Home: I Don’t Want To Go Home

Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes: I Don’t Want To Go Home
[purchase] 

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I’d been spending a lot of time preparing for my 40th college reunion, which was a lot of fun. But I want to talk today, a little, about our 25th reunion. At that time, although I was an active alumnus, in the sense that I went to reunions and sporting events and was proud of my college, I did little or no volunteer work for my class or school. In my mind, the reunion just sort of happened, and although I knew that classmates were involved in organizing it, I had no clue as to how much work it takes, and how hard it is to do it. I know now. Trust me, I know now. 

When I showed up at our 25th, in addition to receiving a uniquely beautiful garish jacket, I found out that our entertainment for one of the evenings was going to be Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. I had always enjoyed their music, had played them occasionally on the radio during college, and was surprised that they would be appearing at our reunion. Typically, classes hire cover bands of various styles, and to my knowledge it was unusual to have a “name” band, even one whose best years seemed to be behind them, as entertainment. I later discovered that the band was paid for by a wealthy classmate, so that the cost was not passed along to the rest of us, which was nice of him. (This appearance appeared to set off a bit of an arms race among reunions classes, with appearances by acts such as Joan Jett, Duran Duran, Naughty By Nature, some version of the Beach Boys, and others until it seems that the University has discouraged this practice. Also, Phil Lesh played with his son, who was graduating, one year at an off-campus eating club, and Stanley Jordan joined in.) 

They were great, if a little loud under our tent, and the picture above is from his performance (and thanks to the classmate who provided me with this and other pictures from that night for our slideshow, because that was 2007, before everyone carried a digital camera in their pocket). 

Southside Johnny (John Lyon) and Bruce Springsteen met as young, aspiring musicians in the late 1960s, became close friends, and were both involved in creating the New Jersey/Asbury Park sound. A number of musicians played with both men, including Gary Tallent and Vini Lopez, who went to high school with Lyon, and Steve Van Zandt. But where Springsteen went on to become The Boss, Southside’s success was more limited. There are tons of articles on the Internet discussing their friendship, which continues, but I found one from 2012, an interview with Lyon, that seems to lay it out pretty clearly. According to that article, even in the early days, Lyon knew that among all of the musicians in their group, Springsteen stood out. As Lyon remembered, “He just had that presence where you couldn’t take your eyes off him.” Lyon described the difference between the bands: “He's got more straight ahead rock 'n' roll roots and I have more rhythm and blues roots. And I have a horn section and he doesn't." 

Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes’ first album, I Don’t Want to Go Home, is excellent, and the title track, written by Van Zandt (who also produced the record), is maybe the band’s signature track. It’s a blusey, horn-drenched rocker, telling the story of someone who, well, doesn’t want to go home and face the fact that his love has left him. For what it is worth, I’m using a live version of the song, from the 1980 album Reach Up and Touch the Sky, because I like it a little better. 

Lyon has continued to perform and record pretty much non-stop with various lineups of the Jukes, solo, and with other side projects, but has generally flown under the radar. But, at least back in 2012, Lyons seemed comfortable with his career. As he said in that interview: 

I like where I am. I'm friends with a lot of these guys who have become big rock stars and it's not for me. I treasure my privacy and l like being left alone on the street. Garry Tallent and I were talking a couple of years ago and realized everybody pretty much got what they wanted. Steven always wanted to be active politically and to play music and now he's an actor as well. Bruce always wanted to make his music count for people. He carried himself as a person who has something to say, and still does. And I've always wanted to be as free and odd and eccentric as I wanted, because I'm just naturally that way - and I can. I haven't put on a suit for 40 years.

VALENTINES: CUPID COME/MY BLOODY VALENTINE

So, looking ahead to next year, how can I and how will I serenade my significant? Of course, I wouldn't dream of singing myself, my Funny Valentine would be decidedly more funny peculiar than ha-ha, but all this kerfuffle has had me thinking time for a mixtape. (Don't panic, not here.) Browsing my cache I can find nine different songs entitled Valentine, in all styles and genres. Expanding that search  into wiki and there are hundreds. Too much choice. Way too much choice. But, brainwave, how about bands? Ditching the Valentines, the band, as too obvious (and too kitsch, Bon Scott or not), I suddenly realised what could be more romantic than Kevin Shields and My Bloody Valentine?! But, sez you, MBV never sang a song about Valentines, read the brief. When do I ever, sez I, but, clever dick, what about this? Well, sort of.

