purchase Country Joe "Feel Like ..." You've likely seen "The Martian" and you may have read some of the debate regarding the accuracy of the depicted storms on the planet (Yes, there appear to be winds: No, they don't appear to be as severe as shown.) However, embedded in the psyche/definition of Mars, is a certain amount of stormy violence. Mars is the Roman god of war. A rather stormy entity. And then, there is the whole Venus/Mars conceit: men are stormy/warlike; women are beautiful and pacific - but, it is opposites that attract. It's human nature for men to be martially inclined and for women to be ... "lovely". After all, Venus is the Roman god of love, and the related word roots apparently go back as far as Sanskrit - leaving us with War and Love/Aggression and Beauty. Ergo, it seems logical that you could expect a plethora of "ballads & odes" in popular culture/music/literature that delve into our theme this week. And, there are many - depending on the path you take through the memes related to Martial/Martian/Mars-ian. I guess I chose this here post partly because of my age, and partly because of my beliefs: I would have registered as a "Conscientious Observer" if I had not been exempt from the draft as someone who was eligible for a one-way trip to Vietnam on my 18th birthday back in the early '70s. Sadly, I was a fraction too young to get parental permission to attend Woodstock, but - well before the movie and related hype - was following Country Joe "Fish". And so his iconic "Fish Cheer" and "Feel Like I'm Fixing to Die" represented much of what I and much of my generation believed in. Because, the end result of much that is martial is that someone has to perish. Often - on the personal level - in vain - despite the glories of nations and ideologies. And that's not my bag. Perish? We all do. To "support" a misguided government's agenda? Ask Country Joe. Talk about stormy relationships with your society ... Sheesh!
A pair of weather-related tunes from the great Creedence Clearwater Revival: Have You Ever…and Who’ll Stop…The Rain.
One of the great rock bands of the 1960s, the defining term rock being used here to delineate music of that era that is unadulterated by the tripping trappings of psychedelic flower power, and paying homage back to blues and folks roots. Creedence’s output was backbone straight front porch swinging country-blues-folk tinged rock, a pure specimen in an experimental time. Troubled by forces from within and without, CCR didn’t last nearly as long as they should have, but what they put out stands as the litmus test for the pure and good in rock ‘n roll.
I struggle with this blog sometimes—should I be trying to unearth rare gems, from unknown and unsung bands, and give them some exposure, or is it OK to dwell in the past and give the sometimes all to familiar and taken for granted a fresh listen? I don’t have an answer for that quandary. I do love going back and really digging into a song though, even when it is one I've heard so often that it has become a comforting background soundtrack rather than a song that gives one pause.
Who’ll Stop the Rain and Have You Ever Seen the Rain are songs that you know, that you can sing along to, that you’ve heard a million times or more as staples of classic rock radio. When I did a Spotify search for “Who’ll Stop the Rain”, it was amazing how many times it has been covered, and in so many different styles. So what is there to say about the songs we’ve heard over and over? The universality of songs like these two from CCR strikes me as something worth nothing and exploring. Even if you’ve heard a song it is worth taking another listen. Sometimes, it’s not about shedding new light so much as appreciating a song by rehearing it, giving it a bit of an investigatory listen with a finely conditioned ear.
Released exactly one year apart, let’s look first at Who’ll Stop the Rain. This is a classic rock/folk ballad, and it listens like alt-country before alt-country was really a thing. Lyrically, Who’ll Stop the Rain takes on the classic form of a lament. And while it doesn’t delve into the realm of intense grief or mourning, there is sadness to this song about answers that haven’t arrived or appeared, despite the nature of the search and the fact that the search has lasted for what might be a lifetime. Despite its lack of clarity, there is universality of optimism giving way to sadness that speaks to the era it was written in. One can’t help but hear the song as a reference to the broken optimism of the 1960’s flower power and peace movement. The ‘60s are great to look at as a sweeping social movement—the changes that were wrought from turbulent times were amazing and I think the power of the times reverberates to this day. But (and I am saying this as someone who wasn’t part of that generation, so I’m no expert), it seems that certain influences—drugs being the chief one—corrupted that movement and took from it a certain power that it had to make generation-spanning changes. But, that’s just my opinion. The '70s followed the '60s Followed by the '80s, to the '90s to now…times change, but the course of human events (wars, crime, poverty) follows the same sad course…maybe the world is just meant to be that way. Still, maybe I am looking too hard at the song, asking it to be something it’s not. It’s an imagistic little fable, and maybe it’s just talking about the weather?
