Way the world's going, what we need and what we need now is some head's down, no nonsense, mindless boogie. (No, not that one.) After a disastrous start, UK has begun to vaccinate itself to a state of current easing, but large parts of the rest of the world are daily scuttling ever more perilously to the edge of wipe-out. How to, what to, why to? None of this I know any more, but, in the avoidance of the harsh and bleak, new variants willing, grant me a couple of minutes of escapism.
Brinsley Schwarz were and are a staple of my listening pleasure. Actually the name of one of the guitarists, the name became that of the band, bastions of the burgeoning UK pub-rock scene, that pre-punk escape from the scourge of prog pomp posturing, embracing flavours of country, blues and soul into short punchy songs. Nick Lowe was the most lauded member, going on, via Rockpile, to build himself a healthy solo career that runs to this day. (Not all healthy: down on his luck in the early 90's, the chance pick up of one of his songs for Hollywood blockbuster, The Bodyguard, was said to have led a cheque, for a seven figure sum, dropping into his postbox. Which must have been nice.) Other members later found their way into Graham Parker's Rumour. BS, the band, were as famous, at the time, for a disastrous promo exercise, going disastrously wrong, whereby they were flown to the Fillmore East, NYC, for a showcase gig in front of a throng of top music biz journos. Late on arrival, unpractised and under-rehearsed, with pick-up kit, it was a fiasco, with them laughed out of town and pocket. Astonishingly, rather than throwing in the towel, they picked themselves up and built themselves a strong grassroots following, back from the bottom, producing a run of well received records. This is typical of their style, a bucolic mix of keyboards and choogling rhythm. But, never enough a concern to make their fortunes, and they folded their four year career in 1974. The song comes from their 1973 album, 'Please Don't Ever Change', and was written by Lowe.
Ironically, shortly before they split, one of their final gainfully was to back Welsh retro-rocker Dave Edmunds on tour. Edmunds and Lowe hit it off and the next step was the formation of Rockpile. Initially, again, Edmunds' group but they gradually became co-pilots, the band then backing each other on each of their then solo output recordings, and then a specific Rockpile as a band album release, 'Seconds of Pleasure'. The band, a four piece, with later 2nd generation Pretender Billy Bremner on additional guitar and vocals, and later Dire Straiter Terry Williams on drums. I really expected huge things for them, but the honeymoon bubble burst, and they split, their legacy hidden as much in those solo albums, and that of Lowe's then wife, Carlene Carter. (Yup, that one, Johnny Cash's step-daughter!) Their version of the featured song eschews some of the melodic swagger for an altogether more muscular take, guitars to the fore and no piano. But no less pleasurable. (And, special credit clearly must here go to the video, one of several made by Garren Lazar, all featuring the Peanuts Gang giving their best to a whole host of songs, culled from all genres and all decades.
But the song was not dead, and it took Nashville country-rockers BR549 to kick some yee-haw sawdust in the face of the song, adding some fiddle and altogether western swing flavours that give yet more zest than the versions before. From their 3rd 2001 album, 'This is BR549', this has them perched between a traditional country take and some of the more populist hat act territory of the time. This song bestrides that fence perfectly.
That's it, no message, no preaching. That is beyond, if and when in doubt, Play That Fast Thing One More Time!!
I took some time off from this blog over the summer, so for the Leftovers theme I’m trying to hit some of what I missed--and this post covers three in one!
I have to believe that more food is eaten from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day than any other similar period during the year. At least in my family, this period is filled with big family meals, parties, dinners out, and many, many cookies, thanks mostly to my wife, the master baker. As someone who struggles with weight and diet and the related health issues that this has caused, it seemed appropriate to write about this song, a cautionary tale about overeating.
My introduction to the song came from its inclusion on the only studio album released under the Rockpile name, Seconds of Pleasure, despite the fact that the musicians (Nick Lowe, Dave Edmunds, Billy Bremner, and Terry Williams) acted as the band for both Edmunds and Lowe on a number of solo releases. At the time of the album’s release, I remember being a little disappointed, despite the fact that there were a number of strong tracks, but as a fan of both Edmunds and Lowe, maybe I expected too much. I think that the critical opinion of the album has improved over the years, though.
