Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Flowers: Wild Irish Rose









St. Louis punk-blues five piece Kentucky Knife Fight recorded "Wild Irish Rose"—now a crowd favorite at shows—for their 2008 album The Wolf Crept, the Children Slept. A vague tale from the perspective of a writer intimidated by the task of writing and companionless—save for his Richards Wild Irish Rose, an infamous, bottom-shelf "wine" of similar notoriety as Thunderbird and MD 20/20.

I've had the pleasure of seeing Kentucky Knife Fight four or five times in the past several years, which I have to place on my list of perks to living in the St. Louis area. They're a local favorite, and we try not to take them for granted, because we understand just how mainstream their talent could take them. I have to recount how my favorite bartender put it when an out-of-towner friend I was treating to a drink saw "FRIDAY 6/2: KENTUCKY KNIFE FIGHT" scrawled on the chalkboard and asked what that meant. Without missing a beat (or a step, as he cooly walked by without making eye contact), he let her know, "That's just something we do around here."

KKF shouldn't be relegated to the realms of a local band, though. They tour incessantly, playing shows and festivals coast to coast, and have shared stages with the likes of Reverend Horton Heat, Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit, and Pokey LaFarge.

Whole reviews could be written about the immense sound the band fills albums and venues with, about the raspy howl of vocalist Jason Holler, the smooth yet massive basslines Jason Koenig subtly mixes in, the adrenaline-injecting, snappy snare pops James Baker throws around, or the jangly twang and searing solos Curt Brewer and Nathan Jones trade off on guitars. But what good does it do to read about that, when listening to it is so easy?


Monday, May 20, 2013

Flowers: Pretty Pink Rose


Adrian Belew (w/ David Bowie): Pretty Pink Rose
[purchase]

Adrian Belew is an incredible, inventive guitarist, and deserves all of the critical and commercial success that he has achieved. The story of his career is amazing—where other talented musicians toil in obscurity their whole lives, once he got his big break, Belew has consistently been able to obtain work with some of the biggest and best. To be clear—I’m not saying he isn’t worthy, because he assuredly is—I’m a big fan and really respect his music. But still, it is pretty incredible.

In short, Belew was 27 and playing with cover bands in the Nashville area, when Frank Zappa heard him play, apparently tipped off by his chauffeur. This led to an audition for Zappa, and a spot in his touring band. Brian Eno saw one of the Zappa shows and recommended Belew to his buddy David Bowie, and when Zappa went on hiatus, Belew joined Bowie’s band.

After that, while visiting New York, he became friendly with the emerging Talking Heads, and even sat in with them occasionally. During this period, he met Robert Fripp. Eventually, he joined the Talking Heads for their Remain in Light album and tours and contributed to a number of Talking Heads side projects, including the Tom Tom Club. In fact, he was supposedly asked by Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz to replace David Byrne as front man for the Talking Heads.

Belew was then asked by Fripp to join a new band that ultimately became the rejuvenated King Crimson, and played with that band while also putting out a number of solo albums that careened among pop, rock, world music, experimental arty music, and acoustic songs. Yours truly, while working at Atlantic Records during the summer of 1982, attempted to convince the dance music person to remix a song from Belew’s first solo record, Lone Rhino, to see if it could cross over into that market. The guy actually considered it briefly before realizing that it was a pretty bad idea. Nevertheless, Belew has had a few hit songs (although not dance hits), including “Pretty Pink Rose.”

In 1990, Bowie attempted to hire Belew to tour with him to support a career retrospective box set, Sound + Vision. To help convince Belew, who had some reluctance to put his solo career on hold, Bowie offered to provide some songs to Belew, and sing on his next album. He sent over some demos, including one for “Pretty Pink Rose” which Bowie had cut with, Bryan Adams’ (!) backing band. Belew hated it. But instead of throwing up his hands, he went into the studio and reworked the song. Bowie loved the new version, and they recorded it and it hit #2 on the Billboard “Modern Rock” chart.