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band traditionally open outdoor shows with the song when it is raining. I saw Bruce on the Wrecking Ball Tour in Munich, Germany a few years ago, and it was a frigid, rainy day in May. I was milling around outside the stadium, thinking I had plenty of time to get into my seats, when I heard the opening chords of “Who’ll Stop the Rain” and realized—holy crap! Bruce is on stage! The rain did not stop that evening, and it was the coldest show I’ve ever been to. They did do Born In The USA from top to bottom as a thank you for coming out in the rain—pretty incredible.
1971’s Have You Ever Seen The Rain, from Pendulum, is yet another fittingly glum track that explores the melancholy that so often accompanies images of the rain. This track is a little more straightforward in terms of interpretation. It has been written that the song is a lament, again, but one directly related to the “fading idealism” of the 60s, that I talked about earlier.
But, John Fogarty himself has said that the song is about the tension in CCR that led to Tom, his brother, leaving the band. Also central as a theme is the well-documented fact that despite their popularity and success in the charts, CCR were still miserable. The most revealing line is simple, and as a metaphor, it doesn’t have to work too hard to get the point across: “Have you ever seen the rain/ Coming down on a sunny day.” Not exactly TS Elliot, but then profundity need not be draped in mystery.
CCR were a troubled band, despite being famous and achieving their rock n roll dreams. It’s been sung about before—fame and riches do not guarantee happiness. The sentiment, that it is sometimes hard to be happy despite the obvious reason one should be, is a universal idea. Fans and critics tend to jump all over ‘whiny rock stars’ for complaining about finding the troubling side to the dream the rest of us would give up anything to achieve (think Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder). Yet, those most vocal about the sobering reality of a dream come true are the voices we tend to sing along with the most.
I think certain songs, because they give utterance to the feelings we all share, but don’t always admit to, are all the more popular because they can speak for us. And we can sing along, which means we don’t have to talk about it…
I suppose this should really be a learned discourse on the origins of this oft-covered stalwart of the idiom, but, hell, no, let's cut to the chase and forget the earnest original and celebrate Duane, Gregg and the boys. Is this live track not the most uplifting downbeat song ever? Tacked on with Statesboro' Blues on 'Live at the Fillmore' (1971!), this was my introduction to the Allman Brothers and it remains their pinnacle, something I can listen to for time eternal.
Of course, in their decades long history, 1969 - 2014, give or take the odd recess, they have produced a zillion live albums and a trillion live versions of this old warhorse, but it is this outing I always see as the template, even comparing other artists to it, as if it were truly the original. So, then, what of the song? Penned by T-Bone Walker, it was a hit as far back as 1948, although maybe a decade or so elapsed before Bobby 'Blue' Bland cut the version many see as definitive. Indeed, as I much later learnt, much of the phrasing and a lot of the licks were lifted wholesale by the Allmans.
The lyric is the age old simple lament of the working man, the grind of the week, trajecting through to payday and the celebration of the weekend, grounded with some sunday religion, before it all starts again. Whilst Bland seems more celebratory of the contrast between the highs and lows, poor old Gregg Allman sounds completely dragged down by the repetition of the cycle, his vocal as downbeat a lament as any sharecropper half a century his (then) senior. So the then contrast as his hammond kicks into an unexpected jaunty and jazzevocative statement is all the more pronounced. Has he ever produced a more inspired burst of soloing? (In truth I find it hard to recall any other piece of soloing by him at all, making it all the more remarkable.)
