CUTLERY: MACK THE KNIFE

Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht famously liked their grub, forever breaking off mid stanza to rustle up some rostbratwurst-und-kartoffeln, so cutlery always played a big part in their output, from Alabama Song**, a left-over from our last theme, which tackles southern soul food, to the Black Freighter, about the perils of cruise line buffet dining. Mack the Knife is arguably the best known of all their collaborations, which plays on a riff around a family so poor they each had but the use of one of their limited supply of eating irons. Mack, as head of the family, had access to the sole knife, with Lotte 'the fork' and Caspar, their son, 'the spoon.' Of course, translation from the original german has sometimes masked this true meaning, not least as, when Weill relocated to the states, tinseltown demanded the less literal versions we know today, fearing the american audience might wish something a little more metaphorical from old europe, especially as it was still black and white in those then still troubled parts of the world.

(Before we discuss some of the versions of this ditty, in a pause, let's reflect on life and it's parallel relationship with art, well, blogging, for by extreme coincidence, my favourite blog/message board, 'Afterword', has just this week asked for cutlery based musings, and, similarly, get this, a mere 7 years ago, Britains Guardian newspaper wrote this, also about Caspar and his ilk.)

Most folk, and I mean most old folk like me, first heard about Mack through Bobby Darin, as only the very very old and odd would be familiar with the original. (Have you ever sat through an entire Brecht and Weill in the original? And I don't mean the souped up David Bowie vehicle, itself, um, challenging*, let alone the whole Deutsche cabaret style.) But Darin gives a bouncy rendition, full of finger popping' opportunity, beloved of that style. I actually quite like it, the gold turning rapidly to base metal if copied by anyone, yes, anyone, in the same lounge/lobby format.
*Link unavailable, but trust me, I watched on the TV.

Jimmie Dale Gilmore was part of the seminal pre-americana country trio, the Flatlanders, alongside Joe Ely and Butch Hancock.  I confess to finding his vocals a little too gloopy on most occasions, but here he nails it, a languid sway of background instrumentation conjuring elegant decay. So redolent is it of  the production of Dylan/U2 producer Daniel Lanois, I had to look up whether it was, discovering it was the excellent Buddy Miller, guitarist and producer in no small right himself.

Simpler still is this delightful acoustic rendition by Vikesh Kapoor, a 21st century troubadour in the style of Woody Guthrie, so in a time and, if you expect his name to define his music, culture out of place. An excellent debut, 'The Ballad of Willy Robbins', from which this comes, came out in 2013, following which zilch.

Of course I got to play this, a completely off the wall version by my man, the good doctor, Mac Rebennack, Dr. John. Define it how you like, it could come from any of the last 8 decades and still sound completely out of place and of its time. An added bonus is the fact that, again, it gets the taste of this fella out my mouth. OK, not so keen on the rap section, but hey.

I thought 5 my limit, at least with directly featured videos, a struggle with the myriad options available, so I have nipped outside of my own collection into Second Hand Songs, the essential aide memoire for a covers freak like me, where I found many more. Plus, I wanted a feminine take on it. Unfortunately, the one I wanted, by Rickie Lee Jones, not only only came out a month ago, but has also yet to find a home on the youtube. So you'll have to wait. (It's good, tho') By way of consolation, here's a weird one from the 'Sleepwalk' hitmakers, Santo and Johnny. Kinda cute, yes? Kinda kitsch.

