Monday, December 5, 2016


purchase Edwyn Collins (Gorgeous George)

The older I get, the less frequently I feel cool. I imagine this is pretty normal. Cool is walking with rhythm after a good haircut. Cool is feeling wet on a dry day. Cool is feeling like you are separate from your environment and still glowing. Cool is fluid. Cool is the buzz and insight that comes after a couple beers at darkness. Cool is the walk to the meeting point where you’ll meet the girl who sees limitless potential in you. Cool is seeing and hearing all and getting it.

Edwyn Collins “Girl Like You” glistens with coolness and nudges you to have a smoke and take a long walk. Drums that recall Noir nights in Morrocco, a xylophone part as neat as a Martini and a big fat guitar lick that simply erects. The song is chill within its own danceability. It is the soundtrack for a ferocious pool party in a David Lynch film.

Edwyn’s story for the last 10 years has been touching more than cool. In 2005 he suffered two strokes in two days, rendering his right arm numb. I didn’t know this prior to his show four years ago in Istanbul. For all songs, he sat down on an amplifier, sometimes tapping his cane to the music. His son, James, sang on one new song and did two neat spins during the chorus. Then Edwyn stood for “Girl Like You”, as if there was no option. He hammered his cane to the lyrics “too many protest singers/not enough protest songs”, eventually limping away to let the band finish for three more minutes. You could sense his band revered him. The guitarist revered that solo. And the audience-merely 75 people-were struck by the sincerity of the evening: no excuses made. The energy was dumbfounding intense.

If you’re feeling tepid and flakey, listen to “Girl Like You” now and head out for a walk with your favorite shirt and pants on. See if any cool overcomes you.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Leftovers: Leftover Beatles

purchase [some Beatles ]

As the most recent notice to SMM bloggers said, the traditional leftovers theme could be interpreted several ways:  missed opportunity songs you might have posted during the past 12 months' themes, or perhaps something you can relate to leftovers of another sort.

Myself, I confess that I have to push to meet the bi-weekly output of SMM, and although I have discarded a number of posts over the past 12 months, there are none that I am driven to return to as leftovers that need re-working and then posting.

On the other hand, there are various Beatles songs that didn't make the official cut, and I guess they qualify as a kind of leftover. While you can find out-takes and un-published studio sessions for most every musician, a look back 50 or so years in and of itself amounts to a leftover of sorts. Yes, it was more or less "50 years ago today ..."

There is an extensive Wiki article about bootlegs of Beatles recordings: considering the number of performances - both in semi-private venues as well as over the airwaves, it is no surprise that there exist unofficial copies of performances (despite the limitations of the days' technology - If you are younger than 50, you ought to take the time to research what it was like to make a copy of live/radio ... music before the 90s.)

A decade or so ago, I ran across the original Beatles Complete on Ukulele project at which time they were providing a download link to each of the songs. The songs are still online but not longer easy to download. The site notes that they have a version that includes a ukulele of each of the 185 officially released Beatles songs.

Lennon/McCartney were prolific composers, and there are a number of songs that weren't distributed by their various recording companies: kind of left overs. Two in particular here from different eras of their careers The Palace of the King of the Birds from about the Magical Mystery Tour days, and then Bad to Me from 1963:

Thursday, November 24, 2016


“The worst is not. So long as we can say, ‘This is the worst’”, said Edgar, who along with Kent was the most noble and optimistic of the characters in King Lear.

Spare his plethora of Mad King Ludwig gold-rimmed chairs and gaudy baroque paintings, there is nothing that is outwardly noble and nothing to suggest that there is anything inwardly noble about Trump. Obviously, there is a whole lot of bad. With the victory evening itself and the Bannon and Sessions announcements, the last week has been frightening. But can it get worse? Let’s hope this is the end of the worst and the guy’s damage is frozen like a daiquiri.

But for the nihilists and those comforted by oncoming apocalypses, we have Killing Joke’s, “Asteroid.”

I’m a ball of fire
Fire from heaven
Terror from nowhere
You’ll never shoot me down
Days turn to minutes
Five seconds till it hits
Three seconds to ground
One second to
Coming in from the void

Vocalist Jaz Coleman, guitarist Geordie Walker and bassist Raven (and Youth shortly afterward) gave birth to Killing Joke in a smoking crater of apocalyptic theory and even though the majority of its fan base probably dismisses Coleman’s beliefs as dark humor, they’ll go along for the ride because Coleman’s soothsaying brings a healthy stream of boiling blood to Killing Joke’s music.

“Asteroid” is a stunning tune, the bonfire exploding early with Coleman’s screams (“And a 3rd Angel  sounded! And a star fell from heaven!”), punctuated by sonic drum smashes. Apparently--contrary to typical recording methods--the drums were recorded last on the album according to Dave Grohl who guested on drums on this self-titled release, Killing Joke’s 11th in their 23rd year. Killing Joke recently released Pylon, another massive slab of epic alternative-rock that belies their age and shows no sign of the band hitting any creative funk. They’re one of a few bands I am still holding out hope to see live, despite living in Turkey.