Anyone else come close? Well, any blues legend worth his salt, such as Kings, Freddie, B.B. and Albert, most of the white boys, like Clapton and Beck, as well as wild cards like Eva Cassidy and ? and the Mysterians have all given it space. But I guess my other favourite is the one by Jimmy Smith, maybe no surprise if it is the organ that so appeals to me in the Allmans, Smith being the jazz-blues maestro of the same. Here it is in all its instrumental glory:
Now is Tuesday really just the same after any of these? Hell, I hope not.
If someone doesn’t write about The Scorpions'Rock You Like a Hurricane for this month’s theme, then we aren’t a music blog.
An original staple of MTV’s rotation, Rock You Like A Hurricane was the first brush with fist-pumping, head banging glory for every single kid on earth, of a certain age. It came out in 1984. That made me 13 years old when this track blew up. It has since gone on to hold a prominent niche in popular culture. From sporting events to 80s nights at the bar to soundtracks to…well, you know. You’ve heard it. Everywhere.
It’s an interesting track: a cross-over heavy metal hit, it speaks to many of the motifs we’ve come to associate with a certain era: big hair, flashy, sexed-up videos, rapid fire guitar solos, strange looking little fellows becoming rock gods…the ‘80s, may they never return.
Standouts in my memory? The video, featuring a strange twist on the ‘caged beast’ theme: the band is jamming out in a very rickety cage, surrounded by a pack of scantily clad, snarling animal-women, afraid of what might happen should this pack of overly-estrogened maniacs get inside. I think Motley Crue used the same theme. Roger Corman made a career out of the same theme…but that’s another era.
Rock You Like A Hurricane is a strange, buzzed out, psycho-sexual fantasy, to be sure. But for the 13 year old boy I was, it set the standard for ‘hot rock chick’ and colored more than a few strange and hard to understand, even harder to shake, fantasies.
Then there’s the song: pure power chord madness, riff rock at its very best. The dual guitar attack has a distinctly a phased-out sound, lending just a slight trippy edge to the song. It's not the greatest song ever written, but it does have an immediate hook that makes it perfect for radio. Long after a lot of good music has been forgotten, Rock You Like a Hurricane will still be getting played. It inspired me to a mean air guitar. Eddie Van Halen inspired me to a real guitar, but that’s for another post.
What’s odd is, for all its ubiquity in popular culture, Rock You Like a Hurricane never made it past 25 on Billboard’s Hot 100. Not that this is the only way to determine a song's status as a hit, but it seems for all the times you’ve heard it, bobbed along to it, cheered on your favorite team it, or echoed Klaus Meine’s “Here I ammmmmmm….!” it should have been a number 1.
L.A. Woman (1971) was the last album that Jim Morrison was actively involved in - sadly he passed 3 months after it came out. What do you think he would have evolved into had he remained with us?
6th in the Doors' series, following The Doors (1967), Strange Days (1967), Waiting for the Sun (1968), The Soft Parade (1969) and Morrison Hotel (1970), the L.A.Woman album reached 9th place on the Billboard charts. It was fairly obvious that Morrison was having troubles by the time L.A.Woman came out. He barely (not) made it through a December 1970 tour - cut short - filled with sloppy performances and ending with a show in New Orleans that was his last. 7 months later, he was dead - in Paris, France, age 27, circumstances somewhat cloudy.
Booked for indecent exposure (among other crimes), flamboyant beyond acceptable standards even for a stage star - Morrison's career was stormy -likely more legendary than proven in fact. There is, however, little debate about the stormy aspects, much of it documented following the Doors' rise to fame (and Morrison's scrambling descent).