Cupid Come (Isn't Everything) 1988

Cupid Come, from their first album, 1988's Isn't Everything, epitomises the paradox of the band, the meld of coruscating guitars, all a sonic maelstrom of dissonance, with angelic vocals and ethereal melody floating over and through the storm. Is that shoegaze, then? I quite never got that term, it seeming always to suggest more a winsome introspection and shyness. Only now, the shame, do I understand it was less the avoidance of audience eye contact it referred to, more the necessary concentration of the array of footpedals, the integral tools of distort. Me, I aways just saw this style as a natural transition from Phil Spector and the Beach Boys, a bit of Byrds even, through to the Ramones and, later, the Jesus & Mary Chain and Teenage Fanclub, the tunes never more pop as the backing goes progressively post nuclear. That works for me.

You Made Me Realise (lead single from Isn't Everything) 1988

It could never be said the band were prolific. With, so far, but three long players to their name, their legacy, influence and allegiances cast a longer shadow. Coming together in Dublin during the early 80s, primarily lumped around Shields and karate buddy Colm O Cíosóig. A fairly fluid line up and a string of releases on minor labels gradually built up their name, ahead of catching the ear of Creation records boss, Alan McGee, he and his label then the pinnacle of the indie scene. A clutch of EPs followed, the sound and the membership still evolving, ahead of that 1988 release. The critical response completely overshot the anticipation: the relatively limited initial pressings soon swamped by demand, cementing their move from obscure favourites to cult treasures. (In truth, overall sales were low, outside the aspirational concept of the indie chart. I don't think many copies made their way across the pond at all.)
The main change was the vocals, now almost exclusively female led, this role provided by Bilinda Butcher, also second guitar, with Deb Googe, another woman on bass, alongside O Cíosóig's drums. Shields, writing a majority of the material was second vocals and lead pyrotechnics, on guitar. The dreamy vocal style was, arguably, a by-product of the recording process, working all hours with little sleep, all thus in a state between tired and comatose.

The band followed this with a repackaged reprise of their earlier fare, with some taster EPs then gradually dropping, to fill the unfeasibly lengthy, and expensive, time being spent in a follow-up. Creation bosses were becoming increasingly concerned, not least by the fact that Shields, increasingly troubled by tinnitus, seemed to be the only one much evident in the process, playing all the guitar and bass parts, with pre-recorded drums acting as the click-track. Butcher still added vocals and the band was still nominally a unit, but this was now increasingly Shield's baby. Fearing a dud, it was with no small relief when it came out in 1991. Loveless was  acclaimed with even greater praise than its predecessor, if still only denting the UK and Irish markets. And strangely those of Korea and Japan.

Taken on tour, it was a sign of the acumulated tensions that led to both the band promptly imploding and being dropped by the label. It was all too destructive.

Only Shallow (Loveless) 1991

Shields carried on relentless. Rapidly gaining a reputation as a tortured genius, think Brian Wilson or Syd Barrett, most of this come to nought. Constantly working on and revisioning earlier tapes, adding, subtracting, morphing and melding, it was a full 22 years before it arrived at fruition. Entitled m b v, all four band members are credited, but the participation was often either historical, dating back to the early 90s, or later short term drop-ins to lay down some drum parts or add some vocals. The momentum and demand, the reputation of the band having peaked exponentially during the silence, was sufficient to crash the band website, revived especially for the occasion of downloading the new material. The US press were now on board, avidly avowing, if belatedly, the importance of the band in influencing any number of far more successful and far more famous bands, Smashing Pumpkins and Hole, for two, and made it a feature of many best of lists of 2013. They even toured the States that year, following UK and European dates, if their record-buying heartland of SE Asia had the earliest shows. And, yes, it was the trusty four of Shields, O Cíosóig, Butcher and Googe who regrouped in the live delivery.

In Another Way (m b v) 2013

Since then it has, again, been all promises and hope, several releases projected, including a Shields solo, but never quite making it. But spirits remain undashed, after all, 7 years isn't that long by MBV standards.....

