (Continuum Books)

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