What I didn’t realize until I started writing this was that “A Knife and Fork” is a cover—which is a little embarrassing for someone who sporadically contributes to a cover blog. It was originally written and performed by a mostly forgotten performer, Kip Anderson, back in 1967. The song was recorded at the legendary FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals, Alabama (hey—that’s another theme that I missed), and was produced by Rick Hall. Check out the original version:
Look, I’m a big Dave Edmunds/Rockpile fan—ask my college roommates—and their cover of the song is good—I liked it then, and I like it now, although I was never a huge fan of when Edmunds’ voice sounds processed. But if you compare it to the more soulful, horn-filled original, the Rockpile version feels restrained. So, I have to say, the original is better. Because, in part, everything is better with a horn section.
Edmunds, to his credit, often covered obscure songs, giving them a new life—on Seconds of Pleasure, for example, in addition to giving Kip Anderson some royalties, he covered a lesser known Chuck Berry song.
Although I do expect to indulge during this festive period (and I already have), I hope that the situation isn’t as dire as the song portends.
So which Jones do you want? Mick, Mick(e)y, Mike or Michael? And which do you expect?
Let's be honest, Jones isn't such an unusual name, to the extent potential siblings David and Thomas may turn up in related contributions, but with Jones, M, we really are spoilt for choice. But I am not going to touch on the Micks of that ilk, too obvious, so how about a brace of Mickys, additional e optional.
I don't know so much about Mickey Jones beyond his being the drummer in the Dylan goes electric tour of 1966. Yup, me too, I had always assumed that Levon Helm had that seat, but he had quit the transitional Hawks --> Band shortly beforehand. Jones, having been drumming for other giants of the counter culture like Trini Lopez, was hired, staying until the fabled motorbike crash that took Dylan off the boards for a while. Jones took the opportunity for a change in career, via a short spell with Kenny Rogers and the First Edition, yes, playing on that song. He then spent the remainder of his career playing bit parts in films memorable and unmemorable, playing characters credited and uncredited, like 'Burly Miner' in 'Total Recall' and 'Mechanic' in 'National Lampoon's Vacation'.
Micky Jones, however, was possibly instrumental in one of the best and most long-standing Jam bands these islands have produced, and certainly the best from Wales, being that principalities version of the Grateful Dead. What do you mean you have never heard of Man?
Man formed out of the ashes of a not entirely unsuccessful 60s band, the Bystanders, who had some minor chart success and were regulars on the radio, when 'needle time' restrictions required there to be bands willing to play live, often performing cover versions of chart hits. However as the dawn of the 70s approached, a core of that band, principally Micky Jones, on guitar and vocals, wished to try a new direction, having been vitalised by some of the music outpouring fro the West Coast of the U.S, Moby Grape, Quicksilver Messenger Service and the Dead, guitar bands with well-honed improvisational skills, able to freewheel a 3 minute LP track into a 10 -20 minute live behemoth, sometimes longer. Initially more popular in mainland Europe, particularly Germany, the style of gigging there, involving multiple sets over a single evening, on successive nights, as a 'residency', ring any bells, assuring their jamming competencies were put to the test. A test they passed and surpassed. A regular line-up was never quite achievable, as Jones apart, there seemed almost a revolving door policy on several members, leaving or being sacked and being recruited on several occasions. One famous member was Deke Leonard, known in his own right, left and joined again on at least 4 occasions. Perhaps best known, in his later, sometimes contemporaneous bands, was drummer Terry Williams, later of Rockpile and Dire Straits.There always seemed someone available, old or new, able to dep at moments notice, their myriad live recordings bearing witness to an astonishing array of recruits, including one John Cipollina, erstwhile member of Quicksilver Messenger Service, a case of influence joining influencee. I got to hear the band at their peak period, the early 70s, during which the most characteristic studio recordings were made. 'Be Good to Yourself at Least Once a Day' exemplifies both their style and their attitude. Coming out in 1972, this record had 2 tracks on each side, each a free wheeling extemporisation around fairly simple themes. Live, of course, only the stag curfew held any limit. It was no secret they were fans of the weed, their best known song, 'Bananas', being a celebration, in its short vocal interlude, to cannabis sativa and why. The album also gives a good potted history of Welsh rock which, despite his having been in one of his 'between' (sacked) periods, was penned by Leonard.