As is too often the case, bad manners/behaviour doesn't detract much from the genious behind the show. Known also as a "poet", Morrison's positives shines through his foibles: I said above "legendary", and in proof I would submit
1 Light My Fire - took the (listening) world by storm (sic)
2 Hello I Love You - it was just so different from all else at that time
3 Touch Me - the vocals! Wow!
4 Break On Through
and, of course, Riders on the Storm belongs in the list
Now, the Doors were great partly because their "basic"/minimal style provided all that was needed to keep the beat going - PLUS - they had Morrison's stage/vocal extremes. Riders on the Storm added the external storm & thunder sound to great effect - a relatively new concept in the early 70s - whether by keyboard effect (still new) or by dubbed external file - these are days 30 years before mp3s that you could insert as an additional Audacity track.
(I know it's not the Doors! but the effect of the story above works well here - and the video is decent and the sound is fairly true)
[purchase]
We transition from Blood to Storms with this great track from Peter Gabriel.
Two of the best concerts I ever saw were Peter Gabriel shows. He was a riveting performer—some people just know how to command a stage—and the music that he made was complex, interesting and intense. Gabriel’s reputation as a live performer began with Genesis, when he would appear on stage in a variety of bizarre costumes, masks, headgear and makeup, but in the two solos shows that I have seen, he was mesmerizing, even without a single fox head.
The two shows were also very different. The first one was in 1980, at the Asbury Park Convention Center. I’ve written about the opening act, Random Hold, and how it was fun being sort of recognized in our brand new WPRB T-shirts. At the time, Gabriel was still kind of a big name, but not what I would call a superstar as a solo act. His first album was all over the place, although it did have “Solsbury Hill” on it—still one of my favorite songs. I happened to enjoy his second album a great deal, although opinions were and are mixed (Gabriel refused to include any of the songs from it on his first “Greatest Hits” collection). But his third album (titled like the first two Peter Gabriel, and generally referred to as Melt) was where he seemed to put it all together. It is a dark, foreboding album, filled with menace and many songs about borders and frontiers, both internal and external. Unlike his first two discs, it was consistent throughout, and without any really weak tracks.
This was the material that Gabriel drew from for the bulk his Asbury Park show, starting with the album and show opener “Intruder,” which popularized the “gated drum” sound that later became an 80s cliché. Although it was not a small space, the Convention Center stage was not huge, and the show was not lavish, but it was effective. I will never forget how blown away I was after leaving the concert.
After Melt, Gabriel released the similar, maybe even more atmospheric, Security, which featured the song “Shock the Monkey,” then put out an excellent live set and did the soundtrack to the movie Birdy.
One morning in mid-1986, I had just gotten up and turned on the radio in bed. The DJ announced a brand new song from Peter Gabriel, which immediately piqued my interest. It was “Sledgehammer,” a song that was so unlike anything I expected from Gabriel, with its funk beat, horns and playfulness. Based on the remarkable quality of the music, the great videos and, later, the movie, Say Anything, the album So catapulted Gabriel back to superstardom. “Red Rain,” though, is not from the playful end of the spectrum—it is, instead, a solemn song about serious issues such as AIDS and nuclear fallout. The exact meaning of the red rain symbolism is unclear, or at least it derives from a number of different dreams that Gabriel had, some of which include blood falling like rain. The hi-hat that is prominent was played by Police drummer Stewart Copeland, which represents the rain.
I saw Gabriel for the second and last time on the tour for So, at Madison Square Garden in December, 1986 with my future wife. I remember that show because, not only was the music great, the show was big—lots of lights and lots of musicians on stage (many of them from Super Etoile de Dakar, the band of Youssou N’Dour, who opened the show and also sang with Gabriel, most memorably on "In Your Eyes").
The video above is a crappy video of “Red Rain” from a later show on the tour, which gives some sense of the power of the song live. The last time I posted an mp3 of a Gabriel song, I was cited for a copyright violation, and will not risk that again.
I have to say that after So, I found Gabriel’s music less interesting. It almost seemed like he was trying too hard, and his music became difficult and unenjoyable. And then, for a few years, he focused on cover projects and orchestral versions of his songs, and they were not to my liking either. He’s working on a new album now, and will be touring with Sting, so we will see in what direction this always interesting artist will be heading.
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