**This just in: how did you like Jimbo and the boys take on Alabama Song? Try this for size!

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Spoken Word: Danny’s All-Star Joint

Rickie Lee Jones: Danny‘s All-Star Joint

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1979 was a fine year on the charts for what I like to call speak-singing. This is where the vocalist switches freely between speaking and singing in a line of a song, or even within a word of more than one syllable. Done well, it sounds completely natural, and gives a song a sense of realness that it might otherwise lack. It was done well in 1979 by Mark Knopfler in the Dire Straits hit Sultans of Swing. And when it was time for a follow-up single to Rickie Lee Jones’ smash Chuck E.’s in Love, another fine example emerged in Danny’s All-Star Joint. You hear the speak-singing in the verses, especially in the interplay between Cecil, the narrator, and the kid who winds up at the pinball machine. But then there is the bridge, and Rickie Lee Jones takes the speak-singing to another level entirely. There is little more in this section than Jones’ voice and percussion. This makes perfect sense, because this section is based on jump-rope rhymes Jones was hearing at the time on the streets of Los Angeles. On the street, these would have been accompanied only by handclaps.

Standards: Up a Lazy River

Rickie Lee Jones: Up a Lazy River

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I enjoy complex storytelling in songs as much as anyone, but songs that become standards often feature simple lyrics that give them a universal appeal. The songwriter captures a moment in time perfectly, and sets the mood in a way that is relevant to generations in both the present and the future. Up a Lazy River is a Hoagy Carmichael tune from 1930, but it still speaks to us today. Carmichael gives us a blissful summer day, and a couple drifting slowly down a stream, free of care, if only for a moment.

Rickie Lee Jones included the song in an entire album of standards, 2000’s It’s Like This. Her definition of a standard includes the Gershwins, the Beatles, and even Steely Dan. Jones finds the perfect setting for Up a Lazy River. She opens the song in a state of languid bliss, but halfway through, the current hastens and she is joined by a male chorus. This is a device that goes back at least to the swing era, and possibly also a nod to the hit version of the song by the Mills Brothers. The male chorus here is Dan Hicks, Ben Folds, and Taj Mahal. Jones sums up the proceedings perfectly at the end. “That was mighty good,” she says. Indeed.

Vocal Harmonies: Steely Dan Edition

Steely Dan: Show Biz Kids

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Rickie Lee Jones: Show Biz Kids

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Steely Dan: Home at Last

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This week, we have heard duets and group vocals. But there are also artists and groups who are justly well known for their use of background singers. Surely Steely Dan would be one of these. When I think of Steely Dan, the first things I hear in my head are those wonderful horn charts and vocal harmonies. But Steely Dan was not born sounding that way. The sound developed over time. Show Biz Kids offers an early example. There are no horns here at all. The background singers have only one line, which they repeat throughout the song, turning it into a chant. In interviews, Donald Fagen and Walter Becker have always been coy about the words they are chanting. Is it “Las Vegas” or “Lost Wages”? You be the judge. The other feature of the vocal harmonies that is notable in Show Biz Kids is Becker joining in with close harmonies on the chorus.

Now listen to Rickie Lee Jones’ version of Show Biz Kids. She uses the chanted vocals only part of the time, (and the words are definitely, “Las Vegas”). She uses a more complex vocal harmony on the chorus. And she has stripped out the screaming guitar that was so much a part of Steely Dan’s early sound. In short, with the exception of the stand up bass, she has recorded the song as Steely Dan might have if they had done it later in their career. Listen to Home at Last, from Aja, and you will see what I mean. Here are the horn charts, which Jones doesn’t use on Show Biz Kids, but which are certainly part of her sound as well. And, on the chorus of Home at Last we hear vocal harmonies as done by a mature Steely Dan.

Discographers note: the piano and background vocals on Jones’ version of Show Biz Kids is by Joe Jackson.

Seven Deadly Sins: Easy Money

Rickie Lee Jones: Easy Money

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Lowell George: Easy Money

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Let’s open our week of iniquity with the sin of greed, shall we?

Rickie Lee Jones had a hit on her debut album with Chuck E’s in Love, and there were two or three other singles. I don’t think Easy Money was one of them, but it’s a great song, and probably a better indicator of where Jones’ career was headed than any of the singles. The hint of jazz is here, as is the wonderful ability to draw characters in just a few lines. Easy Money is a morality tale told with a wink.