The performances are exuberant. The lyrics seem to be about the Cold War and include a bunch of very inventive lines—even if they are somewhat cryptic—for example:

She's the poor man's gold, she's the anarchist crucible
Flyin' in the face of the despot cannibal

You rarely hear a pop song with the words “anarchist” or “cannibal,” much less “crucible.” And Belew’s guitar screams and squiggles wildly (and I mean that in the best possible sense). I suspect that had this been released by Bowie, it would be considered a classic, but instead, it is now just a hidden treasure.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Flowers: Snow Flower






Ananda Shankar--nephew of the more famous Ravi Shankar--visited San Francisco in 1968 and jammed with Jimi Hendrix. That eye--and ear--opening experience led to experimentations with more instruments: the moog synthesizer, guitar, bass and drums. For his self titled 1970 album--now a cult classic-- Ananda covered "Jumpin Jack Flash" as well as The Doors' "Light My Fire". The entire album is a great groovy mood enhancing gem.



 Shankar returned to India in the mid-70's and recorded more classics as well as soundtracks. According to Alan James's liner notes for a much later album, Ananda used to say: "My dream is to break barriers, any kind of barrier - through music, love, affection and compassion. I have this dream of musicians from all over the world playing for an audience all over the world. When we are all here we are one, and when we go out I am sure we will all be one."

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Flowers: Dead Flowers


Keith Richards, Willie Nelson: Dead Flowers
[purchase  Sticky Fingers version link]


Anybody else late sending flowers to Mom this year? Hope yours arrived alive.
I was an impressionable 16-year-old (just) in 1971 when Sticky Fingers came out. I went straight out and bought the LP: the d*#&@d thing actually had a real zipper on the cover! Meaning what? Sticky Fingers?  From what? Anyone recall what was under the zipper? My memory tells me this was also the first time we saw the Stones’ iconic tongue logo as well. (Next up from the Stones: Exile on Main Street)
Also included on Sticky Fingers: Brown Sugar. (Way too much for a 16-year-old white boy). Wild Horses? (We were certainly wild enough).Sister Morphine!?
 But then there was “Dead Flowers”: needles and spoons, heroin, death. Pretty extreme. Various folk have postulated that this was a reference to Keith Richards’ addiction. Or flowers that Gram Parsons’s girlfriend sent overseas and that arrived beyond their prime/dead. Yet someone else points out that heroin is made from dead flowers. In any case, the Stones were way out beyond normal.
Very much a country song,  Jagger has said that his singing isn’t “legit”. He says that he faked it (on Sticky Fingers), and insinuates that most of his country music involves an element of faking it (Think: Far Away Eyes/Some Girls). He says that country is more suited to Keith’s style.
So … appropriately, Keith here, rockin' “Dead Flowers” with Willie Neilson, Ryan Adams & Hank Williams III.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

FLOWERS: CANADIAN ROSE


                 Blues Traveler: Canadian Rose
                  (purchase)

                 Confession time; whilst this post is, nominally, about a flower, I think I would be hard stretched to claim any link with Mothers day, and I'm not even going to try. Hell, it isn't even Mothering Sunday, as we call it, on this side of the pond, that was weeks ago, March 10th. I guess the deadline for using up surplus print and card for Hallmark depends upon which side of the atlantic you reside. Anyway I'm an orphan these days. So flowers was always going to be thinking of a flower and seeing what the i-pod can produce. Lilies, poppies or roses were my starters, with the express aim, as ever, being to see if I could find something slightly off the beaten track. Somebody once told me lilies were associated with death, so I skipped them, and most modern music equates poppies with drugs, that seeming too outre, albeit tempting. God old roses it was, and there are soooooo many available, from George Jones' Good Year for 'em to the New one of the Damned. Too too obvious.

                 I don't understand why Blues Traveler weren't bigger or better known. Going since the mid to late 80s, arising out of New Jersey, astonishingly, given their usual filing alongside southern states Jam bands, they play on to this day, with most recent record coming out last year. The centre point was always going to be the striking central figure of John Popper, harmonica player par excellence, with an astonishingly nimble style that ought to have had him in the top 3 best known players along with  Stevie Wonder, the fella from J. Geils and, um, Bob Dylan. Instead of one of them. Maybe the look was wrong, and having to have a gastric band was never going to be rock and roll. But it matters not a jot. He can play like the clappers, over lively chugalug riffing, good tunes all round.