In the meantime, here's an interesting 'explanation' from Shields as to the how and why.

Cupid?

Two Words: Summertime Thing

Chuck Prophet: Summertime Thing
[purchase the original]

Back in 2010, when few of the current Star Maker Machine writers were associated with the blog, we did a theme about songs with one word titles. It seemed like time to advance the counter, and focus on songs with Two Word titles. (We promise not to do a theme about songs with 27 word titles).

Where I live, in suburban New York, it has been hot. High-80s, low 90s, with humidity. I know that other parts of the country are suffering through record heat waves, as are parts of Europe (or so I hear from my daughter in Barcelona). Complaining about the heat during the summer, though, is kind of a waste of time. It is, as Chuck Prophet noted, a “Summertime Thing.”

Prophet is someone who hasn’t gotten nearly enough love on this blog, despite his long career, first in the 80s psychedelic Americana band Green on Red, and later as a songwriter, collaborator and solo artist. I’ve been a fan for a while, and he is near the top of my list of artists who I want to see for the first time (I’ll be crossing the Tedeschi Trucks Band off that list in October). I wrote more about Prophet here, so feel free to check that out, if you want more background.

Prophet was born in Whittier, California, near Los Angeles, where it gets pretty warm, but lives now in San Francisco, where Mark Twain famously didn’t actually denigrate the summer weather. “Summertime Thing,” from Prophet’s 2002 album No Other Love, was a bit of a radio hit. It is really a great summer song. The song has a mellow, laid back vibe, and talks about the hot sun, hazy skies, burning pavement, loud parties and skinny dipping in a river. Plus, he name-checks the Beach Boys. Add that to Prophet’s customary drawling vocals, which seem perfect for a hot day, and you just want to slather on the sun screen, grab a crime novel and sit under a big umbrella with a cold drink dripping condensation waiting nearby.

The original version is great, but I’ve linked above to a live version from a 2013 performance at a club in Martinez, California, outside of San Francisco. It stretches the 5 minute song out to past 9 minutes, mostly by adding a long, languorous jam that adds to the easygoing, summertime feel of the song. Even though the performance was in March.

Gold: Killerman Gold Posse

French, Frith, Kaiser, Thompson: Killerman Gold Posse
[purchase]

A theme within a theme—two “Gold” related posts about 1980s Richard Thompson side projects. To follow up last week’s post about the Golden Palominos, this week we look at French, Frith, Kaiser, Thompson, a more traditional “supergroup” in form, if not sound or popularity. FFKT released two albums, 1987’s Live, Love, Larf & Loaf, from which today’s featured song comes, and Invisible Means, released in 1990.

Thompson is both a personal favorite, and a SMM regular. His cohorts in FFKT, though, are somewhat lesser known. John French is a drummer, although he contributed some vocals to the project, and is probably best known as “Drumbo” from Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band. Fred Frith, best known as a guitarist, although he mostly played bass and violin in this group, was a founder of the English avant-garde rock group Henry Cow, and has played with and produced a wide variety of mostly experimental and unconventional musicians (including Golden Palomino Bill Laswell). Frith is Professor of Composition in the Music Department at Mills College and is also a writer. Henry Kaiser is another experimental guitarist and ethnomusicologist whose body of work stretches across the spectrum of jazz, rock, electronic and world music.

As could be expected from this crew, Live, Love, Larf & Loaf is an eclectic set of music which seems to also reflect the members’ off-kilter senses of humor. The album includes, among other things, experimental, noisy songs, an Okinawan folk song, a version of the Beach Boys' “Surfin’ U.S.A.” played in the style of Chuck Berry before descending into chaos, and a few songs that sound like slightly twisted Richard Thompson songs.

“Killerman Gold Posse” is one of these, a song about a London youth gang, in which Thompson recounts the gang’s practices of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, although he notes that “the poor are we, and the poor are we.” However, the narrative is interrupted by a chorus, which sings, “We are children, please don't take our freedom away.”

It is an odd song, and one that probably is exactly long enough at 1:47.

