The Other Guy(s): Jefferson Airplane

Jefferson Airplane: Chauffeur’s Blues
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Obviously, I like this theme, so I’m back with a third entry. And to pile it on, it is about two “other guys,” one of whom isn’t a guy.

When I was in high school, my friend Chris and I worked our way back from the then-popular Jefferson Starship through the discography of the Jefferson Airplane. I remember hours spent in the cutout bins at Korvette’s in Nanuet flipping through records to find their music. If you are a casual fan of the band, you know about Grace Slick’s powerful vocals, and maybe even Marty Balin’s blue-eyed soul singing or Paul Kantner’s folkier sounds. Or maybe you are a fan of their interesting harmonies, or the few songs that Jorma Kaukonen sang before moving full time to Hot Tuna. Four vocalists is pretty good for a single band, and these days it is rare to find a popular group that allows more than one, or sometimes two, singers to take regular lead vocals.

But the Airplane had even more singers. The Jefferson Airplane discography (not including live albums, solo projects and compilations) consists of 7 albums released between 1966 and 1972 (plus a reunion album from 1989). And although Kantner, Kaukonen and bass player Jack Casady were constants, Slick joined after their first album, Balin was there at the start, but left before the sixth album was done, and there were a number of drummers and other members that played with the band.

So, before Grace Slick, there was Signe Toly Anderson (no relation to previous “Other Guy” subject Jon). In the early days of the band, and on their debut record, Jefferson Airplane Takes Off, her role was mostly to sing backup and harmony. She left the band in 1966, following the birth of her daughter Lillith (and possibly because other members of the band didn’t get along with her husband.) On October 15, 1966, the Airplane played the Fillmore, and at the end of the show, Balin announced that Anderson was leaving the band. Anderson’s farewell to the audience is a classic Sixties statement—“I want you all to wear smiles and daisies and box balloons. I love you all. Thank you and goodbye.” The band then played “Chauffeur’s Blues,” with Anderson on lead vocals, followed by one more song. The next night Slick performed with the band.

Anderson returned to Oregon, where she raised a family and sang with a jazz band before suffering from a number of health problems. She has made occasional appearances at reunion shows, with the KBC Band (Kantner, Balin, Casady), and with later incarnations of Jefferson Starship.

Jefferson Airplane: Pretty As You Feel
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Fast forward to 1970, when the Airplane were recording the followup to their last great record, Volunteers. Drummer Spencer Dryden, who had joined the band after the first record, had left, ultimately to end up in the New Riders of the Purple Sage.  He was replaced by Joey Covington, a self-taught drummer who had played with Hot Tuna, in unrecorded performances. Then Balin left the band, and they were looking to replace his material on the album, which became Bark. Covington was jamming one night with Kaukonen, Casady, Carlos Santana and percussionist Michael Shrieve on a piece that was given the working title of “Shitty As You Feel,” and little was expected of it. But the engineer, Pat “Maurice” Ieraci thought otherwise, and the title was changed to something more printable. Slick and Kantner overdubbed vocals, Papa John Creach added some fiddle, and a good song emerged. “Pretty As You Feel,” with Covington’s lead vocal, was released as a single and hit 60 on the Billboard chart, the last charting single for the Jefferson Airplane.

Covington left the band in 1972 for a relatively obscure solo career and as a sideman, and passed away last month at the age of 67 in a car accident.

THE OTHER GUY: Keith Moon

The Who: "Bell Boy"
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For this entry in the Other Guy theme, you could almost say it's the Other Other Other Guy. Yes, when it comes to the Who, Roger Daltrey was the lead singer, Pete Townshend (The Other Guy) sang the songs that Roger couldn't interpret the way Pete heard them in his head (at least that's the way I've always figured it), and then John Entwistle (The Other Other Guy) would sing his one composition per album. But unlike the Beatles, where Ringo always had a song per album as well, Keith Moon typically didn't sing on Who albums.

