Mom >> Child: Dweezil Zappa

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I'm going to conjecture that I am not the only one who feels that I didnt "do [enough] right" by my mother for Mother's Day. Flowers dont quite cut it, eh? It's a debt you can never really re-pay. And I would like to think that the debt we feel (ought to feel) goes well beyond a commericial prompt from flowers.com.

Next theme question: if your mom a girl? vice.com had an interesting take on this thought this past week...

All the same... me thinks it is part of human nature to rebel - to rebel against our mothers (and fathers)... to rebel against the powers that be: be it your recording company , be it the headmaster of your school, be it the law makers who define the conditions under which we co-exist. And in this, Frank Zappa excelled: with or without "The Mothers of Invention" - he pushed the limits of the acceptable. Lewd at times? maybe - depends on your interpretation of his lyrics. Irreverant to his mother? No that I know of. Pro-active regarding our legislative rights - most certainly!

Sad to read that Frank Zappa's son (who has taken on some mantle of his father's legacy) is embroiled in legal issues regarding the "Mothers" appelation. Granted: the name/rights likely never belonged to the Zappa family, but I can't imagine many who dont see "the Mothers of Invention" associated with the Zappa name. What [social] value in litigating? None. Monetary ... perhpas some.

So... Sons of mothers and fathers. Children... Someone ought to take on the Frank Zappa brand, and who better than his progeny? Dweezil has been working at it for some time now. I would give him a vote of confidence - but maybe not because of his "chops".

CHILD: I AM A CHILD/Neil Young

I have loved Neil Young ever since I was a child myself, the problem often being as to which Neil I like the best, the melodic acoustic troubadour or the feedback-drenched electric maverick, let alone all the shorter term infatuations he has dabbled in, from brass-heavy blues to wacky contract-breaking electronica. I guess like so many I came in around Heart of Gold, backtracking then to the glory of the After the Goldrush album, destroying many a pair of jeans to evoke the multi-patching of his distressed denim. I was at a single sex boarding school at that time, all short hair and uniforms, with Young, all straw hair, sideboards and the scruffiest wardrobe ever, being the man I most wished to be. Indeed, I fear this version of basse couture has remained the template for me, even now, to the despair of wives and partners to this day. (Hell, if ol' Shakey still dresses like a derelict in the dark, why shouldn't I?)

As stated often here before, I was an odd boy, and one of my eternal quests has always been the whys and the hows of music, with a liking to burrow back into the beginnings. This led me to my hardly original theory that all (white) popular music arose from the 4Bs: the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield. What about the Stones, I hear you say, to which my response is that they are black music, or the Blues. Jazz? That's Blues too. And I will allow the B of Bluegrass to encompass the whole of Country music, itself morphing into some of the style of the Byrds and the Buffalo, anyway, which is where I began. OK, it's trite and simplistic but I will defend it defiantly and devoutly (until some smartass says so what about Kraftwerk then?) But my point is that I thus obtained a copy of a Buffalo Springfield best-of in about 1973, hearing a whole different Neil. This was how he sang pre-whine, and I here mean whine as a compliment, being unable to think of a less damning description of his style, unless anyone can come up with a better name. Almost angelic, clear and smooth at this stage, as much a shock as it was later to hear his strangely low speaking voice. And, on this song, surprisingly or, probably, intentionally childlike, with only rudimentary guitar. This was a trick he was able to later return to, on Sugar Mountain, similarly faux-infantile and just as fetching.

So, how is the child now? Roll forward from 1968, the Buffalo Springfield recording, a full 46 years to 2014, his annual Bridge School concert, the school he set up for his own, now deceased beloved child. The clothes remain the same, the hair, well, a bit thinner on top, but the voice, less childlike but unmistakeably his, present and correct. And the child, listening in 1973, is still listening now.

There are a dozen or so recordings available over the decades: go buy!!

Child: The Replacement's Kids Don't Follow

Purchase The Replacements, Kids Don’t Follow

 Kids Don’t Follow is the first track off the Replacement’s first release, the EP Stink.  It’s a bold statement from a band that would go on to make many statements. The Replacements are a band that took on a far greater prominence than the drunken shenanigans of Stink would promise.  But, then, this is the Replacements and their influence, lazy ambition, sneaking brilliance, and pure, astounding genius and capacity to bring the shock and awe (or one good dose of thunder) made them one of the greatest bands ever to never really make it. Starting with Stink, and hopping along like an exposed electric wire for a total of 6 more albums and a few lifetimes of madness, what the ‘Mats did for music is almost immeasurable. Even if they would deny it. Then or now. Which they do.