The Number 4: 409

purchase [409]

 The Beach Boys' 409 came out early in their career - the B side to the Surfin' Safari 45.  409 refers to  a Chevrolet with a  409 cc engine. Wikipedia says it was a 6.7 litre engine - a record setting Daytona stock car. ( I appreciate the motor power; having owned a 5.9 litre beast a few years ago, I know that they rocket you from 0-60 in just a few seconds. Any time you need a little more power, it's there. But, you can literally watch the gas gauge work its way down in real time - not so cool where I live with gas at about $10/gal - still!!) In fact - a lot about the Beach Boys ain't so cool when you look in to their 60's frame of mind, but at the time, it was "surfer cool".

Take for example the lyrics themselves: nigh on 1/3 of the song is comprised of the words <409>: but that fit the times: rock beat, AM radio play...

However, the Beach Boys again and again hit the top of the charts in the mid 60s - including 1964, when (maybe not the height of their career) they came out with Fun,Fun, Fun and I Get Around.

Top 10 Posts of 2015

We briefly interrupt our annual In Memoriam theme to start a new tradition—highlighting the 10 most viewed posts of 2015.

The variety of music discussed on this site is broad, and our international roster of writers brings different perspectives to their pieces. One of the great things about Star Maker Machine is that it gives our writers a forum to write about anything they want, as long as they can relate it, in some way, to our bi-weekly theme. In our top 10, there are personal memories, political and social discussions, remembrances of those who have passed, brushes with celebrity, and even just posts about songs, music and musicians. This list includes discussions of folk, rock, old-time pop, klezmer, and spoken word.

So, in case you missed them, here are the most viewed posts from the last calendar year. But they are only a small sampling of what you will find in our archives, which we invite you to explore.

1. Where I Live—Tarrytown
2. Self-Reflection—Wilco (The Song) 
3. Light→Darkness—From Light to Darkness with Richard & Linda Thompson
4. Songs South—The Southern Thing/The Three Great Alabama Icons 
5. The Future—Somewhere Down The Road 
6. Brush With Celebrity—Jean Shepherd
7. Self-Reflection—You Turn Me On I’m A Radio 
8. Light—Harbor Lights
9. Non-Christmas Holiday Songs—Happy Joyous Hanukkah
10. Water/Wet—California, The Beach Boys

And there is more to come in 2016.

WATER/WET: CALIFORNIA, THE BEACH BOYS

Too obvious, huh? Well, yes and no, especially when the whole vast lexicon of Beach Boys songs that reference water, waves and Waikiki Beach is out there, so why this one? (Waikiki Beach? OK, made that up, but I bet there is one, maybe in the lyric of "Surfin' USA"? Answer: No!). Let me explain, at this time period, early 70s, this was when I suddenly re-got the Beach Boys. No longer lame dudes in candy stripe shirts, this was now a bona-fide band of beats, beards aplenty, sort of Charles Manson meets Paul Revere & the Raiders. Yup, sure the Manson reference is tasteless, but Dennis (R.I.P.) was part of that whole sad and sorry tale. The above image is taken from the very excellent 'Rock Dreams', by artist Guy Peellaert and writer Nik Cohn. Cohn, a longterm fan and "critical friend" of the band and their ouput, aptly contrasts their then world-weariness with the, by now, lost youthful innocence of before. (Lord only knows of what he makes of the currently still touring travesty helmed by Mike Love, but that's another story....)

Anyhow, this is about me and the music. Between 1970 and 1975 I was at what you might call high school, gauche and gawky, trying to find my way in the bitterly divisive cliques of music aficionados. I had decided I was not a full blown heavy rocker: this was the era of Deep Purple, Black Sabbath and the like. Quite keen on E.L.P and, less so, Yes, I felt I needed something a bit different. Luckily one of my chums was the son of a diplomat, spending school holidays in exotic climes, a.k.a. the US of A. He drew my attention to the likes of the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield and I was hooked. He also had a copy of the Beach Boys Live from 1973. The gatefold sleeve was enough for me, the band looking more like the Dead than the Dead: I just loved the way the cleancut popstars could have decayed so wonderfully. Hell, there were even a couple of black guys in the line-up. Of course, the music was still there, new songs mingling with all the classics, all the more exotic to hear those pristine harmonies emanating from these grizzled mouths. My own backward foraging led me to Holland, the LP not the country, although that was where they cut it. Still my favourite, above Pet Sounds, above Surf's Up. From the funky tropes of "The Trader" and "Leaving this Town," to the mystical triad of "Californian Saga," this hit all my spots. (Maybe not "Funky Pretty," in hindsight.) My titular track, is the 3rd part of "Californian Saga," and is a simultaneous flashback to 60s Beach Boys, with echoes of "California Girls," yet umphed into the 70s by a rather more muscular beat and quirky instrumentation. No surprise that it became a big hit, as a single, in the UK, though I bet the publicity showed more of the band then, as was, rather than their shaggy doppelgangers. Love it, love it, love it. Still do.