But on "Bell Boy," from the Who's classic 1973 double-LP concept album, Quadrophenia, Moon took the lead for a good chunk of the song. Daltrey starts things off by setting the scene for Moon's entrance, letting you know that he (in the character of Jimmy, from the album's storyline), has found that his idol, "Ace Face," is now a bell boy at a resort hotel ("I can see The Face coming through the haze/I remember him from those crazy days"), no longer the anti-authority figure he had been as leader of the Mods. And then in comes Moon as Ace Face himself, singing in a gruff Cockney accent, bemoaning his current situation. Obviously, Moon is hamming it up, so his singing isn't really as off as this might lead one to believe. In fact, while he's thinking back wistfully ("Some nights I still sleep on the beach/Remember when stars were in reach") you can hear him channeling his inner Townshend. Clearly it's a part that would have otherwise been sung by Pete -- but Moon handles it quite well, showing that he did in fact have some melodic range, even if it was rough around the edges.

Townshend has said that he tried to get Moon to sing the song more seriously, but that Moon simply couldn't help mugging for the part, so he gave up trying to get him to do it any other way. And he should be glad he did, as it's certainly one of the most memorable songs on a very memorable album -- and, it should be added, has one of the greatest power-chord riffs in the Who's repertoire. Moon's moment in the vocal spotlight was no throwaway tune, by any means.

The Other Guy : Mick Ralphs

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In the movie Almost Famous, Lester Bangs tells Cameron Crowe's stand-in "1973 is a dangerous time for rock n roll".

It was certainly a dangerous time for Mott the Hoople. The hard rocking, all-straight band suddenly found fame with the David Bowie penned and produced  glam rock gay anthem "All the Young Dudes", a #37 hit in the US. They toured like mad but couldn't escape the pop music pundits labeling them a Bowie band.

For 1973's Mott, Ian Hunter pushed the band to prove they could produce a great album on their own. He may have pushed a little too hard. Keyboardist Verden Allen had already left before sessions began in February. After the recording,  founding member and guitarist Mick Ralphs would depart to form Bad Company with his childhood friend, Paul Rodgers of Free.

But before he did, Ralphs took eight minutes in the spotlight to shine on this classic cut from Side Two of 1973's Mott."I'm a Cadillac" is all Mott with its heavy, chiming guitar sounds and sexually charged lyrics. Then, at about three minutes in, the electric guitars drop out and Ralphs steps up to the front with "El Camino Delo Roso", a Spanish guitar showcase.




With Rodgers, Mick Ralphs found someone who could reach the high notes on a song he'd just written called  "Can't Get Enough", soon to be a worldwide #1 hit. Bad Company also recorded Ralphs's All the Young Dudes showcase "Ready For Love" on the 1974 debut which sold 5 million copies. That year Ian Hunter left Mott after being hospitalized for physical exhaustion and eventually pursued a moderately successful solo career.

Mott the Hoople still play reunion gigs. There's a week of them coming up in the UK in November.

The Other Guy: Walter Becker

Steely Dan: Slang of Ages

Steely Dan: Slang of Ages (live)

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Steely Dan got their start forty years ago, but they only qualified for this week’s theme with their last studio release, 2003’s Everything Must Go. Until then, Donald Fagen always handled all of the lead vocals. One thing that becomes clear from listening to Fagen’s solo work is that, with Steely Dan, he is usually singing the words of Walter Becker. Becker has a cynicism and a sense of irony that are missing when Fagen writes for himself.

One stock character in Becker‘s writing is the sexual predator. You find him, in various forms, in Everyone‘s Gone to the Movies and Cousin Dupree, just to name two. Slang of Ages features him in a less threatening form. Here, he is a down-on-his-luck would-be Lothario, trying to pick up a woman in a bar. This character is not Becker, but rather someone he wants us to see and understand. We don‘t have to like him, and we are even allowed to laugh at his misadventures. But the laugh must be a nervous one, because the character shows us urges we try to deny in ourselves. The way the song is written, it is even possible that the entire encounter takes place only in the narrator‘s mind. In the end though, it does not matter if it is real or not; we have still seen what Becker wanted to show us.