Coleman actually moved to Iceland early in the band’s career to avoid the apocalypse, moving back shortly afterward without a peep, not even ‘whoops, wrong day’. Plenty of superstars in the U.S. have plans of hightailing themselves out of America during the ensuing four-year apocalypse. Most will make their way back before the end without a peep.

Monday, November 21, 2016

It's Over/The End: Boz Scaggs- It's Over

purchase [Silk Degrees]

I was going to write about The Who's <The Song is Over>. I blocked out the song so that other SMM bloggers didn't nab my choice before I could get to it. But it's been busy days since the theme came online and my Who post is still in draft stage. Furthermore, I note that I checked in with the Who just one post back, so that is probably enough of them for now.

Among the busy-ness of the past week has been rehearsals for my once-a-semester student/teacher music concert, where, for the 20th time in a row, I am doing my thing. My "thing" this time is Boz Scaggs' Loan Me a Dime. (Sorry if you think that SMM shouldn't flog the bloggers - but it just fits so well)

Wait a minute ... Boz *must* have something that relates to Over/End. Of course he does: it's called "It's Over", from Silk Degrees.Way back before I gave all my albums away because they were taking up too much space and the turntable had fallen into dis-repair, I had a vinyl copy of Silk Degrees. You know: Silk Degrees with ... well ... lots of quite decent songs. Like all those others that you know but never really hit the big time. Boz mostly/consistently seems to come in at around number  30-50 on the hit chart: pretty fine, if not big hits and Silk Degrees has several.

Way back in the 60s, Boz was a part of the Steve Miller Band: he did various vocals as well as some guitar work - off and on from '59 to '68.  It was in '69 that he made it to  Muscle Shoals, where he recorded Loan Me a Dime with Duane Allman doing the solo guitar.

Silk Degrees was his 7th(!?) album - in 1976. That's a while back, but he is still making music? In fact, he has been in and out of the music scene more or less since Silk Degrees. He's playing the West Coast in November and then the midWest and Florida in January & February, so you've got a chance to catch him there.

Friday, November 18, 2016


Trump has answered the great conundrum of the 20thC: how did a rational people like the Germans come to vote for a demagogue like Hitler?

I am probably not the most appropriate, as a Brit, to be passing comment on your election outcome. But I know one who does, and his widely reported, at least over here, tweet of 11/9 will no doubt offend many. But, as ever, those who have decried his comment merely miss the point. This is actually neither comparing Trump to Hitler, nor calling Americans fools, merely pointing out how shit happens, quirks all of the wrong time, wrong place, complications to what the literati might call common sense. Or common preconception, anyway.

So what of Bragg, archetypal Essex boy, the "Bard of Barking", his home town? And why has he become such a potent force in musico-political activism? Probably best known stateside for his being granted custodianship of the legacy of unfinished lyrics by Woody Guthrie and producing, with the band Wilco, 2 excellent volumes of new music for them, he has had a long enough history over here of irritating the establishment as to have become a national treasure, cropping up regularly on news programmes as a credible and articulate voice of, often, a counterculture to the prevailing winds. (It is sort of how things happen over here.)

Born in 1957 of english-italian stock, he first hit the establishment buffers aged 11, failing his 11 plus exams, the then entry into a better, or at least further education, He thus channeled his interest in poetry into a passion for music, picking up a guitar and practising like mad. The mid-70s were a good time for starting bands. In response to the overblown pomp of the dinosaurs of the music industry, another establishment, punk rock had begun it's eventually unsuccessful bid to smash it all down. His first band didn't make it, but in the process he learnt how music could shape opinion, citing the Clash and their appearance at a legendary Rock Against Racism carnival in 1978 as the moment. Oddly, his next move was to join the army, possibly unsurprisingly finding it not the best place for an opinionated young man of left-leaning ideological views. Buying himself out, as was necessary, after 3 months, cost £175, equivalent today to about $650.

Taking the d.i.y. ethos to the next level, he next became a busker, albeit with electric guitar (attached to a small speaker), honing his art and attracting the attention of the movers and shakers, including, as seems did everyone who ever made it, DJ John Peel. Peel had commented on his hunger mid-show, galvanising Bragg to immediately deliver a plate of curry and a demo. A series of records ensued, deliberately produced and sold cheaply, mixing political comment with quirky love songs, usually just voice and barely amplified guitar. His singing voice was a thing of simplicity; raw, unadorned and utterly without any accent other than his own, unmistakably thames estuary inflection. Nominally punk/new wave, irredeemably folk, at least to my ears, and thus my immediate interest. In a nation under the thumb of Margaret Thatcher, there was a healthy appetite for opposition, Bragg becoming a regular at the barricades.