Buy the song
Buy Holland or Live
Buy Rock Dreams

Songs Under 3 Minutes: Wouldn't It Be Nice

Beach Boys: Wouldn't It Be Nice
[purchase mp3]

When the current theme idea first popped up, it was originally proposed as “under 1 or 2 minutes”. Really tough. 3 minutes is a hard enough limit. Granted, the constraints of AM radio in the 1960s more often than not forced music groups to keep their songs short. Not having been in the business, I would assume the limit had to do with the programming format: my guess would be that the music moguls had a mandate for short songs with time for ads or promos and pertinent sales monologue in between.

That said, many of the top hits were in that range – and those that weren’t were “cropped” such that they did air for about 3 minutes: if the song went on too long, the DJ would cut in before the song was over: fade out with DJ voice-over. Occasionally brutally crimping the enjoyment of the music. But that was the standard.

So… it should be relatively easy to go back in time to most any top of the pops hit from the early/mid-60s, and make a choice for a < 3 song. Sure enough: BBC’s Top of the Pops list from 1965 shows that most hits are less than 3 minutes. “Hang on Sloopy” is near the max length at 3 minutes 53 seconds. The rest of the pack times in under 3.

Considering that there were folks like Bob Dylan, who most likely felt they had something to say and could most probably have rambled on beyond 3 minutes if given the chance, you have to assume there were external pressures along the lines I suggest above.

On the other hand, I also question how many minutes I would have been willing to listen to variations on lyrics such as “Wild thing, you make my heart sing ….” (’66) in a rather limited I-IV-V chord progression.

The short song format worked for a decade or more. It wasn’t until the ‘70s that radio play began to move beyond the 3 minute limit, and part of the credit there goes to “progressive” radio, more often than not in the FM bandwith. I realize this is an over-simplification of many of the influences and elements, but many of the facts remain.

So, here’s one from that era that fits the thematic limits of less than 3.  I can't help but think of what a huge job it must have been to (try to) sync the tape vocals to the final film output!

THE CASE FOR: THE ASSOCIATION

WE INTERRUPT YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED “RADIO” PROGRAMMING FOR THIS LATE-BREAKING “CASE FOR” POST! YOU WILL BE RETURNED TO YOUR "RADIO" LISTENING MOMENTARILY . . .

On the one hand, it might seem like The Association is a band that has a long way to go to have a good case made for them. Their ensemble singing in the midst of the changing ‘60s rock landscape, moving ever farther away from the innocent days of the Four Seasons in the early ‘60s to the grittier sounds of the psychedelic era, certainly shortened their lifespan. And it would be very understandable to dismiss them if you knew them only for “Cherish,” one of the most cloyingly sappy #1 songs of the ‘60s, if not of the entire rock era. If that was all The Association had going for them, there wouldn’t be much of a case to made. But as it turns out, on the same album that “Cherish” leads off Side 2, Side 1 ends with “Along Comes Mary,” a relatively hip — emphasis on “relatively” — little nugget that not so obliquely references the joys of marijuana. It’s catchy, and hints at an ability to get groovy that “Cherish” doesn't even whisper a suggestion of.

Where that hint leads to something of real musical worth is, in my mind, their 1967 album, Insight Out. Aside from containing two of the best non-Beatles pop singles of the ‘60s, “Windy” and “Never My Love,” the album has two lost gems of Summer of Love psychedelia, “Reputation” and “Wantin’ Ain’t Gettin’”; a passably decent war protest song, “Requiem for the Masses”; a quirky psychedelic vaudeville song (how many bands can claim that?), “Wasn’t It a Bit Like Now (Parallel ’23)”; and an assortment of other melodically appealing songs well-informed by the classic pop sound of the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds (although I wouldn’t go so far as to say that they match that level of greatness, the songs exhibit a similar perfectionist feel). Insight Out is a lesser-known masterpiece of baroque pop, and one can’t help but imagine that it had a big influence on the sound of ‘80s baroque bands such as The Three O’Clock and later on the likes of such Elephant 6 Collective bands as Beulah and Olivia Tremor Control.