                This video looks as if it comes from a film, and for all I know, it does, but not, I feel, a film that looks as if it would hold much appeal for me. Standard doomed teens, enacted by twenty-somethings, opposite side of the tracks, coming good at the end. Yeuch. No doubt I have, at a stroke, offended, if nobody else, the mothers of the two lead protagonists. Which, neatly, takes me full circle. So, ladies both, if I have offended you,  have  you both a wonderful mothers day. From me.
               


















Monday, May 13, 2013

Flowers: Blue Tulip



Okkervil River: Blue Tulip
[purchase]

When it comes to mothers, I am incredibly lucky. My mother is a wonderful woman—she was a great mother to me and my siblings, immediately considered my wife to be another daughter, and has been a great grandmother to my kids and my nieces and nephews. My wife is amazing—she is my best friend, and has been everything I could have hoped for as a mother for our kids. And my mother-in-law is also a remarkable woman who has welcomed me into her family unconditionally and is also a superb grandmother. So, Mother’s Day, earlier this week, was an opportunity for me to celebrate with these three paragons. It was also my birthday, so I got some attention, too.

My mother-in-law is of Dutch descent, and she and my wife both embrace their heritage. I suspect that is why the tulip is my wife’s favorite flower (also, they are beautiful). And no, I wasn’t smart enough to buy her tulips for Mother’s Day, but I did cook a really nice brunch for everyone. Instead, I decided to write about this song, despite the fact that my wife doesn’t know it, will probably not love it once she hears it, and it isn’t about tulips at all. Because it is, we are always told, the thought that counts.

Okkervil River is one of those bands who I like and respect, for their sound and songwriting, but who I admittedly haven’t spent an enormous amount of time thinking about. My guess is that if they existed when I was in college, I would be totally obsessed with them, but now I’m (just) 52, and don’t do that as much anymore. I do, however, own a good chunk of their music. The band was started by some high school friends from New Hampshire who got together after college in Austin. I was hoping, based on the name, that “Okkervil River,” was in Holland, because that really would have tied this up nicely, but it is actually in Russia. The band took its name from a short story by Tatyana Tolstoya, a Russian author who is a distant relative of both Leo Tolstoy and Ivan Turgenev (which I mention because I read both of those authors when I was in college, between shifts at the radio station where I obsessed over various bands that did exist at the time).

In 2007, Okkervil River released The Stage Names, an excellent album about pop culture, fame and death. Originally conceived as a double album, the band instead released a second album in 2008, The Stand Ins, containing the unused material, and continuing the theme. A couple of years ago, my colleague Darius posted a piece about these albums and the way that their cover art is related, here.  This song clearly explores the issues of celebrity and fame, and does so with music that builds to an intense climax before ending in an electronic drone.

Having listened to it a few times in preparation for this piece, I have to say it is a very good song, by a very good band. I can pretty much guarantee that neither my mother nor mother-in-law will like the song, if they listen to it, and I can’t say that my wife will love it, although I suspect that, at least, she won’t hate it. And sometimes in a relationship, that is good enough. Remember, it is the thought that counts.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Flowers: Flower Kings


Flower Kings: The Flower King
Free download from the Internet Archive

(if the direct/mediafire link isnt working, try the "freedownload" link: it's the same file at the original host.)

Our current theme comes to you partly inspired by Mothers' Day and partly guided by input from JDavid (once again). Flowers for your mother, flower-related music from us. Besides ... it's Springtime for most of us.
I was searching the Internet Archive for something legal/free that could start us off on our new theme, doing a search for <flower> in the live music section, when I ran across this piece, the aptly named song "The Flower King" by the Flower Kings.