Bananas 1972
Between 1977 and 1983 the band retired itself, the flavour of the day no longer being for long hair, dope and guitar solos. But you can't keep a good man (ouch, sorry) down and they lurched back into life, still very much under the de facto leadership of Micky Jones. Recruiting, yet again, Leonard/ also on guitar, and longterm bassist Martin Ace, together with an only once changing drummer, this line-up lasted an astonishing 9 years, ahead of then recruiting a keyboard player back into the fold. Health issues then began to arise. Jones developed signs of a brain tumour in 2002, having to leave for treatment. Intriguingly, given the title of this piece, his place was taken by his son, George. Clearly not that one. When Jones Sr. returned, Leonard again left, so George stayed on. A further deterioration meant another absence, with Martin Ace's son, Josh, replacing Micky, until the band eventually split, in 2006. Micky Jones had further tumours and eventually died as a result, in 2010. Leonard had a number of strokes and died in 2017. Various other band members have also died, often of respiratory related conditions such as lung cancer or emphysema, should all that heavy duty spliffage leave you to draw any conclusions. End of the story?
Of course not! Man continue to play, now under the helm of last man standing Martin Ace, along with his son, and Micky's son, the latter 2 having spent a spell playing under the 'Son of Man' name, ahead of becoming absorbed back into the mothership. Sort of son is the father of the man, man!
Bananas 2017 Here, should this extraordinary history entice, is a greater historical detail, from the band's own site. Meanwhile, as the band have always said, quite whatever it means, keep on crinting!!!
I like to eat bananas 'Cos they got no bones I like marijuana 'Cos it gets me stoned
I’m sort of doctrinaire about the creeping expansion of holidays. I’ve accepted President’s Day in lieu of Lincoln and Washington’s Birthdays but reject the concept of “Presidents’ Month,” which seems to be the creation of car companies. Seeing Halloween candy in the stores in August is wrong. Christmas decorating and the like should start after Thanksgiving, and your decorations should be stored away not too long after New Year’s Day. And although I am happy to listen to holiday music in December, after the gifts are opened, it is basically time to move back to secular tunes.
But Un-Sainted Nicks is our holiday theme, so I’m going to ask you to disregard my guidelines, and listen to one more Christmas song, the amusing, original “Christmas At The Airport” by Nick Lowe.
If any musical Nick should be considered for sainthood, I’d suggest that Mr. Lowe could be the one. He’s already performed a number of miracles—writing “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,” which has been magically transformed into an Elvis Costello song, producing, among other things, said Costello’s first five albums and Graham Parker’s first three, being part of Rockpile, whose best work was released without their name on the albums, and still became legendary, and having a late-career transmogrification into a pop crooner. And if that isn’t enough, his first, incredible, solo album was named Jesus of Cool. At least in England, originally.
“Christmas At The Airport” was inspired by Lowe’s experience, waiting in an airport in Geneva, nursing a hangover from a long night drinking with Mavis Staples’ staff and band—not the American treasure herself, as Lowe is quick to declare. He thought that a jaunty pop song about someone snowed into the airport at the holidays would be interesting. You can hear him discuss this story here.
The video for the song, above, is also a gift. It tells the story of an elf’s thwarted attempts to get to the North Pole in time for Christmas, and includes most of the typical indignities that air travelers must endure, including the forced removal of shoes, having your bags rifled through, and sitting on the floor to charge your phone, along with a few particular to magical creatures. But it ends with the promise of an airport romance. And a snowman being decapitated.
Although the animation styles (and studios) are different, the video reminded me of Bojack Horseman, which as you may know, Ilove. Not only does the video include humans with elves, snowmen, and what may or not be human/animal hybrids, the airport stores have amusing names that would not be out of place in Bojack’s Hollywoo, such as Snakes For Your Plane Petshop, or Downward Spinal Massage.
I’m pretty sure that Elvis Costello was my gateway drug to Nick Lowe, Dave Edmunds and Rockpile. I suspect that I started exploring Lowe’s music very early into my WPRB career as a result of seeing that he had produced Costello’s (and Graham Parker’s) early albums. Of course, Pure Pop for Now People was genius. I can’t recall exactly when I connected up Dave Edmunds, or where I found out that essentially all of the Lowe and Edmunds albums were really just releases by a band called Rockpile that couldn’t record under that name for some contractual reason. But I do remember playing their music over and over. Ask my roommates. At that time, it did seem a bit odd—Lowe was considered part of the new wave movement, although his records in those days were more power pop, and Edmunds sounded like a throwback to Sun Records and rockabilly. In retrospect, all of this was part of an attempt by musicians to get back to their roots, simplify things and strip down the sound, as a reaction to what was seen as the excesses of the Classic Rock Age of the Dinosaurs. At times in their careers, though, both Lowe and Edmunds fell prey to the apparent requirement that musicians who start simple, but record for a long time, have to experiment with adding layers of instruments, effects and sound.