But since my case for The Association is based primarily on this album, let's let the music do the talking now. I encourage you to listen to these gems before you write the band off as hopeless sapsters, rather than the influential baroque popsters they actually were. [Click the song titles to hear the songs.]

First, the uncannily cool “Wasn’t It a Bit Like Now” — even if the first minute or so doesn’t grab you, wait for the second half, where they come roaring back with a groovy riff and verse that Austin Powers would have gone bonkers for.

Wasn't It a Bit Like Now

Then there’s the massive hit, “Windy,” one of the great happy pop songs of the era, rivaling Simon and Garfunkel’s “59th Street Bridge Song.” It’s a wonder — written by Ruthann Friedman — the propulsive beat of which can’t help but bring a smile to all but the most jaded music fans.

Windy

Next up is a cover of a Tim Hardin composition, “Reputation,” where they show some true rock chops and show themselves able to truly get into a Jefferson Airplane-like frame of mind. I love this song.

Reputation

Then there’s “Never My Love,” which manages to be everything that I think “Cherish” wanted to be but was too cheesy to achieve: A truly gorgeous melody and romantic lyrics that don’t get mucked up by the ensemble singing. In my mind, one of the great love songs of all time.

Never My Love

Next is “Wantin’ Ain’t Gettin’,” a cover of a little-known psychedelic song by The Flower Pot (a Spinal Tap-worthy pseudonym for session musician Mike Deasy, who played on Pet Sounds and scads of other ‘60s records). Instead of linking to the song directly here, I’d like to direct you to my primary blog, Reselect.com, for an August 2011 post where you’ll find a more detailed writeup on "Wantin' Ain't Gettin'," as well as the beginnings of my defense of The Association as a whole.

Finally, one great, final track from their next album, Birthday, released in 1968: “Like Always,” one of their most freewheeling and organically cool songs, period. It trips along, intentionally lazily in the verse, but features a chorus full of beautiful Beach Boys-style harmonies, and then suddenly switches gears for a stunning vocal round. A really fantastic piece of ‘60s pop.

Like Always

Hopefully, after listening to these, you've gained more of an appreciation for the talents of The Association. Admittedly, I grew up with Insight Out and Birthday, so I've had more time to soak them in, but there's a lot of stuff I liked as a kid that hasn't aged nearly as well, so there's more to it than that.

[Purchase Insight Out]

Shutdown: Shut Down

Beach Boys: Shut Down
[purchase]

The exuberance of the '60s Beach Boys was infectious: so infectious that they sold millions. They were a kind of transition from the Kingston Trio folk genre to the Beatles pop/rock genre. They were California-carefree: surf, sun, and fun, fun, fun 'til ...

'Til the real world intruded. Much of the decade leading up the Beach Boys' prime-time were years of plenty - especially for America. Work, cars and houses for everyone. The late sixties (and the end of the Beach Boys' major successes) was the end of an era: a shut down of the values that America had previously espoused. Vietnam war protests, "free sex", hippies ... all flew in the face of what was established. Richard Nixon got caught trying to shut down his opponents by illegal means. The public aimed to shut down the Vietnam war. And much of the public tuned out one way or another: smoking pot or ... whatever... in itself a form of shut down or closing time.

Look into the Beach Boys late works (Heroes and Villains era stuff) and you'll see this change reflected in their music: The Beach Boys of the '70 definitely do not display the same "drive" you'll see in this clip. It's been shut down and the gears have been down-shifted to mellow.

At the same time, as we consider the relation to today's US gov't shut down, you might look deeper into the (most likely unintended) meaning you could ascribe to the lyrics of this song:



Shut it off, shut it off buddy now I shut you down
Sounds to me like one of the US political parties or another: "buddy"? I thought that meant "friend"?