I will confess previous ignorance of the band, but a little Internet search brought up a plethora of data about the group: enough to make my ignorance appear to be a personal fault. Never heard of them? Neither had I. The official web site for the Swedish group Flower Kings notes that the band is a natural "like" for anyone who listened to Genesis, Yes, Zappa, ELP and others. That's me. Correctly categorizing their music as progrock, this live performance appears to be from a 2003 show in De Kade, the Netherlands. Much about the musical style calls to mind Genesis: the way the song builds to various crescendos, the harmonies... For a live performance, it's pretty good.

Begun in 1994, the group is still active today: see their website to purchase tickets for and see the calendar for their upcoming shows. Once again, many thanks both to the band and to the Internet Archive for making some of their media available for free.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Work: Do You Want My Job


David Lindley: Do You Want My Job
purchase link: [Amazon]

Once again, I'll stretch the limits of this week's theme with this post: Job, work .. It's all the same. As the man says, "I hump the stuff, I take the cash/So my kids can wear Adidas" . If it aint Adidas that you're paying for, it isnt far removed (world-wide McDonalds burgers and Pepsi Cola...) Ain't got no job, ain't got money? ... you are definitely in a downward spiral. (I speak from personal experience: you need fortitude. And luck to escape the vortex.)

I first came across David Lindley though my love of Ry Cooder. David Lindley has periodically provided backup support for Ry and others. His 1981 album El Rayo X includes Bill Payne (Little Feat), Jackson Browne, Garth Hudson (the Band) and various others who wanted to be a part of his musicality.

Known both for his musical writing as well as his minimal-style guitar chops, on stage he seems to prefer a folk/picking method with lots of well-chosen "electronic chorus effect" enhancements to boost the depth. This clip seems to me a prime example.

Lindley has worked with Ry Cooder, Linda Rondstadt, Bob Dylan and Rob Stewart among many others. Alternate versions of this song include those by Little Village, John Hiatt, Jim Keltner and more.

In the post above, we have Wally Ingram doing the "drums". You often think of drumming as intense/sweaty beating on skins, but this comes across as much more focused. Beat: yes. Intense: no. More supportive than directive.

As to the lyrical content... It's all about work: we are exploited for profit, and most of us dont really care so long as we can make ends meet: after all, it is my monthly bills that matter, no? In this age of "green", Lindley's lyrics about environmental spoilage - backed by the song's island lilting/Hawaian style, offer a thought-provoking addendum to Al Gore's "Inconvenient Truth"- at what expense future energy?

Work: Dirty Work




Steely Dan: Dirty Work

Purchase Link: [Amazon mp3]

Before I get to the song, and my first post here, I'd just like to thank the Star Maker Machine for allowing me to join in and contribute here as a side gig from my regular blog, Reselect.com. It's an honor to be included in the company of so many other excellent music bloggers.

My contribution to this "Work" theme that we are in the midst of is the 1972 Steely Dan song, "Dirty Work," from their debut album, Can't Buy a Thrill. Although surrounded on that album by such Steely Dan standards as "Reelin' in the Years" and "Do It Again," "Dirty Work" is a bit of an anomaly in their catalog, as it was sung by David Palmer, a singer only temporarily employed as lead vocalist by the band (particularly for early live shows). He was brought on, apparently, due to Donald Fagen's initial reluctance to sing lead vocals -- somewhat amusing in retrospect, due to how connected his voice ultimately became to the band's identity.

In any case, Palmer was a good choice to sing "Dirty Work" -- his voice fits the song like a glove, sounding every bit the fool for love that the song's lyrics convey. The work in question isn't "work" as much as it is semi-reluctant "play" -- that is, being the man-on-the-side of the married woman that he's singing the song to. It features one of Steely Dan's most beautiful melodies, a true pop classic. They could have stopped with this song and album and would still have been remembered very fondly today (although the band's identity would certainly not be nearly as intricate as it turned out to be). But although the band went on to even greater fame, Palmer was out of a job (to continue the "work" theme a bit further) following Can't Buy a Thrill -- but he certainly lucked out when the band chose him to sing this one, cementing himself a footnote in the annals of classic rock.

