tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-281857863081057302024-03-17T13:34:47.871-04:00That Devil MusicThat Devil Music.com: The Reverend's Rock 'n' Roll ArchivesRev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.comBlogger1251125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-22765390909820383102024-03-15T07:00:00.011-04:002024-03-15T07:00:00.143-04:00Archive Review: Osker's Treatment 5 (2003)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3tNrclli86rpxEO8T5JZjz0FC0FAQwG8y8-vtQyC7YI7PbytAEBL3sXRmRZWbJDL5knAQvuUlFx7GdPzI45I7ul-2we5Kc0Q6RsEHNc2tI3v1XAGtejqAL2yIEjm_Ly1HvYD4I9PVJzAFXVPkM94OFZRTVwypgMoSyN9sWmJWuzVPSlwgF2QCvPVKuw/s500/Osker-TREATMENT%205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Osker's Treatment 5" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3tNrclli86rpxEO8T5JZjz0FC0FAQwG8y8-vtQyC7YI7PbytAEBL3sXRmRZWbJDL5knAQvuUlFx7GdPzI45I7ul-2we5Kc0Q6RsEHNc2tI3v1XAGtejqAL2yIEjm_Ly1HvYD4I9PVJzAFXVPkM94OFZRTVwypgMoSyN9sWmJWuzVPSlwgF2QCvPVKuw/w320-h320/Osker-TREATMENT%205.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Back in the day, if one had a mind to, you could drive up to Birmingham, Michigan (home of the legendary <i>Creem</i> magazine) and cruise down Woodward Avenue all the way into downtown Detroit. There was no reason, really, to do so – any such trip would take about an hour and put a carload of overzealous alkies at risk in several police jurisdictions. Sure, there’d be stops along the way – at burger joints, clubs, wherever – looking for something else to drink, something happening or somebody special. Mostly we did it just to get our ya-ya’s out, driving down the highway with the windows down and a rock ‘n’ roll soundtrack fueling our youthful dreams of a better place. A good cassette deck might boast of a playlist that included Iggy & the Stooges, the MC5, Ted Nugent, and maybe indie artists like Destroy All Monsters, Flirt, or the Mutants. <br /><br />Osker’s <i>Treatment 5</i> would have fit in right nicely with that weekly tradition. Cranking out the same sort of high-voltage tuneage that used to accompany us on those much-anticipated Saturday night drives, <i>Treatment 5</i> is chock full of snotty vocals, ringing guitars, and relentless rhythms. Powerful punk rock with a vital edge, songs like “Life Sucks,” “Lucky,” or the appropriately reverent “Radio” would sound great blaring out of a car radio, driving towards whatever conclusion fate has in store. Mining a musical vein not unlike early Green Day or Offspring, Osker puts enough frantic energy into their material to prevent it from being watered down by pop influences. As a result, <i>Treatment 5</i> is a non-stop rock ‘n’ roller coaster, a thrill-a-minute punk rock ride that you’ll want to take time and time again. (Epitaph Records)<br /><br /><i>Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine, 2000</i><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-29443043654017669732024-03-15T06:30:00.000-04:002024-03-15T06:30:00.245-04:00The View On Pop Culture: John Hiatt, Pearl Jam, Elvis Costello (2003)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb1b3CuQGNQKBaCdKQUbp6b3gmybgKiO5-_gWO1aRFAoAuQy1eL3VrB_NTUavl8xy-llEyfNWL9Bt7agvvFtkcauhqMELu424LmKhTJoUcsyROrsYchajgbSjALCj9jlpCusLu2j-qbD3siDaNw0HcX03NKycZCTIlFimdUUu1oumckOnTw7TVCyImfU/s1200/John%20Hiatt-Beneath%20This%20Gruff%20Exterior.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="John Hiatt’s Beneath This Gruff Exterior" border="0" data-original-height="1073" data-original-width="1200" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb1b3CuQGNQKBaCdKQUbp6b3gmybgKiO5-_gWO1aRFAoAuQy1eL3VrB_NTUavl8xy-llEyfNWL9Bt7agvvFtkcauhqMELu424LmKhTJoUcsyROrsYchajgbSjALCj9jlpCusLu2j-qbD3siDaNw0HcX03NKycZCTIlFimdUUu1oumckOnTw7TVCyImfU/w320-h286/John%20Hiatt-Beneath%20This%20Gruff%20Exterior.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.66</b><br /><br />Next year’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame inductees were recently announced, the list including the late George Harrison, Bob Seger, and Prince, among others. The foundation that nominates inductees has consistently overlooked many credible “hall of famers,” especially in the genres of punk (no Sex Pistols), heavy metal (no Black Sabbath) and R&B artists (too many to mention). Of course, not every performing musician can, or should be inducted into the Hall of Fame, but too many excellent artists/bands have been overlooked to believe that the process has any intelligence behind it at all. <br /><br />As a recording artist, <b><a href="https://www.johnhiatt.com/" target="_blank">John Hiatt</a></b> has never achieved much more than cult status. He has never sold a lot of records; certainly not as many as other artists have recording Hiatt’s songs. Over the course of almost thirty years, however, Hiatt has forged a career of quiet excellence, creating nearly twenty consistently solid albums and writing hundreds of remarkable songs that lesser talents will be recording for decades to come. Entering his fourth decade of writing and performing, Hiatt epitomizes the spirit of rock ‘n’ roll, and if he never makes the Hall of Fame, it will be that institution’s loss. <br /><br />Hiatt’s <i>Beneath This Gruff Exterior</i> (New West Records) is another fine effort on the part of the underrated songwriter and his top-notch band the Goners. For those unfamiliar with Hiatt’s creative “modus operandi,” he pens literate songs that are peopled with brilliant characters – losers and lovers, the lost and the redeemed. Hiatt’s rough, soulful vocals are kind of like a frayed blanket, scratchy and worn but warm and familiar. The music is a mix of roots-rock, Memphis soul, Delta blues, country and folk, which is why Hiatt’s material lends itself so well to various interpretations. <i>Beneath This Gruff Exterior</i> showcases both Hiatt’s songwriting skills and the road-worn chemistry of the Goners. Hiatt is not a bad guitarist, but he smartly steps aside and lets maestro Sonny Landreth fill his songs with whiplash slide work and a hint of bayou swamp-rock instrumental gumbo. The seasoned rhythm section of bassist Dave Ranson and drummer Kenneth Bevins keep an admirable beat beneath the festivities so that the magician Hiatt can weave his lyrical tales. <br /><br />The radio-ready "The Nagging Dark” rolls along like the runaway hearts of the song’s characters while “Circle Back” remembers the fleeting nature of friendships and family and the passage of time. “Almost Fed Up With the Blues,” fueled by Landreth’s red-hot picking, is a brilliant anti-blues blues song, the protagonist sick and tired of being sick and tired. Hiatt’s imagery on “The Most Unoriginal Sin” is nearly the equal of vintage Dylan, Landreth’s shimmering fretwork creating an eerie atmosphere behind Hiatt’s somber vocals, the song’s star-crossed lover doomed before the first chorus strikes. <i>Beneath This Gruff Exterior</i> may not be the hall-of-fame caliber talent’s best album, but it doesn’t fall far from the top.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-MlId2I7owHSPROeuFscqE4ogZ0YPGTrVOUjF5-pr9HHvRqBu_cEF9peWeGUtoTyQADjqQg-A45S-D_YhaG4ThNtlHWDNFN9lEURYRnZ1gifjIJ3bnDiL7E0HkN2RwsvWFjbTg4Uap4qVrhpi7TvLYuHcwuIG2uN7tiIYWDgX389sEwVwV6Zslwh1sE/s1500/Pearl%20Jam-LOST%20DOGS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pearl Jam's Lost Dogs" border="0" data-original-height="1343" data-original-width="1500" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-MlId2I7owHSPROeuFscqE4ogZ0YPGTrVOUjF5-pr9HHvRqBu_cEF9peWeGUtoTyQADjqQg-A45S-D_YhaG4ThNtlHWDNFN9lEURYRnZ1gifjIJ3bnDiL7E0HkN2RwsvWFjbTg4Uap4qVrhpi7TvLYuHcwuIG2uN7tiIYWDgX389sEwVwV6Zslwh1sE/w320-h287/Pearl%20Jam-LOST%20DOGS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>As one of the two most important rock bands to come out of the early ‘90s Seattle scene, <b>Pearl Jam</b> are pretty much ensured a spot in the hallowed hall. With the band’s multi-million selling 1991 debut <i>Ten</i>, Pearl Jam created a blueprint for much of the rest of rock ‘n’ roll to follow during the decade, spawning dozens of sound-alike bands. During the ‘90s, though, Pearl Jam deliberately turned its back on stardom, eschewing the trappings of celebrity in favor of making honest and, at times, difficult music that will take critics years to digest. With literally over a hundred live performance discs released, it’s hard to believe that Pearl Jam built its legacy on the strength of a mere seven studio albums.<br /><br /><i>Lost Dogs</i> (Epic Records) is a two-CD collection of rare tracks, obscurities and B-sides compiled by the band. Presenting only a portion of the wealth of unreleased/barely-released material allegedly recorded by the band, <i>Lost Dogs</i> is nevertheless a nice bookend to Pearl Jam’s major label years. The thirty songs here include a couple of legitimate hits, including “Last Kiss;” a handful of the band’s live staples, like “Yellow Ledbetter;” and some great undiscovered songs like “Hitchhiker” and “All Night.” Hardcore fans probably have a lot of the songs here, but it’s nice to have it in one two-disc set with song-by-song liner notes by the band members. Pearl Jam’s importance and influence on rock ‘n’ roll has yet to be truly measured, and as the band begins a new era among the ranks of the indie label world, who knows what great music they’ll create in years to come? <br /> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkin5pvOnFaGPxM8l-Gb9aiOi5FUqWCnxOj3WKd2TewUnWJwYz22NxkG8f6O-4gxGqITWhwMU5mSM7J1Pee_Ce7ndmufMSFt_Kb84Vzckmw1YpFe0ICo5GeHH7WpqkUTuEz6ZX4ezFGk9uNLQYLKLdpdc_gk49hd52lGkv1c0hRSwWlloc2mhVnixz8M/s1400/Elvis%20Costello-GET%20HAPPY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Elvis Costello's Get Happy" border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="1400" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkin5pvOnFaGPxM8l-Gb9aiOi5FUqWCnxOj3WKd2TewUnWJwYz22NxkG8f6O-4gxGqITWhwMU5mSM7J1Pee_Ce7ndmufMSFt_Kb84Vzckmw1YpFe0ICo5GeHH7WpqkUTuEz6ZX4ezFGk9uNLQYLKLdpdc_gk49hd52lGkv1c0hRSwWlloc2mhVnixz8M/w320-h288/Elvis%20Costello-GET%20HAPPY.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Inducted into the Hall of Fame last year along with his backing band the Attractions, singer/songwriter <b>Elvis Costello</b> may well receive a second induction in the future as a solo artist. Rhino Records has done an excellent job reissuing Costello’s entire recorded oeuvre as low-priced, double-disc sets overflowing with bonus material and extensive liner notes by the artist. It’s been a veritable bonanza for Costello fanatics, no single album so much as the recently reissued <i>Get Happy!!</i> No small creative achievement when it was originally released as a 20-track vinyl album in 1980, Costello’s overlooked fourth album recasts the angry young punk as a blue-eyed soul crooner. <br /><br /><i>Get Happy!!</i> ventures into Motown-styled pop, Stax-flavored R&B and classic Northern soul all delivered with punkish intensity by the world’s best rock band. It’s a magnificent collection, with highlights like “New Amsterdam,” “High Fidelity,” and “Riot Act” standing tall among a strong collection of songs. The “bonus disc” offers an astonishing thirty more tracks, highlighting both Costello’s prolific late ‘70s songwriting and the Attractions’ unflagging devotion to the material. No mere rehashing of unnecessary crap, the second disc provides valuable insight into Costello’s work with wonderful alternative takes, live tracks and early versions of songs that would appear on later albums. If you stopped listening to Elvis Costello with 1979’s <i>Armed Forces</i>, you owe it to yourself to discover <i>Get Happy!!</i><br /><br />Costello’s 1981 album <i>Trust</i> (Rhino) proved to be somewhat of a departure for the artist. The album benefited from the immense workload taken on by Costello and the Attractions during the previous four years: four full-length albums, numerous tours and over 100 recorded songs shaped the composer and his mates into tight musical machine. As such, they tackle various styles and musical experiments with confidence and gusto. The beginning, perhaps, of Costello’s turn towards more “serious,” adult-styled music, <i>Trust</i> holds several gems, from the raucous “From A Whisper To A Scream” to the manic pop of “White Knuckles” to the charming “Pretty Words.” The bonus disc includes 17 songs and, while none are as revelatory as the material included with <i>Get Happy!!</i>, there are some nice moments, such as “Black Sails In the Sunset” and “Sad About Girls.” Considered by Costello connoisseurs as the artist’s last great album with the Attractions, <i>Trust</i> is well worth checking out. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003) <br /><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-76262887049487301852024-03-08T07:00:00.000-05:002024-03-08T07:00:00.178-05:00Archive Review: Metallica's S & M (2000)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NGB-Atd_5C_ki1ntV8TuMTmr8YjkBeMdUJIekKQVX66PkTUCQDbex8BTVTadSpzswwG_xvV7Pk6e3VrypMQ82NLBaIoxoR1jNOuvR5e3s25dl8wITkGl-fVaprgDr90yl8D_Va2N2wAH2GGvkS8qE6a74khZiFQbv_T4Mp960Zo1AYwUEWQbZGHOdZs/s1079/Metallica-S&M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Metallica's S & M" border="0" data-original-height="1079" data-original-width="1062" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NGB-Atd_5C_ki1ntV8TuMTmr8YjkBeMdUJIekKQVX66PkTUCQDbex8BTVTadSpzswwG_xvV7Pk6e3VrypMQ82NLBaIoxoR1jNOuvR5e3s25dl8wITkGl-fVaprgDr90yl8D_Va2N2wAH2GGvkS8qE6a74khZiFQbv_T4Mp960Zo1AYwUEWQbZGHOdZs/w315-h320/Metallica-S&M.jpg" width="315" /></a></div>Working with a symphony orchestra is a lengthy, time-honored tradition in rock ‘n’ roll. Procul Harum did it, as did the Moody Blues, among others, while extraordinary guitarist, music satirist, and rock icon Frank Zappa used to write his own symphonies and hire the orchestra to play them. So it should have come as no surprise, really, when <b><a href="https://www.metallica.com/" target="_blank">Metallica</a></b> decided to collaborate with the San Francisco Symphony for a couple nights of heavy metal sturm und drang. The result, captured by the two-CD set <i>S & M</i>, is quite stunning. Although the recording has stirred up mixed feelings among hard-line, old-time head-bashers, the twenty-one songs presented here are a wonderful pairing of Metallica’s brand of grandiose hard rock and the dignity and electricity of a classical symphonic setting. Classical composers like Beethoven, Mozart and Wagner were the rock stars of their day, and any music lover recognizes the majesty and power of their works. Metallica’s James Hetfield has always been one of the more larger-then-life, Wagnerian songwriters in rock, so the virtual “greatest hits” line-up on <i>S & M</i> showcases the band’s talents in a different light. <br /><br />Metallica sacrifice none of the iron and steel sound of their material here. In fact, Hetfield’s voice sounds even more powerful and dominant, soaring to new heights for these performances, while the rest of the band enthusiastically kicks ass as well. The San Francisco Symphony gets to show its considerable chops on a very different style of music, both entities playing well off each other, infusing songs like “Enter Sandman,” “Until It Sleeps,” “Master of Puppets” and “For Whom the Bell Tolls” with new life and energy. Ever the fan favorites, Metallica include a couple of cool new tunes in “Human” and “No Leaf Clover” among the better-known material. If you’re a music lover unfamiliar with Metallica, you should check out <i>S & M</i> and if you’re a long-time fan of the band who have written them off as ‘has-beens’ you should listen to <i>S & M</i> again. If the potent mix of Hetfield’s vocals, Kirk Hammet’s raging guitar and the San Francisco Symphony’s swirling strings and loud percussion on “Wherever I May Roam” doesn’t send a surge down your spine, then you’re either dead or too fucking stupid to appreciate art when you hear it. (Elektra Records)<br /><br /><i>Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine, 2000</i><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-6054592457359300942024-03-08T06:30:00.026-05:002024-03-08T06:30:00.130-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Jet, The Juliana Theory, Ted Leo (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioROeKv-z1gFl7oy-cdHPcjHS802YYGQ8ClfehN-uT-bmuYZXTTNb8-Vw6THvda3dHbDDHdau4Ycv_aql7OcYV1qjqpS7gqVAHjA6xgYm244IkmP3kUfDCSqAjbFRNZ_zH3Tb2AHpOd7nIBe5jsjSZQQTOt2xjjCvymZ1Qog-BnYKDzQxRMLh8uN-3Hkc/s1500/Jet-GET%20BORN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Jet's Get Born" border="0" data-original-height="1496" data-original-width="1500" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioROeKv-z1gFl7oy-cdHPcjHS802YYGQ8ClfehN-uT-bmuYZXTTNb8-Vw6THvda3dHbDDHdau4Ycv_aql7OcYV1qjqpS7gqVAHjA6xgYm244IkmP3kUfDCSqAjbFRNZ_zH3Tb2AHpOd7nIBe5jsjSZQQTOt2xjjCvymZ1Qog-BnYKDzQxRMLh8uN-3Hkc/w320-h319/Jet-GET%20BORN.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.65</b><br /><br />If you’ve read this column, or any other music-oriented scribbling during the past year, then you are probably aware that a full-fledged “garage-rock” revival is underway. What all the scribes and rock crits are actually trying to say is that after a decade of grunge, alt-rock, hip-hop, and nu-metal (all of which have their charms), there is a new wave of honest-to-Chuck Berry, guitar-driven rock ‘n’ roll edging its way onto the airwaves. Three chords, no waiting, and good times are right around the corner (if you live in Detroit or NYC, maybe). Led by bands like the Strokes, the White Stripes, and the Vines, the new “garage-rock” revival is nothing more than the Seeds and the Barbarians dressed in modern garb for 21st century sensibilities.<br /><br />Which is not to say that there isn’t some great music being made behind the commercially-driven trend. The major labels, may Elvis smile down upon ‘em, can’t help but root up a truffle every now and then in their blind attempts to discover the “next big thing.” Around these parts, the biggest thing to hit the box this month is from Australia’s Jet. The band’s debut, <i>Get Born</i> (Elektra Records) is the most bone-rattling, toe-tapping collection of rock tunes to come down the pike since Julian Casablancas of the Strokes discovered a hair style that he liked. As measured by the Reverend’s trusty riffometer, <i>Get Born</i> averages an impressive forty-thrills per minute.<br /><br /><i>Get Born</i> rips open its own shrink-wrap with the pavement-pounding “Last Chance,” kicking off with a monster drumbeat, slash-n-burn guitar riffs, and young, loud and snotty vocals reminiscent of the Yardbirds in the band’s prime. “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” is the best White Stripes knock-off that you’ll hear this year, a full-blown blues-rock rave-up that roars like a rabid freight train ready to twist off the tracks. The rest of <i>Get Born</i> is equally audacious, songs like the fuzzbox romp “Get What You Need” and the bouncy “Rollover D.J.” mixing sloppy, <i>Nuggets</i>-inspired throwback rock with vintage ‘70s vibe (think Mott, as in the Hoople) and chart-happy ‘90s-styled Britpop (i.e. Oasis). Unlike a lot of garage-rock poseurs hopping on today’s bandwagon, Jet sound like they were weaned on old 45s, delivering the real goods with a smile and a sincerity largely missing from their kissing cousins in America.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6qfjzf8C-lsib3dg_5vXs3R1hKgLDO0ORcNh1ahxyVySELm7OPLDMDvn-GZGmtfVts2Cg0Jjiy72pW1f6e8iRAn4HV0BvDZc9C6I_ap3UP3O3qimjX7E6hlzJ0hS7QZOKUl4D92vk2yo05YgV-q9c-Cj_69DBgjKXCsZ12-kbMYpgGbpjUS7THCkDcQ/s1500/Juliana%20Theory-LOVE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6qfjzf8C-lsib3dg_5vXs3R1hKgLDO0ORcNh1ahxyVySELm7OPLDMDvn-GZGmtfVts2Cg0Jjiy72pW1f6e8iRAn4HV0BvDZc9C6I_ap3UP3O3qimjX7E6hlzJ0hS7QZOKUl4D92vk2yo05YgV-q9c-Cj_69DBgjKXCsZ12-kbMYpgGbpjUS7THCkDcQ/s320/Juliana%20Theory-LOVE.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Somewhere in the shadowy Netherlands between punk rock and hardcore lies the audience-friendly musical sub-sub-genre dubbed “emo” by my fellow rock crits. Featuring personal, almost confessional lyrics that are actually sung, rather than shouted behind the glorious din of instrumentation, the style has spawned its own heroes in bands like the Promise Ring and Jimmy Eat World. Emo is beginning to creep into the mainstream, and the <b>Juliana Theory</b> will be at the forefront of the movement when the masses embrace the music as their own. The Pittsburgh band recently jumped from the indie ranks into a major label deal, releasing the impressive album <i>Love</i> (Epic Records) in late 2002. <br /><br /><i>Live 10.13.2001</i> (Tooth & Nail) is the last gasp for the band on its former label, and not a bad document of the Juliana Theory’s indie rock roots. Recorded live in the band’s hometown just weeks before signing with Epic, <i>Live 10.13.2001</i> draws its material from the Juliana Theory’s first two albums. The performance reveals a band in transition, discovering its power and evolving beyond the cultish emo audience and into a radio-friendly, ready-for-primetime rock ‘n’ roll band. Songs like “Music Box Superhero” and “Into the Dark” showcase soaring vocals matched by rattlesnake guitars and earth-shaking rhythms, intelligent, emotionally accessible lyrics reeling in young listeners like a trout gobbling an worm. With decent songs and a sound that connects to the audience, <i>Live 10.12.2001</i> is a welcome addition to the Juliana Theory canon.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgad_-IFhfeAssWucNpUlWyQaeMgTmKzIp9Fmc4G86lti3cKZOha_4n1S6k40bHgRnJeFmea4Bv1JzH3J0hVTJ-u-xcSM2s_G9VK2S-eLIbG3o1hsSYZod5M762BTWN0kR3OZvk1JNtdQuybfLI0_kPg1_YdTBoIJaAZt9GG2xlsEBj6_2kWNaqY3m74/s300/Ted%20Leo-TELL%20BELGEARY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Ted Leo's Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead" border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgad_-IFhfeAssWucNpUlWyQaeMgTmKzIp9Fmc4G86lti3cKZOha_4n1S6k40bHgRnJeFmea4Bv1JzH3J0hVTJ-u-xcSM2s_G9VK2S-eLIbG3o1hsSYZod5M762BTWN0kR3OZvk1JNtdQuybfLI0_kPg1_YdTBoIJaAZt9GG2xlsEBj6_2kWNaqY3m74/s16000/Ted%20Leo-TELL%20BELGEARY.jpg" /></a></div>In the perfect world that critics and the crazed like myself are always referring to, <b>Ted Leo</b> would be a fat and sassy rock ‘n’ roll superstar and Justin Timberlake would be a mere footnote in the annals of popular music. Leo has been around for over a decade, fronting the influential tho’ little-known band Chisel and working the solo angle with his mates the Pharmacists. Leo released the excellent <i>Hearts of Oak</i> (Lookout Records) earlier this year, the album a shoo-in for many rock crit’s end-of-the-year “best of” lists. The lengthy nine-song EP Tell <i>Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead</i> (Lookout Records) is a nice follow-up, a tasty collection of new songs, covers, and a couple of overlooked tunes from <i>Hearts of Oak</i> filling out a highly recommended disc. <br /> <br />Leo so effortlessly mixes punk and folk-rock with shades of British mod and Stax-styled soul that one wonders why the world hasn’t recognized his genius. Influences here include Billy Bragg and Elvis Costello, the Kinks and the Jam, but with a world of music to draw from, Leo isn’t one to be limited to a single style. His voice is a passionate, high lonesome wail that reminds me of the substance, if not exactly the style, of Roy Orbison’s wonderful vocals, Leo capable of great verbal gymnastics. The verbose, poetic lyrics of songs like “The High Party” and “The Sword In the Stone” and the title track showcase a sardonic intelligence and clever wordplay, evincing a certain world-weariness, syllables rolling off Leo’s tongue like rainwater from a tin roof. <br /><br />The choice of cover songs is spot-on, Ewan McColl’s charming “Dirty Old Town” reverently delivered as a fast-paced raver while Leo easily mimics Neil Finn with a spry reading of Split Enz’ “Six Months In A Leaky Boat.” Leo’s original “Loyal To My Sorrowful Country” is a tour de force, the patriotic artist turning his back on a country that has turned away from its people, Leo’s energetic six-string work channeling every musical dissident from Leadbelly and Woody Guthrie to Bob Dylan and Billy Bragg. Why waste your hard-earned money on commercially approved dreck like Sheryl Crow or Clay Aiken when an artist as thought provoking, intelligent and entertaining as Ted Leo waits on the fringes of pop culture? (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003) <br /><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-90225916968422772542024-03-01T07:00:00.010-05:002024-03-01T07:00:00.136-05:00Archive Review: Joseph Arthur's Come To Where I’m From (2000)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipeOM5TLBqx1vnuzoIHpedC2QPyv3PEF_MByt5wAqam1eJk6jFKXPPAmj6MhyRtJrDXGL4qkHQ_KsKn379ElmnfpFv4z0z9JNbyBiaFq12q8ewDzx141VB7u8kejFk78nCS2b1-tyNaBciUkK2-L6J2NiIdvUWhzZ34OD4DeYZFp415EC_9mGOchE5E_Q/s1200/Joseph%20Arthur-Come%20To%20Where%20I%E2%80%99m%20From.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Joseph Arthur's Come To Where I’m From" border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1200" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipeOM5TLBqx1vnuzoIHpedC2QPyv3PEF_MByt5wAqam1eJk6jFKXPPAmj6MhyRtJrDXGL4qkHQ_KsKn379ElmnfpFv4z0z9JNbyBiaFq12q8ewDzx141VB7u8kejFk78nCS2b1-tyNaBciUkK2-L6J2NiIdvUWhzZ34OD4DeYZFp415EC_9mGOchE5E_Q/w320-h284/Joseph%20Arthur-Come%20To%20Where%20I%E2%80%99m%20From.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>Joseph Arthur</b> is the latest in a long line of acoustic-based folk-rock troubadours that probably began with Tim Buckley and will carry on in an eternal, unending cycle of songs appealing to teenage girls needing a sensitive male artist to swoon over. Not that I have anything against such artists – they’re certainly preferable to the pre-fab and coldly-calculated pop dreck of boy bands like N’Sync. Truth be told, there was something morbidly satisfying about Buckley’s suicidal death-wish poetry and anti-celebrity introversion that even brought down as stalwart a rocker as Kurt Cobain (not to mention probably cursed his son Jeff at birth). <br /><br />With the exception of a couple of songs, however, Arthur only displays two speeds on <i>Come To Where I’m From</i> – morose and moroser. Those exceptions can be pretty crunchy, like the Nirvana-styled “Exhausted” or the rambling “Creation of A Stain.” More often than not, however, Arthur merely provides us with a teasing false start, as with the wickedly distorted guitar that opens “History” or the discordant percussion that frames “Eyes On My Back.” Mostly Arthur merely drones on above a lush musical soundtrack produced with his usual deft hand by T-Bone Burnett. If you’re into the sensitive, troubled troubadour kind of thing, you’ll find that Arthur does it as well as anybody on <i>Come To Where I’m From</i>. <br /><br />Personally, I’ll take my pain straight, no chaser, with blues artists like Robert Johnson or Son House, or just bludgeon myself into an uncaring, blissful state with a glorious din from the likes of Motörhead. Either way, I’ll wake up in the morning with only a fraction of the self-loathing and lack of respect felt by Arthur and his ilk. Extra bonus: the cover art and inside graphics for <i>Come To Where I’m From</i> are from paintings by Arthur, a sure sign of multi-artistic compulsion. (Real World/Virgin Records)<br /><i><br />Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine, 2000 </i><br /><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-10074027746657348062024-03-01T06:30:00.000-05:002024-03-01T06:30:00.126-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Corb Lund Band, Steve Wynn & The Miracle 3, Gordon Lightfoot Tribute (2003)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax7sBF4VTmNs6Q1npNIIEughAvy622BbipICMhHz8o3emRYIZDW-01OKXWd_OE0cOt6_ydu4lsTS6ryHhuNqawSJsTtI_EL8Afr9SNtsTmSk37yOyB3VxFcDom4BsV11_E0bXa0Osv-wpEBnY_oB_jpArJF3E5dKMEHJCm6U9yxQTR_vu11wA1q3va9Q/s1500/Corb%20Lund-FIVE%20DOLLAR.