“I Knew the Bride (When She Used to Rock 'n' Roll)” is a fun song, in which the singer, somewhat wistfully, discusses how he remembers when the bride at issue, who is now all posh and proper, and marrying a rich stuffed shirt, used to hang out in her jeans at the bar, drinking and flirting and dancing and having fun. And, because our theme is Jukebox, it is important that she was always “Pumping all her money in the record machine.”
The first version of the song was released in 1977 by Edmunds on his Get It album, and it is a typically rootsy rocker. (Edmunds’ next disc, Tracks on Wax 4 featured a song called “A.1. on the Jukebox,” by the way.)
But my favorite version is the one downloadable above which came out a year later, on the Live Stiffs album, from a Stiff Records European tour that also featured Elvis Costello, Ian Dury, Wreckless Eric, and Larry Wallis. Billed to “Nick Lowe's Last Chicken in the Shop” (although introduced at the show as “Nick Lowe’s Led Zeppelin”), which included Edmunds on guitar and Rockpile’s drummer Terry Williams, drummer Pete Thomas from the Attractions and others, they rip through the song in a messy, 70’s punk way.
It appears that when Rockpile appeared live, though, they kind of split the difference in versions—there’s both punk and twang in this version from 1980:
I remember reading once that Lowe said that he was going to keep releasing this song until it became a hit, and in 1985 he tried again, with very dated sounding production by Huey Lewis, who also plays the harmonica and sings background. (Lewis’ early band, Clover, was brought to England by Lowe, and achieved little success there, although its members, minus Lewis, but including future Doobie Brother John McFee, were the backup band on Elvis Costello’s Lowe-produced debut, My Aim is True).
I’ve kind of lost track of Edmunds’ career over the past few years, but Lowe had reinvented himself again as sort of a crooner. And yes, he still drags out this old tune to play, despite the fact that (or maybe because) it is hard to find a “record machine” anywhere. Although he now plays it with more of Edmunds’ rockabilly tinged sound than his Stiffs Live energy.
It’s still not a hit, but it was covered by The Knack.
"Rockpile is usually Terry Williams on drums, Billy Bremner on guitar, Dave Edmunds on guitar, and my name is Nick Lowe, I play the bass...Let's have some fun tonight!"
That's how Nick Lowe introduced his band Rockpile during its 1980 appearance on the King Biscuit Flower Hour. King Biscuit was a syndicated concert series, which ran in the '70s and '80s on U.S. radio stations that played cool music. (And, that in the '10s are likely the ones in your town running sports talk or Jack FM. Thanks, CBS, Cumulus and Clear Channel!) Many of the original King Biscuit Flower Hour shows can be streamed for free on the Wolfgang's Vault web site.
The Rockpile show was recorded at The Ritz in New York City, part of a tour in support of Seconds of Pleasure, the band's only official studio recording. (An excellent streaming audio documentary about Rockpile's rise and fall is available here.)
Rockpile's King Biscuit Flower Hour appearance later circulated as a bootleg, Provoked Beyond Endurance. That title reflects the band's experience on what turned out to be its last tour. Shortly after it concluded, Lowe and Edmunds decided they'd had enough of each other, and Rockpile ceased to be. For 30 years, Seconds of Pleasure remained the band's only official release until 2011's Live at Montreaux. That record, taken from a Montreaux Jazz Festival appearance a few of months before the King Biscuit session, features many of the same songs, but the intimacy of the Ritz venue brings out a better show.
"Cry," featuring lead vocals by Billy Bremner, was written by Lowe's then-wife, Carlene Carter. It's the only song on the King Biscuit Flower Hour program that has never appeared on a Lowe, Edmunds or Rockpile record. Carter included it on her "Musical Shapes" album, on which she's backed, most effectively, by Rockpile.
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