-- Dave Gershman, Reselect.com

Monday, May 6, 2013

Work: "I Ka Barra (Your Work)"



I’m an intellectual through and through. I love postulations and pontification with no external raison d’etre. I read intellectual books, watch intellectual movies, and — when it comes to music — tend to dismiss (too) many songs for not being clever or creative enough. I get upset to the point of arguing when an anti-intellectual voice is raised, because I believe in a dichotomy (one of few I actively and cognitively accept) in which intellectualism is good for society and anti-intellectualism is bad for society. Or, at least, I enforce my views to the best of my ability because I believe in that dichotomy inasmuch as it applies to the society I want to live in, and I want to make the society that I live in the society I want to live in.

As other voices unafraid to dissent with the opinion that “a commitment to the intellectual life necessitates the forsaking of the body,” as Eileen Joy so eloquently puts it in her essay “You Must Change Your Life: Woody Allen’s Another Woman," I do not accept in any way that there is any necessary segregation between the things we consider “physical” and those we consider “cerebral.” Instead, we can have activities that are exclusively one or the other, as in “mindless work” or “brainstorming” and activities that mesh them together like a net, tying perpendicular, opposed strings together to create a cooperative tool.

With the example of a net, one could say that as one string weakens, it compromises its dependent strings, placing strain and responsibility ubiquitously across the workspace. I would argue, however, that the opposite is also true. The strengthening of one string strengthens the whole net. The strengthening of one suit benefits the others. Some have believed in this to such an extent that they have applied it to a logic of defending forced labor: “There was a belief, at a time, that labor was good for you,” explains Elgin Mental Health Center administrative assistant Dolly Scanlan to James Bronner in the 2006 documentary Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soapbox. The conversation briefly skirts across the concept of manual labor as a rehabilitative instrument for mental patients.

Skip to 35:57 for the referenced conversation.

While I lend no support to the notion that forced labor is good for society whatsoever (willing labor, in contrast, is essential), I often exercise mental refortification via not-a-though-whatsoever, happy work. Gardening and house chores like washing dishes and folding laundry are perfect for me, but so are more intense activities like running or carrying furniture for a moving friend.

Sometimes the mind needs refreshing but won’t stop long enough to recover. In these frustrating situations, a channel can be imperative. Most of the time, I go directly to music to accomplish this mental redirection. The music has to be right, though. Bands like Mars Volta and The Dillinger Escape Plan stand almost no chance of being picked by me when I’m trying to calm my storming mind. Brian Eno is a frequent choice, as are sludge and doom metal bands like Pallbearer or Black Sheep Wall.

But what if the music that will most channel the body’s energy into a restorative rhythm needs to have strong, singing vocals while the mind needs empty itself of words? That’s when I turn to foreign music, like that of Habib Koité. Leading musicians in Bamada, Senegalese singer and guitar player Koité coordinates boppy jams that, fortunately for me, aren’t in any language I recognize. Why is this important? Because the vocals are relegated strictly to the territory of instruments. There is no way for me, being unable to recognize the phonemes joining the music, to intellectualize the words. For the same reason I love not being able to understand almost any of Tommy Rogers’ vocals in Between the Buried and Me, there is something centering about being able to enjoy the voice as a sonic experience, distinct from linguistic interpretation.


I could guess what “I Ka Barra” and its lyrics mean. I could guess that “ja ja ja” means “yeah yeah yeah,” and that “i ka barra” is equivalent to the second half of the song’s title and means “your work.” But I’m not looking it up, because then I would start working through it as a mental exercise. And when I want to listen to Koité, I want to put my hands to work and let my mind take a nap. I can sing along with the song in phonetic approximations without any concern about what I would be interpreted as saying by someone who speaks the language.

I can put my head down and work for myself, which is what I choose to believe this song is all about.

Work : Work, Work, Work


Lee Dorsey: Work, Work, Work

[Purchase]

If you're looking for motivation this Monday, you've come too the wrong place. Allen Toussaint and Lee Dorsey, the New Orleans team that gave us the Top 10 hit "Working in the Coalmine", actually recorded this cut a year earlier for Dorsey's Ride Your Pony album in 1966.