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Corb Lund Band's Five Dollar Bill" border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax7sBF4VTmNs6Q1npNIIEughAvy622BbipICMhHz8o3emRYIZDW-01OKXWd_OE0cOt6_ydu4lsTS6ryHhuNqawSJsTtI_EL8Afr9SNtsTmSk37yOyB3VxFcDom4BsV11_E0bXa0Osv-wpEBnY_oB_jpArJF3E5dKMEHJCm6U9yxQTR_vu11wA1q3va9Q/w320-h320/Corb%20Lund-FIVE%20DOLLAR.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.64</b><br /><br />There are a lot of imitation cowboys shuffling down the streets of Nashville’s “Music Row” these days, with snakeskin boots, tight jeans and hats blocked just right. It’s a safe bet that none of them have even a small portion of the soul, guts and, most importantly, the understanding of country & western musical tradition that Canada’s Corb Lund shows with <i>Five Dollar Bill</i> (Stony Plain Records). The third release from the Corb Lund Band, which includes moonlighting members of the Smalls and Nickelback, this one came out last year but as it just now crossed your columnist’s desk and demanded my attention, we’re going to let it swing…<br /> <br />The opening title cut of <i>Five Dollar Bill</i> rocks harder than the Broken Spoke Bar on Saturday night, noted pedal steel maestro Dan Dugmore adding his twangy flourishes to this spry tail of (dis)honor among thieves and whiskey running between Canada and the United States. The rest of the album offers an inspired blend of countrified rock, blues, and swinging honky-tonk with lyrics that are smarter and more entertaining that anything the scribes in the Music City are scribbling these days. “Apocalyptic Modified Blues” mixes Biblical and mythological imagery with a talking blues undercurrent in creating a story of woe and despair. “Time To Switch To Whiskey” offers a sure cure for what ails you while “Roughest Neck Around” is a larger-than-life tale about a modern-day John Henry. As we say down here in the lower 48, <i>Five Dollar Bill</i> offers up real poop-punting cheap thrills, Corb and his Canadian cohorts serving up country music more authentic than anything you’ll find coming out of Nashville.<br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT515BWmkt2HsZ5kz1p_DNSxz1epi_tNvDlQoV1W96KvqKcf6pUmCId8nvOCaQMItkrDuyH_8EES52fH4NE9F7ST98MeEdNg4qrJEGOrPdPrPL0uhAD9-T4L1tmSkYRiVeG996WptXARiXq6OCiIKXo8X_Iw_CG5BJueQJ7YbdaGsVKkmvU9UwmvhsixA/s500/Steve%20Wynn-STATIC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Steve Wynn's Static Transmission" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT515BWmkt2HsZ5kz1p_DNSxz1epi_tNvDlQoV1W96KvqKcf6pUmCId8nvOCaQMItkrDuyH_8EES52fH4NE9F7ST98MeEdNg4qrJEGOrPdPrPL0uhAD9-T4L1tmSkYRiVeG996WptXARiXq6OCiIKXo8X_Iw_CG5BJueQJ7YbdaGsVKkmvU9UwmvhsixA/w320-h320/Steve%20Wynn-STATIC.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Steve Wynn</b> is one of those greatly underrated artists that critics love, a songwriter and performer of unusual depth and atypical perspective. As founder of ‘80s cult band Dream Syndicate, Wynn spearheaded LA’s “Paisley Underground” movement with feedback-soaked, guitar-driven rock ‘n’ roll that was easily a decade ahead of its time. Wynn’s lengthy solo career has had its ups and downs since his first album in 1990, tho’ it’s been mostly up as of late. <i>Static Transmissions</i> (DBK Works), credited to Steve Wynn & the Miracle 3, represents another solid effort of what could be called, for lack of a better term, “psychedelic folk music.”<br /> <br />The tunes on <i>Static Transmissions</i> feature Wynn’s imaginative songwriting and wan vocals, blending folk sensibilities with ‘60s rock influences and ‘80s punk attitude. “Candy Machine” is a fuzz-drenched story-song with beautifully chiming guitars and muddy sound complimented by a melodic hook; the song belongs on modern rock radio, where it would force many bland rock wannabes back to their day jobs. A percussive guitar riff transforms into a slinky, psychedelic wall of sound on “Amphetamine,” a rocking road song with explosive six-string work and unrelenting energy. The hyperbolic instrumentation that introduces “One Less Shining Star” leads into a shimmering dirge of sound and obscured vocals while “Hollywood” cuts like Bob Dylan, or maybe Dan Bern, providing a gutsy look at California’s famed city of dreams. Truth be told, there’s not a bad song to be heard on <i>Static Transmission</i>, Steve Wynn & the Miracle 3 delivering one of the year’s best, if sadly obscure, rock albums. <br /><br />During a recent visit to the Reverend’s hometown, my old buddy John W. was extolling the virtues of legendary Canadian singer/songwriter <b>Gordon Lightfoot</b>. Anybody who listened to the radio at all during the ‘70s and ‘80s would have had to be deaf not to recognize Lightfoot’s trademark baritone and literate songwriting. Beyond the hits – larger than life tunes like “Sundown” and “If You Could Read My Mind” – I have to admit that I didn’t know much about one of Canada’s favorite sons. After our conversation, what should cross my desk but a copy of <i>Beautiful: A Tribute To Gordon Lightfoot</i> (Northern Blues Music). Usually tribute albums are a spotty proposition, and it seems that Northern Blues has been releasing more compilation discs than real albums as of late, but after a few spins of <i>Beautiful</i>, I have to admit that they got this one right.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KApWWoAbISIs1yUvrBme8dy6n4YIgptYeR508nvYchjKQJPNbTbRsDad0SP-WvWFrViW3mXq09TyL1UpeUH-iOAoN-l1f_DcaUqp-FZBvIU5a9auxvQASqHTYX28aWHI-FHk2Z6VKVFhVs2dBRljAcyrucnuUwKYXJceAzxtV90erY_4HQgiDexAzio/s599/Gordon%20Lightfoot-BEAUTIFUL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="599" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KApWWoAbISIs1yUvrBme8dy6n4YIgptYeR508nvYchjKQJPNbTbRsDad0SP-WvWFrViW3mXq09TyL1UpeUH-iOAoN-l1f_DcaUqp-FZBvIU5a9auxvQASqHTYX28aWHI-FHk2Z6VKVFhVs2dBRljAcyrucnuUwKYXJceAzxtV90erY_4HQgiDexAzio/s320/Gordon%20Lightfoot-BEAUTIFUL.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Beautiful does a wonderful job of honoring Lightfoot’s considerable songbook. Featuring mostly (heck, maybe exclusively – what do I know?) Canadian artists, <i>Beautiful</i> offers up talents like Bruce Cockburn, Jesse Winchester, Maria Muldaur, and the Cowboy Junkies. As is usual with affairs of this type, some performances work better than others do, and it’s not any different here. Jesse Winchester turns in a fiery reading of “Sundown,” sounding like dusk on the Bayou, while Cockburn’s somber take on “Ribbon of Darkness” stands in stark counterpoint to Marty Robbins’ 1965 hit with the song. James Keelaghan frames Lightfoot’s classic “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” perfectly, evoking images of the wild lands tamed by the iron rail while the Tragically Hip bring appropriate power and passion to the social commentary of “Black Day In July.” <br /><br />For this writer’s money, tho’, it is Maria Muldaur’s haunting reading of “That Same Old Obsession” that defines <i>Beautiful</i>, the song showcasing both Muldaur’s immense talents as a vocalist and Lightfoot’s ability as a timeless songwriter. Terry Tufts, Blue Rodeo and Ron Sexsmith all deliver solid performances of lesser-known Lightfoot gems while Aengus Finnan’s original song “Lightfoot” is an impressive tribute to the artist and a fitting way to close the album. <i>Beautiful</i> is a fine collection of songs and an inspired tribute to the musical treasure that is Gordon Lightfoot and well worth finding a copy! (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-6064273111328720912024-02-23T07:00:00.003-05:002024-02-23T07:00:00.130-05:00CD Review: Blank Generation: A Story of U.S./Canadian Punk & Its Aftershocks 1975-1981 (2024)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DF0AqUZxugwj4DicqZ3FHTN-Jfby0fSZ7XKWH8qgSCziCRcc8n5mWac2gsIJVhzOW6Q6VE5TCD5Hv5OIf_fJtHxOHmGpKFzFQ1pAQDZKvJw62gUldji0zOj9D1LXPGnvyv4sneRnWJ1NeELy6opHKYeXWJHFUQVEr4Xe_TDFy9sqaA5VpEXrNeVUvsA/s1200/Blank%20Generation%20box.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Blank Generation CD box set" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="841" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DF0AqUZxugwj4DicqZ3FHTN-Jfby0fSZ7XKWH8qgSCziCRcc8n5mWac2gsIJVhzOW6Q6VE5TCD5Hv5OIf_fJtHxOHmGpKFzFQ1pAQDZKvJw62gUldji0zOj9D1LXPGnvyv4sneRnWJ1NeELy6opHKYeXWJHFUQVEr4Xe_TDFy9sqaA5VpEXrNeVUvsA/w280-h400/Blank%20Generation%20box.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>Multi-disc punk rock compilations are a dime-a-dozen these days, and I’m lookin’ for the guy supplying the coin. England’s <b><a href="https://www.cherryred.co.uk/" target="_blank">Cherry Red Records</a></b> has done yeoman’s work in digging up and offering long-lost punk obscurities with a seemingly endless stream of chronological clam-shelled box sets that are all worthy of your patronage. However, with the label’s recently released <i>Blank Generation: A Story of U.S./Canadian Punk & Its Aftershocks 1975-1981</i>, they’ve outdone themselves. A deluxe five-CD box set packaged in a 5.5”x7.5” hardbound book, <i>Blank Generation</i> offers up succinct liner notes with plenty of B&W and color photos, making it as much a historical document as it is a collection of great music. <br /><br />While the set certainly ain’t cheap – I paid $50 and change for my copy – it works out to roughly a sawbuck per CD (or less than 42-cents per song). Considering the rarity of some of tracks here, any one of which you’d pay double-dollar collector’s prices to acquire on a 45rpm slab, <i>Blank Generation</i> is a steal for the dedicated punk rawk fan. It’s the music that we’re all here for, and <i>Blank Generation</i> features 130 tracks from North American punk, post-punk, and punk-adjacent bands and their various progeny. Some of the bands included verge on being household names – Blondie, Devo, and Patti Smith come to mind – while others would still be familiar to anybody that followed music rags like <i>Creem</i>, <i>Bomp!</i>, or <i>Trouser Press</i> back in the day. <br /><br />So, let’s get the niceties out of the way, shall we? Yes, <i>Blank Generation</i> includes well-worn punk “classics” that have become ubiquitous and tediously familiar for nursing home residents after nearly five decades. Scratch the obvious Richard Hell & the Voidoids’ title track off your bingo card; ditto for the Heartbreakers (“Chinese Rocks”), Pere Ubu (“Final Solution”), the Avengers (“We Are the One”), the Weirdos (“We Got the Neutron Bomb”), the Germs (“Lexicon Devil”), X (“White Girl”), Minor Threat (“Minor Threat”), the Ramones (“Rockaway Beach”), Dead Boys (“Sonic Reducer”), and the Dead Kennedys (“Holiday In Cambodia”). Sure, these are all great songs, but even the most half-assed punk fan is sick to death of hearing them by now. <br /><br /><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><i>Blank Generation: A Story of U.S./Canadian Punk & Its Aftershocks 1975-1981</i></h3><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJaqbgqbcOpE_FBvzfAP_EqeICeXqHeVtBXb-cHOKGuvF68QJ-Px3wDQa-fLi3qIX0bqNB3MaPZRS78OQEZqhWGEz1TNK2AQtJIEAvEeNJb2zwX0utwl5A0Hi5C8ZOLboSrfmEDj7qrYj_YSznPJHOQMvcpcBEEtpbCeOorT12pZK6UgjPUUVxSwnfIMY/s600/Blondie%20LP.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Blondie's Blondie LP" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="593" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJaqbgqbcOpE_FBvzfAP_EqeICeXqHeVtBXb-cHOKGuvF68QJ-Px3wDQa-fLi3qIX0bqNB3MaPZRS78OQEZqhWGEz1TNK2AQtJIEAvEeNJb2zwX0utwl5A0Hi5C8ZOLboSrfmEDj7qrYj_YSznPJHOQMvcpcBEEtpbCeOorT12pZK6UgjPUUVxSwnfIMY/w316-h320/Blondie%20LP.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>However, even for those bands you probably know, <i>Blank Generation</i> digs a little deeper into the punk bag and plucks out plums that qualify as “deep cuts” by any standard of measurement. Take <b>Blondie</b>, for instance…you might expect to hear hits like the disco-punk “Heart of Glass” or the new wavish “One Way Or Another.” Instead, the producers/compilers chose “Rip Her To Shreds,” an original track from the band’s indie label debut. Framing singer Debbie Harry in less of a 1960s-styled pop style, her lyrical delivery here is snotty, punkish, and insulting to the nth degree, Harry’s snarl accompanied by dense instrumental clouds that evoke both previous-decade garage rock (especially the chiming organ) as well as looking forward to the dawning of the “new wave” 1980s <br /><br /><b>The Modern Lovers</b>’ “Someone I Care About” is a wonderfully ramshackle and somewhat angular garage rock-adjacent track with instruments that are seemingly working at cross-purposes in a valiant sacrifice for the musical greater good. Jonathan Richman’s vox are off-kilter and wailed above the consistent din of the soundtrack, which makes for an exciting and invigorating performance (plus, it’s not the often-compiled “Road Runner,” no matter how great it may be…). An almost-forgotten track from 1976’s <i>Radio Ethiopia</i>, the <b>Patti Smith Group</b>’s “Pissing In A River” later fit comfortably onto the 1980 Times Square movie soundtrack. It’s a damn fine slab o’ estrogen-fueled heartbreak, punkish in intensity and cinematic in delivery with a lofty, art-rock soundtrack with haunting keyboards and slashing guitars to paint a painfully dark portrait. But it’s Smith’s emotionally-tortured vocal performance that raises the song above the punk rock ghetto. <br /><br />Q: Are <b>Devo</b> a “punk rock” band? A: They are Devo! Falling off the evolutionary ladder somewhere along the line, the beloved band from Akron, Ohio were alternately punk, new wave, art-rock, and surreal unlike any we’d ever heard before. Hailing from their 1978 debut album, Devo’s “Come Back Jonee” was produced by the definitely “not punk” Brian Eno (who also worked with the new wavish Talking Heads). An oblique song with nearly-buried vocals barely rising above the pogoing backing instrumentation (which incorporates guitar, synths, drums, and other noises), it’s punkish in spirit if not execution. By contrast, <b>Wall of Voodoo</b>’s “Call Box 1-2-3” sounds more like Devo than “Come Back Jonee,” the song evincing the same sort of ‘odd bodkins’ ambiance; bouncy, semi-irritating instrumentation; and strangely-phrased Stan Ridgeway vocals that come close, but still miles away from their college radio hit “Mexican Radio.”<br /><br /><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Exciting, Supersonic Sounds</h3><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfOUHFjRaMPtbrIouoJD0kSXLLWIy1UO8Oefgw7RvtO3eorv2APuesdCfb6OlkT7CR3FDenegabPKKAdQeCRC59dQzcl7nwDpDVSIBG49QtZohyDeMtksPUBIo3ikiTbAe83y6YR0tHIu35bULlKYa-XFC_GRlznbuodmSnGPYFssKOMV4Jfo7i0BNds/s600/Destroy%20All%20Monsters-BORED.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Destroy All Monster's "Bored" 45rpm" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfOUHFjRaMPtbrIouoJD0kSXLLWIy1UO8Oefgw7RvtO3eorv2APuesdCfb6OlkT7CR3FDenegabPKKAdQeCRC59dQzcl7nwDpDVSIBG49QtZohyDeMtksPUBIo3ikiTbAe83y6YR0tHIu35bULlKYa-XFC_GRlznbuodmSnGPYFssKOMV4Jfo7i0BNds/w320-h320/Destroy%20All%20Monsters-BORED.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The box includes a lot of truly obscure tracks as well, many only originally available on 45rpm slabs and a tad bit pricey to acquire via Discogs or eBay these days. Cherry Red seems to have front-loaded the most familiar songs and artists on the first two discs, ‘cause the tracklists get weirder, funkier, and punkier with CDs three through five. That’s not to say that the first couple o’ flapjacks are lacking in obscurities, though…take <b>Destroy All Monsters</b>’ “Bored,” a band and song that barely crept beyond the borders of Wayne County, Michigan in 1978. A Motor City “supergroup” of sorts, featuring Ron Asheton of the Stooges and Michael Davis of MC5, and fronted by the gorgeous femme fatale Niagara (née Lynn Rovner), they were a great live band and “Bored,” their first single, established the template for much of what would follow. Niagara’s voice barely floats above the clashing guitars and cascading drumbeats, but the effect is otherworldly and enchanting in its ennui.<br /><br />Long before legends like the Replacements and Hüsker Dü emerged from a thriving Minneapolis music scene, the <b>Suicide Commandos</b> were rockin’ stages with their loud ‘n’ fast punk rock sound. Signed to Mercury Records’ Blank label (along with Pere Ubu), they only released a single studio album, but their <i>Make A Record </i>album is well worth tracking down. The band’s “Match/Mismatch” is a good example of this unduly-obscure band’s range, displaying just a bit of the art-rock noise their friends and labelmates Pere Ubu pursued, but mostly just cranking up the amps and cranking out three-chord, supersonic rock ‘n’ roll with turbocharged instrumentation and passable – not laughable – vocal harmonies, that blazed a trail for other Minnesota bands to follow…artists like Curtiss A, whose “I Don’t Want To Be President” hits your eardrums like an earthbound meteor. The self-professed “Dean of Scream,” Curtiss Almsted kicked around the Twin Cities for years in a number of bands, but never recorded anything as potent as this 1979 Twin/Tone Records single.<br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mCOHWbU1opT_L9fMrZfAnNhjNMai7z3mDo-fKYJrRWB9c4NvkKNQXEdHkcPUFVdN19HOjgERrJteLZ-gFhCchy5y8wmkc5lhbdIKwqvq7Ld6v3upz1a5ockcBgLGdi9so230POcHzqW7kyTZTjHd0e28aKhnBoo5303eMqmw9l5OoDfHXc7CmnhvD84/s371/Pure%20Hell-NOISE%20ADDICTION.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pure Hell's Noise Addiction" border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="371" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mCOHWbU1opT_L9fMrZfAnNhjNMai7z3mDo-fKYJrRWB9c4NvkKNQXEdHkcPUFVdN19HOjgERrJteLZ-gFhCchy5y8wmkc5lhbdIKwqvq7Ld6v3upz1a5ockcBgLGdi9so230POcHzqW7kyTZTjHd0e28aKhnBoo5303eMqmw9l5OoDfHXc7CmnhvD84/w320-h317/Pure%20Hell-NOISE%20ADDICTION.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Crime</b>’s “Hot Wire My Heart” provides another electrifying jolt of high-voltage punk rock, the San Francisco band early adopters of the aesthetic, releasing the song as a single in 1976. Produced in glorious lo-fi with a veritable wall of noise behind the vocals, the band’s amateurish first effort is nevertheless incredibly effective, with ringing guitars and shouted vocals delivered with more ‘joie de vivre’ than better-produced, bigger-budget label releases. On the other side of the country, <b>Pure Hell</b> was terrorizing Philadelphia audiences with “Noise Addiction,” the first African-American Afropunk outfit every bit as young, loud, and snotty as any band working the ‘bucket o’ blood’ club circuit and one worth your time to discover. They’ve been a lot of things over the years – punks, power-pop, alt-rockers, bluesmen – but <b>Red Kross</b> was, perhaps, never punkier and prouder than on the slash ‘n’ burn “Clorox Girls,” from their self-titled 1981 debut EP on Posh Boy Records, which needs less than a single frantic minute to burn itself into your medulla oblongata.<br /><br /><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">The Reverend’s Bottom Line</h3><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Xw4i-njE7oUJN5u_MQlfn5DFzjwKp9TFVxtz7Cbx80XiOqBbsm058uG9g-mp6_PVdN-4LWwkvMQEk68GUGw-D2JemuEJMcEDUjp_Y2qSh3MjZURP3C6Hn8HCb3xCSlsGiYQIi8RFIchUVB0ZcvGExoONJrA_OUznYERwr0By-mLAVqp4HGd-U1wSOz0/s600/Pagans-STREET.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Pagan's Street Where Nobody Lives 45rpm single" border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="600" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Xw4i-njE7oUJN5u_MQlfn5DFzjwKp9TFVxtz7Cbx80XiOqBbsm058uG9g-mp6_PVdN-4LWwkvMQEk68GUGw-D2JemuEJMcEDUjp_Y2qSh3MjZURP3C6Hn8HCb3xCSlsGiYQIi8RFIchUVB0ZcvGExoONJrA_OUznYERwr0By-mLAVqp4HGd-U1wSOz0/w320-h316/Pagans-STREET.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>There are a lot of other exciting sounds to be found on <i>Blank Generation</i>; too many to ramble on about here, to be sure. But if your musical tastes run towards the punk, post-punk, and power-pop oeuvre, you’ll probably dig tracks by Television (the wiry “Friction”), the Dictators (the mondo “I Live For Cars and Girls”), the Residents (their mutant cover of the Stones’ classic “Satisfaction”), the Dils (the jaunty “Mr. Big”), the Bags (the high-octane “Survive”), Pagans (the amped-up garage rock gem “Street Where Nobody Lives”), Chrome (the syncopated electro-punk of “New Age,”), Non Compos Mentis (the power-pop/hardcore mashup “Ultimate Orgasm”), and DMZ (the Boston-bred “Bad Attitude”) who, in turn, begat the Lyres (the‘60s-styled proto-punk “Buried Alive”). <br /><br />I’ve been writing about this stuff since the beginning, decades “frittered” away banging my head against the proverbial wall, and the <i>Blank Generation </i>box <i>still</i> manages to offer up cool bands I’ve never heard before (Black Randy & The Metro Squad, the Young Canadians, the Dishrags, Crash Course In Science) or had only read about in dog-eared copies of Bomp! and Trouser Press (Cleveland punks Mirrors and Electric Eels, New Math, the Middle Class, Howard Werth, et al). <br /><br />For you young ‘uns who didn’t enter this metaphysical plane of existence until the changing of the millennium, a lot – a majority, maybe – of these tracks will be brand new to your hungry ears. As such, <i>Blank Generation</i> is either the only punk rock compilation set you’ll ever need, or a welcome catalyst for further investigation into the early history of the genre. For those of us who rode that hobby horse from the beginning, before the paint began to chip off and tarnish set in, <i>Blank Generation</i> is a reminder of how fresh, new, and exciting rock ‘n’ roll can be. Either way, this is a set worthy of inclusion in even the most comprehensive music library. (Cherry Red Records, released 2023) <br /><i><br /></i><b><a href="https://amzn.to/3SEjBGr" target="_blank">Buy <i>Blank Generation</i> from Amazon</a></b><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-41608717043481406542024-02-23T06:30:00.034-05:002024-02-23T06:30:00.140-05:00The View On Pop Culture: R.L. Burnside, Skip James, Walter Trout, Furry Lewis (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkRlJOEk6VTW8h4cyjQsZN88cvbL_vzsNNYsYSJ3SUWerB43ItXMQHJCMQSDvp6LID7lXzkVi4Mq_DNr_WCmPpKxHVWM3E27XDq9WrMLlk9JlwFYcI2e4MTISdVHsYBm89xrZ3C0rDLjHp9q4xd-HXXcRvFrn4L7G2BEtZ4hXHjGOuWuDgIGeCR4rDaE/s1200/RL%20Burnside-FIRST%20RECORDING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="R.L. Burnside's First Recordings" border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1200" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkRlJOEk6VTW8h4cyjQsZN88cvbL_vzsNNYsYSJ3SUWerB43ItXMQHJCMQSDvp6LID7lXzkVi4Mq_DNr_WCmPpKxHVWM3E27XDq9WrMLlk9JlwFYcI2e4MTISdVHsYBm89xrZ3C0rDLjHp9q4xd-HXXcRvFrn4L7G2BEtZ4hXHjGOuWuDgIGeCR4rDaE/w320-h283/RL%20Burnside-FIRST%20RECORDING.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.63<br /><br />THE YEAR OF THE BLUES</b><br /><br />By now you’ve watched every episode of the PBS documentary on the blues and you’re ready to celebrate the Congressionally-declared “year of the blues’ with a few new CD purchases. Well, you could choose from among the officially-sanctioned CD tie-ins to the PBS series, titles from deserving folks like Muddy Waters, Son House, and the obscure J.B. Lenoir. But if you really want to expand your musical vocabulary, look beyond the hype and marketing and discover these artists who offer several different shades of blue.<br /><br />There are very few of the classic Mississippi bluesmen remaining, <b>R.L. Burnside</b> one of the last of a dying breed. Perhaps the best known of modern-day blues stylists, Burnside’s work has crossed over to a rock-oriented audience via collaborations with garage-rocker Jon Spencer and through the groundbreaking <i>Come On In</i> album. Remixed with an edge by Thom Rothrock and Alec Empire, the studio effects and loops enhancing Come On In only intensified Burnside’s already powerful performances, the resulting songs familiar to many listeners from movie and TV soundtracks.<br /><br />The long-overdue reappearance of <i>First Recordings</i> (Fat Possum) on CD shows Burnside in a different light. Captured live in Mississippi by producer George Mitchell, these 1968 recordings – just R.L. and a beat-up acoustic guitar – preview the power and grace that will become Burnside’s legacy. Performing traditional juke-joint country blues in his Mississippi Fred McDowell-influenced “hill country” style, Burnside blazes through red hot readings of “Poor Black Mattie,” “My Time Ain’t Long” and his trademark “Goin’ Down South.” The recordings have been cleaned up to please modern ears, but Burnside’s hypnotizing vocals and strong, percussive guitar style are always a joy to listen to, <i>First Recordings</i> a welcome addition to the blues lexicon.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgX8DFPuGRgmpQrGNM8burWc-RE_Mf_vZ5Qa7nPEK0oTf63vIBp0_SDjVAGKFrcAOmsrQxOgH3SlHxqrfSWyH9JLn60yYWgsuFvMzLlsQlbTKV71kd8BnBPOU4HbEQ51ncLRSYrVlrQ1xvrP8XqBo0B_iRxCUOWZQbKFBbs0ioYKsKqzUXAEtULJIg0hk/s600/Skip%20James-STUDIO%20SESSIONS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Skip James' Studio Sessions" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="589" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgX8DFPuGRgmpQrGNM8burWc-RE_Mf_vZ5Qa7nPEK0oTf63vIBp0_SDjVAGKFrcAOmsrQxOgH3SlHxqrfSWyH9JLn60yYWgsuFvMzLlsQlbTKV71kd8BnBPOU4HbEQ51ncLRSYrVlrQ1xvrP8XqBo0B_iRxCUOWZQbKFBbs0ioYKsKqzUXAEtULJIg0hk/w196-h200/Skip%20James-STUDIO%20SESSIONS.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>Country bluesman <b>Skip James</b> is considered by historians to be one of the most important figures in the history of the Delta blues. A troubled man haunted by the dichotomy of sin and salvation represented by the blues and gospel music, James’ unique guitar style and songwriting skills have inspired and influenced musicians across decades and genres, from Robert Johnson to Eric Clapton. A long-lost collection of previously unreleased material, <i>Studio Sessions: Rare and Unreleased</i> (Vanguard Records) had the potential to be a real gem, the sort of rare find that escapes the vaults from time to time. Unfortunately, it is only mildly interesting to the most hardcore of blues fans. <br /><br />Recorded in 1967 near the end of his life, the collection offers an obviously world-weary James spinning through a selection of mostly Gospel-oriented tunes. There are times when James’ haunting, otherworldly vocals soar – most notably on “One Dime Was All I Had” – and his bordello learned piano playing takes flight on numbers like “Omaha Blues.” The purchase of <i>Studio Sessions</i> should be reserved until the newcomer to James’ unique talents has digested the artist’s <i>Complete Early Recordings</i> (Yazoo) from 1931 or the latter-era collection <i>Hard Time Killing Floor Blues</i> (Biograph) from the early-60s. Then you’ll know what all the brouhaha over Skip James is all about. <br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAXxznX38qbir4N8h0WrTvSeyOTRnsjK3qDyR8CQdB_JPDXQIEcnsIbhIrII7X2xUtCzW_mcL46t6pYbKdnzPyuLvABUaO_C8ER9j7feBpf8RWO8PUVrc3VbTsJbZLfoM-1gcZtgmPFfWHsiZTcWECu5VosKhjE2XT7yZSpofZdYjyrFk9-BgGU7xvTs/s600/Walter%20Trout-RELENTLESS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Walter Trout's Relentless" border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="600" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAXxznX38qbir4N8h0WrTvSeyOTRnsjK3qDyR8CQdB_JPDXQIEcnsIbhIrII7X2xUtCzW_mcL46t6pYbKdnzPyuLvABUaO_C8ER9j7feBpf8RWO8PUVrc3VbTsJbZLfoM-1gcZtgmPFfWHsiZTcWECu5VosKhjE2XT7yZSpofZdYjyrFk9-BgGU7xvTs/w200-h198/Walter%20Trout-RELENTLESS.