But then Lowell George of Little Feat took on the song on his solo album. George turns this into a soul-blues shout with great horn charts. There is no wink here. Instead, this is a bluesy lament of a deal gone wrong. So George clearly heard something different than I do in Jones’ original. But his version really works too.

One Word: Satellites

Rickie Lee Jones: Satellites

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Whatever became of Rickie Lee Jones? She burst on the scene thirty years ago with her huge hit Chuck E’s In Love, and then vanished, never again coming anywhere near that kind of success. Of course, I’m sure many of our readers know that she’s been here all along. Jones has released a steady stream of albums ever since that debut. She has even managed to stay on a major label. And she has proven to be a brilliant songwriter and a very good interpreter of other people’s songs. But Jones has always had a distinct persona, (her detractors call it an affectation), of this jazzy street urchin. Her best songs are poetry with mostly acoustic musical settings that suit the characters and moods perfectly.

All of this is on display in Satellites. The song seems to me to be a celebration of a friendship that is deepening into something more, but, as happens with the best songwriters, other interpretations are possible. The joy of the moment is unmistakable. The musicality of the piece is revealed in Jones’ use of dynamic shifts; the song goes from louder to softer sections in unexpected ways. Get to know the song though, and you won’t be able to imagine doing it any other way.

Beatles Covers: For No One

Rickie Lee Jones: For No One

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Rickie Lee Jones burst upon the scene in 1979, riding Chuck E’s in Love up the charts. She then proceeded, over the course of her next several albums, to establish herself as a remarkable songwriter. Then, out of nowhere, she released Pop-Pop, an album of all covers. Somewhat of a shock to those of us who had followed her career to that point, the album wound up emphasizing her skills as an arranger and interpreter.

Since then, Jones has periodically interrupted her songwriting showcases to release further albums of all covers. The one released in 2000 was called It’s Like This, and it included this version of For No One. Jones gives the song a spare arrangement, mostly piano with some organ for color, and the songwriting shines through. Jones’ version eloquently conveys the loneliness of the lyric.

Footwear: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

Traffic: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

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Rickie Lee Jones: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

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EMF: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

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At almost twelve minutes long, Traffic's 1971 laid-back jazz jam anthem is heavy with solos from the various bandmembers, and a tight funk/rock chorus which plays on their supergroup sound -- fitting for a song which supposedly emerged from a brainstorm session about rock stardom.

The lyrics, written by songwriters Winwood and Capaldi, offer a bitter, cynical take on the industry's tendency to profit off the backs of artists everywhere, but the Miles Davis-inspired slowjazz setting, the length of the piece, and the band's tendency to perform the song as an even longer space-jam in concert, are anathema to traditional A&R radioplay; as such, the piece seems to offer ample evidence for salvation for the artist's dream, as if suggesting that, through attention to dreams and the music itself, rather than focusing on the trappings of stardom, cool will win out in the end. Appropriately, of course, FM DJs were happy to play this subversive track despite its length and diversity; it remains a late-night staple of classic rock stations.

Another doubly-covered set, this one vastly divergent: the slow, dreamy jazz-piano-and-organ take from Rickie Lee Jones is almost as recognizable as the original, while UK indie dance/electro-alternative band EMF weighs in with a typically nineties techno-rock rarity that falls somewhere between the original and the stuttered yet contagiously danceable synths of their greatest hit Unbelievable.

Spring & Flowers: Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most

Rickie Lee Jones: Spring Can Really Hang You up the Most

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I've got a couple more Springtime & Flowers ideas for later on, but right now I've got to go outside and move around about 1/2 ton of soil for my mother's flower garden, so this'll be a short post.

A rather subdued Springtime song, from Rickie's 1991 release "Pop Pop".

Something about the laconic pace, in addition to a drowsiness inherant Miss Jones' delivery, makes me want to laze about a porch, drinking iced-tea (with perhaps a measure of Jack Daniels mixed in!) and watch the clouds roll past. Unfortunately, like I said, I get to move dirt around instead.