I like to talk a lot about firsts in music. First tracks, first times a song was played, first time one heard a band, what must it have been like to see a legend in the making when they first started out. Kids Don’t Follow is another first, an opening shot of punk muscle that would start a career that would morph and go in unexpected directions, but never lose that ‘fuck you’ attitude that in retrospect was so essential.

One of the best parts of Kids Don’t Follow is the opening recording of a party being broken up by the Minneapolis Police. Amid the ambient noise comes out a clear, angry, “Hey fuck you, man!” to the otherwise kindly, Barney Fife-kind of sounding cop politely asking everyone to please disperse. It’s such a visual moment. Supposedly it was recorded at First Avenue. Supposedly, the kid who yells the expletive is Soul Asylum’s Dave Priner. Supposedly the cop was Danny Murphy’s father. Supposedly, the Replacements put their original demos in the river and set them adrift, hoping Prince would discover them, ala the infant Moses in the Nile in a reed basket…There are a lot of what ifs with a band like The ‘Mats. And a lot of could have been...But what they left behind is like a great promise that might still come true.

...The Replacements, one of rock’s closest near-miracles...Kids Don’t Follow. A song like this makes sure they never will… 

Child: The Who, The Kids Are Alright

 

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From their first album, and though it wasn’t a hit when it came out, it is now a title that has become ubiquitous with the band. They are the kids. Were the kids. But, if you love them, they still are the kids. The original punks, angry, playful, bombastic. Revolutionaries in stripes and sneakers, dippity-doed hair, mod before mod was a thing.

Who? The Who.

The Kids are Alright set a great standard. The standard for rock greatness. Greatness was Keith Moon’s frenzied, nuclear motored drumming. It is still the greatest drumming I’ve ever heard. Townshed’s spectrum spanning guitar, crunching, driving, melodic, a full on range of sound from a mere six strings.  He wielded chords with an orchestral strength. Daltry sang like he had a brass pair. Entwistle rolled thunder like a Greek god.

1965. They looked so clean cut, so reserved. Yet in this amazing song one finds their personas of greatness, rock gods in waiting, like Clark Kent behind his glasses - almost there, bursting at the seams to do what they were destined to do. There are two versions, but the UK album version has a glorious instrumental break that personifies Townshed’s ability to spin melodic gold.  

The original promo video was filmed in Hyde park at the water’s edge, while holiday makers rowed past. A number of them have stopped to watch the band play, unamplified and lip-synching to a pre-recorded track. Moon is his usual self—a ball of energy, barely able to stay in his seat. Entwistle is straight knife-fight nonchalant, playing his bass with fingers the defied the limits of the bones under the skin. Townshed is reserved, but breaks into a genuine smile, a goofy grin that is unmistakable joy, then he throws in his classic windmill, forever changing the way we would all play guitar thereafter. Daltry is sullen, looking away from the camera rather than giving any of himself to it. He looks off to the side, this way and that—later you see all the girls that had gathered just the side of the band, and the boys on their bikes.  Do you think they knew what they were watching? The very evolution of rock ‘n roll…the kids were definitely alright.

The song is still as fresh as it was in 1965, still packs the same raw, punchy joyous power. It’s a retrospective on youth now, but the song itself is still young, still invokes and evokes the joyousness of abandon and the joy of not knowing any better and not needing to. T

he assured swagger that comes with knowing everything will be fine.

In 2000, at the Royal Albert Hall, they extended the song, and Townsend took the opportunity to sing a new interlude:

"When I wrote this song I was nothing but a kid, trying to work out right and wrong through all the things I did. I was kind of practicing with my life. I was kind of taking chances in a marriage with my wife. I took some stuff and I drank some booze. There was almost nothing that I didn't try to use. And somehow I'm alright."

 

… the kids are definitely alright, still. 

 

Child: Bettie Serveert's “Kid’s Alright”

Purchase Bettie Serveert's Kids Alright

Back in the bushes we find a cat
Beat him up with a baseball bat
And grandma says we’ll turn out bad
And go straight to hell just like dad


I grew up in a sweet neighborhood where I could almost touch the window of the house across from me. But when you live that close, you can hear all the fighting and crying on the block. The loudest kids are seen as the worse. I remember listening to my quiet and boring neighbors next door try to make my mom crap on the loud boy across the street who ran out of his housescreaming at his parents. Shouldn’t we be more curious about the quiet houses where nothing seems to happen?

In “Kids’ Alright” Bettie Serveert has some fun with adults who get off on predicting doom for kids. Well these kids ain’t so nice actually, beating up cats and all with Louisville Sluggers and yet you cheer for them against their grammie through the line “But don’t you (grandma) get your hopes up high, The Kid’s alright.”