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://www.waltertrout.com/" target="_blank">Walter Trout</a></b> is a blues-rocker of the Stevie Ray Vaughan school, mixing lightning-quick fretwork with traditional boogie styling, appealing to fans of amped-up guitar pyrotechnics. Trout earned his bones backing legends like John Lee Hooker and Big Mama Thornton; he played in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and propped up Canned Heat for a while in the ‘80s. I must admit that I’ve found much of Trout’s studio work to be a snooze, but the recently released <i>Relentless</i> (Ruf Records), which captures Trout and his fine band the Radicals performing live in Amsterdam, has prompted me to reconsider. <br /><br />The stage is obviously Trout’s element, the guitarist filling every song with incredible energy and, well…relentless six-string riffing that would please any blues-rock enthusiast. Trout’s whiskey glass vocals are appropriately suited to the music and what he lacks as a songwriter he more than makes up for with power, sweat and passion. The rocking declaration “The Life I Chose,” the Hendrix-inspired ballad “Cry If You Want To” or the anthemic “Collingswood” showcase an artist seriously in love with the blues. A lifer who may never get rich from his craft, Trout is nevertheless determined to make his mark playing the music that he loves and <i>Relentless</i> is a fine step in that direction. <br /><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAarzRCTfmVdkJlMnO-ewPtwnIv7xYn3zQluaUkJv8SXLuRLgfo_978nlDXzp9rVk8-zUj0DOng0RwZ3-3ObQuBqlbiFJjheZYFRuum7n7FPjBWUbsbk4Xw_DqA3po0A2qdTqHdWW8zML0grR6dSgEbB1uGMIygXG2F6nJjRyyB8ATk0NtdLKxbhwI-4/s600/Furry%20Lewis-GOOD%20MORNING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Furry Lewis' Good Morning Judge" border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="600" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAarzRCTfmVdkJlMnO-ewPtwnIv7xYn3zQluaUkJv8SXLuRLgfo_978nlDXzp9rVk8-zUj0DOng0RwZ3-3ObQuBqlbiFJjheZYFRuum7n7FPjBWUbsbk4Xw_DqA3po0A2qdTqHdWW8zML0grR6dSgEbB1uGMIygXG2F6nJjRyyB8ATk0NtdLKxbhwI-4/w320-h289/Furry%20Lewis-GOOD%20MORNING.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Walter “Furry” Lewis</b> was a fixture on the Memphis blues scene for years beyond count, recording his first songs in the ‘20s, retiring from music in the ‘30s and being rediscovered in the ‘50s. While most of the original country bluesmen had fled the Delta for Chicago, Detroit and other points north, Lewis remained on Beale Street, traveled the Southeast in medicine shows and, along the way, forged a musical legacy that stands up with the greatest artists of the genre. The timing of the release of <i>Good Morning Judge</i> (Fat Possum Records) couldn’t come at a better time as it is one of the strongest collections of Lewis recordings that is currently available.<br /><br />Recorded by producer George Mitchell in Memphis circa 1962, <i>Good Morning Judge</i> offers Lewis in fine form. The opening title cut is hilarious, Lewis stating that “I got arrested once,” and then going on to deny accusations of murder, fraud, forgery and even loitering, his light-hearted lyrics covering the deadly seriousness of institutional racism, his vocals accompanied by slinky bottleneck guitar. In fact, much of <i>Good Morning Judge</i> showcases Lewis’ unique and intriguing six-string style, the elder bluesman filling songs like “Blues Around My Bed” and “Roll and Tumble Blues” with spry energy and soulful performances. “Don’t You Wish Your Mama Had Named You Furry Lewis” and “Furry Lewis Rag” revisit these traditional blues tunes with more braggadocio than any hip-hop microphone fiend could muster. A wonderful introduction to the lively wit, musical talent and immense charisma of Furry Lewis, <i>Good Morning Judge</i> should be on the shelf of any serious fan of the blues. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003) <br /><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-690172390445987202024-02-16T07:00:00.089-05:002024-02-18T14:51:41.026-05:00CD Review: Pushin’ Too Hard: American Garage Punk 1964-1967 (2024)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd0CNCzGEqWg-8Wo8Fau2u6pPF9smcx52K0SljwD5bAzLEQpN51i_jpUy0pbrPQeKkr1Cfm29ZxHZvqZaEz6PKD4DFVyRih0sG3x8w-bObVUtdQo0Rpv_xUCDCJRmGLGVY7zQkwzMLy50rIVm8I5yGjXpAlKOONMOQOftuf2rVzvFaFaxWpw_lVXjLG0/s1500/Pushin'%20Too%20Hard.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Pushin’ Too Hard: American Garage Punk 1964-1967" border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd0CNCzGEqWg-8Wo8Fau2u6pPF9smcx52K0SljwD5bAzLEQpN51i_jpUy0pbrPQeKkr1Cfm29ZxHZvqZaEz6PKD4DFVyRih0sG3x8w-bObVUtdQo0Rpv_xUCDCJRmGLGVY7zQkwzMLy50rIVm8I5yGjXpAlKOONMOQOftuf2rVzvFaFaxWpw_lVXjLG0/w320-h320/Pushin'%20Too%20Hard.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The decade of the 1960s is notable for many pioneering efforts in film, fashion, music, and social activism, most of which have long since fallen out of the cultural zeitgeist, to be forgotten until some corporate interest needs to resurrect a specific cliché to cash in on and pump-up profits in the name of blind nostalgia. However, one of the lesser-known aspects of ‘60s-era music has refused to go quietly into that good night, remaining relatively underground and continuously flowing beneath the mainstream as the years passed by to influence generation after generation of young rock musicians.<br /><br />Often a mere ‘blip’ on the pop culture radar during the ‘60s, garage rock nevertheless struck a chord with a specific group of music fans looking for raw authenticity and wild sounds. Every now and then a garage rock band like the Standells (“Dirty Water”) or Count Five (“Psychotic Reaction”) would strike gold with a Top 30 chart hit, but more frequently, worthwhile and imaginative bands like the Remains or Blues Magoos toiled in obscurity, only to be re-discovered years (or decades) later. Garage rock itself was resurrected for a while in 1972 when Elektra Records released the two-LP <i>Nuggets</i> compilation album. Curated by future Patti Smith Group guitarist and best-selling author Lenny Kaye, <i>Nuggets</i> – subtitled “Original Artyfacts From the First Psychedelic Era” – jumpstarted a late-decade garage rock scene that yielded bands like the Unclaimed, the Chesterfield Kings, the Fuzztones and many others that kept rock ‘n’ roll interesting during the 1980s and ‘90s.<br /><br /><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Pushin’ Too Hard: American Garage Punk 1964-1967</h3><p><br />There were multiple <i>Nuggets</i> compilations released subsequent to the original, as well as copycats and <i>Nuggets</i>-inspired collections like <i>Pebbles</i>, <i>Rubble</i>, <i>Back From the Grave</i>, and <i>Killed By Death</i>. An expanded <i>Nuggets</i> was reissued last year as a deluxe 50th anniversary vinyl box set and accompanied by live performances by Kaye and friends on both coasts…heck, I even <a href="http://www.thatdevilmusic.com/2023/08/nuggets-redux-song-by-song-history-of.html" target="_blank">wrote a book</a> about the original <i>Nuggets</i> album. England’s Cherry Red Records has released numerous <i>Nuggets</i>-adjacent compilations but, with <i>Pushin’ Too Hard: American Garage Punk 1964-1967</i>, they drill down into the genre with what is perhaps the most comprehensive collection of obscure tunes yet. Released through the label’s Strawberry Records imprint and packaged in Cherry Red’s trademark clamshell box, the three-CD set offers 94-tracks of the purest and heaviest punky garage jams as you’d ever want.<br /><br />Responding to the announcement of the release of <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i>, some wag on Facebook smarmily commented something along the lines of “why do we need this set when we have <i>Nuggets</i>?” A good question, if somewhat disingenuous but, to be honest, <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i> picks up the challenge that the original <i>Nuggets</i> laid down like no collection since the first couple of <i>Pebbles</i> albums were covertly (and pseudonymously) released by Greg Shaw. Sure, there are some overlaps between these 94 songs and multiple <i>Nuggets</i> releases, and well-worn tracks from bands like the Strangeloves, the Castaways, the Seeds, and the Remains will be familiar to even the most casual fan of ‘60s music.<br /><br />But where <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i> really shines is by presenting and preserving more obscure garage rock nuggets by not only those marquee artists but odds ‘n’ sods ‘n’ true rarities that all but the most rabid collector may not have heard. As a public service to my loyal readers, here are 16 reasons to check out <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i> just as soon as the credit card charge clears and the postal representative jams the package into your greedy lil’ hands: <br /><br /><b>1. The Denims - “I’m Your Man”</b><br />This Queens, New York sextet recorded but a handful of songs for Columbia Records and Mercury before disappearing into the blank void of obscurity but damned if “I’m Your Man” (1965) isn’t a gleeful combo of rockin’ drumbeats, buried vocals, sparkling fretwork, and an overall psych-drenched “wall of sound” that should have been blasting hourly from thousands of transistor radios across the country. Although the song’s intertwined guitars are fab, it’s drummer Mike Zaccor’s insistent, locomotive timekeeping that sends “I’m Your Man” into the stratosphere.<br /><br /><b>2. The Brogues - “I Ain’t No Miracle Worker”</b><br />The Brogues, hailing from Merced, California, obviously drew inspiration and more than a little influence from the Rolling Stones and the Pretty Things, but their take on “I Ain’t No Miracle Worker” may be the best version of the often-covered psych-garage gem, beating out versions by the Chocolate Watchband and the Barracudas to take the gold medal. Gary Cole’s (a/k/a Gary Duncan) R&B-tinged vocals are pitch-perfect for 1965 while lead guitarist Eddie Rodrigues sparks up a bonfire with his twisted solos. Duncan and drummer Greg Elmore would later transition from garage fumes to lysergic-fueled psychedelia as members of Quicksilver Messenger Service.<br /><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsR9M5Q9nt7x0Uj8jtQNlV2N5XW7BiCWPRWU2VEs5Cpa-rfnywXOqPpS2oBlVhJ0B-7gzbSqtXmvsegfzmPDyx7rD-bILr5qmJ6UO_txio774IMu-71ZNCF5ROo2WcKlB9XxrTs8x5e1snTjRewMM3Jgbwho7Y6mwCPpVOmqHMKP_a9p4S8YH2NGoz9ik/s3064/Roky%20Erickson_Casey%20Monihan1990_Sire%20Records.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Roky Erickson photo courtesy Sire Records" border="0" data-original-height="3064" data-original-width="2096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsR9M5Q9nt7x0Uj8jtQNlV2N5XW7BiCWPRWU2VEs5Cpa-rfnywXOqPpS2oBlVhJ0B-7gzbSqtXmvsegfzmPDyx7rD-bILr5qmJ6UO_txio774IMu-71ZNCF5ROo2WcKlB9XxrTs8x5e1snTjRewMM3Jgbwho7Y6mwCPpVOmqHMKP_a9p4S8YH2NGoz9ik/w274-h400/Roky%20Erickson_Casey%20Monihan1990_Sire%20Records.jpg" width="274" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Roky Erickson photo courtesy Sire Records</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b>3. The Spades - “You’re Gonna Miss Me”</b><br />Although the original <i>Nuggets</i> LP included Texas psych casualties the Thirteenth Floor Elevators’ version of Roky Erickson’s classic “You’re Gonna Miss Me,” it was originally recorded by Roky’s outfit the Spades, and it shines like a crazy diamond here tucked, as it is, between the Standells’ R&B rave-up “Rani” and the Lyrics’ “So What!,” which sounds like John Sebastian and the Lovin’ Spoonful on speed and cough syrup. Roky was a tender 18 years old when the Spades recorded this 1965 single, and Erickson’s manic harmonica riffs are front and center, providing a nice contrast to the Elevators’ enervating electric jug sound.<br /><br /><b>4. The Thirteen Floor Elevators - “Tried To Hide”</b><br />Speaking of the Elevators, Pushin’ Too Hard doesn’t include that song, but rather the B-side of the 1966 single, the raucous punk-blues tune “Tried To Hide.” Featuring Roky’s raging harpwork, scrappy git licks, minimal melody or rhythm, but lots of beery noise, random shouting, and general budget studio hijinks. This mono 45rpm version is rawer and more ramshackle than that which would later appear on the Elevators’ debut LP, <i>Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators</i>.<br /><br /><b>5. Paul Revere & the Raiders - “Just Like Me” </b><br />Because of their late ‘60s commercial success, Paul Revere & the Raiders are often-overlooked garage rock giants that walked the walk. <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i> goes for the band’s deep cut “Just Like Me,” a 1965 single released in glorious mono and featuring all of the hallowed hallmarks of garage rock royalty – snotty, snarling vocals; chiming keyboards that prop up the rhythm; wiry, scratching-post fretwork; and an overall lo-fi, high-octane performance custom-made for maximum AM radio airplay.<br /><br /><b></b><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiocbiqvPiiel8dcfaJg0iz1L3NB0b-NTKr-dxHDjkzs7U0LPpT1FA4IH_oPdgV6ZWfub_9JwYBnxlCwq11MUiidLCCRSUi5v0oQBq2kNAQebKQTRvvEJzL4vsphgbV_itjOwk1IjU1tLSOv4c2SqumbS8HpmBgT1TXa0s7rYfoqfcvrWcR-2pMSH6WPs/s600/Captain%20Beefheart.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band's “Diddy Wah Diddy”" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="586" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiocbiqvPiiel8dcfaJg0iz1L3NB0b-NTKr-dxHDjkzs7U0LPpT1FA4IH_oPdgV6ZWfub_9JwYBnxlCwq11MUiidLCCRSUi5v0oQBq2kNAQebKQTRvvEJzL4vsphgbV_itjOwk1IjU1tLSOv4c2SqumbS8HpmBgT1TXa0s7rYfoqfcvrWcR-2pMSH6WPs/w313-h320/Captain%20Beefheart.jpg" width="313" /></a></b></div><b>6. Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band - “Diddy Wah Diddy”</b><br />Technically a <i>Nuggets</i> track, appearing on volume six of Rhino Records’ seemingly never-ending plundering of the concept released on a series of CDs in the 1980s, I’m gonna include it here ‘cause the Captain never sounded more like Howlin’ Wolf than he does on this inspired 1966 cover of the fabulous Bo Diddley song. Guitarist Doug Moon scrapes the strings like Link Wray turbocharged, and the entire band teeters like toddlers sotted on rotgut whiskey. <br /><br /><b>7. The Outcasts’ - “I’m In Pittsburgh (and It’s Raining)”</b><br />Straight outta San Antonio, Texas come the Outcasts, whose 1966 single was inspired by an Anthony Quinn line from the 1962 film <i>Requiem For A Heavyweight</i>. The Outcasts’ performance is as gritty as Quinn’s washed-up boxer from the movie, punch-drunk Bo Diddley-styled rhythms driving Jim Carsten’s sneering vox and invigorating rhythm guitar, Denny Turner’s switchblade leads, and harp player Buddy Carson’s icy blasts. <br /><br /><b>8. Rocky & the Riddlers - “Flash and Crash”</b><br />The 1966 single “Flash and Crash” is an obscurity’s obscurity; originally appearing on the second volume of Tim Warren’s cult compilation <i>Back From the Grave</i>, the song is a bluesy, R&B rave-up with martial rhythms, underlying keyboard licks, nearly-buried lyrics, amateurish arrangement, and an overall smothering performance that will leave the listener gasping for air before queuing the song up to play again… <br /><br /><b>9. The Unusuals - “I’m Walking Babe”</b><br />Another of the great Pacific Northwest bands that helped define garage rawk in the ‘60s, the Unusuals’ “I’m Walking Babe” stands proudly alongside the Sonics’ “You’ve Got Your Head On Backwards” as <i>Nuggets</i>-adjacent tracks that, for some reason, never made it to the major leagues. The Unusuals are over-the-top even by garage standards, with Vic Bundy’s circular keyboard riff providing a foundation for bassist Harvey Redmond’s whiskey-and-broken glass vocals and the jagged fretwork of guitarists Laurie Vitt and Bill Capp. The result is pure white light that threatens to go supernova at any moment. <br /><br /><b>10. Link Ray & the Raymen - “Hidden Charms”</b><br />Link Wray’s Top 20 charting 1958 instrumental “Rumble” is a classic of switchblade guitar twang, the song subsequently appearing on a couple dozen surf-rock, rockabilly, and trash rock compilations. “Hidden Charms,” credited here to Link Ray & the Raymen, was a 1966 single that features a rare Wray vocal turn above the din of clashing instruments, shabby cheap-o production, and flamethrower guitar that steals the Willie Dixon-penned blues classic out of the great Howlin’ Wolf’s catalog and mutates the song into the sort of shambolic, ramshackle punk-blues gem that the White Stripes and the Black Keys would kill to have recorded. <br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01PgQEUXLngoHhEHmANZYMs9S5k3BBmIsbXwOu7x2ive2sxuqqgPpefPHrP5FYgeU0CkpM8vaT8FO866gFxuX5YOt10mK0_Cahw8OJiHoVgrOb7ApnC5DluR2lJptf3eFInNV654V98qxyuK0Mod7HK6SVkQ5Vz1X_hM9tUfqsjjj1DLeGtKukuiD2LI/s600/The%20Standells-TRY%20IT.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="595" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01PgQEUXLngoHhEHmANZYMs9S5k3BBmIsbXwOu7x2ive2sxuqqgPpefPHrP5FYgeU0CkpM8vaT8FO866gFxuX5YOt10mK0_Cahw8OJiHoVgrOb7ApnC5DluR2lJptf3eFInNV654V98qxyuK0Mod7HK6SVkQ5Vz1X_hM9tUfqsjjj1DLeGtKukuiD2LI/s320/The%20Standells-TRY%20IT.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>11. The Standells - “Barracuda”</b><br />The Standells are <i>Nuggets</i> royalty, if only for their undeniably-soulful R&B romp “Dirty Water,” but the band’s “Barracuda” is equally awesome. Written by the band’s producer Ed Cobb (whose songs have been covered by artists as diverse as Soft Cell, The Clash, and George Clinton), “Barracuda” was released as a single in 1967 from the Standells’ final album, <i>Try It</i>, and should have been a monster hit. Punkier than “Dirty Water,” with a dense soundtrack of chiming instruments and fierce vocals, it was released at the ass-end of the garage rock tsunami and failed to gain any traction with record buyers. <br /><br /><b>12. The Rationals - “I Need You”</b><br />Motor City rockers the Rationals masterfully blended pop, rock, and classic R&B with an original sound fueled by singer Scott Morgan’s Mitch Ryder-styled, blue-eyed soul vocals. Although the band has been featured on various Michigan-specific anthologies (most recently on Ace Records’ excellent <i>An A-Square Compilation</i> LP), they were largely shut out of the <i>Nuggets</i> sweepstakes. Still, the band’s 1967 cover of the Kinks’ “I Need You” amps up the energy of the original with Morgan’s blistering vox and guitarist Steve Correll’s incendiary leads. Morgan would later hook up with fellow traveler Fred “Sonic” Smith of the MC5 in beloved Detroit/Ann Arbor-area cult-rockers Sonic’s Rendezvous Band.<br /><br /><b>13. Roy Junior - “Victim of Circumstances” </b><br />“Victim of Circumstances” is an oddball choice for <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i>, the Roy Junior in question the son of country legend Roy Acuff and a country artist by trade. This 1966 single seems like a blatant attempt at scoring a hit in the garage rock sweepstakes and plays a lot like what a Music Roy exec thought that a garage rock single <i>should</i> sound like. Inching close to self-parody, with inane lyrics (“I was raised on knuckle sandwiches…in a jungle of knives and chains, had to fight to live”) sung by a privileged nepo-baby, the song’s low-rent production, slumming studio professionals, and laughable performance is just greasy enough to pass for authentic garage, becoming a minor regional hit because not much else was going on in the Mid-South area at the time… <br /><br /><b>14. Front Page News - “Thoughts”</b><br />The only single released by the Tulsa, Oklahoma bred Front Page News, “Thoughts” balances uneasily on the razor’s edge between feedback-laden garage rock and taut lysergic psychedelia. Released in 1966, “Thoughts” was probably nine months to a year ahead of its time, and the band was never heard from again. Still, it’s a fine, frenzied performance that would appeal to fans of either 1966 <i>or</i> 1967… <br /><br /><b>15. The Jefferson Handkerchief - “I’m Allergic To Flowers”</b><br />Best I can tell, The Jefferson Handkerchief’s “I’m Allergic To Flowers” has never previously been anthologized on any comp, not even <i>Pebbles</i> or the <i>Grave</i> series, tho’ it was covered by something called Vicky & Dicky, a New Zealand duo who scored a hit with the satirical anti-hippie send-up. The Jefferson Handkerchief was a fake band comprised of studio professionals and Challenge Records label staff songwriters having a bit of fun at the expense of youthful “Flower Power” movement, but it’s a helluva lot of fun anyway!<br /> <br /><b>16. The Bedlam Four’s - “No One Left To Love”</b><br />Another <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i> exclusive, the Bedlam Four was a short-lived group of ambitious young rockers from Hastings, Minnesota who successfully evolved from Top 40 mimicry to righteous blues-rock mimicry with the addition of new singer/drummer Rich Pogue. Sporting a playlist peppered with Muddy Waters and Yardbirds covers, “No One Left To Love” was a Pogue-penned original and a mighty fine one at that, strutting and stomping with reckless abandon across every rich note and riff they could find in the Chess Records catalog, spiced up with budget production and noisy mastering that shakes, rattles, and rolls off the turntable, ultimately bludgeoning your ears into submission. <br /><br /><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">The Reverend’s Bottom Line</h3><p><br />Truth is, I’ve only scratched the surfaces of the groovy sounds and anarchic rawk ‘n’ roll you’ll find on <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i>, and most of the songs here never staggered anywhere near a <i>Nuggets</i> compilation album in any of its many guises. If the 16 reasons provided above aren’t motivation enough to get you up off the couch and down to your local music emporium, how ‘bout deep tracks from the Seeds, the McCoys, the Misunderstood, Dirty Wurds, We The People, the Sonics, Zakary Thaks, Thursday’s Children, and the Checkmates, among many others? The set also includes a groovy 44-page color booklet with notes on every band and song, plenty of rare photos and other cool graphics that should pacify even the most fanatical of fanboys. At the low, low cost of around 36-cents per song, the set deserves a place in your collection. (Strawberry Records/Cherry Red Records, released 2023)<br /><br /><a href="https://amzn.to/49cuwhy" target="_blank"><b>Buy <i>Pushin’ Too Hard</i> from Amazon</b></a></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-4533012431070372082024-02-16T06:30:00.019-05:002024-02-16T06:30:00.222-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Remembering The Man In Black (2003)<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigg9K2Q1yfLlbhNKIInCIXRBdqMDsPyPujMndrtQvsKLNvXNAXRdXWEwQADZh3q2MFsNN_x0iPfLQdDiQtSp8ABBB7XFJve_2Ki6H6aYTsG8U1AVNS2NrxviTygADAbbSmZY_jPJhLGtdUScoEUbDUAtHp-U-u_RFIsSSQLsbfrxqrMzcmjmPH_Aw6rMs/s599/Johnny%20Cash.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Johnny Cash" border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="465" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigg9K2Q1yfLlbhNKIInCIXRBdqMDsPyPujMndrtQvsKLNvXNAXRdXWEwQADZh3q2MFsNN_x0iPfLQdDiQtSp8ABBB7XFJve_2Ki6H6aYTsG8U1AVNS2NrxviTygADAbbSmZY_jPJhLGtdUScoEUbDUAtHp-U-u_RFIsSSQLsbfrxqrMzcmjmPH_Aw6rMs/w248-h320/Johnny%20Cash.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>The Man In Black: Johnny Cash</i></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>In the early morning of September 12, 2003, the world of music lost a larger-than-life icon in <b>Johnny Cash</b>. Known the world over as the “Man In Black,” Cash, along with Hank Williams, Elvis Presley, and Bob Dylan, was one of the four most important figures in American music during the last fifty years. Cash had been sick for a long time with various ailments, but he faced his illness with humor and determination and had continued to sing and work in the studio almost until the day that he died. The death of his beloved wife June Carter Cash back in May, however, was a blow that he could not recover from and it could be said that Cash died as much from a broken heart as he did his physical infirmities.<br /><br />The first live concert that I ever saw was Johnny Cash. It was back in 1969 at the Gannon College auditorium in Erie, Pennsylvania with the Statler Brothers and Carl Perkins opening the show. It was an eye-opening evening and was responsible for a lifelong infatuation with music. This was at the beginning of Cash’s mainstream fame. Sure, he had enjoyed dozens of successful records throughout the late ‘50s and early-to-mid-‘60s but it was his television show, running for two seasons from 1969 through 1971 that made Cash a household name.<br /><br />Cash was born in rural Arkansas in the throes of the Great Depression. Inspired by the country songs he heard on the radio, Cash began singing and writing songs at the age of 12, but it wasn’t until he served in the Air Force during the Korean War that he taught himself to play guitar. After being discharged from the service, Cash married a woman from Texas and moved to Memphis, where he took a radio broadcast course on the GI Bill. At night Cash fronted a trio with guitarist Luther Perkins and bassist Marshall Grant, playing country songs.<br /><br />A 1955 audition with Sun Records brought the young Cash to the attention of Sam Phillips, famed producer and the man who discovered Elvis. Cash auditioned as a gospel singer and was rebuffed by Phillips, who told him to come back with something more commercial. Cash soon came back with “Hey Porter,” which, coupled with “Cry Cry Cry,” became Cash’s first country hit. For the next three years, Cash knocked down a number of hits for the Memphis label, including “Folsom Prison Blues,” “I Walk the Line” and “Give My Love To Rose.” Cash made his first appearance on Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry in 1957, dressed entirely in stark black at a time when rhinestones were the style in country music.<br /><br />With another of his characteristic misjudgments, Phillips refused to allow Cash to record a gospel album and was unwilling to increase his royalty rates (keep in mind that Elvis was long gone from Sun by this time). Cash subsequently jumped to Columbia Records, where he enjoyed a long association and a string of hits that would stretch from the late-50s through the mid-70s, songs like “Ring of Fire” and “Five Feet High and Rising.” However, the rigors of 300 nights a year on the road and Cash’s use of amphetamines eventually led to legal problems, health issues and erratic behavior that saw Cash get booted off the Opry stage and eventually led to his divorce from wife Vivian. <br /><br />It was June Carter, scion of country royalty the Carter Family, who came to Cash’s rescue. Introduced originally by Elvis Presley (Carter was also managed by Colonel Parker), June was married at the time to singer Carl Smith. Cash and Carter became good friends and when he moved to Nashville and Carter was divorced from Smith, she helped Cash kick his drug problem and introduced him to her Christian faith. The two were married in 1968 after Cash proposed on stage and the two were virtually inseparable ever since. <br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sG5zlQHFtxbSleSQ7BEYoeXsXvot7kEmwNnF6YJEDQyQ6SYhjpyoZWMO2oj_ROdMvTQbeILCrgaG9YdlLyisxy6gskEd6MJGzK_czGjZPNicsaFayTG_ZAZabnfjiQcxA3rKgSXzIR3hlLk2zBtTQ-oxpbjf4ocf7X2hSQ0NAJHv7QS2EKg1GEWXMAc/s599/Johnny%20Cash-FOLSOM.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Johnny Cash At Folsom Prison" border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="595" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sG5zlQHFtxbSleSQ7BEYoeXsXvot7kEmwNnF6YJEDQyQ6SYhjpyoZWMO2oj_ROdMvTQbeILCrgaG9YdlLyisxy6gskEd6MJGzK_czGjZPNicsaFayTG_ZAZabnfjiQcxA3rKgSXzIR3hlLk2zBtTQ-oxpbjf4ocf7X2hSQ0NAJHv7QS2EKg1GEWXMAc/w318-h320/Johnny%20Cash-FOLSOM.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>Also in 1968, Cash released what was to become his most popular album at the time, <i>Johnny Cash At Folsom Prison</i>, the album selling better than 500,000 copies (a lot in those days) and crossing over to the pop charts. A year later, Cash followed up with <i>Johnny Cash At San Quentin</i>, which yielded the hit single “A Boy Named Sue.” Cash sat in on Bob Dylan’s album Nashville Skyline and invited the singer/songwriter to appear on the first episode of his television show in 1969. During the next few years, Cash dabbled in movies, published an autobiography, and continued to score hits such as “One Piece At A Time” and “(Ghost) Riders In the Sky.” In 1980 Cash became the youngest member of the Country Music Hall Of Fame.<br /><br />During the ‘80s, however, Cash’s star began to dim, his style of traditional country eclipsed by younger stars and gradually ignored by radio. A musical collaboration with Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson and Kris Kristofferson titled <i>The Highwaymen</i> found mild success in 1985, though the album has since become considered a country classic. In 1986, Rick Blackburn of Columbia Records won the scorn of Cash fans across the planet when the label unceremoniously dumped the aging star from its roster. A brief association with Mercury Records produced little of value and in 1992, after almost 40 years of success, Cash found himself unable to get a record deal in Nashville.<br /><br />Salvation came in the unlikely form of producer Rick Rubin. The founder of American Recordings, Rubin was best known for his work with rap and hard rock bands. However, he eagerly signed Cash to a deal in 1993, launching a career revival that has yet to end. Pairing Cash’s faltering baritone with a mix of contemporary songs and traditional favorites, often delivered with bleak acoustic instrumentation, the series of Rubin-produced albums earned Cash a young audience made up of rebellious punks, metalheads, and Goth kids who appreciated the singer’s passion and powerful delivery. The fourth collaboration between Rubin and Cash, titled <i>American IV: The Man Comes Around</i>, was released in 2002 to widespread critical acclaim. Cash’s cover of the Nine Inch Nails song “Hurt” propelled the album to nearly a million copies sold and several MTV Video Award nominations. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCgZoIKRJgML9aqULYct9MQGIhLaua7dibfwCezaMyzv325lhlqmFRgkm_iyKJCAEnqRjvo8b8tfWrzXBFo25Ga6Zzm5fxPkeRv5QE6i6-s8d-uvlm_I8SEOdvpm1078wR6QhW94jkSzcbFDHZPduVBqG-sid10ayZCwp-woCW9Txe3N6Mndc2YcB4ds/s500/Johnny%20Cash-AMERICAN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="500" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCgZoIKRJgML9aqULYct9MQGIhLaua7dibfwCezaMyzv325lhlqmFRgkm_iyKJCAEnqRjvo8b8tfWrzXBFo25Ga6Zzm5fxPkeRv5QE6i6-s8d-uvlm_I8SEOdvpm1078wR6QhW94jkSzcbFDHZPduVBqG-sid10ayZCwp-woCW9Txe3N6Mndc2YcB4ds/s320/Johnny%20Cash-AMERICAN.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A lot has been written about Cash in the days since his death, mostly focusing upon his success in country music or his relationship with June Carter. Most of those telling the stories, however, missed some of the subtleties about the man and artist. Cash was a great songwriter, his work championing the working man, the downtrodden and the needy. But he also recognized great songwriting, which led him to buck the Music Row establishment and record songs by rockers like Bob Dylan or struggling songwriters like Kris Kristofferson. Cash was a great live performer, a charismatic and powerful presence who took total control of the stage. However, he wasn’t afraid to share his stardom to give a little rub to friends like Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Marty Robbins, or the Statler Brothers. Cash is the only artist honored by inclusion in the Country Music Hall of Fame, the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame and the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame.<br /><br />On the day of his death, the phone lines at Nashville’s talk radio stations lit up with people remembering the “Man In Black.” It seemed as if everybody in the Music City had a story to tell about Cash, every one without exception telling of the man’s great humor and kindness and humanity. Johnny Cash was a giant among men and even in death his legacy continues to inspire and comfort both those who knew him and those who knew his music… (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-82637649214683154462024-02-09T07:00:00.026-05:002024-02-09T07:00:00.148-05:00Outlaw Country Legend Mojo Nixon, R.I.P.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i