I look for a job both day and night
 I can't find nothin' that will suit me right
A little bit of nerve I'm not tryin' to shake
But everything I've found seems too much like work



The following year, Lee was still looking for a job.



Sunday, May 5, 2013

Work: Women & Work



[purchase]

We generally try to stay away from newer music here, but this one was too obvious for me to pass on. “Women & Work” by Lucero is another song which portrays work as a negative, something to fight your way through, and something that makes you need to drink. The song generally equates women with work, although the narrator concedes that women are sweeter, a sentiment that I certainly can agree with. Personally, I’ve had better luck with the woman in my life than in most of my jobs, although I’m hoping that my new work situation will put an end to the negativity.

Frankly, work can be great, it can be interesting and fulfilling, and in my opinion, it is poor management that is the cause of much of the unhappiness that so many people feel about their work. I often say that if more managers followed the training that I have received (and have given) as part of my volunteer work with the American Youth Soccer Organization about how to treat volunteers, more people would enjoy their jobs, work harder and be more productive. Treating your fellow employees with respect, support, and positive reinforcement and allowing your employees to take responsibility for their jobs, like we teach our volunteer leaders, can only make for a better work environment. But what do I know?

Lucero is another great band whose songs are about the lives of regular people (whatever that means). Their most recent album, also entitled Women & Work is a fine effort, and most of the songs focus on the twin subjects of the title. Which, to be fair, are probably the two most important issues to many men. Add sports, and you have the waterfront pretty well covered. Men are pretty simple creatures, right?

They are also a band that started off good, even great, but in my opinion have improved as their songwriting has broadened to include more of the soul influences of their hometown, Memphis. Starting with their previous album, the great 1372 Overton Avenue, they started using horns, and it is one of the few truisms of rock music that any song is better with a horn section. The video for “Women & Work,” embedded above, is a hoot—the band and friends at a lake party, drinking and destroying a van. I have a feeling that is not too far from a regular Lucero party, maybe minus the heavy construction equipment.

Regular and close readers of my work on this site have probably been waiting for me to finally post a Lucero song, so that I can close the loop on that concert that my son and I went to in November 2006 and stop mentioning it. No, the show wasn’t of Woodstock quality, or even Conor Oberst & Wilco, but it was a great night, and it made me realize how good Lucero is. I regret not seeing them since, but the timing hasn’t worked out (and I passed on an outdoor concert a couple of years ago, because it really, really looked like rain—which, of course, never came). Unfortunately, I think that they will always be a band that needs to constantly be on the road to make money from their loyal fanbase, but I suspect that they are never going to make it really big, because their lead singer, Ben Nichols, has an incredibly raspy voice, and I think that turns some people off (like my wife, which is one of her very few flaws).

And they are not afraid of trying different things to get their name out—in 2005, they released a documentary about their struggles and in 2009, Nichols participated in a “quasi-fictionalized” MTV series about the music scene in Memphis. Here’s an episode from the show, “$5 Cover,” in which Nichols enjoys the affection of a woman, and you also see him at work, with Lucero, playing “San Francisco,” a song from their album Rebels, Rogues & Sworn Brothers, which was released just before my son and I saw them at the Bowery.


Saturday, May 4, 2013

Work: Botany Bay

The Wolfe Tones: Botany Bay

[purchase]

Imagine yourself as a bricklayer in 19th Century Ireland, fed up with work and ready to take a trip aboard an emigrant ship to the shores of Botany Bay (Australia). The song refers to “navvies” (laborers, especially those who worked on construction or excavation projects) and “gangers” (foremen). I love this chorus, as it surely captures the sentiments of the day:

Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies,
Farewell to your gangers and gang planks,
And to hell with your overtime,
For the good ship Ragamuffin, she's lying at the quay,
For to take oul Pat with a shovel on his back,
To the shores of Botany Bay.