Bettie Serveert is from the Netherlands but played a lot more like an alt-country act from Missouri with some Dinosaur Jr guitar worship thrown in. Carol Van Dijk’s mumbles and snarls, the guitar twangs. “Kids’ Alright” is the fastest tune off their 1991 debut Palomine. In fact, you have trouble listening to this slow album straight through because “Kid’s Alright” is so catchy you want to hear it again and again. Yeah, maybe like a nude scene in a slightly above average film.

Bettie Serveert caught a good buzz early on, even opening up for Counting Crows on a leg of their tour (which made me respect Counting Crows a lot more) and then they fell. I thought Bettie Serveert had broken up shortly after their second album “Lamprey” and the Crows tour but I learned they made another 8 albums. So I dove into Youtube and came across a lot of playful pop which is pretty good but neglects the guitar chops of Peter Visser. Listen to them live and Visser’s work comes through.

Living in Istanbul where you can reach into the house next to you and grab the spoon out of a person’s hand, I always find it eerie how few kids I hear and see.

Posted by LaRay Gun, for Mr. Becker

Child: Steve Martin's A Holiday Wish

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From the beginning, what made Steve Martin great was the way he turned expectations on its head. Martin first burst into public consciousness at a time when comedians were moving away from the buttoned-up look to a more 60s counterculture appearance. Yet, he was known for performing in white suits, virtually the dictionary definition of “uncool.” His routines were based on unexpected juxtapositions, and ironic goofiness, like putting a fake arrow through his head. Or interrupting his set with some banjo playing. He is a true comic genius, and isn’t bad as an actor, playwright, musician, author, and art collector.

For some reason, despite the huge number of possible songs that I could have written about, this routine from the 1986 holiday episode of Saturday Night Live immediately jumped into my head. It is a classic example of Martin’s way of twisting expectations. It starts off with Martin, in a stereotypical “sincere television” Christmas setting, with soft music playing behind him, stating that if he had one holiday wish, “it would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace.” A beautiful sentiment, but not particularly funny, and we know that SNL at least tries to be funny.

Of course, Martin actually has other wishes, and by the end, “the crap about the kids” gets shunted behind what people would really want for the holiday, even if they wouldn’t ever admit it, and certainly not as part of a sappy ‘holiday wish” TV segment, including a month-long orgasm, unlimited power over every living being in the universe, $30 million a month, and that his enemies “should die like pigs in Hell!”

Then, of course, the children joining hands and singing.

Child: Child of the Moon

purchase [Child of the Moon]

Without children ... we don't continue.
I've got one, only one, and that's not "replacement" level. At my reproductive level, if we all do this over time, we'll end up with no one on earth.
Without children ... well ... you know.

But, to zoom in on this week's theme: Here's a trivia question for you to answer: What is the B side of Jumpin Jack Flash?
Of course, to answer that, you need to know what a B side is. But if you're following SMM, you already know. That would be the flipped side of the Jumping Jack Flash 45 RPM vinyl disk that came out in 1968. (The "hit" went on the A side, and the B side had some kind of filler.)
So ... Child of the Moon is "filler". Of sorts. The song "backing" Jumping Jack Flash.

Among my limited collection of early LP albums were two from the Rolling Stones. The year being about 1967, the albums would have been <Between the Buttons> and <Aftermath>. Whereas Jumping Jack Flash appeared on album in the late 60s, Child of the Moon was left for later albums - kind of an obscure Stones song. Interesting to me is the fact that a Google search of <Child of the Moon> brings up a multitude of other references. I would have thought that "Child of the Moon Wikipedia" would resolve/result in the Stones as the first link. (They are - after all - the first) Not so. Child of the Moon, while not a major musical hit, has taken on a life of its own beyond the song: TV episodes and such riding on the name/fame.


Someone else said:
... [the song] actually feels closer to pagan curse than lyric poem, a mixed-bag mojo potion invocation of a dream lover pushed to ritualistic nightmare by the hoodoo “Rain” beat of Charlie Watts’ drums, Brian Jones’ hypnotic saxophone drone, Jagger’s own fixed-pitch chant vocals and Jimmy Miller’s deeply unsettling shouting in those murky opening moments.
[www.mojo4music.com/11843/rolling-stones-child-moon]
OK. Wow.

The song does appears to be a part of the Stones' acid journey - belonging more to the late 60s Satanic Majesty or Beggars Banquet than the mid 60s, when it came out. Must have been fast-lanes/ fast times in 1967-8.

As for lyrics:

Give me a misty day, pearly gray, silver, silky faced,
Wide-awake crescent-shaped smile
... child of the moon