>I first met Kim Buie, the underrated Island Records A&R genius who guided
both Drivin’ N Cryin’ and Tom Waits to some of the best work of their careers,
while she was working for the legendary Enigma Records label. Mojo Nixon was
one of the better-selling artists among the label’s impressive roster of punk,
metal, and fringe performers, falling somewhere in between John Trubee and
Zoogz Rift as one of the most original and unique musicians to make a record
in America.<br /><br />Kim turned me onto the first Mojo Nixon and Skid Roper
album, 1985’s </i
>Free, Drunk and Horny<i
>, before she ended up moving from L.A. to Nashville for a job with Jack
Emerson’s Praxis organization. I spoke with Mojo several times, usually while
drinking beer at some Nashville bar. I came up with the Ed Anger/Mojo Nixon
myth, a story that subsequently spread across the country, fueled partially by
Mojo himself. This is the only interview that survived our many conversations,
originally appearing in the November 1990 issue of Nashville’s </i
>The Metro<i>
music magazine.<br /><br />Sadly, Mojo (nee Neill Kirby McMillan Jr.) passed
away on Wednesday, February 7th from a “cardiac event” while on the Outlaw
Country Cruise, where he had performed the night before. Nixon was 66 years
old and enjoyed a full life as a beloved cult-rocker, occasional actor, radio
DJ, and Americana iconoclast. Mojo will long be remembered for his contagious
humor, quick wit, and rowdy, charismatic demeanor. R.I.P. </i
><br /><br />His origins are shrouded in mystery. From whence he comes, no one
really knows…except for Mojo, and he’s not talkin’. Rumor has it that he comes
from Pigfoot, Louisiana, while others say he grew up on the East Coast. Still
others have said that he’s the long-lost twin brother of the Beat Farmers’
Country Dick. Yes, rumors abound, but one thing is for certain…Mojo Nixon and
<i>Weekly World News</i> columnist Ed Anger have never been photographed
together…but more about that later.<br /><br />Mojo’s on his way to Nashville,
you know, set to headline a massive all-ages show along with the Dead Milkmen
and the Cavedogs. The enigmatic Mr. Nixon is overcome with joy at his impending
return to the Music City. “I just wrote a song that I was thinking of pitching
to Nashville,” says Mojo. It’s called ‘I’m Addicted To ESPN, The Total Sports
Network Is My Friend.’” Does Mojo harbor aspirations towards becoming a Music
Row songwriter and country performer?<br /><br />
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“That’ll be when I start my stock car racing career,” says Mojo. “Eventually
there’ll be some sign from above or below that the rock ‘n’ roll thing has run
its course. Then I’ll move back to North Carolina, where I grew up, and begin
racing stock cars and I’ll make my Nashville debut. But I don’t think that Jimmy
Bowen will be involved,” he adds, “Jack Clement, possibly, but not Jimmy
Bowen…”<br /><br />Nixon will be returning to Nashville as part of a tour in
support of his latest vinyl triumph, <i>Otis</i>, a “big, large, stupid slab of
vibrating thingamajig,” says Mojo. “We recorded it in Memphis with Jim
Dickinson,” he continues, “who produced our last album. I got…somebody described
it as ‘The All-Gator Band’…I describe it as the first post-cowpunk supergroup,
with John Doe (X), and Country Dick of the Beat Farmers, Bill (Davis) from Dash
Rip Rock, and Eric (Ambel) from the Del-Lords. We just got down there and drank
a few beers and just started rocking and rolling. We had a lot of fun!”<br /><br /><i
>Otis</i
>
is the first record Nixon has recorded without partner Skid Roper; a mature,
fully-realized exercise in musical mayhem and lyrical madness as only Mojo can
deliver. “I wanted to make a much more rock ‘n’ roll album than I had before,”
says Mojo. “I made five albums with Skid and each one of those is much more
advanced than the last. The first one was just totally primitive; we did it on a
four-track cassette. We didn’t even know that we were doing an album…they were
supposed to be demos in case we ever did an album.”<br /><br />
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To be sure, that first Mojo and Skid disc, <i>Free, Drunk and Horny</i>,
contained some Mojo classics, gems such as “Jesus At McDonald’s” and “Rockin’
Religion.” “Yeah, it’s got some ‘stream-of-consciousness’ on it,” says Mojo. “A
lot of people say to me, ‘well, I like the first album’ or ‘I like the second
album.’ I think that there’s a natural order to things. I had to do the first
two albums to get to ‘Elvis Is Everywhere’ and I had to do the next two albums
to get to ‘Don Henley Must Die.’ Sooner or later, this adding stuff will peter
out and I’ll just go back to me and a guitar. It’s a process you have to go
through and I don’t want to miss any of the steps. You know, sooner or later, I
may have a hit in spite of my own stupid self!”<br /><br />Mojo is known for
tossing lyrical arrows at a wide range of targets. <i>Otis</i> pokes fun at or
insults everyone from George Bush down to Don Henley. “There was some
controversy even before the record came out on the Don Henley thing,” says Mojo
of “Don Henley Must Die.” “My point is that rock ‘n’ roll is supposed to be wild
and crazy and free and fun and anarchy and sex and pandemonium and drive-in
movie theaters with fake-I.D. beer! What the hell is Don Henley doing? Not that
he’s not talented…but VH-1 is wide-open. Why not go there and stay?”<br /><br />Most
of the targets of Mojo’s musical missiles have been quite, shall we
say…understanding. “They’re supposed to be funny, not hate-filled or anything,”
says Mojo, “not even the most hate-filled ones. I don’t know Don Henley or Phil
Collins or Sting…they might be good race car drivers for all I know, but it’s
unlikely.” MTV’s Martha Quinn, an early recipient of a Mojo barb with the song
“Stuffin’ Martha’s Muffin” actually brags about the encounter…<br /><br />“Martha
Quinn,” says Mojo, “I never talked to Martha but I just heard that she was on TV
talking about the song just recently, says that she was the only VJ to have a
song written about her.” Of others, Nixon says, “Debbie Gibson took it all in
stride and Michael J. Fox…well, I’m not worried about him because he’s near
dwarf-sized. What’s he going to do, hire somebody to beat me up? Get together
with Prince and beat me up…a bunch of short guys whuppin’ up on me?!”<br /><br />Mojo’s
music is an eclectic blend of talking blues, old time R&B, and roots-rock.
Says Mojo of influences, “the kind of John Lee Hooker, front-porch Delta blues
thing is a big influence, as is Hunter Thompson’s ‘railing at the gods’ kind of
thing, railing at the absurdities and injustices; and a lot of your basic rock
‘n’ roll and rhythm and blues stuff that I derived out of Otis Redding, out of
the gospel church…”<br /><br />“I was thinking the other day,” says Mojo, “that
rock ‘n’ roll seems to have forgotten somebody like Roger Miller. I think that
he won something like six Grammys. He’s a funny guy and also a musical guy.
There’s a long tradition in country and R&B of people who were funny but
musical, whether it was Jerry Reed or the Coasters or the Big Bopper…you could
name a whole slew of them. The concept that these were novelty acts or
whatnot…well, the Coasters went to number one, as did Roger Miller. Somewhere
along the way, rock ‘n’ roll forgot this.”<br /><br />
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Rock ‘n’ roll as a corporate entity has pretty well led to a cultural decline
for, says Mojo, “the same reasons that the hamburgers at McDonald’s taste like
cardboard compared to a hamburger at some Joe Bob’s hamburger stand that they
run themselves. It’s a big business, a big corporate thing and they’re going for
the lowest common denominator to sell the most units they can. They don’t give a
flying fuck about whether it’s good or not!”<br /><br />In a climate such as
this, Nixon continues to deliver sincere, heartfelt, if decidedly non-mainstream
discs to his adoring fans. Says Mojo, “I’m pretty much determined to have
success on my own terms. People in suits recognize quickly that I have some
talent that can be exploited, but none of them seems to have any clue as to how
to do that. Until one of them does, I’m just going to keep doing what I do.”<br /><br />As
for the question of Mojo’s involvement with the pseudonymous Mr. Anger, well,
let’s just check the facts, shall we. Ed Anger writes a column of patriotic,
right-wing pap called “My America” in the <i>Weekly World News</i> tabloid, a
column that many believe to be done with tongue firmly planted in cheek. Nixon
has been known to comb the very same scandal sheet for song ideas, even going so
far as to lifting headlines for song titles. <br /><br />So how about it Mojo,
what’s the scoop on you and Ed? “Some people think that we may be the same
person,” says Mojo, “I’ve never seen me and Ed in the same room together! I’ve
been pig-biting mad myself, you know.” The answer to this mystery? “Possibly
aliens are channeling my energies and turning them into Ed’s column,” says Mojo.
‘Nuff said… (1990)<br />
<p><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NBAcxaZZL-U?si=dSV2gFh9xV2A8RA_" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe></p>
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Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-74826988158477198222024-02-09T06:30:00.001-05:002024-02-09T06:30:00.157-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Hamell On Trial, Singapore Sling, Strung Out (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6abQlqDj9otYVRShC8N69OYIZRQ3yjwPGaYa86zdqdXdclo2QRMmkuEK8-vR9pVm4Y4rCm7IydIiNSwYosjZphFnylEnXBkIihGF7npRELB33-dyMM4XUD-491qzsj19f3arxJkbKR9aOQwhqxTWxSKCC4DMviozjyvctsjwMMDE3fvFqRNg7Us15T8M/s300/Hamell%20On%20Trial-TOUGH%20LOVE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Hamell On Trial's Tough Love" border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6abQlqDj9otYVRShC8N69OYIZRQ3yjwPGaYa86zdqdXdclo2QRMmkuEK8-vR9pVm4Y4rCm7IydIiNSwYosjZphFnylEnXBkIihGF7npRELB33-dyMM4XUD-491qzsj19f3arxJkbKR9aOQwhqxTWxSKCC4DMviozjyvctsjwMMDE3fvFqRNg7Us15T8M/s16000/Hamell%20On%20Trial-TOUGH%20LOVE.jpg" /></a></b></div><b>V2.61</b><br /><br />Across this great nation of ours, school is back in session and millions of teenagers, whether in high school or college, are carrying music back to the campus with them. Music has become such a seamless part of the everyday lives of many teens that they no longer look at how it is thrust upon them by the major labels. High-stakes marketing, “street teams,” the constant din of advertising, commercial radio placement and movie and television licensing all conspire to flood the young music-lover’s subconscious with one message – buy this CD! There are some of us who still believe that the music is the message, however, and that cheap rock ‘n’ roll thrills can still be found outside of the system. For our campus-bound readers, here are a few artists that you should take back to school with you…<br /><br />Ed Hamell is not your typical rocker and <b><a href="https://www.hamellontrial.org/" target="_blank">Hamell On Trial</a></b> – Ed and a revolving cast of friends – is not your typical rock band. First of all, Ed can’t really sing that well, although he’ll surprise you with a soulful performance every now and then. Instead, Hamell spits out his lyrical invective in a half-spoken/half-chanted cadence that often drives his point home with all the subtlety of a ball-peen hammer. And he’s not that good of a musician, really, an adequate guitarist with a fine knowledge of folk chords, a few rock riffs and a bluesy undercurrent. What Ed Hamell is, however, is a thoroughly enchanting storyteller with a keen eye for human behavior, an expansive vocabulary, and the ability to tie all of his strengths and weaknesses together to deliver a performance stronger and more meaningful than his technically proficient peers.<br /><br />Hamell’s <i>Tough Love</i> (Righteous Babe) is the sidewalk scribe’s sixth album, a collection of personal observations and musical rants delivered with punkish attitude and high-energy glee. The songs speak for themselves, whether when Hamell revisits his near-fatal car wreck on “Downs” or remembers the victims of mindless hate on “Hail.” Hamell is at his best when he’s raging against the machine, offering more thought-provoking concepts in a single verse than most “socially-conscious” artists manage on an entire album. “Don’t Kill” is a fractured-take on God’s commandment; Hamell’s echoed vocals and a powerful beat calling on Christians, Muslims, and Jews alike to stop the violence in no uncertain terms. “Halfway” is Hamell’s call to arms, though, taking to task those who prostitute themselves in the name of commerce or those who would use patriotism as a cover for their agenda. Hamell admits that he’s “a self-righteous prick with a great big mouth,” adding “but I’m sick to death of mediocrity and lies.” A perfect fit with Ani DiFranco’s Righteous Babe label, Hamell On Trial is as real as a knifepoint mugging and as welcome as a warm bath at the end of the day. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjAFj7l8aXyiGO0fTYuhii35-iXVssHLgaaXId5xD9PRTQ4vSawTFgJvksedyNJGnk_jAIFIW3c5urN9hR5qB43PcV2vTdzZbkkOFqqrWCSUyOxg2_SPu3M1wl2HvKU0ooo8VjoVO6kufiqs16tS5sYho55wUi0s0srRSHC_3NzWgesUvo_8dqpeGKlw/s457/Singapore%20Sling-CURSE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Singapore Sling's The Curse of Singapore Sling" border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjAFj7l8aXyiGO0fTYuhii35-iXVssHLgaaXId5xD9PRTQ4vSawTFgJvksedyNJGnk_jAIFIW3c5urN9hR5qB43PcV2vTdzZbkkOFqqrWCSUyOxg2_SPu3M1wl2HvKU0ooo8VjoVO6kufiqs16tS5sYho55wUi0s0srRSHC_3NzWgesUvo_8dqpeGKlw/w197-h200/Singapore%20Sling-CURSE.jpg" width="197" /></a></div>Forget about Sweden or New Zealand or New York City ‘cause the real garage-rock vibe is sounding from Iceland, where <b>Singapore Sling</b> is keeping it real with a hardcore blend of three-chord rock, noisy psychedelica and feedback ambiance. Singapore Sling has more in common with other Velvet Underground acolytes like My Bloody Valentine or the Jesus & Mary Chain than with folks like the Strokes or the Vines. The band’s incredible debut disc, <i>The Curse of Singapore Sling</i> (Stinky Records) is a breath of ice-cold air blasting away the pretensions of a stale American alt-rock scene. Guitarist/songwriter Henrik Björnsson has crafted an excellent collection of dense, multi-textured songs that offer often-gentle vocals, screaming guitar riffs, layer upon layer of noise and the strongest rhythms this side of Killing Joke. With <i>The Curse of Singapore Sling</i>, the Icelandic cult rockers have successfully bridged four decades of rock ‘n’ roll, tying the ‘60s/‘70s/‘80s/‘90s together with a broken guitar string, Singapore Sling creating a highly-amped blueprint for alternative rock in the new century.<br /> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh40TTaLOuKJZttmaGEcEqZSzN7qoMMH-b1WtZtLIeLRpTmWFVtrxnsSGYDsl7liub6wsgqhyphenhyphenfGMmlPPommXo8ywM8MAhiWfpIdxUz3dAZY_Ic9cEm82EagDT-AS5MjCdwABS3NUAQEbbryP09cFxhANV2ACf-Glpih2i2xmoOovdqrT-3sPhaqO9jXdQ/s600/Strung%20Out-LIVE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Strung Out's Live In A Dive" border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="600" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh40TTaLOuKJZttmaGEcEqZSzN7qoMMH-b1WtZtLIeLRpTmWFVtrxnsSGYDsl7liub6wsgqhyphenhyphenfGMmlPPommXo8ywM8MAhiWfpIdxUz3dAZY_Ic9cEm82EagDT-AS5MjCdwABS3NUAQEbbryP09cFxhANV2ACf-Glpih2i2xmoOovdqrT-3sPhaqO9jXdQ/w200-h198/Strung%20Out-LIVE.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There’s been a lot of chatter among the musical punditry these days over bands like AFI and the Ataris that have made the jump from the indie world to major label status. For my money, however, they’re missing the boat if they’re not looking at <b>Strung Out</b>. Marginalized by critics as a minor league hardcore outfit, methinks they should get the cotton out of their collective ears and give Strung Out a closer listen. The band’s 2002 release, <i>An American Paradox</i>, proved to be the sort of artistic breakthrough that better-known and younger punk rockers have yet to experience. <i>Live In A Dive</i> (Fat Wreck Chords) captures this incendiary band in its natural element, live and onstage in front of an all-ages crowd of eager young punks. <br /><br /><i>Live In A Dive</i> serves to map out Strung Out’s musical evolution from fast-n-furious pop/punk plodders to the metal-edged hardcore monster they showed themselves to be with their last album. The live set includes representatives from all of Strung Out’s previous efforts, even throwing in a raging performance of “Population Control” from the band’s decade-old debut. It’s the recent material that draws the most recognition from the audience, however, solid performances of “The Kids” and “Velvet Alley” proving that Strung Out might very well be the next big thing to jump from the fringes of rock and into the currents of the mainstream. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-8753188168661887072024-02-03T14:49:00.003-05:002024-02-03T14:49:35.968-05:00MC5's Brother Wayne Kramer, R.I.P.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVW-bED9u5BEbAg9muDUi5DkkE1UTsB4tQYq0hLvBioZDabbbZ3CRTRDE9shovBjYfKfQALsoqi5LMQkGSDxOtPGtY7OdaRShJYEJc3k-mNIJNt95Iu6Ob7wNMRTYxLXU9PfOAB3qhT1GgQamkUdgNyNBWz7JBY3Fovt2as8O17AcCv-WnAGt_JqHF6y0/s1137/Kramer1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Wayne Kramer" border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="1137" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVW-bED9u5BEbAg9muDUi5DkkE1UTsB4tQYq0hLvBioZDabbbZ3CRTRDE9shovBjYfKfQALsoqi5LMQkGSDxOtPGtY7OdaRShJYEJc3k-mNIJNt95Iu6Ob7wNMRTYxLXU9PfOAB3qhT1GgQamkUdgNyNBWz7JBY3Fovt2as8O17AcCv-WnAGt_JqHF6y0/w400-h314/Kramer1.jpg" width="400" /></a>
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<br />
<p></p>
<p>
<i><b>Wayne Kramer</b> is a bona fide rock ‘n’ roll legend. As guitarist for
Detroit’s MC5, Kramer was part of an anarchic, creative band that was a
major inspiration for both the late ‘70s punk revolution and the early ‘90s
alternative rock movement. Kramer’s four late ‘90s solo albums recorded for
the independent Epitaph label with members of bands like Bad Religion, The
Melvins, and Claw Hammer only added to his already considerable musical
legacy. <br /><br />The guitarist also recorded albums with Johnny Thunders
(</i>Gang War<i>), British rock legend Mick Farren (</i>Death Tongue<i>), Brian James of the Damned (</i>Mad About the Racket<i>), and former MC5 manager John Sinclair (</i>Full
Circle<i>), among others. Perhaps the most exciting album that Kramer recorded aside
from the MC5 was the 1996 </i>Dodge Main<i>
album, a sort of Motor City “homecoming” with Kramer, Deniz Tek of Radio
Birdman, and Scott Morgan of the Rationals and Sonic’s Rendezvous Band.<br /><br />Kramer
passed away this week at the age of 75 after a brief fight with pancreatic
cancer. This phone interview was published in 1997 in my </i>R Squared<i> music zine.</i><br /><br />It has become somewhat of a cliché,
but in practice, Wayne Kramer is usually referred to as a “legend.” It would
be much more accurate, perhaps, to label him as a survivor. As guitarist for
Detroit’s notorious and influential MC5 – musical mouthpiece for the
revolutionary White Panther Party – Kramer made it through the tumultuous ‘60s
alive, if not unscathed. He’s lived through poverty, drugs, and prison to
emerge from the other end of despair. Picking up the guitar again during the
‘80s for a series of musical collaborations with folks like Johnny Thunders
and Mick Farren, it wasn’t until Kramer’s mid-‘90s emergence as a significant
solo artist that he’d begun to forge his own identity and earn the critical
respect he’s always deserved.<br /><br />“For me, I didn’t really have a
choice,” Kramer says of his chosen career path, “this is what I have to do.
I’ve been confused about a great many things in my life, but I’ve never been
confused about my reason to exist. It’s always been to do this work, to play
this music. In the end, to hopefully share something with other people like
they have shared with me...the things that I’ve gotten from great music, from
great art. That sense that maybe I’m not alone, maybe I can spread that idea
to someone else, that maybe they’re not alone, hopefully to leave the place a
little nicer than I found it.”<br /><br />
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GZLjJnm3vmNEwmp1xor8e4akp542eUBJPGStuLdWLk4cfqBUKs0HoQM9zdHJg8S-c7aLp98votkT1hY6HrNq0kZXGao93wFjo5sHofC8-H6HOl7pycrqDu6lctIWQapi_WOgy8ShAej7Au25cIb-eIO9BdzNkxUogZdfSsGBthcjXu-PEDP8NG9eyvw/s600/Citizen%20Wayne.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Wayne Kramer's Citizen Wayne LP" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="591" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GZLjJnm3vmNEwmp1xor8e4akp542eUBJPGStuLdWLk4cfqBUKs0HoQM9zdHJg8S-c7aLp98votkT1hY6HrNq0kZXGao93wFjo5sHofC8-H6HOl7pycrqDu6lctIWQapi_WOgy8ShAej7Au25cIb-eIO9BdzNkxUogZdfSsGBthcjXu-PEDP8NG9eyvw/w197-h200/Citizen%20Wayne.jpg" width="197" /></a>
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After stints in New York and Nashville, Kramer ended up in Los Angeles, writing
the songs that would eventually become 1995’s <i>The Hard Stuff</i>, his first
album of three so far for Epitaph Records and the one that many consider his
comeback effort. With backing from the L.A. band Claw Hammer and guest
performances from a literal “who’s who” of punk rock (including inspired liner
notes by Henry Rollins), <i>The Hard Stuff</i> is an excellent album, brimming
with energy and lyrically exciting songs. Kramer quickly followed up with
<i>Dangerous Minds</i> in 1996. The powerful <i>Citizen Wayne</i> is this year’s
model, a stripped-down, hard-rocking, saber-rattling menace of an album.
Lyrically, <i>Citizen Wayne</i> covers everything from Kramer’s MC5 days, the
‘60s and prison, to the struggle for human dignity and economic justice.
Musically, it features a potent brew of hard rock, metal, punk, and free-form
jazz that few artists have the talent to even attempt, much less make it work
like Kramer is able to.<br /><br />As one of the few icons of the ‘60s still
standing, what are Kramer’s memories of the era? “They were exciting and
romantic, but they were dangerous. You never knew when something bad was going
to happen. You never knew what direction it was going to come from. If it wasn’t
the police, it was the right wing – the ‘America, love it or leave it,’ John
Birch Society – you add to that mix the volatile passions of the day, the
militant rhetoric, and the fact that most everybody was high on acid most of the
time, it was a time that was unique. That’s one of the things that I tried to do
with <i>Citizen Wayne</i>, to try and grab a snapshot of what it was like. Songs
like “Down On the Ground” or “Back When Dogs Could Talk,” that sense of
limitless possibilities, that we could change the world, that there could be a
new kind of politics, a new kind of music.”<br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_r7Vp2dTrJs2MVns3xgCeW9lm4CRA0fVY1fdr2PhZJDEBL3naKveBql-ux3_B182-kVmI2nnGOzbYsifhQxy1P31000tjzKlf3A6ZSewsccdTWXasvF3OzJJKXT6Z1lHSBBE1QU-x6pfP1rkkrQ-sHpMG9rdcHCDJBkONOdTXlv7nQvGfs-HYMJBjlE/s2048/MC5.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Wayne Kramer & MC5" border="0" data-original-height="1827" data-original-width="2048" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_r7Vp2dTrJs2MVns3xgCeW9lm4CRA0fVY1fdr2PhZJDEBL3naKveBql-ux3_B182-kVmI2nnGOzbYsifhQxy1P31000tjzKlf3A6ZSewsccdTWXasvF3OzJJKXT6Z1lHSBBE1QU-x6pfP1rkkrQ-sHpMG9rdcHCDJBkONOdTXlv7nQvGfs-HYMJBjlE/w320-h285/MC5.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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The Motor City seems a strange place to grow musical legends like the MC5 or
Iggy and the Stooges. What was it about Detroit that allowed for this kind of
musical phenomena? “I think it was that there were jobs there,” says Kramer.