Astonishingly, perhaps, songs like the above were hits, but sales were never massive enough for him to have complete control, at least not whilst in the thrall of an increasingly global record company, who expected ever more sales and commerciality. The overt nature of of his politics was probably rather too full on for universal coverage. It seemed for a while as if he could deliver, especially with anthemic and thought inspiring single, Sexuality, a pop song despite itself (but who listens to the words, anyway, perhaps the curse of the motivated lyricist.) In the end, and in order to get back the rights to his back catalogue, he had to pay back the residual of his six figure advance.

It was about now, late 90's that Nora Guthrie, daughter of Woody, came across him, sensing something of her troubadour father in his work and leanings. Whilst not an obvious candidate, Bragg took this like a duck to water, his vocal cords taking on just enough translanticism to be credible.

Back then, in the UK, the politics seemingly having turned his way, as ever it turned out so not quite the hoped for policies and directions of flow. (Which may be a glimmer of hope post Trump's victory. Just as you have to be careful for what you wish for, maybe so have more hope of your worst fears than you expect?) Anyhow, with the disappointments of "New" Labour, the nominally socialist or quasi-democratic party we have, Bragg turned his ear to the vexed issue of national identity, thwarted and subverted by an abusive nationalism, trying to find a path between racist exclusivist views and inclusive pride in a mongrel nation. Sound familiar?

Latterly his output has seemed gentler, his last 2 solo releases being often more straightforward song cycles of middle-aged contentedness, up to a point, in his own skin. But, having seen him play live this summer, at one of the music festivals I try to get to each year, on a scorching sunday afternoon, slotted in between Wilko Johnson and Squeeze, days before the fated Brexit vote, he was as rousing and rallying as ever. Playing a set of largely political song, accompanied only by his own guitar and a pedal steel player, he did his best to plead a vote to remain in Europe, to much applause and acclaim. To no avail, as it happened, but it gave me hope.

As I write he tours the U.K., alongside credible songwriter and producer, Joe Henry, revisiting some Guthrie-esque americana roots, to promote their excellent duet record, 2 voices, acoustic guitars and occasional eavesdropped background sound. His voice, now a weathered and tuneful instrument in it's new lower key, a joy alongside Henry's higher tones, and some wonderful songs. Like this:

So, be Billys and Braggs, as Washington threatens to burn. As one of the songs featured above says, maybe, it's true,  in a somewhat different sense, there is indeed power in a Union, whether of states or of workers.

Buy Billy!!

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

It’s Over: Idiots Are Taking Over

NoFX: Idiots Are Taking Over

Here we go again.

Back in 2000, more Americans turned out to vote for a qualified, competent, intelligent, thoughtful Democrat who was maybe not the most exciting candidate, but the Electoral College chose an unqualified, intellectually incurious, right wing clown who liked to spend time away from the White House.

Sound familiar?   It's like déjà vu all over again.

That time, things worked out quite well, what with 9/11, the Patriot Act, Guantanamo, two foolish wars, lies about weapons of mass destruction, government sponsored torture, ISIS, the botched Katrina response, alienation of our allies, no health care plan, a continued refusal to credit science and facts, ballooning deficits, increasing income and wealth inequality and the closest thing to a great depression since the Great Depression.  Just for starters.

In 2003, even before much of the Bush debacle had even happened, sneaky smart punk band NoFX released their album The War on Errorism, which, in part, is a scathing attack on the still relatively new Bush administration. It included “Idiots Are Taking Over,” a song whose lyrics, only slightly over the top, unfortunately ring true again. For example:

It's not the right time to be sober 
Now the idiots have taken over 
Spreading like a social cancer, is there an answer?
*          *         * 
The benevolent and wise are being thwarted, ostracized, what a bummer 
The world keeps getting dumber 
Insensitivity is standard and faith is being fancied over reason
*          *         * 
What are we left with? 
A nation of god-fearing pregnant nationalists 
Who feel it's their duty to populate the homeland 
Pass on traditions 
How to get ahead religions 
And prosperity via simpleton culture 

It took us eight years to get rid of that awful crew, although the obstructionist Republicans in Congress worked hard to thwart progress.

And now, we have come full circle. Let’s hope that it isn’t over, and that through smart actions, both in and out of Washington, it doesn’t take that long to reverse things this time.

Friday, November 11, 2016

Politics: Fight The Power

Public Enemy, Fight the Power (purchase)

Sometimes, simple sentiments say it best.  Sometimes, there really are no words and music, glorious, pulsing, pounding music, makes life livable.

Like many fellow Americans, the words—the reality of the words “President-Elect Trump”—have me alternating between nausea, bewilderment, speechlessness, disgust and just plain furious anger. I don’t know what to say.

Thank God we have music in times like this. I don’t know what else I’d turn to.

That’s all I got for this month’s theme. Politics is dead, I think. Time to take the power back…