Becker speak/sings his way through most of the lyric here. He can carry a tune when he needs to, but this delivery suits the character. Nevertheless, based on the evidence of this performance, Donald Fagen is certainly the more expressive singer. There is no sign that Steely Dan has any intention of doing any further albums, although they continue to tour. It may be that they decided that Becker should take this vocal because it would be his last chance to do so in the studio with Steely Dan.

I found a nice fan-made slide show for this song. As a bonus, I have also included a live version, also from 2003. The live video should have cut off thirty seconds before it does, however; the song that Donald Fagen begins to introduce at the end, if you’re wondering, is Peg.

The Other Guy: Jon Anderson

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I’m working on a King Crimson related post for another blog, and it reminded me that, in King Crimson terms, Jon Anderson is the other guy. Crimson is a band that, if anything, is consistent in its inconsistency— its history is filled with constant turnover in personnel and styles, with Robert Fripp as the only member who has been in every incarnation of the band. Most histories of King Crimson seem to refer to musicians leaving because they didn’t like or understand the music, which raises the question of why they joined in the first place. Wikipedia reports that there are over fifteen-hundred releases on which members and former members of King Crimson appear.

The band’s third album, Lizard, was a departure from the first two, with greater jazz influences, and Greg Lake’s powerful vocals being replaced by Gordon Haskell’s more ethereal style. But the song “Prince Rupert Awakes,” was too high for Haskell, so Jon Anderson, of Yes, was enlisted to sing, his only contribution to the Crimson oeuvre.

On the other hand, when it comes to Yes, in my mind, Anderson is the guy, despite the fact that Yes has had membership turnover that rivals King Crimson. But despite the fact that Anderson was replaced as lead vocalist by "other guys" Trevor Horn, Benoit David and Jon Davison (the latter two having been vocalists in Yes tribute bands before moving up to the major leagues) who attempt to mimic the original, there can be no question that for that band, Anderson is affirmatively the guy.

The Other Guy: Brian May

Queen: 39
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As much as Mick is associated with the Stones, Freddie Mercury’s soaring vocals are synonymous with Queen. And yet, most Queen albums included at least one, sometimes more, songs sung by the other members of the band, typically guitarist Brian May and bassist Roger Taylor. Both men could certainly sing, but neither had a voice with the distinctive qualities of Mercury. Of course, few vocalists do, so that is not really a criticism.

I’ve been a fan of Queen since high school, and like many my age listened to their classic A Night at the Opera many, many times. As much as “Bohemian Rhapsody” blew my teenage mind, and the rest of the album was enjoyable (including the Taylor-sung “I’m in Love with my Car,”) something about "’39," sung by May, has stuck with me through the years.

Until I started researching this post, I was under the apparently common mistaken impression that the song was about 1939 and the start of World War II. The wistful tone of the song fit with my belief that it was about someone looking back to the simpler times before the war, which devastated England beyond what we here in the States experienced.

Turns out, the song is about space travel.

The song, which May has described as “sci-fi skiffle,” tells the story of space explorers who head off on a journey and return a year later, only to find that a hundred years have passed, and everyone they knew is dead. Thus, the wistfulness.

In addition to being one of the greatest and most distinctive guitarists in rock music, Brian May is an astrophysicist. He was studying for his Ph.D when he decided to take a break to become a rock star. But he was no slacker, and in 2007, he finally completed his degree. Shortly thereafter, he was appointed Chancellor of Liverpool John Moores University, a mostly ceremonial position, allowing him to continue to tour and make guest appearances, including at the London Olympics. May has also co-written books on astrophysics and has an asteroid named after him. So, if he wants to write a song about space travel and “time dilation,” he has the musical and intellectual chops to pull it off.