“There was work, and there was kind of a boomtown atmosphere, a sense that we
could do anything in Detroit. If you wanted it built, manufactured, fabricated,
we could do it in Detroit. People worked hard for their money and they wanted
their bands to work hard. We carried that work ethic to the band and in the kind
of music that we liked. It was what we called ‘high energy’ music. It was a
visceral music, it was not a pretty, delicate music; it was a hard music. It was
the music of James Brown, the avant-garde free jazz movement, Chuck Berry, and
the rhythm section at Motown. Later, it was the music of the Who and the
Yardbirds, that was experimental and pushed things.”<br /><br />In many of the
songs on <i>Citizen Wayne</i>, as well as his previous solo work, Kramer treads
on political ground that is anathema to rock artists these days. With a
perspective every bit as radical today as it was in 1969, Kramer is not afraid
to take an artistic stand. “The wage and wealth gap is the human rights issue of
today,” he says. “We don’t have the war in Vietnam now; we don’t have the
generation gap. What we have is the difference between wealthy people and all
the rest of us. I don’t believe that any thinking person can be an optimist
today. I do believe that we are prisoners of hope. One sign that I see as really
hopeful is that the unions are coming back.”<br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmN1n1DSGI4dFYURCTT2_LZsr-8uF7tFb7t_MLJMF_tUGukeJWlij8GPKAD2TJzjg4JSnC2_BRV0WIgLaLfo_9d3KycQ8NkvKZcFdH8XE1mAdDaF7zgATxcG95UiQj2J0MjfFWEBeAOlCdej3AShOeCPrbeWORbMY87wKaOeaOinnrc9mL0oasOSITog/s500/Dodge%20Main.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Wayne Kramer's Dodge Main" border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="500" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmN1n1DSGI4dFYURCTT2_LZsr-8uF7tFb7t_MLJMF_tUGukeJWlij8GPKAD2TJzjg4JSnC2_BRV0WIgLaLfo_9d3KycQ8NkvKZcFdH8XE1mAdDaF7zgATxcG95UiQj2J0MjfFWEBeAOlCdej3AShOeCPrbeWORbMY87wKaOeaOinnrc9mL0oasOSITog/w200-h198/Dodge%20Main.jpg" width="200" /></a>
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After touring throughout 1997 to support <i>Citizen Wayne</i>, Kramer will begin
work on writing the soundtrack album for a proposed movie version of Legs
McNeil’s history of New York punk, <i>Please Kill Me.</i> Afterwards, Kramer’s
future is wide open. “My plan is to do an album a year for the next ten years,
do a tour every year,” he says. “Music is not the kind of thing that is tied to
being young. It’s something that you can continue to do through your thirties,
your forties, your fifties...and continue to do it with meaning and passion. For
me, my plan is to ‘do the work.’ That’s what living is all about. Push this
music and sound into a more pure sonic dimension and try to write some good
songs, tell some of the stories of what it’s like to be alive in this time and
this place.” Like the true survivor that he is, Kramer works to create something
that will live on beyond his brief time here. “Ultimately,” he says, “maybe I
can become a blip on the horizon of our day.”
<p></p>
<p><b>Also on That Devil Music:</b><br /><br />
<a href="http://www.thatdevilmusic.com/2019/07/archive-review-wayne-kramers-citizen.html" target="_blank">Wayne Kramer’s <i>Citizen Wayne</i> CD review </a><br /><br />
<a href="http://www.thatdevilmusic.com/2018/10/archive-review-wayne-kramers-hard-stuff.html" target="_blank">Wayne Kramer’s <i>The Hard Stuff </i>CD review </a><br />
</p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-59297170761120024922024-02-02T07:00:00.001-05:002024-02-02T07:00:00.134-05:00Archive Review: Anders Osborne’s Peace (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-tq3i9BTXrpTxyjtF3y-QOrPU5c_Nzu41TXQh59gTNUNxNdJOVUa3ZfsGMwSSU_qi0xl_fLgyrcr28JpQ_QH9M-lvG_ADl8ioeEaurLWh_M1x4C30GkC5aPLc2DiS6mgIo5Ns__RQMGW1KU8GbfWQpst4KjdLgFsPazhtOrSvPoPOhvf0fagx7i-jcoM/s600/Anders%20Osborne-PEACE.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Anders Osborne’s Peace" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-tq3i9BTXrpTxyjtF3y-QOrPU5c_Nzu41TXQh59gTNUNxNdJOVUa3ZfsGMwSSU_qi0xl_fLgyrcr28JpQ_QH9M-lvG_ADl8ioeEaurLWh_M1x4C30GkC5aPLc2DiS6mgIo5Ns__RQMGW1KU8GbfWQpst4KjdLgFsPazhtOrSvPoPOhvf0fagx7i-jcoM/w320-h320/Anders%20Osborne-PEACE.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Blues guitarist <a href="https://www.andersosborne.com/" target="_blank"><b>Anders Osborne</b></a> switched gears musically earlier this year with the release of the semi-acoustic six-song EP <i><a href="http://www.thatdevilmusic.com/2024/01/archive-review-anders-osbornes-three.html" target="_blank">Three Free Amigos</a></i>. Eschewing the hard-charging, guitar-driven blues-rock thunderstorm of his 2012 album <i><a href="http://www.thatdevilmusic.com/2024/01/archive-review-anders-osbornes-black.html" target="_blank">Black Eye Galaxy</a></i>, Osborne’s <i>Three Free Amigos</i> was like a sun-drenched morning after the rain cleared out. By contrast, he guitarist’s <i>Peace</i> manages to walk a fine line between the two recordings – cloudy afternoon music, as it were – Osborne delivering a highly autobiographical set of songs that build upon his trademark roots ‘n’ blues sound to incorporate elements of funk, psychedelic-rock, even scraps of reggae that evoke memories of the 1970s. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Anders Osborne’s <i>Peace</i></h3><br />The title track opens the album with a bang, a shimmering cymbal riding low beneath oscillating guitar drone before a doom-laden dark rhythmic groove worthy of Black Sabbath kicks in. Actually, Osborne’s fuzzy, buzzy fretwork sounds a lot like Neil Young, as do his measured vocals, which float into the song on an acoustic guitar strum. The song’s biographical lyrics are delivered rather low-key but hide a deceptive edge only hinted at by the guitar, the singer’s inner turmoil as brilliantly expressed as anything penned by such similar roots-music oriented wordsmiths as Young, John Fogerty, or Lowell George. The instrumental break is mesmerizing in its complexity, blues influences hanging over the lyrics more so than the music.<br /><br />The sprawling, loose-limbed “47” is similar lyrically to “Peace,” Osborne delivering his breathless vocals over a jaunty, reckless rhythm that drives the song forward like a perpetual motion machine, but it’s with “Windows” that the guitarist fulfills his rock ‘n’ roll fantasies. With a strident guitar strum and wailing vocals, Osborne blends a bluesy vibe with an exotic rock soundtrack, the confessional lyrics telling a story that mixes classical mythology with Grateful Dead references, the finality of the chorus strengthened by the haunting vibe of Jason Mingledorff’s bleating sax. Osborne’s wiry solos sting like a 90-pound wasp, rolling off his fingers with no little urgency themselves, jumping headfirst into the blustery hard rock dirge that is “Five Bullets.” <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Five Bullets</h3><br />Osborne’s “Five Bullets” is both the most political song he’s ever penned, as well as one of the most emotionally powerful, the music driven by a rattletrap circular riff that pounds home the seriousness of the lyrics with the subtle grace of a runaway jackhammer. Lest readers forget, hard rock was born of the blues, and there’s plenty of blues in the unseen tears cried here, albeit lost amidst the muscular arrangement and bludgeoning soundtrack. “Five Bullets” leads, seamlessly, into the chaotic intro of the mostly-instrumental “Brush Up Against Me,” an industrial cacophony grinding along, casting a shadow across odd vocals, blasts of horn, the occasional guitar lick, and who knows what else is hidden in the mix? When Osborne’s brief folkie vocals kick in against a madcap backdrop, it’s quite jarring, but then the music devolves into territory only a demented genius like Eugene Chadbourne might explore.<br /><br />Just as “Five Bullets” drops wordlessly into the tone poem that is “Brush Up Against Me,” so does the latter song roll unexpectedly into the pastoral “Sentimental Times.” At a certain age, mortality creeps up on all of us and nostalgia is often used as a weapon to ward off the evil spirits, and Osborne’s “Sentimental Times” is a wistful, almost melancholy reminder of the passing years. The singer’s vocals have seldom been more expressive, his subdued guitar playing never more elegant, the song hitting the ears like a cross between early Moody Blues and 1960s-era psych-pop tunesmiths like Emmitt Rhodes or Michael Fennelly. The life-affirming defiance of “I’m Ready” matches a bluesy undercurrent (especially in Osborne’s guitarplay) with Dylanesque, word-heavy lyrics and pitch-perfect vocals whereas “My Son” is a loving ode to the next generation, a lilting, peaceful acceptance of, and nod to the future. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">The Reverend’s Bottom Line</h3><br />In more ways than one, <i>Peace</i> is Anders Osborne’s “classic rock” album, the artist feeling, perhaps, like a man out of time. The late 1960s and early ‘70s were an era where blues music casually informed rock songwriting, with Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf as big an influence on young rockers as Elvis Presley or Bob Dylan. There’s little here that the traditionalist would consider even remotely “bluesy” and yet blues music imbues every performance on Peace, hanging around in the corner of the studio like the ghost of a favored ancestor.<br /><br />And make no mistake, the songs on <i>Peace</i> are haunted by a lot of ghosts, not only those of the long-dead bluesmen and women that placed Osborne on his life’s path, but also by his addictions and renewal, his triumphs and his failures. <i>Peace</i> puts paid to all of Osborne’s past, the album a work of staggering lyrical and musical genius that creeps into your consciousness and forces you pay attention. (<a href="https://www.alligator.com/" target="_blank">Alligator Records</a>, released October 8, 2013)<br /><br /><b>Buy the CD from Amazon: <a href="https://amzn.to/3rwfxOY" target="_blank">Anders Osborne’s <i>Peace</i></a> </b><br /><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-20738371785896138082024-02-02T06:30:00.044-05:002024-02-02T06:30:00.168-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Buddy Guy, The Black Keys, Bernard Allison, Kim Wilson (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmg1YX5VzraNHLGKG9tBs4ZZ28j7YYheIS39AdY6kJXFheNo41CjUGl2ko-4QzSIjh4xyNcaYKJ1JiazlpvFdxQFJfO8DsYi8Z6z2j4yOUmNUdJGxlQLuBbErh5lti5Ul_8C3Qe0n2egpv_PAySDTQvhpafJ9pW3g-LzI_tQv0CMpi0rOiQE6nr9xrxhs/s500/Buddy%20Guy-BLUES%20SINGER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Buddy Guy's Blues Singer LP" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmg1YX5VzraNHLGKG9tBs4ZZ28j7YYheIS39AdY6kJXFheNo41CjUGl2ko-4QzSIjh4xyNcaYKJ1JiazlpvFdxQFJfO8DsYi8Z6z2j4yOUmNUdJGxlQLuBbErh5lti5Ul_8C3Qe0n2egpv_PAySDTQvhpafJ9pW3g-LzI_tQv0CMpi0rOiQE6nr9xrxhs/w320-h320/Buddy%20Guy-BLUES%20SINGER.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.59<br /><br />DIFFERENT SHADES OF BLUE</b><br /><br />These are good times for fans of the blues. Old salts like Buddy Guy and R.L. Burnside are putting out some of the best work of their lengthy careers while young pups like David Jacob-Strain and Richard Johnston are keeping the flame alive with brilliant albums of their own. Blues festivals are flourishing, classic albums from legends like B.B. King, John Lee Hooker and Skip James are being reissued on CD (some for the first time) and a generation of kids have been turned on to the music through blues-oriented garage rockers like the White Stripes. As any fan of the genre could tell you, though, there are many different shades of blue and every single one has its own voice…<br /><br />At this point, blues guitarist <b><a href="https://www.buddyguy.net/" target="_blank">Buddy Guy</a></b> really has nothing left to prove. His work during the ’60s for Chess Records is considered some of the best Chicago blues recorded while his collaborations with harp player Junior Wells are the stuff of legend. Guy has three Grammy Awards on his shelf and has influenced guitarists from Jimi Hendrix to Stevie Ray Vaughan. Yet Guy still managed to break new ground with his excellent 2001 album <i>Sweet Tea</i>, recorded in the Oxford, Mississippi studio of the same name. With <i>Blues Singer</i> (Silvertone Records), Guys furthers his considerable legacy.<br /><br />A collection of traditional blues songs performed acoustically with little or no accompaniment, <i>Blues Singer</i> presents another facet of Guy’s talents. While some purists have criticized the album for being too contemporary sounding, pandering to a white rock audience – heck, even Eric Clapton stops by to jam – they’re really missing the point. Collaboration has long been at the root of the blues, why should it be any different now? Guy’s performances suggest that the bluesman is attempting to broaden his palette at an age when many artists are content rehashing the golden moments of their career. <i>Blues Singer</i> offers many stellar performances, from Guy’s chilling take on “Hard Time Killing Floor” to the deliberate, funky reading of “Black Cat Blues.” Songs by blues giants like Son House, Willie Dixon, and John Lee Hooker all receive an acoustic reinvention on <i>Blues Singer</i>, the album another high point in Buddy Guy’s storied career. <br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5E7DsuGxQdAU5qKZWD4iedB1EQhV4n56XCTHFM7s-3wKnWufk0qggqHdljWctFZ9ipgou4rByoLHFIms0AiHrEJOXDsTryfrF88NLbes0-XrWQpDNd70fKkqZdXMI-4noa91eJKES3Dr-aaPvQqbQ2QwjpkHFkl5WYunG2OIyCfXCTAt_VdiTWSLhPI/s493/Black%20Keys-THICKFREAKNESS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The Black Keys' Thickfreakness" border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="493" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5E7DsuGxQdAU5qKZWD4iedB1EQhV4n56XCTHFM7s-3wKnWufk0qggqHdljWctFZ9ipgou4rByoLHFIms0AiHrEJOXDsTryfrF88NLbes0-XrWQpDNd70fKkqZdXMI-4noa91eJKES3Dr-aaPvQqbQ2QwjpkHFkl5WYunG2OIyCfXCTAt_VdiTWSLhPI/w200-h179/Black%20Keys-THICKFREAKNESS.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://theblackkeys.com/" target="_blank">The Black Keys</a></b> – the duo of guitarist Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney – bring a different perspective to the blues, drawing on fifty years of crossbreeding between the genre and rock ‘n’ roll. Heavily influenced by the Mississippi Hill Country tradition and artists like R.L. Burnside, the Black Keys are grungier than the North Mississippi All-Stars, louder than the Soledad Brothers and more soulful than any half-dozen “dirty blues” bands you care to choose. The pair’s sophomore recording, <i>Thickfreakness</i> (Fat Possum), picks up where their critically acclaimed debut left off, mixing bent-note blues and rocking riffs with reckless abandon.<br /><br />In fact, much of <i>Thickfreakness</i> sounds like Auerbach and Carney have been listening to their Eric Clapton record collection, the title track and “Hard Row” especially playing like contemporary power blues a la Cream. They bring a modern garage rock sensibility to their sound, however, shooting for rawness and recording on “medium fidelity” equipment. With only a guitar, drums and vocals, the Keys craft a dense sound that is as muddy as the Mississippi River and as powerful as a thunderstorm, Auerbach adding swirling guitar leads on top of thick chords and Carney’s potent percussion attack. The result is an electrifying blues-rock brew, songs like the shambling “Have Love Will Travel” or the dark, provocative “I Cry Alone” literally jumping off the turntable, crackling with life and energy. The Black Keys delivered one of last year’s best albums in <i>The Big Come Up</i> and it looks like they’ve topped themselves with <i>Thickfreakness</i>. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCcTHATtbeq4EE2bpnPoJWxDCp3KlWqx8O4UdVpYkVJi_3u58GVKex7O80HCvTYJizMiIi1UqyzK1lV5TeHkL25n70k9qdrrapWfyUpthCE9OFj-8FcGdWWza8oIufpzkISjNY2_Vm4LyBn1Lrpa2tdkCVEV_KMkyoMmwvbLisFl2kd82lPtl2_oiODA/s600/Bernard%20Allison-KENTUCKY%20FRIED.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Bernard Allison's Kentucky Fried Blues" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCcTHATtbeq4EE2bpnPoJWxDCp3KlWqx8O4UdVpYkVJi_3u58GVKex7O80HCvTYJizMiIi1UqyzK1lV5TeHkL25n70k9qdrrapWfyUpthCE9OFj-8FcGdWWza8oIufpzkISjNY2_Vm4LyBn1Lrpa2tdkCVEV_KMkyoMmwvbLisFl2kd82lPtl2_oiODA/w200-h200/Bernard%20Allison-KENTUCKY%20FRIED.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>For a musician, it can be hard forging a career in the shadow of a famous father’s footsteps…just ask Big Bill Morganfield or the Dickinson brothers. As a second-generation bluesman, <b><a href="https://www.bernardallison.com/" target="_blank">Bernard Allison</a></b> – son of the legendary guitarslinger Luther Allison – has done just fine, thank you. The younger Allison honed his craft as a member of Koko Taylor’s touring band, joining his father’s band in the late-80s. Allison has released a number of solo albums since his European debut some fourteen years ago, including a couple of live sets, but none are as incendiary as <i>Kentucky Fried Blues</i> (Ruf Records), a recording of a 1999 performance at the W.C. Handy Blues Festival in Henderson, Kentucky.<br /><br />His father and his father’s famous friends may have influenced Bernard Allison’s musical education, but the myriad recordings in his father’s record collection pointed the way towards his future. Chicago blues, Texas six-string blues, ‘70s-styled soul and funk all inform Allison’s playing, which is an intriguing combination of all of his influences. With <i>Kentucky Fried Blues</i>, Allison stretches out and explores the many facets of his musical experience, including sultry Memphis soul (Don Nix’s “Going Down”) and traditional blues (a smoking 18-minute version of Buddy Guy’s “Leave My Girl Alone”). Cover’s of his father’s “Midnight Creeper” and “Bad Love” show that the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. Allison is a distinctive guitar stylist and a dynamic performer. Fans of real guitar blues will find a lot to like about <i>Kentucky Fried Blues</i>. <br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzmyEOtS30d7lIrv6o1HeDSXx0S59ypa9XhzEZa7OZhrZwEQSWLOZuN7KHxvoVIcRO9B7vYUwNGxL2wkH6l5VSn-PjMiqONukhNnmq6YsYTzHqCwO3HHi78Ltaonw1P5CJg566JVIMecZcXGAJrt7R-nWpMSy7z6CZUMMgPKOn-weUkN8e_g0okUjCcKE/s600/Kim%20Wilson-LOOKIN%20FOR%20TROUBLE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Kim Wilson's Lookin' For Trouble" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="599" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzmyEOtS30d7lIrv6o1HeDSXx0S59ypa9XhzEZa7OZhrZwEQSWLOZuN7KHxvoVIcRO9B7vYUwNGxL2wkH6l5VSn-PjMiqONukhNnmq6YsYTzHqCwO3HHi78Ltaonw1P5CJg566JVIMecZcXGAJrt7R-nWpMSy7z6CZUMMgPKOn-weUkN8e_g0okUjCcKE/w319-h320/Kim%20Wilson-LOOKIN%20FOR%20TROUBLE.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><a href="https://fabulousthunderbirds.com/" target="_blank">Kim Wilson</a></b> is best known to audiences as the frontman of the Fabulous Thunderbirds. He’s kept that band rocking coast-to-coast across four decades now and it doesn’t look like the T-Birds are going to run out of steam anytime soon. That’s not to say that Wilson doesn’t like a little somethin’ different on the side, though. The harp maniac’s solo career may not be as prolific as that of his legendary blues band, but it still puts a lot of wannabe bluesmen to shame. <i>Lookin’ For Trouble</i> (MC Records) is just the latest in a string of musical homeruns for Wilson, a solo album so raw and edgy that youngsters like Jack White should be taking notes. <br /><br /><i>Lookin’ For Trouble</i> is filled with gen-u-ine roadhouse blues, Wilson capturing the sound and feel of vintage ‘50s houserockin’. Although Wilson says in the liner notes that he didn’t set out to make a “retro” sounding album, his love of traditional blues can’t help but rise to the top. With guitarist Tony Gonyea and backing from a top-notch rhythm team, Wilson kicks out fifteen red-hot rockers on <i>Lookin’ For Trouble</i>, scorching tunes that blow the doors out and the walls down. Whether he’s cranking his harmonica full stop on originals like “Hurt On Me” or knocking down swinging covers like Willie Dixon’s classic “Love My Baby” or Snooky Pryor’s “Tried To Ruin Me,” Wilson brings a spirit and energy to his music that is missing from much of the Top 40. A fine introduction for the novice fan, Wilson’s <i>Lookin’ For Trouble</i> is a perfect example of the blues done right. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-56092884979948761892024-01-26T07:00:00.044-05:002024-01-26T07:00:00.273-05:00Buzz Kuts: Blue Mountain, Crazy Town, Gomez, Peter Green Splinter Group (1999)<p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0aHoYW-sk1sh0SGY3MUgutFOuj2T9FLV_cwyb_wwX5flkHxJTJJE1qZ3ylERGnigHcc10s2kfX-Uz6p9QlsqNnMIOwNizLElH2kVcwaMLBFKVz_awjEMZavH2ghN129lJB-5cG56eigSg5FnGylEPqCrzuZ0blXFI8kDg2kcqSChL1RxlGb_9XjvP4Nw/s599/Blue%20Mountain-TALES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Blue Mountain's Tales of A Traveler" border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="599" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0aHoYW-sk1sh0SGY3MUgutFOuj2T9FLV_cwyb_wwX5flkHxJTJJE1qZ3ylERGnigHcc10s2kfX-Uz6p9QlsqNnMIOwNizLElH2kVcwaMLBFKVz_awjEMZavH2ghN129lJB-5cG56eigSg5FnGylEPqCrzuZ0blXFI8kDg2kcqSChL1RxlGb_9XjvP4Nw/w320-h314/Blue%20Mountain-TALES.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></div><i>Reviews originally published as a “Buzz Kuts” column, Alt.Culture.Guide™, November 1999</i><br /><br /><b>BLUE MOUNTAIN<br /><i>Tales of A Traveler</i></b><br />One of Mississippi’s better-known secrets, <b>Blue Mountain</b> mine a musical vein that combines a lyric-driven folk tradition with a sound that’s part roots rock and part country. Too eclectic for the hardcore alt-country audience, Blue Mountain’s work is hidden away on died-in-the-wool metal label Roadrunner, where the gentle Southern quartet share a roster with bands like Coal Chamber and Soulfly. Sadly ignored by the mainstream music press and seemingly lacking in the “hipness” factor that would ensure them constant street-level zine exposure, Blue Mountain have built an audience entirely on word of mouth. <i>Tales of A Traveler</i>, the band’s third Roadrunner album and their most mature work to date, should go a long way towards stimulating such discussions. <br /> A refreshingly honest and entertaining work, the members of Blue Mountain seem to rejoice in the sheer act of making music, and it shows. Songs such as “Comic Book Kid,” a poignant, universal tale of childhood, or the hard rocking “Room 829” are rife with imagery, skillfully written by founders Cary Hudson and Laurie Stirratt. The pop-country track “I Don’t Wanna Say Goodnight” trumps anything produced by Nashville’s Music Row this year while the swamp-rock of “My Wicked Ways” features some deliciously wicked six-string work. Produced by the band with help from ex-Georgia Satellite Dan Baird, <i>Tales of A Traveler</i> is one of the year’s best releases, an album of incredible intelligence and depth which utilizes a diverse musical vocabulary to drive its songs home. Blue Mountain would certainly appeal to fans of bands like Wilco or Son Volt, so what are ya’ll waiting for? Pick up on <i>Tales of A Traveler</i> or forever suffer in musical ignorance. Just don’t say that I didn’t tell ya so… (Roadrunner Records) <br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_PVTjE7oKlqllTfgGsWQ4ahfw3G9Dnni2prE1aIl1xj_y2rT18w6tmQ3-0OFmMaW4nypqFiiIGmP4OF-dAZHSiGhsog4zgBVxKJ7XAJN_zAWTE5i7WZgUuG0N7ZONgJ7u3gMB3tSS4NYJobHSH8VOLBIKZ1bMOkkEhrBDbQ31E_7GzumTXNWhfrGmRs/s600/Crazy%20Town-GIFT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Crazy Town's The Gift of Game" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_PVTjE7oKlqllTfgGsWQ4ahfw3G9Dnni2prE1aIl1xj_y2rT18w6tmQ3-0OFmMaW4nypqFiiIGmP4OF-dAZHSiGhsog4zgBVxKJ7XAJN_zAWTE5i7WZgUuG0N7ZONgJ7u3gMB3tSS4NYJobHSH8VOLBIKZ1bMOkkEhrBDbQ31E_7GzumTXNWhfrGmRs/w200-h200/Crazy%20Town-GIFT.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>CRAZY TOWN<br /><i>The Gift of Game</i></b><br />Unlike most rap/metal hybrids, Crazy Town features not one but two authentic rap “DJs” in Shifty Shellshock and Epic Mazur, two quite different rap stylists who nonetheless play off each other’s strengths with great effectiveness. In a genre in which everybody from Kid Rock to Limp Bizkit is trying to bring down the motherfuckin’ roof, Crazy Town actually accomplishes it with <i>The Gift of Game</i>. “Toxic,” the disc’s first single, is a crunchy little slice o’ white light/white heat with deceptively smooth vocals lulling the listener into a false calm before assaulting the ears with a megavolt assault of blasting guitars. Much of the rest of <i>The Gift of Game</i> follows the same blueprint, with impressive vocal gymnastics matched by sheer sonic overkill. <br /> “Darkside” offers a really wicked circular riff, electronically-altered vocals and a powerful beat to split your skull while “Hollywood Babylon,” with guest vocalist toastmaster Mad Lion, is the meanest vision of the concrete jungle since Guns ’N’ Roses’ “Welcome To The Jungle.” The Crazy Town posse teams up with KRS-One for “B-Boy 2000,” a chaotic romp through a fantasy of futuristic hip-hop. <i>The Gift Of Game</i> is an altogether crazed collection of rapid-fire rhymes, molten riffs and muscular rhythms, the aural equivalent of slamming your car into a brick wall at 100 mph. Note: this review of <i>The Gift Of Game</i> was done with an advance copy of the CD. The regular edition includes a cut titled “www.crazytown.com” that was included after the band clashed with Sony over the ownership of the Crazy Town web address. Evidently Sony refused to print the address on the CD materials, so the band added a song with the web address as the title. We haven’t heard the song but we like the stand it takes. (Columbia Records) <br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOey9wsC8QEQXEed-WbFz1VMzZ17EgdWwGGtBZEInNJsnh6tuuxWddfGcfnf5nW1UvC76VFDjwo210UUs43V6ShxaEf9qKbsOjm3Gewgcs26drlWTslpGRPt6FGXfTGcmNOZhBO8pKz9o4RMu1wJT3hgNdStOykeesvNY50rSEfdhx5M3_XXz-TDd5ugU/s600/Gomez-LIQUID%20SKIN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Gomez's Liquid Skin" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOey9wsC8QEQXEed-WbFz1VMzZ17EgdWwGGtBZEInNJsnh6tuuxWddfGcfnf5nW1UvC76VFDjwo210UUs43V6ShxaEf9qKbsOjm3Gewgcs26drlWTslpGRPt6FGXfTGcmNOZhBO8pKz9o4RMu1wJT3hgNdStOykeesvNY50rSEfdhx5M3_XXz-TDd5ugU/w320-h320/Gomez-LIQUID%20SKIN.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>GOMEZ<br /><i>Liquid Skin</i></b><br />Unlike a lot of the current crop of Britpop wonders, who tend to look towards the ancient mod vs. rocker cultural clash for their musical inspiration, Gomez draws upon myriad of influences, both British and American. If Gomez were from, say, Albuquerque NM, they’d be lumped in with jam bands like Phish or Blues Traveler. Since they hail from across the pond, however, critics have been falling all over themselves to say how “American” the songs on <i>Liquid Skin</i> sound. These ears don’t recognize this material as sounding American as much as not sounding British. For their second album, Gomez has continued to create, thread by thread, the enormous tapestry of sound that they began weaving with their debut. <i>Liquid Skin</i> is a very textured album, a multi-layered delight that’s hard to pin down to any one style or category. <br /> There are immense ambient passages of great delicacy, such as the instrumental break within “Revolutionary Kind,” as well as dreamy, mesmerizing tracks like “Blue Moon Rising” or “Rosalita,” with muted instrumentation and almost whispered vocals. “Rhythm & Blues Alibi” offers passionate vocals accompanied by tasteful acoustic guitar, sounding as close to Britpop as Gomez gets; “Devil Will Ride” mixes electronically-altered vocals with a folkish instrumentation to create, perhaps, a new genre: “folktronica”! Exceeding expectations and defying classifications, Gomez have delivered a timeless work in <i>Liquid Skin</i>, a cohesive collection that stitches the influences of musical history and style into a seamless garment that is as comfortable as it is familiar. (Virgin Records)<br /> <br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqSfQ1SnnXQe-oufa4MOUvYYMGrh0ytqO6JjqwJEFsrqpAvc1Wdq61Z-Wtv507eYe1ameM3rvlLXkd5ALPqzQep3blCj1THBHqJ_WwyRfZ6EirtSbo16hF9RWAigNhBB2i6w14vNXw1hVkE1YVaVngnVsATRkIGBnsM5X_-KThHV5w4zP2GEId5fL8KI/s599/Peter%20Green-SPLINTER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Peter Green & Splinter Group's Destiny Road" border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="599" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqSfQ1SnnXQe-oufa4MOUvYYMGrh0ytqO6JjqwJEFsrqpAvc1Wdq61Z-Wtv507eYe1ameM3rvlLXkd5ALPqzQep3blCj1THBHqJ_WwyRfZ6EirtSbo16hF9RWAigNhBB2i6w14vNXw1hVkE1YVaVngnVsATRkIGBnsM5X_-KThHV5w4zP2GEId5fL8KI/w200-h199/Peter%20Green-SPLINTER.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>PETER GREEN SPLINTER GROUP<br /><i>Destiny Road</i></b><br />During his stint as one of the founding fathers of British blues, guitarist Peter Green fronted a late ‘60s Fleetwood Mac line-up that was as powerful an electric blues band as any outfit you’d find stateside. A guitarist of some skill and accuracy, Green – “Greenie” to his friends – was still blazing new musical trails and setting audiences on their ears when Fleetwood Mac’s growing fame took its toll. Damaged by the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle, Green fled the band around 1970, trading in his six-string first for a religious cult and later for personal solitude. After too long a time out of the spotlight, Green has begun taking a few tentative steps back into music during the late ‘90s. <i>Destiny Road</i>, his recent work with the Splinter Group, is a fine indication that Green is getting his music back on solid ground. <br /> A wonderful collection of classic and original blues, <i>Destiny Road</i> showcases the talents of a more mature Peter Green. Along with fellow guitarist Nigel Watson, Green has put together in Splinter Group a dynamic blues band that performs with great subtlety and grace. Whether kicking out covers like Elmore James’ classic “Madison Blues” or new material like Green’s “Tribal Dance” (eerily reminiscent of Mac’s “Oh Well”) the band delivers the real goods. The difference between Splinter Group and early Fleetwood Mac is similar to that between a fine wine and a shot of whiskey – they’ll both knock you on your ass, the wine just takes longer. Whereas a younger Greenie would blow you away with speed and power, the older Green does so with style and assurance. It’s an impressive transformation that is illustrated by <i>Destiny Road</i>, the album a rock-solid indication that Peter Green has returned. (Snapper Music)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-16814591822740724312024-01-26T06:30:00.015-05:002024-01-26T06:30:00.144-05:00The View On Pop Culture: The Indie Revolution w/Superlush, Maggie's Choice, Jim Testa (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DTDLOAVQExlWqa1JO143IlripO9w8kvN8WZBvE27ZiMqO8tq_fxa0YvV5EhNA81rLtroTTnMoqlUTMqQZKToeKR6YPBAl9456to_seOGWy5bKAppueEJao53y_tvQ0IR2WGxHR_I7FcTvyIaBhKwtGR043pdYEuwtbiDGoVuqXbImjQM3cHSWELUK3c/s350/Maggie's%20Choice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Maggie's Choice" border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="350" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DTDLOAVQExlWqa1JO143IlripO9w8kvN8WZBvE27ZiMqO8tq_fxa0YvV5EhNA81rLtroTTnMoqlUTMqQZKToeKR6YPBAl9456to_seOGWy5bKAppueEJao53y_tvQ0IR2WGxHR_I7FcTvyIaBhKwtGR043pdYEuwtbiDGoVuqXbImjQM3cHSWELUK3c/w320-h320/Maggie's%20Choice.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.59<br /><br />THE INDIE REVOLUTION</b><br /><br />The major record labels would have you believe that any artist worth the price of a CD can only be found in their realm. (To be honest, a lot of so-called “independent” labels play the same game.) In my many years walking the pop culture beat, the Reverend has discovered that talent and passion and entertainment value come in many packages, not all of them with the designated imprint of corporate acceptance. As such, we’re going to use this column to pay our respects to some of the talented artists who, while tilting at windmills, nevertheless represent the true spirit of rock music…<br /><br />Ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind receiving a beautiful woman’s phone number, but in this case, Liz Aday of <b>Superlush</b> wrote it across the gorgeous cover of the band’s self-produced debut, <i>Under My Skin</i>. This minor cavil aside, the music under the cover is a revelation. Aday’s vocals on <i>Under My Skin</i> are loud, lusty, provocative and powerful – in short, everything a female rocker would want to be. Backed by guitarist Chad Quist and a rhythm section that knows when to whisper and when to SHOUT, Superlush cranks out meat-and-potatoes rock ‘n’ roll. How Quist, who recently toured Europe with Big Brother & the Holding Company, has managed to fly underneath the radar for so long is a mystery, the Superlush axeman coaxing both jazzy flourishes and razor-sharp riffs from his instrument. Ditto for Liz Aday, who has both the songwriting and the performing skills to play in the big leagues. <br /><br />“Sticks and Stones” could be a monster of a radio hit, the infectious chorus matched with a chaotic swirl of guitars and a big beat. The funky “I Am A Stone” hits a rocking groove behind Aday’s sultry vocals while the clever “Children In The 80’s” showcases the singer’s vocal gymnastics in an ultra-cool song that revisits the decade of MTV, disposable pop and funny haircuts. Word is that Seattle’s Superlush has gone on “hiatus” due to personal situations. <i>Under My Skin</i> is well worth the investment both for its entertainment value and as a collector’s item for that inevitable day when Aday and Quist have become major stars.<br /><br />Portland, Oregon’s <b>Maggie’s Choice</b> has also released a strong debut, the band’s self-titled album showcasing an invigorating blend of roots rock, swamp rock, blues rock and country rock. Guitarists Abe Cohen and Mateo Bevington share vocals, songwriting and six-string duties to fine effect, their harmonies dominated by Cohen’s warm baritone and supported by the finely crafted instrumentation of each song. Bevington’s lead vocals are also distinctive, with a slight twang and a friendly cadence. Marian Hammond’s piano and keyboards add another dimension to the pair’s songwriting; her imaginative rhythms complimented by steady six-string work that sounds like Toy Caldwell reborn.<br /><br /><i>Maggie’s Choice</i>, the album, offers a number of songs that would play well to the alt-country crowd, infused as they are with reckless country soul and down-to-earth honesty. Cohen and Bevington remind me a lot of Uncle Tupelo’s Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy, both solid songwriters with a lot of heart, a flair for imagery and the ability to translate complex emotions into a three-minute song. “Where We Were” offers fleeting glimpses of a relationship, described by Cohen with a jigsaw puzzle of imagery. The wonderful “Moving Towards The Center” shows Dylanesque brilliance, the song’s oblique lyrics matched by Bevington’s strong vocal delivery. A Byrdsian guitar riff opens “Saturday Morning,” the six-string sound swelling into a stream-of-consciousness romantic tale of an angel taking flight while “The Same Mistake” tries to grab the same angel, her gilded heartstrings considered with bittersweet vocals. Maggie’s Choice is a hell of a talented band, their debut album well worth your consideration. . <br /><br />Journalistic integrity forces me to admit that singer/songwriter <b>Jim Testa</b> is an old acquaintance. As editor of the Northeast music zine <i>Jersey Beat</i> for the past twenty-plus years, Testa has published the Reverend’s CD reviews for better than a decade. Of course, Jim has read enough negative reviews to realize that if his own musical debut, <i>Songs My Father Never Sang</i>, wasn’t up to snuff that I’d hit him with both barrels faster than you could say “weapons of mass destruction.” He has nothing to fear from these quarters, however, Testa’s charming five-song EP filled with the kind of witty eccentricity and pop/rock intelligence that critics like yours truly live for.<br /><br />A cross between a Greenwich Village folkie and a Hoboken rocker, Testa’s whipsmart lyrics are matched with a cool, complimenting retro sound. “Bad New York Band” is the funniest, darkest song here, Testa’s savage lyrics slamming the NYC rock scene with authority. Supported by an ‘80-styled synth beat and bluesy harp, Testa’s chorus of “you’re a bad New York band and nobody likes you” results in the proclamation “Joey Ramone died for your sins!” The nostalgic “I Was A Teenage Frankenstein” provides a high-school nerd with his long overdue revenge while “Jean Shepherd” revisits childhood memories while paying homage to the popular New York humorist. <br /><br />With nifty sci-fi synthwork and a doo-wop heart, “Incredible Shrinking Man (I Love You)” reminds me of Zappa’s Ruben & the Jets, and that’s a good thing. <i>Songs My Father Never Sang</i> is Testa’s first, tentative step into the world of music that he has long documented with some intelligence, the EP a too-brief collection of tunes that is refreshingly honest, heartfelt and a hell of a lot of fun. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-75638420568954320012024-01-19T07:00:00.020-05:002024-01-19T07:00:00.139-05:00Archive Review: Anders Osborne’s Three Free Amigos (2013)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQK19MVe42xoUysUcg06pNNCR81j-oJAsyKXiTy7jIJ_zwozwWBQnJmBGFPoCmBqnbLtpnez1SSQ1QxME_sQDokF3ukRgLBmJYXF4_7M9tEWjxCKkmcTJzx7x8rz1Kkv_AsoJxA8rmA5G3KHkJW_SWBGsNz1SGoVqZQMrzvz53aUCXQh6UNQ362a7K7D0/s600/Anders%20Osborne-THREE%20FREE%20AMIGOS.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Anders Osborne’s Three Free Amigos" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQK19MVe42xoUysUcg06pNNCR81j-oJAsyKXiTy7jIJ_zwozwWBQnJmBGFPoCmBqnbLtpnez1SSQ1QxME_sQDokF3ukRgLBmJYXF4_7M9tEWjxCKkmcTJzx7x8rz1Kkv_AsoJxA8rmA5G3KHkJW_SWBGsNz1SGoVqZQMrzvz53aUCXQh6UNQ362a7K7D0/w320-h320/Anders%20Osborne-THREE%20FREE%20AMIGOS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Singer, songwriter, and guitarist <b><a href="https://www.andersosborne.com/" target="_blank">Anders Osborne</a></b> has experienced a sort of career renaissance since signing with Alligator Records for 2010’s <i>American Patchwork</i>. A stripped-down affair that highlighted Osborne’s unique blend of rock, blues, and soul the album revived the guitarist’s flagging commercial fortunes and marked him as a creative force to be reckoned with. If that album was an artistic whisper, 2012’s <a href="http://www.thatdevilmusic.com/2024/01/archive-review-anders-osbornes-black.html" target="_blank"><i>Black Eye Galaxy</i> </a>was a scream from the darkness, Osborne’s intelligent lyricism matched by a furious, guitar-driven blues-rock soundtrack.<br /><br />Osborne toured non-stop in support of <i>Black Eye Galaxy</i>, bringing his talents to an entirely new audience, but he somehow found enough time to sit for a spell in his New Orleans studio to cut a few tracks. <i>Three Free Amigos</i> is a six-song, semi-acoustic EP featuring four brand new tunes, the previously unrecorded “It’s Gonna Be OK” (covered by singer Theresa Andersson on her 2004 album <i>Shine</i>), and a re-imagined take of Osborne’s “Never Is A Real Long Time,” originally recorded for his 1999 album <i>Living Room</i>. Osborne is backed on several songs by his road-tested band – bassist Carl Defrene and drummer Eric Bolivar – as well as guests like keyboardist Michael Burkhart, harp player Johnny Sansone, guitarist Billy Iuso, and singer Maggie Koerner. <br /> <br /><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Anders Osborne’s <i>Three Free Amigos</i></h3><p><br /><i>Three Free Amigos</i> opens with the title track, a rootsy story-song that mixes country twang with a bluesy undercurrent, a tale of music and merry-making on the road with insightful lyrics and a fierce intelligence. Osborne sounds, at times, like Nashville alt-country singer/songwriter Todd Snider in both word and music, but the song stays grounded in the blues through Osborne’s livewire fretwork and earthy vocals. The lengthy guitar solo that rolls the song towards the credits is hauntingly beautiful in its simplicity and efficiency, Osborne masterfully playing off the countering acoustic strum and dark-hued rhythms, his instrument giving voice to the unstated emotions that lay beneath the song’s lyrics before fading into the horizon.<br /><br />The reggae-styled “Marmalade” takes an entirely different tack, Osborne getting his “inner rasta” on with the best song Bob Marley never wrote. The lively rhythms are tailor-made for the joyous emotion of the lyrics, the song a welcome celebration of love and life with a beat guaranteed to get you on your feet. The gorgeous backing vocals just add to the authenticity of the performance, the song more a tribute to Marley’s immense legacy than an attempt at mimicry. Osborne’s mid-tempo “Jealous Love” veers off down another musical path entirely, sparse instrumentation and an undeniable Bo Diddley beat serving as a backbone for a sizzling duet between Osborne and singer Maggie Koerner. <br /><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Never Is A Real Long Time</h3><p><br />The melancholy “It’s Gonna Be OK” is equally sparse in instrumentation, relying more on Osborne’s anguished vocals and the gorgeous tone of his subtle six-string undercurrent. The emotional, pleading, bittersweet lyrics are lent greater strength by the Sansone’s crying harpwork and Koerner’s wistful backing vocals. Although the song is ostensibly a life-affirming screed, Osborne’s wavering voice, Koerner’s wailing vocals, and the guitarist’s short, shocking, brilliant guitar lines leaves one in doubt.<br /><br />The heart and soul of <i>Three Free Amigos</i> is the striking, heartbreaking “Never Is A Real Long Time,” the song’s stripped-down framework belying the incredible performance provided by Osborne and Koerner, the lyrics speaking of loneliness, emotional distance, and unrequited love. Relying again on Osborne’s strained, empathetic vocals which are, in turn, supported by Koerner’s soulful backing vox, the guitarist’s nuanced fretwork provides a thematic thread throughout, cutting off sharply at the end and leaving the listener hanging by a thin thread. The EP closes out with the more up-tempo “We Move On,” a lyrically upbeat and uplifting true affirmation of life with a jaunty rhythm, stinging guitarwork, a bit of friendly harp, and an infectious melody that creates an overall enchanting vibe. <br /><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">The Reverend’s Bottom Line</h3><p><br /><i>Three Free Amigos</i> is meant to be a stopgap between full-length albums, but there are few artists that could deliver six songs as rich, thoughtful, and stylistically different and yet pull it all together into a cohesive, entertaining artistic statement as Osborne has done here. Absent the scorching six-string blues-rock pyrotechnics displayed on <i>Black Eye Galaxy</i>, Osborne’s <i>Three Free Amigos</i> relies more on the subtlety and skill of his playing, the spotlight focused on his raw, often intense vocals and poetic songwriting. It’s a masterful work, playful and yet often somber, a solid collection of roots ‘n’ blues music that is bluesy mostly on the fringes but deeply soulful in the grooves where it counts. (<a href="https://www.alligator.com/" target="_blank">Alligator Records</a>, released February 12, 2013)<br /><br /><b>Buy the CD from Amazon: <a href="https://amzn.to/3ZIfXhW" target="_blank">Anders Osborne’s <i>Three Free Amigos</i></a></b></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-7860115475321372652024-01-19T06:30:00.022-05:002024-01-19T06:30:00.440-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Delaney & Bonnie, Lucinda Williams (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XhmgsSd8ksN6YFf1nquzj27sCKzUTiNrBG6MhEEyEUIWNsEzOkk8mUSxPML1WiPzM7V7Ror5l2zjlekroEmV54mJmttlhyphenhyphenj1AxtTo3AeAYvE-MYd8yBIaPf-C7mShB92BqhQHSGU5ExkfwkRtbowHZcZI8u_JMg4UYZRUJ4shbEmmabQfbAowvcPT04/s300/Delaney%20&%20Bonnie%20Together.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Delaney & Bonnie's D&B Together" border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XhmgsSd8ksN6YFf1nquzj27sCKzUTiNrBG6MhEEyEUIWNsEzOkk8mUSxPML1WiPzM7V7Ror5l2zjlekroEmV54mJmttlhyphenhyphenj1AxtTo3AeAYvE-MYd8yBIaPf-C7mShB92BqhQHSGU5ExkfwkRtbowHZcZI8u_JMg4UYZRUJ4shbEmmabQfbAowvcPT04/s16000/Delaney%20&%20Bonnie%20Together.jpg" /></a></b></div><b>V2.58</b><br /><br />They had lots of famous friends who would stop by and play sessions, folks like Eric Clapton, Leon Russell, Rita Coolidge, Duane Allman, Tina Turner, and many others. They scored a couple of early ‘70s radio hits with “Never Ending Song of Love” and “Only You Know and I Know,” yet many critics and rock historians treat <b>Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett </b>as meaningless footnotes, mere asterisks next to the names of their better-known friends. <br /><br />Truth is, the short-lived entity known as Delaney & Bonnie and Friends was not only a major influence on Clapton’s work in the ‘70s, but also upon the music of Russell, Coolidge, Turner, and Joe Cocker through the decade. Bonnie Bramlett’s gritty, soulful vocals rival those of her contemporary Janis Joplin for power and emotion. Delaney’s skill as a bandleader and eye for talented musicians is vastly underrated, many of the duo’s “friends” later comprising bands for Joe Cocker’s “Mad Dogs & Englishmen” tour as well as Clapton’s Derek & the Dominoes and George Harrison’s band. Delaney managed to slide egos to the side and coax excellent performances from his “friends” over the course of six influential albums. <br /><br />The duo’s final album, <i>D & B Together</i> (Legacy Recordings), recently reissued with bonus cuts, is fairly representative of D & B’s creative milieu. A spirited blend of soul, gospel, blues, roots-rock, and Southern-fried grooves, <i>D & B Together</i> yielded a Top Twenty hit in Dave Mason’s infectious “Only You Know and I Know” and provided both Rita Coolidge and the Carpenters with respective hits in “Groupie (Superstar).” A collection of original material and songs contributed by friends like Mason, Clapton, Steve Cropper, and Bobby Whitlock, <i>D & B Together</i> is as fine an example of blue-eyed soul as the ‘70s would create, a time when genre-mixing and wearing your influences on your sleeve was not “verboten.”<br /><br />As their marriage disintegrated, so too did Delaney & Bonnie’s musical collaboration, the pair splitting off into respective solo careers, a glimpse of which is provided at the end of <i>D & B Together</i>. Of the bonus tracks provided here, four are taken from a pair of Delaney solo projects from 1972 and ’73, showing the bandleader traveling much the same direction as did D&B and Friends, cranking out high-energy Southern funk and soulful ballads. The two tracks culled from Bonnie’s 1972 solo album <i>Sweet Bonnie Bramlett</i> only hint at the power of her voice, pairing Gospel-tinged arrangements with unfortunately muted vocals. Bonnie would go on to record several excellent albums for the Capricorn label, forging a career as a backing vocalist for a veritable “who’s who” of rock music. As shown by <i>D & B Together,</i> however, for a brief time Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett helped define popular music, setting the course for others to follow.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKogjskuxIqg8IacdL1elt8KBP6g9I9C39vxwQyLWegU8fRjiUDG7t-kRs3oWWM6r2WZRtevQH1x1VUIjpKhCQYWhbVb3JdICOCnHeY3adnhRG20W-x7SwxUlJRweRUH2smSOzcAc9Tw6_bDeYMhPSAXUTpVIZiT0lCQOhZLHiuQ1asRWxo-y7oKiyz_4/s600/Lucinda%20Williams-WORLD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lucinda Williams' World Without Tears" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKogjskuxIqg8IacdL1elt8KBP6g9I9C39vxwQyLWegU8fRjiUDG7t-kRs3oWWM6r2WZRtevQH1x1VUIjpKhCQYWhbVb3JdICOCnHeY3adnhRG20W-x7SwxUlJRweRUH2smSOzcAc9Tw6_bDeYMhPSAXUTpVIZiT0lCQOhZLHiuQ1asRWxo-y7oKiyz_4/w320-h320/Lucinda%20Williams-WORLD.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The full effect of <b><a href="https://www.lucindawilliams.com/" target="_blank">Lucinda Williams</a></b>’ music on the country and rock genres has yet to be fully charted, especially when the alt-country goddess continues to release albums as raw, revealing and powerful as <i>World Without Tears</i> (Lost Highway Records). While a lot of Williams’ past work has focused on love and lust, romance and relationships, never before has she delivered an album so seemingly obsessed with the sweet and bittersweet aspects of romance<br /><br /><i>World Without Tears</i> is, on the surface, an elegant collection of folkish country songs with elements of rock and blues, guitarist Doug Pettibone adding an edge to the material with his excellent six-string work. Paired with a weeping country lilt, “Three Days” vividly retells the passion and abandonment of an intense love affair while “Ventura” accurately portrays the melancholy that follows a lost love, wonderfully supported by a mournful pedal steel guitar. With sparse instrumentation and a reliance on Williams’ provocative vocals, “Sweet Side” mimics the talking blues of early Bob Dylan, which were influenced, in turn, by the Delta folk bluesmen that Williams also listened to in her youth. <br /> <br />There are moments on <i>World Without Tears</i> that rock pretty hard, too, such as the Stones-inspired country honk of “Real Live Bleeding Fingers and Broken Guitar Strings,” a story of romantic obsession from afar. “Atonement” rocks like Howlin’ Wolf moaning at the moonlight, Williams’ dirgelike vocals paired with a martial rhythm and brilliant apocalyptic imagery. Pettibone’s guitar licks are razor-sharp on “Atonement,” Williams sounding like Patti Smith at her most powerful. The hauntingly beautiful “Minneapolis” may be the saddest tune on the album, Williams’ eerie, trembling vocals supported by a chiming guitar in the distance. <br /><br /><i>World Without Tears</i> is a masterpiece of songwriting and musical composition, Williams’ poetic songs perfectly paired with appropriate supporting music. Long-time fans may be shocked at the intensity of Williams’ lyrics, stark portraits of love and betrayal that rise above the mundane level of contemporary pop songwriting. It is the goal of the artist, however, to follow their muse and to forever strive to grow and mature in their work. With <i>World Without Tears</i>, Lucinda Williams has not only surpassed her previous (excellent) work but she has also delivered an album that will continue to influence romantic songwriters for a generation to follow. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-19053256423444278242024-01-12T07:00:00.046-05:002024-01-12T07:00:00.134-05:00Buzz Kuts: The Bottle Rockets, Drop Zone, Filibuster, Gov't Mule, Jughead's Revenge (1999)<p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnoBhFWCE5xSmmHwRDfJ2rZYqYxOgOsrnVZ1tZ9Tnam3YTiAr_UFOFXNSJIvsLPtuW1zweiP4SbyY_tl86qES0GnAuEAgNlVGIjcPDvFlAGY_8XckE1m36kbD6KomQF6qK_CTWJ5LzN5da8ES06Uu0Ca4_Y-34f_LvpRSja-vORgb5a-jiQepp_TtJlE/s1000/Bottle%20Rockets-BRAND%20NEW%20YEAR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="The Bottle Rockets' Brand New Year" border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="987" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnoBhFWCE5xSmmHwRDfJ2rZYqYxOgOsrnVZ1tZ9Tnam3YTiAr_UFOFXNSJIvsLPtuW1zweiP4SbyY_tl86qES0GnAuEAgNlVGIjcPDvFlAGY_8XckE1m36kbD6KomQF6qK_CTWJ5LzN5da8ES06Uu0Ca4_Y-34f_LvpRSja-vORgb5a-jiQepp_TtJlE/w316-h320/Bottle%20Rockets-BRAND%20NEW%20YEAR.jpg" width="316" /></a></i></div><i>Reviews originally published as a “Buzz Kuts” column, Alt.Culture.Guide™, October 1999</i><br /><br /><b>THE BOTTLE ROCKETS<br /><i>Brand New Year</i></b><br />Forever doomed, it seems, to working the cult-following fringes of the alt-country music scene, the Bottle Rockets return to the indie ranks with <i>Brand New Year</i>, a solid, if not spectacular set of songs. The band’s overwhelming appeal has always been in the songwriting skills of Brian Henneman and the shit-kicking country/rock hybrid that underlined the lyrics. With <i>Brand New Year</i>, though, Henneman hides behind a co-writer on seven cuts out of the fourteen, kicking in only three solo songs. Contrast that with the eight solo cuts he wrote for <i>24 Hours A Day</i>, arguably the Bottle Rockets’ best effort, and you’ll see where <i>Brand New Year</i> falls off. When Henneman is collaborating with folks like ex-Georgia Satellite Dan Baird or producer Eric “Roscoe” Ambel, the results are lively, with the writers working well off each other. Other collaborative efforts sound more strained and lifeless. <br /> That’s not to say that there isn’t some good music to be found on <i>Brand New Year</i> – several cuts here will produce smoke and flames from that 5-CD changer of yours. The Baird collaboration, “Nancy Sinatra,” is as funny as it is naughty, “I’ve Been Dying” shows more attitude than any dozen punk songs you’d care to name while the anti-technology cut “Helpless” paints Henneman as a joyful luddite. The powerful “Gotta Get Up” is a minimalist anthem for every blue-collar joe whose life revolves around the forty-hour week. With cranked up amps, tortured guitars and brilliantly simple lyrics, “Gotta Get Up” effectively portrays the working-class grind. However, the flat spots on <i>Brand New Year</i>, especially the inane “The Bar’s On Fire,” detract from the album’s musical high points. The result is something I never thought I’d hear from the Bottle Rockets – an uneven album. Even a mediocre Bottle Rockets’ album is better than almost any other band you’ll hear, though, and <i>Brand New Year</i>’s best cuts still stand head-and-shoulders above 90% of the dreck you’ll find out there. (Doolittle Records)<br /><br /><b>DROP ZONE<br /><i>Pint Size Punks</i></b><br />The idea of taking a bunch of pre-pubescent punks into the studio and cutting them loose with some noisemakers is not a new or novel concept. Hell, Old School were a third of the age of the guys in Drop Zone when they cut their pint-sized tunes a decade and a half or so ago. Unlike their artistic forbears in Old School, tho’, Drop Zone kick out their own jams, and don’t sound too bad doing so. With a refreshing lack of cynicism and the “hipper-than-thou” attitude that infects many older punk posses, Drop Zone have put together an energetic, entertaining collection of songs in <i>Pint Size Punks</i>.<br /> Whether he’s crooning about a “Punk Rock Girl,” slamming the pop charts with “The Music On the Radio Today,” or reflecting fast-food culture with “The B.K. Song,” vocalist/guitarist/songwriter Chris Murphy sounds like the prototypical punk. The band bangs and crashes their way through the fourteen fast and furious songs on <i>Pint Size Punks</i>, playing preciously sloppy, although no more so than a lot of more seasoned outfits. Drop Zone’s mix of hardcore punk, ska and pop roots is deceptively catchy, the songs sticking in your mind. Call it “primal punk” if you will, but <i>Pint Size Punks</i> an engaging album by a band old enough to rock the house but not yet jaded enough to merely mimic the bands they aspire to be. Drop Zone is an unexpected, though not entirely guilty pleasure. The Rev sez “check ‘em out!” (Skate-Key Records)<br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmICuzoIcK_pRNTukWSWWrdnBb3gVhVqEfnBTdDHiXdPUsUS1vtW45z_l2kaCBJzVVboARD9OXpj-cdqTogmzoYuzY-Y09yknZ-OF2DdM-nE4sN1YrgQPWU-aJBGHdlTBQGmh_eLHBwtvQawiknHf-LzJe3ioNM-8hoMw-V1KANerLpXSqkuo_mTI63aE/s500/Filibuster-DEADLY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Filibuster's Deadly Hi-Fi" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmICuzoIcK_pRNTukWSWWrdnBb3gVhVqEfnBTdDHiXdPUsUS1vtW45z_l2kaCBJzVVboARD9OXpj-cdqTogmzoYuzY-Y09yknZ-OF2DdM-nE4sN1YrgQPWU-aJBGHdlTBQGmh_eLHBwtvQawiknHf-LzJe3ioNM-8hoMw-V1KANerLpXSqkuo_mTI63aE/w200-h200/Filibuster-DEADLY.