Interestingly, although May sings the song on the album, in concert Mercury usually sang the lead.

THE OTHER "GUY": LORRAINE McINTOSH

Lorraine McIntosh (Deacon Blue) : Cover From the Sky
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Good old wiki, I think, label Deacon Blue as one of the best unknown bands from Scotland. If they don't, they should, but with a disclaimer. For the truth is more they should or could have been, and I never quite know how they didn't make the grade. Apart fom the unknown bit, of course, at which they excelled. Cue angry and irritated of Dumfries pointing out their cumulative sales and hit singles etc etc, which is all well and good, but being world famous in Scotland, sadly, doesn't always equate to international fame and fortune. Go see Big Country, Runrig, The Fire Engines. Strangely, The Proclaimers did.

Deacon Blue sprang from nowhere during that amazingly fertile period for british  literate rock, mid to late '80s. If I look behind me at the groaning shelves, that period evokes Lloyd Cole and early to mid U2. Raintown, their first LP appeared in 1987, it's cover evocative, unsurprisingly, of a rainy day in Glasgow, if there is any other sort. But the songs were full of hope, the stand out for me being Chocolate Girl, positioned so that I just had to play side one time and time again. (Note to younger readers, records had 2 sides!). It wasn't until later on, as they started having hit singles and appearing on Top of the Pops that I gained the image of them. Rather than a standard issue half-hidden girly singer duo or trio, gyrating, semi-synchronised, on the sideline, this band had but one, right in the middle. And usually on a pedestal, woowooing and aaahing away, as her life depended upon it. This seemed undue prominence until I realised she was the girlfriend of the singer. Who also wrote the songs...... Hmmm.

Later came an EP of Bacharach songs, including a plaintive version of I'll Never Fall in Love Again, which, given I was in the throes of a doomed and inappropriate relationship at the time, somehow hit a chord. But the said girly singer sang a line all by herself. And I was rather taken with that. A bit like the shock when Phil Oakey lets one of his girlys, I forget which, sing in Don't You Want Me, except, on this occasion, actually carrying the tune. Or any tune.

In truth I went off them after that. The singles became too complicated and formulaic, too wordy and clever, at least for me. But I retained a candle for their brand and concept, so, when this topic came up, I wondered if she had ever been allowed out, totally alone. And I found this. It isn't bad, either, making me maybe feel I have judged them a little cruelly, but, is it not true, when the magic has gone, the magic has gone. Listen to to all three songs, and be the judge.

The Other Guy: Keith Richards

 

Keith Richards: You Got The Silver
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The Other Guy theme is about that member of the band who doesn't do/rarely does the lead vocals. Keith Richards fits the bill. As I dug around for background info for this post, I came across an online resource that credits Richards with the main vocals in only about 20 of the hundreds of songs the Stones have recorded. Yes, he frequently sings background vocals, but that's not at all the same skill. Hence, the other man.

Away from the Stones, for example on his solo Talk is Cheap album from 1988, Richards is credited with the lead vocals, and you can catch him here doing the lead vocals with X Pensive Winos. Although it is noted that he sang in a (young) boys' choir for the Queen, today, his voice sounds kind of scratchy and he doesnt exactly shine at keeping a melodious tune (post-puberty voice change, no doubt). However, there are those few and far between times when his voice is a better choice for a Rolling Stones song than Jagger’s.

And this is one. Originally recorded for 1969’s Let It Bleed, the live version of You Got The Silver linked above is tagged as being only about a month old. Having dug for several hours to research my options, I have to say that this is one of the better showcases of the man's vocal talents that I was able to locate. His singing calls to mind the quality(?) of Bob Dylan's voice.

As an additional thought, if you consider the relationship between gold and silver/Jagger and Richards, I wonder if there is more to the choice of lead vocalist for this song than meets the eye.