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>FILIBUSTER<br /><i>Deadly Hi-Fi</i></b><br />Long Beach’s Skunk Records, aside from being the folks who first brought us the genius of Bradley Newell and Sublime, have developed a reputation as being the home of SoCal ska-punk. The release of Filibuster’s tuff <i>Deadly Hi-Fi</i> will only serve to reinforce Skunk’s image. A baker’s dozen of high-energy ska and reggae-tinged songs with plenty of lengthy instrumental passages, <i>Deadly Hi-Fi</i> only asks that you move your feet and rock to the beat. With a funky horn section that props up tunes like “Batty Rider” or “Whorse” with wailing riffs, Filibuster is ranking full-stop here with crazy cacophony and reckless rhythms. “Backstreets” is an infectious instrumental that would sound great cruising along the beach with the top down while “Rat Pack” showcases some nifty vocal gymnastics that border, at times, on the style of Jamaican rap called “toasting.” Produced with an unusually deft hand by the legendary Steve Albini, Filibuster’s <i>Deadly Hi-Fi</i> has soul, it has heart, and it has the chops to make you forget about the crappy nine-to-five and shake your groove thing to the island rhythms. Who could ask for anything more? (Skunk Records)<br /> <br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-QJkWjmaWxLPzgPtwNhGijQ6CEIaTJgYphxuhI6KNlB50-RRSI9QVaTK0RziLsVlD99AfXDNc7O8vynU6s5AFA2hDngqAPRtbl4NOCwHOTez_tKOmbIX1FUlovixAnn-NJdpuxcJTad7qA-F5FSz3uMseJJ8W8a2oYxRj6AZUY45j8Q32WTvzp9gs8w/s1200/Govt%20Mule-LIVE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Gov't Mule's LIVE...With A Little Help From Our Friends" border="0" data-original-height="1195" data-original-width="1200" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-QJkWjmaWxLPzgPtwNhGijQ6CEIaTJgYphxuhI6KNlB50-RRSI9QVaTK0RziLsVlD99AfXDNc7O8vynU6s5AFA2hDngqAPRtbl4NOCwHOTez_tKOmbIX1FUlovixAnn-NJdpuxcJTad7qA-F5FSz3uMseJJ8W8a2oYxRj6AZUY45j8Q32WTvzp9gs8w/w320-h319/Govt%20Mule-LIVE.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>GOV</b>’<b>T MULE<br /><i>LIVE...With A Little Help From Our Friends</i></b><br />Warren Haynes is a powerful guitarist, a strong stylist with an impressive musical vocabulary and a deep-seated love of the music he’s playing. He’s also criminally underrated, his work with both the Allman Brothers and Govt. Mule often overlooked by the mainstream music press save for a handful of guitar zines. I submit that in Haynes we’ve found a guitar hero for the new millennium, and one has no further to look than the 2-CD set <i>LIVE…With A Little Help From Our Friends</i> for proof. Nearly two and a half hours of music that encompasses everything from power blues to heavy metal to jazzy improvisation, this New Year’s Eve concert from last year is as good a showcase for Haynes’ talents as these ears have heard. The band’s originals, songs like “Thorazine Shuffle,” “Soulshine” or their theme song, “Mule” tend to be bluesy hard rock numbers with plenty of room for Haynes to stretch out and play. <br /> The bulk of this live set is made up of inspired covers, however, from the monstrous “War Pigs” to a great extended rendition of Neil Young’s “Cortez The Killer” as well as songs from Free, Dave Mason and Humble Pie. A number of talented guests showed up for the party, such as Chuck Leavell, Bernie Worrell, Derek Trucks and Randall Bramblett, whose own solo album went overlooked last year. The first disc of <i>LIVE…With A Little Help From Our Friends</i> presents a tight, hard-rocking band running through eight songs in a little more than an hour. The second disc hits only four tunes in its hour or so, the tunes brimming with extended jams and improvised licks. So, whether you want to rock the house or mellow out, <i>LIVE…With A Little Help From Our Friends</i> has something for you…and if you’re unfamiliar with the six-string skills of Warren Haynes, it will do a fine job of curing you of that ignorance as well. (Capricorn Records)<br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFgX0cRHcQi8UXVYXtGyh1HTFgNwAoN1UE0ee3NE58xMi5OZzEhdZp_V3XMREArGsIK8e5awpvhD-rBR3fyuhc6lJsGITTYV8eWza5age9dcJD_OeChBgO5H3g4WxCMWVjo57qCcbB82DFm0-46u9xrqGbQvtPdOQ2xv91kUW6gaU3ElohO4YU7R7veQ/s600/Jughead's%20Revenge-PEARLY%20GATES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Jughead's Revenge's Pearly Gates" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFgX0cRHcQi8UXVYXtGyh1HTFgNwAoN1UE0ee3NE58xMi5OZzEhdZp_V3XMREArGsIK8e5awpvhD-rBR3fyuhc6lJsGITTYV8eWza5age9dcJD_OeChBgO5H3g4WxCMWVjo57qCcbB82DFm0-46u9xrqGbQvtPdOQ2xv91kUW6gaU3ElohO4YU7R7veQ/w200-h200/Jughead's%20Revenge-PEARLY%20GATES.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>JUGHEAD’S REVENGE<br /><i>Pearly Gates</i></b><br />Give them credit for persistence, Jughead’s Revenge having already ridden out a couple of tsunami-force waves of punk popularity with their chops intact. While dozens of bands are fleeing the punk scene, reinventing themselves as rap/metal hybrids, Jughead’s Revenge continues to crank out high-voltage, three-chord riffage. <i>Pearly Gates</i>, their latest, is a reasonably predictable affair, a handful of real barn-burners surrounded by some cool tho’ ultimately forgettable hardcore punk tunes. When Jughead’s Revenge hits the bull’s-eye, however, there’s no posse that can touch them. “Lolita” is a wicked look at an ex-girlfriend, “Kill Security” is a powerful populist anthem and “Rent A Cop Blues” is an insightful look at the skateboarder’s plight. <i>Pearly Gates</i> closes with a respectful cover of the Cars’ hit “Just What I Needed.” The guitars here are scalpel-sharp and the rhythm section plows through the material with all the subtlety of a cruise missile – in short, <i>Pearly Gates</i> is a pure punk album, the kind that parents hate and the moshpit kids love. Crank it up! (Nitro Records)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-34823095798202392762024-01-12T06:30:00.020-05:002024-01-12T06:30:00.133-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Tommy Womack, Todd Snider, Will Hoge (2003)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfA3OGFRL-QrCPvTI5520NO77CslqSWnop4KZMw5hZ5pziNPj73qAEsBRzxpKLnGTu-_NLU472wYdZTl-7qtVxwIsuZPox1S9MaSwuZ074_uF1qBHyBzzYrd_nlroDM4OYKT1TfyXM9g2UnScu1HOcguR0TUoXAnZZGSk0vUAsGBzFkT9En-aJJm8VbM/s500/Todd%20Snider-LIVE.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Todd Snider's Live" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfA3OGFRL-QrCPvTI5520NO77CslqSWnop4KZMw5hZ5pziNPj73qAEsBRzxpKLnGTu-_NLU472wYdZTl-7qtVxwIsuZPox1S9MaSwuZ074_uF1qBHyBzzYrd_nlroDM4OYKT1TfyXM9g2UnScu1HOcguR0TUoXAnZZGSk0vUAsGBzFkT9En-aJJm8VbM/w320-h320/Todd%20Snider-LIVE.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.57<br /><br />THE BEST OF NASHVILLE, 2003</b><br /><br /><b><a href="https://tommywomack.com/" target="_blank">Tommy Womack</a></b> could easily be the poster child for Nashville’s non-country music scene. There’s enough Rolling Stones vibe coursing through his veins to make him persona non gratis among Music Row’s country label elite, and just enough twang in his voice to scare off all but the gutsiest rock radio programmers and label A&R people. As a result, this talented cult artist is slipping through the cracks and is in danger of becoming a footnote in the city’s musical history.<br /><br />‘Tis a shame, too, ‘cause Womack is one of the brightest talents that the “Third Coast” has to offer. His self-released <i>Washington D.C. </i>was recorded last year in the nation’s capital, a live XM satellite radio broadcast beamed out into the universe with no second takes and no overdubs, just 54 minutes or straight-forward rock ‘n’ roll. A collection of songs culled from Womack’s three studio albums, along with the odd tune from previous bands (the bis-quits, Government Cheese); <i>Washington D.C.</i> is a perfect showcase for Womack’s songwriting skills and performance acumen.<br /><br />The band that Womack assembled for the gig is a tight as a drum, with old friend Kenny McMahan providing a six-string counterpart to Womack’s imaginative fretwork. Womack’s music mixes roots rock and punkish intensity with Southern flavor, distilling it all into his unique trademark sound. It’s the lyrics that stand out, tho’, Womack’s world filled with saints and sinners, whores and virgins, his words drenched with passion, rage, insight, and humor. Tunes like “Betty Was Black (& Willie Was White)” and “I Don’t Have A Gun” tackle racism and hypocrisy while “Fake It ‘Til You Make It” offers a helpful philosophy for life and “Up Memphis Blues” pays homage to the King. If you prefer your music to have an edgy intelligence and wit instead of mindless trendiness, you should grab a copy of Womack’s <i>Washington D.C.</i><br /><br />Tunesmith <b><a href="https://toddsnider.net/" target="_blank">Todd Snider</a></b>’s career resembles Womack’s in more ways than one. Snider is also an enormously gifted songwriter, adding brains and laughter to his material, and the two have shared the stage together, written songs together and both have struggled against a star-making machinery that has found them too honest, too unpredictable, and too unmarketable for prime time. Thankfully, John Prine’s Oh Boy Records continues to support Snider’s work, his latest – <i>Near Truths and Hotel Rooms</i> – a collection of live performances from the last year.<br /><br />Much like <i>Washington D.C.</i> showcases Womack’s underrated abilities, so too does <i>Near Truths and Hotel Rooms</i> serve as a wonderful introduction to Snider’s folkish material. Whereas lighthearted, comedic tunes like the raucous “Beer Run” or the satirical “Talking Seattle Grunge Rock Blues” have earned Snider a reputation as alternative music’s court jester; his heavier fare reveals a darker, more serious side. Bittersweet tales like “Lonely Girl” or “I Spoke As A Child” illustrate a poet’s grasp of human complexity while story-songs like “Easy Money” or “D.B. Cooper” are realistic and insightful portrayals of the absurdity of life. Snider’s between-song stories and comments define his personality and are almost as interesting as his songs. With an acoustic guitar and a song, Snider has traveled the highways and back roads of America for over a decade. He has a lot of tales to tell, and <i>Near Truths and Hotel Rooms</i> will whet the appetite of any interested listener.<br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4j_ZwKXVCLwPaElRpefAkyumdvFyDdV6z89niIN8LMtfAo_2QXMe6yQKHRR1iaP4XeKiTCwZstyzT3NJK9jfTs4Ty8VgxZxIFps1WVV6lR_9s9X2moFnHGBaRHCWQEu6g15_8oe-bPswfSWhSzi2xEnLsU-bkWoaFd5uzG1NbJmrwgzmjI8WT5RYxTnk/s250/Will%20Hoge-BLACKBIRD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Will Hoge's Blackbird On A Lonely Wire" border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4j_ZwKXVCLwPaElRpefAkyumdvFyDdV6z89niIN8LMtfAo_2QXMe6yQKHRR1iaP4XeKiTCwZstyzT3NJK9jfTs4Ty8VgxZxIFps1WVV6lR_9s9X2moFnHGBaRHCWQEu6g15_8oe-bPswfSWhSzi2xEnLsU-bkWoaFd5uzG1NbJmrwgzmjI8WT5RYxTnk/s16000/Will%20Hoge-BLACKBIRD.jpg" /></a></div><a href="https://www.willhoge.com/" target="_blank">Will Hoge</a></b> doesn’t bring the same pedigree or experience to his music as Womack or Snider, but he’s a young talent on the rise. Hoge’s major label affiliation hasn’t seemed to have watered down his music to any degree, <i>Blackbird On A Lonely Wire</i> (Atlantic Records) an exciting work by a rapidly maturing songwriter and performer. Hoge’s obvious musical heroes are giants like Springsteen, Dylan, John Fogerty, and John Lennon. Rather than wearing his influences on his sleeve, Hoge brings a fresh perspective to the table, combining super-charged rock with pop melodies and some of the finest romantic songwriting you’ve heard since the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine over the Jersey state line.<br /><br />Romance is Hoge’s muse, whether it’s the flame of the moment that burns a little too hot, the bittersweet love that got away or the unrequited dream that never was. With the backing of a damn fine band that snaps and pops like a string of firecrackers, Hoge’s lovelorn lyrics and mournful vocals betray a weary heart. “Hey Tonight” will reduce all but the most jaded listener to tears while you can literally feel the heartache in “Secondhand Heart.” The thinly veiled jealousy and self-loathing that fills “Someone Else’s Baby” is painted with the skill of a Picasso. The album closes with the beautiful “Baby Girl,” a ballad with weeping pedal-steel guitar that has more in common with Roger McGuinn than Garth Brooks. There are half a dozen songs on <i>Blackbird On A Lonely Wire</i> that would sound great on the radio, preferably sandwiched between songs by Tommy Womack and Todd Snider. <br /><br />Chances are that you won’t hear Nashville’s best music on the radio, though. While the city’s “Music Row” continues to crank out country-fried pop divas and Stetson-topped, bluejean-clad male pseudo-traditionalists, the real talents are making records for obscure little indie labels and playing night after night to audiences that you can count on the fingers of your two hands. While artists like Womack, Snider, and Hoge follow their rock ‘n’ roll dreams, they toil alongside kindred spirits like Jason Ringenberg, Bill Lloyd, Threk Michaels, Donna Frost, Mark Aaron James and many more who have never found the acceptance and success that they so richly deserve. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-88909446509969641972024-01-05T07:00:00.013-05:002024-01-05T07:00:00.152-05:00Archive Review: Anders Osborne's Black Eye Galaxy (2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuF_67fyUJUa94igAWAkweVpI1hA9Klr7tlW6hCv1d60uU2g5cH3O9CRI5NlKle31Jb0SxOf0aZzotnXFT5PURSDrXgKA5P8eG6Yvo3Bm62GNyFZdr3piOW6uk3zWm7YT_7p97fyQ9t1XBedwZWi6nVQb2Q3Kf1p8UAJ6Qy7h2Rcx-hOMTPKzpcC2ze9E/s500/Anders%20Osborne-BLACK%20EYE%20GALAXY.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Anders Osborne's Black Eye Galaxy" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuF_67fyUJUa94igAWAkweVpI1hA9Klr7tlW6hCv1d60uU2g5cH3O9CRI5NlKle31Jb0SxOf0aZzotnXFT5PURSDrXgKA5P8eG6Yvo3Bm62GNyFZdr3piOW6uk3zWm7YT_7p97fyQ9t1XBedwZWi6nVQb2Q3Kf1p8UAJ6Qy7h2Rcx-hOMTPKzpcC2ze9E/w320-h320/Anders%20Osborne-BLACK%20EYE%20GALAXY.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Swedish-born guitarist <b><a href="https://www.andersosborne.com/" target="_blank">Anders Osborne</a></b> landed in New Orleans in 1990, and in the 20+ years since, he’s become such an integral part of the city that it’s hard to believe that he isn’t a native-born Louisianan. Osborne’s musical style – a mix of rock, blues, soul, and funk – fits New Orleans’ musical landscape like a glove, and over the course of several albums for various independent labels, culminating in his acclaimed 2010 Alligator Records debut <i>American Patchwork</i>, Osborne’s skills as a songwriter have matured to match his six-string talents.<br /><br />With the life-affirming, cathartic screed that is <i>Black Eye Galaxy</i>, however, Osborne has delivered a genre-crossing masterwork that is both as subtle as a feather dancing on the wind and as devastating as a bulldozer in a china shop. At its core, <i>Black Eye Galaxy</i> is a deeply spiritual collection, and while it’s unlikely that you’ve ever heard gospel music with instrumentation that cuts this deep, or vocals as tortured, the Holy Spirit nevertheless runs throughout the album like a coil of barbed wire.<br /><br /><i>Black Eye Galaxy</i> opens with the dirge-like “Send Me A Friend,” a lamentation on the bleakness of addiction, Osborne’s howling vocals underlined by screaming guitars and plodding rhythms joined by bursts of percussion. In a similar vein, the introspective “Mind of A Junkie” offers up jazzy fretwork alongside Osborne’s heartbreaking, pleading vocals in what is essentially a musical prayer. The powerful “Black Tar” is a dark performance with a hard-rock heart and a blues music soul, Osborne’s slightly-echoed vocals a cry for salvation from the depths of a deep, seemingly bottomless hole.<br /><br />The title track provides the creative heartbeat of the album; ostensibly a 1990s-styled ballad, it unfolds into an eleven-minute instrumental showcase blending blues, rock, and jazz into a riveting ‘70s-era psychedelic sojourn. The final track, “Higher Ground,” brings peace to the album’s protagonist, the song a joyful hymn to the redemptive power of love. With <i>Black Eye Galaxy</i>, Osborne shares his own personal journey out of the heart of darkness, masterfully jumping from blues to rock to jazz and back again in creating a work of art that redefines the meaning of the blues. (<a href="https://www.alligator.com/" target="_blank">Alligator Records</a>, released 2012)<br /><br /><i>Review originally published by Blues Revue magazine</i><br /><br /><b>Buy the CD from Amazon: <a href="https://amzn.to/45bdcqr" target="_blank">Anders Osborne’s <i>Black Eye Galaxy</i></a></b><p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-8529943318743144462024-01-05T06:30:00.034-05:002024-01-05T06:30:00.144-05:00The View On Pop Culture: Evanescence, Bombshell Rocks, David Banner, The Jayhawks, Gongzilla (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUHSXR8DwSWVlkd10lKjWHcNPhyphenhyphen1JFR2oOJrRMhvoeDlf3DcP4WMQldkSqZ3FNyhKcFoULHzUQXy2EYPIrz5sx4xuQlV8r2xrVLGm_AXvPbxtEJOND226BpyOiRCUlQSM7fUxnFW8tl0m2jrVTTn4dL9o60n7frZrfSfApa32mc2xb0mAIK2fWBWUDFE/s1400/Evanescence-FALLEN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Evanescence's Fallen" border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUHSXR8DwSWVlkd10lKjWHcNPhyphenhyphen1JFR2oOJrRMhvoeDlf3DcP4WMQldkSqZ3FNyhKcFoULHzUQXy2EYPIrz5sx4xuQlV8r2xrVLGm_AXvPbxtEJOND226BpyOiRCUlQSM7fUxnFW8tl0m2jrVTTn4dL9o60n7frZrfSfApa32mc2xb0mAIK2fWBWUDFE/w320-h320/Evanescence-FALLEN.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.56</b><br /><br />Summer’s here and there’s no escaping the heat. It’s the time of year when rock ‘n’ roll heats up as well, and on the street there’s no band hotter than <b>Evanescence</b>. The young Arkansas rockers hit the ground running, placing a hit song on the soundtrack to the movie <i>Daredevil</i>. The band’s eclectic debut <i>Fallen</i> (Wind-Up Records) has held onto the ears they grabbed with the soundtrack single, delivering the goods with a hearty blend of snarling guitarwork courtesy of the too-young-to-be-so-talented Ben Moody and the operatic vocals of Amy Lee. <br /><br />Categorized as just another “nu-metal” band by many critics, there’s a lot more going on in the grooves of <i>Fallen</i> than just another batch of angry white boy anthems. Lee's incredible range is matched by an equal amount of control, her soaring vocals capable of provoking great emotion, caressing imaginative lyrics with some consideration. Moody’s chainsaw guitar tears through riffs like AC/DC in overdrive, but softens to a whisper depending on the demands of the song. A mix of grand balladry and unrelenting hard rock, <i>Fallen</i> is a multi-faceted and finely textured work by a young band worth keeping an eye on. <br /><br />Sweden’s <b>Bombshell Rocks</b> is usually overlooked by pundits proclaiming fellow Swedes the Hives or Division of Laura Lee as the next big thing in rock music. Unabashedly punk and proud of it, the band’s <i>From Here and On</i> (Burning Heart/Epitaph) is a hardcore hybrid of garage-rock and street-smart punk in the vein of Rancid or the Clash. Although Bombshell Rocks hasn’t yet developed the songwriting chops of Joe Strummer or Rancid’s Tim Armstrong, the band’s heart is in the right place, kicking out the jams with high-voltage energy and enthusiasm. Vocalist Marten Cedergran is developing into a damn fine punk rock shouter while guitarists Crippe Maata and Richard Andersson propel songs like “My Own War” or the anthemic “On My Way” with clashing riffs and ringing chords. Given another album or two and a lengthy van tour across America, Bombshell Rocks could be major players on the punk rock scene.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiea1eNJRaO8g1FZlSdpV9rrbn7Zcr8fg5WS-vMyMN-vtjyjyaGyX99SiZeTDAjRir-wAn9nIL1FC5CxuPUjQoIva_XaE8tmBWBs40TPgm44UF2kAS_Duwl8FYyzai_pt60kd1zwOWWA7pxIpjRj0AGYK4xnPLduhgjNNwJLdlri4z1YALRT-KGJxI8X_4/s600/David%20Banner-MISSISSIPPI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="David Banner's Mississippi The Album" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiea1eNJRaO8g1FZlSdpV9rrbn7Zcr8fg5WS-vMyMN-vtjyjyaGyX99SiZeTDAjRir-wAn9nIL1FC5CxuPUjQoIva_XaE8tmBWBs40TPgm44UF2kAS_Duwl8FYyzai_pt60kd1zwOWWA7pxIpjRj0AGYK4xnPLduhgjNNwJLdlri4z1YALRT-KGJxI8X_4/w200-h200/David%20Banner-MISSISSIPPI.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Southern hip-hop artists like Outkast and Nappy Roots proved that rap music wasn’t just an east coast/west coast, g city phenomenon, that the “Dirty South” had a voice of its own. Rapper <b>David Banner</b> hails from Mississippi, where economic conditions for African-American residents haven’t improved much since the Delta bluesmen first began singing 80 years ago. Banner’s excellent debut, <i>Mississippi: The Album</i> (SRC/Universal) is a brutal reminder that poverty, violence and alienation isn’t just a big city problem either. Banner’s rough-hewn vocals spit out angry rhymes in a gangsta vein, painting a stark landscape of hustlers and small-time criminals trying to make a dollar in a state dominated by big money casino gambling and “King Cotton.” Banner’s violent and profane lyrics aren’t for everybody, but if you’re a fan of rappers like 50 Cent, you owe it to yourself to check out the talented but lesser-known David Banner.<br /><br /><b>The Jayhawks</b> have been around for so long (since 1985) that it’s easy to take them for granted. An unheralded influence on the entire alt-country movement, the band’s early recordings mixed country and rock music with folksy lyricism and gentle harmonies at a time when everybody was moving towards grunge guitar and coarse vocals. Pop culture has changed in the ten years since the band’s breakthrough album, Hollywood Town Hall, but founding members Gary Louris and Marc Perlman have regrouped and delivered an album that just might be the best of the Jayhawks’ storied career.<br /><br /><i>Rainy Day Music</i> (American/Lost Highway) swerves away from the poppy sheen of the band’s late ‘90s albums, returning to a rootsier sound that plays as more natural and sincere. Louris is an empathetic songwriter with an eye for emotion, and a wonderfully low-key singer. The addition of steel guitarist Stephen McCarthy fills out the band’s sound, which runs in a stylistic line from the Byrds and the Band to Crosby, Stills and Nash and Tom Petty. Songs like “Tailspin” or “Eyes of Sarahjane” are marvelous examples of musical craftsmanship with focused performances, masterful blends of country and roots rock. If rock radio weren’t overrun with angry white boys and pop-punk clones, the Jayhawks would rule the airwaves. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGg2feXPRL6frBLaqs9FPztSgzFoiJvf79AtkIboD5gW_nuz7lCbx_RYa6L_ZXgB-qL1EtMcqTWriEFD3cq7r-EiwXzKY8x27k3B9I-FEdgzhPT2ncdMjUVSZ5dw7gs_SYmfByhEA3wZNiDMI3D2mEjnHfcargzrb6nhBZam4Eh4mTgAvvm4BrH1DGq1Q/s240/Gongzilla-EAST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Gongzilla's East Village Sessions" border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGg2feXPRL6frBLaqs9FPztSgzFoiJvf79AtkIboD5gW_nuz7lCbx_RYa6L_ZXgB-qL1EtMcqTWriEFD3cq7r-EiwXzKY8x27k3B9I-FEdgzhPT2ncdMjUVSZ5dw7gs_SYmfByhEA3wZNiDMI3D2mEjnHfcargzrb6nhBZam4Eh4mTgAvvm4BrH1DGq1Q/s16000/Gongzilla-EAST.jpg" /></a></div>Once upon a time, way back in the ‘60s, there was an English band called Gong, a musical collaboration between like-minded musicians. One of the most influential of the era’s progressive rock outfits, Gong blended psychedelic rock and electronic experimentation to create an entire new and unique (at the time) sound. Gong is still around in one form or another, but various members have ventured into side projects like Planet Gong and Mothergong, among others. One of the most interesting of these offshoot bands is <b>Gongzilla</b>, led by the nimble fretwork of guitarist Bon Lozaga.<br /><br />The Gongzilla guys have gotten together and recorded the loose-knit band’s first foray into the studio in over six years. <i>East Village Sessions</i> (Lolo Records) is an interesting diversion, a musical tour de force that is the inevitable result of prog-rock and jazz-rock fusion colliding headfirst. Lozaga has rounded up his adventuresome mates for <i>East Village Sessions</i>, including percussionist Benoit Moerlen and bassist Hansford Rowe from Gong. It’s the presence of guitarist David Fiuczynski of the Screaming Headless Torsos that provides the album its edge, however, the two talented axemen offering counterpoint to the other above a miasma of avant-garde jazz and wide-ranging instrumental virtuosity. King Crimson takes a similar musical tact on its latest effort, but Gongzilla take off into stylistic directions where only angels fear to tread. If you’d like to add a little spice to your summer listening, check out <i>East Village Sessions</i>. (<i>View From The Hill</i>, 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-42996544919874930722023-12-29T07:30:00.079-05:002023-12-29T07:30:00.140-05:00Hot Wax: The Solo Works of Syd Barrett (2023)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdhfDUXpNQYhRq3kAp4gpMI0CL1GJ2QzWZjLxUPYUD9_Ba5KonfPmP_QD-1Urq8q7ByTAZJxvZdf86I4_4Z8OC-CDsSdSVQAnfXB1sSGE1y5S9CD4EWe8sc0pVjE5yABM-cYJ1XvSvnjvRNXHmzccTdXq8xWqoOpfs-6ea1RW3DRKYljq-hLiZbEpoHU/s599/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20SOLO%20WORKS.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="The Solo Works of Syd Barrett" border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdhfDUXpNQYhRq3kAp4gpMI0CL1GJ2QzWZjLxUPYUD9_Ba5KonfPmP_QD-1Urq8q7ByTAZJxvZdf86I4_4Z8OC-CDsSdSVQAnfXB1sSGE1y5S9CD4EWe8sc0pVjE5yABM-cYJ1XvSvnjvRNXHmzccTdXq8xWqoOpfs-6ea1RW3DRKYljq-hLiZbEpoHU/w316-h320/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20SOLO%20WORKS.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>In a 2017 conversation with <a href="https://www.mojo4music.com/" target="_blank"><i>Mojo</i> magazine</a> editor Phil Alexander, Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page expressed his admiration for Pink Floyd founder <b>Syd Barrett</b>, stating that “Syd Barrett was absolutely unbelievable in terms of what he was doing. He took a step sideways and channeled all this amazing stuff. Their version of psychedelia was very, very cool.” The six-string wizard doubled-down on his praise, comparing Barrett to Jimi Hendrix, saying that his “writing with the early Pink Floyd was inspirational. Nothing sounded like Barrett before Pink Floyd’s first album. There were so many ideas and so many positive statements. You can really feel the genius there, and it was tragic that he fell apart. Both he and Jimi Hendrix had a futuristic vision in a sense.”<br /><br />Singer, songwriter, and guitarist Roger Keith “Syd” Barrett co-founded classic rock legends Pink Floyd in 1965 with bassist Roger Waters, keyboardist Richard Wright, and drummer Nick Mason. Barrett was the band’s early frontman and main songwriter, exploring the depths of psychedelic expression in words and music and introducing free-form fretwork, distortion, and feedback to the vocabulary of rock music. For all of his influence, Barrett’s tenure with the band was incredibly short – four hit singles, the band’s 1967 debut LP <i>The Piper At the Gates of Dawn</i> and studio leftovers comprising part of their sophomore effort, 1968’s <i>A Saucerful of Secrets</i> – before he was begrudgingly removed from the band in early 1968 for his excessive LSD usage which, along with the stress of the band’s unexpected fame and commercial express, illuminated Barrett’s underlying mental illness.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;"><i>The Solo Works of Syd Barrett</i></h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6ng5HNPdUqFtqyLNLllZzFrejCL982ufZyoGUubPexg0b5tB1WBFBzX19EJj132Zd0r5JnVkpTTH-STqR3wcyTmO4hQOFUjWK_5btYQuO1AyzFfXVMPDUb5XJo0X-3H6AVIc-RevjkLprdt0IV4Piq07L21vf37uXOAGToIufVfkW3oE80ldWZB4O28/s1200/Syd%20Barrett%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Syd Barrett" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1142" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6ng5HNPdUqFtqyLNLllZzFrejCL982ufZyoGUubPexg0b5tB1WBFBzX19EJj132Zd0r5JnVkpTTH-STqR3wcyTmO4hQOFUjWK_5btYQuO1AyzFfXVMPDUb5XJo0X-3H6AVIc-RevjkLprdt0IV4Piq07L21vf37uXOAGToIufVfkW3oE80ldWZB4O28/w306-h320/Syd%20Barrett%202.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>Barrett was essentially replaced in Floyd by singer/guitarist David Gilmour, a college friend of Syd’s who joined the band in late 1967 as its fifth member. Barrett launched a short-lived solo career with the 1969 single “Octopus,” subsequently releasing his solo debut, <i>The Madcap Laughs</i>, in January 1970. He followed up that album’s modest success (#40 on the U.K. charts) with his sophomore effort, <i>Barrett</i>, released in November 1970. That was basically it for Barrett’s solo career, and after wandering from one fruitless project to another for a couple of year, Syd gave up on the music biz and, by the end of the ‘70s, had retired from public life altogether, moving back into his mother’s house in Cambridge and spending his time painting and gardening, living keenly on royalties that Gilmour made sure he received. <br /><br />Capitalizing on Pink Floyd’s chartbusting success during the ‘70s and the band’s enduring popularity, as well as Barrett’s growing reputation as a sort of reclusive mad genius, Harvest Records released <i>Opel</i> in 1988, an odds ‘n’ sods collection of unreleased material and alternate takes from Barrett’s 1970 sessions. While all three of Barrett’s erstwhile solo albums have been reissued sporadically over the decades, they’ve all been out-of-print since roughly 2010, leaving the door open for Jack White’s <b><a href="https://thirdmanrecords.com/" target="_blank">Third Man Records</a></b> to walk through. As part of the label’s recent “Vault” offerings, Third Man has reissued all three of Barrett’s solo albums on various colors of 180-gram vinyl with remixed sound, packaged together in a gorgeous custom slipcase with new, exclusive artwork as <i>The Solo Works of Syd Barrett</i>. To sweeten the pot, the set includes a 7-inch single by David Gilmour covering two Barrett songs.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Syd Barrett’s <i>The Madcap Laughs</i></h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7B4N5EICI3VA837OKrKLKfL0zbYdy0dG-anQ38Z8DpGLdiVfaiKfx7KA5n0CyVKFcTx7CUP9ANS0i4HcgacLJxYVUbtwpR-eWV2p54NeFt8PxEPXuY2wZWAcsRYll3VHfjuqadOfgi50SomORTi4lkUHKV6PbrKn9oFFKyeakbtgnJ5aTjHpfNkgnCo/s599/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20MADCAP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Syd Barrett’s The Madcap Laughs" border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="599" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7B4N5EICI3VA837OKrKLKfL0zbYdy0dG-anQ38Z8DpGLdiVfaiKfx7KA5n0CyVKFcTx7CUP9ANS0i4HcgacLJxYVUbtwpR-eWV2p54NeFt8PxEPXuY2wZWAcsRYll3VHfjuqadOfgi50SomORTi4lkUHKV6PbrKn9oFFKyeakbtgnJ5aTjHpfNkgnCo/w320-h316/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20MADCAP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Roughly half (seven of thirteen songs) of <i>The Madcap Laughs</i> were produced by Barrett’s former Floyd bandmates David Gilmour and Roger Waters, with Syd provided co-production credits on two songs. Five tracks were produced Harvest Records headman Malcolm Jones with one song (“Late Night”) produced by Syd’s manager Peter Jenner and overdubbed by Jones. Much of the album is just Syd and his guitar; those songs provided fuller band instrumentation benefit from the contributions of several (uncredited) members of Soft Machine in the form of keyboardist Mike Ratledge, bassist Hugh Hopper, and drummer Robert Wyatt, who were brought in by Gilmour to appear on two tracks. Humble Pie drummer Jerry Shirley and Willie Wilson, who plays bass on the record, contribute to two tracks. <br /><br />The album opens with “Terrapin,” a languid, folksy acoustic number featuring Syd’s wan vocals and a simple, yet mesmerizing guitar strum. By contrast, “No Good Trying” is a full-blown band jam (tho’, to be honest, the band was shoehorned in on tape later); the song the sort of psych-drenched free-for-all that would provide inspiration for Robyn Hitchcock and hundreds of other lysergic warriors. “Love You” is a little too Tin Pan Alley for my taste, with rinky-tink piano-play and soft-pedaled vocals, but “No Man’s Land” is full of atmospheric ambience, Barrett’s voice lying strategically beneath the surface of the mix while the band creates a multi-textured wall-of-sound with dense instrumentation and flanged guitars. The album’s lone single release, “Octopus,” is the apex of <i>The Madcap Laughs</i>, a reasonably up-tempo rocker with syncopated rhythm guitar and playful lyrics delivered with a sort of stream-of-consciousness flow. <br /><br />Lyrically, “Golden Hair” is based on a poem by legendary Irish wordsmith James Joyce, possibly the only bard more madcap than Syd himself. The short, but satisfying song benefits from Barrett’s evocative vocals and a lonesome droning acoustic guitar. The sorta, kinda eight-minute medley/song cycle comprised of “She Took A Long Cool Look At Me,” “Feel,” and “If It’s In You” is proggy in spirit with elegant Barrett vocals that ride the waves of his complex, whiplash fretwork. Mixing the sort of soft-psych sounds that Floyd made its name upon, Syd blends in elements of British folk and American blues music in the creation of avant-garde rock ‘n’ roll. “Late Night” closes <i>The Madcap Laughs</i>, the song’s use of exotic, Eastern musical flourishes, slung low in the mix beneath Syd’s chanted, enchanted vox. It’s a perfect song for 1970, bridging the gap between Floyd’s early albums and the sort of genre-defying experimental rock created later by chance-takers like Led Zeppelin, Genesis, and Strawbs.<br /><i><br />The Madcap Laughs</i> wasn’t released in the United States until 1974, packaged as a two-LP set with <i>Barrett</i>, by which time it was overshadowed by the unparalleled success of his former band’s <i>Dark Side of the Moon</i>. Given the relative success of <i>The Madcap Laughs</i>, Harvest’s parent company EMI thought a follow-up album was appropriate. Recording for <i>Barrett</i> began in February 1970 at Abbey Road Studios with Pink Floyd’s Gilmour and Richard Wright helming the sessions, the pair also contributing bass and keyboards while Shirley was brought back to man the drum kit. Rushed out by the end of the year, <i>Barrett</i> failed to chart – possibly because the label didn’t release any singles from the LP – and Syd’s Harvest Records tenure was over.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Syd Barrett’s <i>Barrett</i></h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMy2AHuzvWR3CTzRJQ2W6QEoZk8KI4rJ9TZn0tYa4hSLig_mRGvXpFyfQ2gP3pY48LJerLpZnYWyNI0_aflFCavbmtnAv5px8FWGQriPTSsDe8Erm3H25P6HixrH84bvdAPSJKpqqEF-O-1R5RDDlWzWSOirHGIPNXFl8UU2V88_dLf45HwweuodmBLc/s600/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20BARRETT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Syd Barrett’s Barrett" border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMy2AHuzvWR3CTzRJQ2W6QEoZk8KI4rJ9TZn0tYa4hSLig_mRGvXpFyfQ2gP3pY48LJerLpZnYWyNI0_aflFCavbmtnAv5px8FWGQriPTSsDe8Erm3H25P6HixrH84bvdAPSJKpqqEF-O-1R5RDDlWzWSOirHGIPNXFl8UU2V88_dLf45HwweuodmBLc/w320-h319/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20BARRETT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>‘Tis a shame, too, ‘cause <i>Barrett</i> is a fine album, not far afield from <i>The Madcap Laughs</i>. The lead-off track, “Baby Lemonade,” would have made a fine initial single, sporting filigree 12-string guitar licks courtesy of Gilmour and a rich, lavish soundtrack beneath Barrett’s spacy, effective vox and psych-influenced lyrics. It could easily be mistaken for a Robyn Hitchcock/Soft Boys track of a decade or so later, displaying how forward-thinking Barrett was as an artist. The mid-to-slow-tempo of “Love Song” is off-putting, with morose vocals to match, but Wright’s subtle harmonium flourishes rescue the song from mediocrity. “Dominoes” could pass as an early Floyd cut from Saucerful, Syd’s madcap poetry and nuanced vocal delivery punctuated by a deeply-textured, often exotic, and delightfully-complex musical backdrop courtesy of Gilmour and Wright.<br /><br />The blues-tinged “Rats” is built around Barrett’s syncopated, scattershot guitar strum and (seemingly) double-tracked vocals, which are among the singer’s most forceful on the LP. As the musical chaos builds behind him, with swirling instrumentation almost burying Syd’s voice as he sings oblique, nonsensical lyrics like “heaving, arriving, tinkling; mingling jets and statuettes; seething wet we meeting fleck” that somehow work in this context. In the same vein, “Maisie” is acid-blues built on a twisted Delta rhythm with Syd’s drawled vocals outshining Dylan’s in their lack of transparency, Barrett relating some sort of story-song with lines like “Maisie lay in the wall with her emeralds and diamond brooch, beyond reproach.” <br /><br />Side two opener, “Gigolo Aunt,” is more normal – or as normal as Barrett gets, I guess – with an up-tempo psych-rock arrangement that veers close to respectable, BBC radio-friendly fare in spite of Syd’s opening barrage of hallucinogenic wordplay:<br /><br />“Grooving around in a trench coat with the satin entrail,<br />Seems to be all around in tin and lead pail, we pale;<br />Jiving on down to the beach to see the blue and the gray,<br />Seems to be all and it's rosy, it's a beautiful day.”<br /> <br />Regardless, “Gigolo Aunt” benefits from a scorching Barrett guitar solo, Shirley’s jazzy timekeeping, and various instrumental flourishes added by Wright and Gilmour and would have made for a solid second single from the album. “Waving My Arms In The Air I Never Lied To You” could have been that single’s B-side, the performance sporting a jaunty arrangement complimented by Syd’s wasplike guitar and a full instrumental canvas for him to paint upon. Another lyrically-confusing sonic miasma, “Wolfpack” is maddeningly dense, with instruments barging into the mix and subsequently dropping out as Syd’s otherwise strong vocals hide in the mix behind stunning guitars, soaring bass lines, and the tinkling piano keys that they rest upon. <br /><br /><i>Barrett</i> closes with the appropriately oddball “Effervescing Elephant,” Vic Saywell’s bleating tuba supporting the song’s overall British dancehall inspiration. Reviewing <i>Barrett</i> for <i><a href="https://www.allmusic.com/" target="_blank">All Music Guide</a></i>, critic and rock historian Richie Unterberger writes that “it was regarded as something of a charming but unfocused throwaway at the time of its release, but <i>Barrett</i>’s singularly whimsical and unsettling vision holds up well.” I’d agree with my esteemed colleague as <i>Barrett</i> is an altogether enchanting collection of psych-folk with touches of uniquely British pop music that never fails to intrigue, the album revealing hidden secrets with each listening (even after 53 years!).<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Syd Barrett’s <i>Opel</i></h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkZtE6K1XSBTy2MCBFVG1cH8xaDruz806VcFW9wTzbIcQkfzGE3Jm3RdYqbXgA9RSdiXF1wsoEiKHMjtg8XLkp7a65t_SyVQdlvz-Py5bW2B-x-AsVsMNieUWBWdL6azwmfsgJhtuat5HvmYilyCJhODnN0ogeMAQXKhtJAt2FbZdR_QYJCo7Ex9XWkQ/s599/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20OPEL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Syd Barrett’s Opel" border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="599" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkZtE6K1XSBTy2MCBFVG1cH8xaDruz806VcFW9wTzbIcQkfzGE3Jm3RdYqbXgA9RSdiXF1wsoEiKHMjtg8XLkp7a65t_SyVQdlvz-Py5bW2B-x-AsVsMNieUWBWdL6azwmfsgJhtuat5HvmYilyCJhODnN0ogeMAQXKhtJAt2FbZdR_QYJCo7Ex9XWkQ/w320-h317/Syd%20Barrett%20-%20OPEL.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A lot of rockcrit types look down their bespectacled noses at vault-scrubbing, commercial cash-in compilations like <i>Opel</i>, but the collection succeeds in spite of EMI’s money-grubbing efforts because of the unique nature of the material that Barrett left behind when he left rock ‘n’ roll in the rear-view mirror. What today’s scribes don’t realize is that albums in the mid-to-late 1960s and throughout the ‘70s were usually only eight-to-ten songs in length due to the limitations of the 33-1/3 rpm vinyl format, artists often dropping two or three worthwhile tunes from the final track list before shipping it off for mastering. The title track here is a great example, the ninth take of “Opel” a keeper, a Donovan-esque folk dirge with haunting guitarplay and Syd’s droning vocals lifting up an otherwise down-tuned performance reminiscent of Nick Drake. I wouldn’t say that the song was 45-worthy, but it’s an otherwise solid opener to build an album around. <br /><br /> “Clowns & Jugglers,” which includes the Soft Machine guys from <i>Madcap</i>, is a fractured, jagged pop song that preceded XTC and their ilk nearly a decade in advance, with fascinating instrumental backing cradling one of Syd’s most demented vocal performances. The song would evolve into “Octopus” from the first LP, but it’s altogether mesmerizing in this form. To call “Dolly Rocker” pleasantly eccentric would be an understatement, but it fits firmly into the Barrett milieu, with lovely acoustic guitar and Syd’s haggard, haunting vocals. The unreleased “Word Song” is of a similar construct, a man and his guitar and stream-of-consciousness vocals that will have your head spinning.<br /><br />Another 1968 outtake produced by Jenner and overdubbed by Jones, “Swan Lee (Silas Lang)” offers an intriguing musical premise that could have benefited from a singular production vision and on-time studio backing. The odds bodkins “Birdie Hop” is a whimsical tune with rudimentary instrumentation and production that may have been deemed too damn weird to revisit, but “Let’s Split,” with an effervescent arrangement and performance, should have been taken the distance and afforded a serious take. “Lanky (Part One)” is a lengthy, yet invigorating instrumental track overflowing with cross-current sounds, fascinating musical ideas, and general cacophony (“Part Two” was reportedly a seven-minute-plus drum solo – yikes!) but “Milky Way” is another quirky, whimsical folk-pop song with skewed-but-effective vocals, a gentle melody, and imaginative acoustic guitarplay. <br /><br />There are a number of “odds ‘n’ sods” styled outtakes and demos included on <i>Opel</i>, songs like “Rats,” “Golden Hair,” and “Wined and Dined” that offer an interesting glimpse at the creative studio process but which don’t really out-shine those versions from the first two albums. I focused mostly on the unreleased tracks which, by themselves, would have been the foundation of an entertaining and artistically-satisfying album in 1971 or ’72 if fate had deemed otherwise. As Richie Unterberger wrote for <i>All Music Guide</i>, “for several years, the existence of “lost” material by Syd Barrett had been speculated about by the singer’s vociferous cult, fueled by numerous patchy bootlegs of intriguing outtakes. The release of <i>Opel</i> lived up to, and perhaps exceeded, fans’ expectations.” Unterberger deemed the album as “equally essential as his two 1970 LPs,” finding <i>Opel</i> “charming and lyrically pungent, with Barrett’s inimitable sense of childlike whimsy.” <br /><br />As swansongs go, <i>Opel</i> wasn’t a bad note to go out on, even if Barrett had clocked out almost a decade-and-a-half previous and likely cared less. As for the bonus 45 accompanying the Syd box set, Third Man dug up a pair of transcendent performances by Barrett’s friend and Pink Floyd bandmate, David Gilmour. The A-side is a cover of Barrett’s “Dark Globe,” taken from a European concert circa 2006, while the B-side showcases Gilmour’s take on Syd’s “Dominoes,” from a January 2002 performance at The Royal Festival Hall. The former offers a reverent reading with ragged vocals as close to Syd’s as Gilmour can reach, accompanied by intricate, lacy acoustic guitar while the latter is delivered as a jazzy fever-dream with shuffling rhythms, manic piano-play, and wiry fretwork. Both are too-brief interpretations of solid choices from Syd’s short catalog, leaving one with the desire to hear Gilmour record an entire album of Barrett songs. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Syd’s Tragic Genius</h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmlqqg_F3QypkA_Hz5XPkGyy-tNkLP9dgzmNFKjuxuE2dfk69q-37l8_PlRLX2t4olJzTtREIc4EjR-jr4hCS_2E3RGdDEVaI6mbRkxZy8XLjFAVqqpavIFG3cXZkBHK2ZGTMZK5wR71rI0hUOXYh-ZzCGixXv2wsHtMuM7KqNy4BVL0WUwOV981zhxE/s1200/Syd%20Barrett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Syd Barrett" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmlqqg_F3QypkA_Hz5XPkGyy-tNkLP9dgzmNFKjuxuE2dfk69q-37l8_PlRLX2t4olJzTtREIc4EjR-jr4hCS_2E3RGdDEVaI6mbRkxZy8XLjFAVqqpavIFG3cXZkBHK2ZGTMZK5wR71rI0hUOXYh-ZzCGixXv2wsHtMuM7KqNy4BVL0WUwOV981zhxE/w320-h320/Syd%20Barrett.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Barrett’s influence is undeniably timeless, with artists as diverse as David Bowie, The Who’s Peter Townshend, Brian Eno, XTC, The Jam’s Paul Weller, Pere Ubu, The Damned, Robyn Hitchcock and, of course, the aforementioned Jimmy Page all citing Syd as an inspiration on their own music. Too, Syd’s ethereal fingerprints can be found all over late period Pink Floyd albums like <i>Dark Side of the Moon</i>, <i>Wish You Were Here</i>, and <i>The Wall</i>. As legendary critic and <i>Trouser Press</i> magazine founder Ira Robbins wrote of Barrett in <i>The Trouser Press Record Guide</i> (fourth edition, 1991), “his unselfconscious looniness continues to set a framework in which artists can explore updated acid-rock with little more than an acoustic guitar,” calling the artist “tormented but unquestionably brilliant.”<br /><br />Barrett was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1996 as a member of Pink Floyd; fittingly, he did not attend the induction ceremony. Syd died of pancreatic cancer in 2006 at the amazingly young age of 60 years; given the long shadow cast by the genius of this creative gnome, one could imagine Barrett living beyond time. Syd’s tenure with Pink Floyd is documented in the recent film <i>Have You Got It Yet? The Story of Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd</i>, which features interviews with his former band members. With Third Man’s lovingly-created reissues of Barrett’s solo albums as a deluxe box set, the crazy diamond will continue to shine for years to come. (<a href="https://thirdmanrecords.com/" target="_blank">Third Man Records</a>, released September 2023)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt, USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185786308105730.post-69346538651464057262023-12-29T06:30:00.019-05:002023-12-29T06:30:00.242-05:00The View On Pop Culture: John Eddie, John Mellencamp, Boysetfire, Stratovarius (2003)<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggkxyHqiU1evl2DbMi7cN61FDCtp6r_fr7l5Gj9jRlbdPD2xm8lJDsHBXILXJW1Nz-nl086KGD6eGH6G-69MM9jqeC80hm7h4on-VdhqBtrbfDxGImo_JSNbaTvaI1eMCW8QR0Gmz3qhieG8dzb6TiJ5zWKGP61Kyxg3je6wpwG6zh8MbOcG4IMW7tbKI/s500/John%20Eddie-WHO%20THE%20HELL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="John Eddie's Who The Hell Is John Eddie?" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggkxyHqiU1evl2DbMi7cN61FDCtp6r_fr7l5Gj9jRlbdPD2xm8lJDsHBXILXJW1Nz-nl086KGD6eGH6G-69MM9jqeC80hm7h4on-VdhqBtrbfDxGImo_JSNbaTvaI1eMCW8QR0Gmz3qhieG8dzb6TiJ5zWKGP61Kyxg3je6wpwG6zh8MbOcG4IMW7tbKI/w320-h320/John%20Eddie-WHO%20THE%20HELL.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>V2.55</b><br /><br />True story. A few years ago, I had the good fortune to be seated next to the beautiful and talented Roseanne Cash and (then) husband Rodney Crowell at a Nashville performance by Joe Jackson. At the finish of a wonderful a cappella rendition of Jackson’s “Is She Really Going Out With Him,” some clown yelled ‘play “Free Bird”’ referring, of course, to the Lynyrd Skynyrd song. “Only in Nashville,” I commented to my buddy Willie J. Cash leaned over and gently corrected me, saying “no, dear, they yell that everywhere...” <br /><br />Evidently <b>John Eddie</b> has heard these cries as well, recording a song titled “Play Some Skynyrd” for his comeback album <i>Who the Hell Is John Eddie?</i> (Lost Highway). A lot of water has passed beneath the bridge in the fifteen years or so since Eddie sank into relative obscurity after his mid-80s hit “Jungle Boy,” but <i>Who The Hell Is John Eddie?</i> proves that you can’t keep a true artist down. A blend of alt-country and barroom roots rock, Eddie imbues the album with a mountain of soul, passion and grit. From the heartbreak of “Let Me Down Hard” to the hilarious middle-aged lament “Forty,” Eddie shows great maturity as a singer/songwriter on these tales of love and loss and life on the road. As for “Play Some Skynyrd,” Eddie’s self-effacing humor sounds suspiciously like the tears of a clown, expressing the frustration and elation felt by every rock & roller who has ever played to a hostile audience. With hot licks from guitarist Kenny Vaughn, “Play Some Skynyrd” is an artistic catharsis showing that, for John Eddie, the ride isn’t over yet. <br /><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8c21jlxTI3Vnr1RoK27fiqS7gjs0wb2_uopLnmmG2lqZAIQU34DtYkvSW_xrmUbgvB5vTVdbAhSiJ1CqNl9KzaQkSQe_2JG70IJQpHKebXHcD5SOIuRrYC7uQpP2RsrOObBHOpQnHJiFgkG__5Wa__oibNflE5dqswnM-C7ybS7stW8VoSgZ9C6SdI9g/s1500/John%20Mellencamp-TROUBLE%20NO%20MORE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="John Mellencamp's Trouble No More" border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8c21jlxTI3Vnr1RoK27fiqS7gjs0wb2_uopLnmmG2lqZAIQU34DtYkvSW_xrmUbgvB5vTVdbAhSiJ1CqNl9KzaQkSQe_2JG70IJQpHKebXHcD5SOIuRrYC7uQpP2RsrOObBHOpQnHJiFgkG__5Wa__oibNflE5dqswnM-C7ybS7stW8VoSgZ9C6SdI9g/w200-h200/John%20Mellencamp-TROUBLE%20NO%20MORE.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>John Mellencamp</b> has always drawn from the rootsier side of music, mixing rock with elements of blues, bluegrass and sweet soul music. It should come as no surprise that Mellencamp should choose to record an album of traditional American music like <i>Trouble No More</i> (Columbia Records). Drawing from the wealth of material available, Mellencamp revisits old masters like bluesmen Robert Johnson (“Stones In My Passway”) and Son House (“Death Letter”), folk legend Woody Guthrie, alt-country diva Lucinda Williams, Willie Dixon and Hoagy Carmichael. Mellencamp’s performances are truly inspired, the band rocks, and the song selection is tough to beat. As a result, <i>Trouble No More</i> is a simple delight, a heartfelt homage to the music that served to inspire Mellencamp’s own songwriting. He may not top the charts with the regularity that he once did, but John Mellencamp remains a complex and entertaining performer.<br /><br />“Summer is right for fighting in the street,” Mick Jagger sang and <b>Boysetsfire</b> has taken the legendary rocker to heart. Following up on the success of last year’s EP, <i>Tomorrow Come Today</i> (Wind-Up Records) offers BSF fans an album-length dose of the band’s trademark socio-political commentary. Not as strident as, say, Corporate Avenger, Boysetsfire stomps across much of the same radical leftist lyrical turf with a musical attack that is equal parts nu-metal and hardcore punk. Boysetsfire vocalist Nathan Gray is a charismatic frontman with lungs of steel, guitarists Chad Istvan and Josh Latshaw slash-and-burn with blistering chainsaw riffs. Throw in an explosive rhythm section that offers piston-like consistency and you have a recipe for success. Angry young men (and women) will latch onto anthemic rockers like “Dying On Principle” and “Release the Dogs,” so expect to hear a lot of Boysetsfire on the radio this summer. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4_pdviH_Jt0BrdTXIrjqZLtdJ1mQLo6hq3JbvAqMmOABzKghHJkaesUZ1fIDIXSKImuF47IGAMxMzhbwa9aYR5OLSiohPvrD9vu7fURNkazanqcTkR7FV5n_9dH_UuCpjsXkfUYofE6tycKF5NyFHzm6e1tY87VideN_5Erc6_ziY1Vs70RwlPkCBX8/s600/The%20Thorns-THE%20THORNS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="The Thorns' The Thorns" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4_pdviH_Jt0BrdTXIrjqZLtdJ1mQLo6hq3JbvAqMmOABzKghHJkaesUZ1fIDIXSKImuF47IGAMxMzhbwa9aYR5OLSiohPvrD9vu7fURNkazanqcTkR7FV5n_9dH_UuCpjsXkfUYofE6tycKF5NyFHzm6e1tY87VideN_5Erc6_ziY1Vs70RwlPkCBX8/w320-h320/The%20Thorns-THE%20THORNS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sometimes great music is the result of years of hard work and training and sometimes it happens purely by accident. In the case of <b>the Thorns</b>, it may be a little bit of both. Matthew Sweet, Shawn Mullins and Peter Droge all enjoyed various degrees of success as singer/songwriters, but somewhere down the line, Fate put them all together in the same room at one time. The trio of talents discovered that…lo and behold…their three voices sounded pretty damn good together and a band was born. Their self-titled album <i>The Thorns</i> (Columbia Records) is sheer joy for music lovers who enjoy vocal harmonizing and gentle folk-rock-inspired songwriting. <br /><br />The closest comparison that I can make is to Crosby, Stills and Nash, tho’ I’d give the Thorns an edge in songwriting (just listen to the Beatlesque “Thorns” or the ethereal “Dragonfly”). The album’s production, by Brendan O’Brien (best known for his work with Pearl Jam), is both delicately textured and amazingly sympathetic. The Thorns rock when they need to rock and bring it down a notch when the material demands subtlety, the trio of Sweet, Mullins and Droge discovering a wonderful chemistry together and delivering the classiest release of 2003. <br /><br />Critics have begun commenting on a “heavy metal revival,” ignoring the convenient fact that, for fans of the genre, heavy metal never went anywhere in the first place. Perhaps a jolt of <b>Stratovarius</b> from the band’s <i>Elements Pt. 1</i> (Nuclear Blast) will shake these dolts (who typically dismiss metal with a sigh and the wave of their hand) from their ignorance. These Finnish rockers have carried the power metal torch since the early-80s, and the release of <i>Elements Pt. 1</i> shows why Stratovarius is in a league of their own. <br /><br />The album’s elegant production lends a sense of neo-classical grandeur to songs like “Eagleheart” or “Learning To Fly,” Timo Kotipelto’s vocals soaring above the music while guitarist Timo Tolkki’s axe cuts through the material like a scalpel. The rhythm section hits like a brick wall at 100mph, the keyboard work is fascinating and the stories told by each song are epic in scale. The operatic poetry of <i>Elements Pt. 1</i> shows heavy metal at its best. Put Stratovarius on the box, crank up the volume and prepare to take flight! (<i>View From The Hill</i>, April 2003)<p></p>Rev. Keith A. Gordonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719550477203260678noreply@blogger.com0Buffalo, Rust Belt USA42.886446799999987 -78.878368914.576212963821142 -114.0346189 71.196680636178826 -43.7221189