The poor sod merely wants his wages, to tell his boss to take the job and shove it, and then to get outta Dodge … in this case, probably Queenstown (Cobh) in County Cork which was the emigrants' embarkation point. The song was first collected about 1957, and some additional verses were added shortly thereafter. Oul Pat shows plenty of optimism in the last verse where he plans to find gold in Australia … or simply to go back to an eight-hour shift at his bricklaying trade.

Irish pub songs have plenty of anti-work sentiment, and another that’s just as much fun is called “Muirsheen Durkin.” In this case, however, the fame and fortune to be found are in California during the Gold Rush. Mr. Carney’s wants nothing more with potatoes (praties), and he’s ready to sail across the foam bound for Amerikay.

Goodbye Muirsheen Durkin, sure I'm sick and tired of workin',
No more I'll dig the praties, and no longer I'll be fooled,
For as sure as me name is Carney, I'll be off to California,
Where instead of diggin' praties, I'll be diggin' lumps of gold.

Monday, April 29, 2013

WORK: WE WORK THE BLACK SEAM



The Battlefield Band: We work the black seam
(purchase)

Damn your eyes, Starmaker, I really, honestly, really wanted to move away from my folky niche, yet what could I do? Presented with this fortnights topic, within a whisper of the passing of  Margaret Thatcher, always enshrined, in the hearts of the left-leaning limey, with the abolishment of work, or at least certain parts thereof, it was always going to be this, or one of umpteen covers of Dylans prescient ode to "her" farm. And somehow Sting, the author of this song, when his credibility remained untainted by tantricity and dodgy rain forest deals, would now seem sorrily too irredeemably naff for this poster.

So who the hell are the Battlefield Band?  I recently read a suggestion that the Battlefield Band could fulfil a similar role for scottish music as pehaps the Chieftains may have for irish. Lofty praise indeed, maybe true, but somehow missing the angle of trajectory. Always implicitly political, over a 3 decade time period, with an ever changing cast,the Battlefield Band have always encapsulated the true curse of  Scotland, to have the majesty of emotion, the moral high ground of a history, yet to be forever in thrall to the nation to whom they lent their king, some 400 or so years ago. I don't wish to invoke arguments around nationalism, but, actually no, I don't and won't.  Others can say it far better than I.

So what do I love about the band? I think it is the mix of the old with the new: ancient airs mingling with modern songs like this. The musical mix, bagpipes, guitars and fiddle shrouded within swathed washes of synthesiser. And the cast of musicians, every time an essential member seeming to depart, a replacement arriving hot foot from ever more distant corners of celtic wizardry. A bagpiping prodigy from the USA? Tick. An apparent endless supply of hebridean fiddle wunderkinds? Tick. A college of emeritus alumni remaining fresh in the memory and high in profile, from Brian McNeill to the current golden boy of scottish arrangements, John McCusker, fiddler to Mark Knopfler amongst many others. Tick. And a word for Alan Reid, a constant for near always, songwriter, singer and keyboard king, without whom it would seem inconceivable. But still they go forward, as their byline states, forward with Scotlands past.

Mayday is the workers holiday they say, yet it seems locked in a past, recent yet gone forever, maybe as distant as the maypole around which we used to dance? Work, huh, what is it good for?

Work: Minimum Wage



The BusBoys: Minimum Wage
[purchase]

It seems that most songs about work portray it as something bad, something demeaning, or simply an impediment to the good parts of life. The question, “do you live to work or work to live,” is one that many of us have had to address in our lives. But, of course, most of us need to work in order to survive, and the scary thing is how many Americans work for minimum wage, which, I understand, does not even allow the worker to live above the poverty line. This, despite the fact that our culture is, to a great degree, based on the theory that hard work will lead to success and that that there is dignity in work. These statements are all too often made by people who don’t know what they are talking about.

This is, however, a music blog, not a politics blog, so I’ll move on to talk about something less weighty—racial stereotyping. Arguably, rock music was created by black musicians. Certainly, much of the early “rock ‘n’ roll” music was recorded by African-Americans such as Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Little Richard and Ike Turner, who recorded “Rocket 88,” which many consider the first rock song. In those early days, white “rock” was often covers of music previously recorded by blacks, or somewhat watered down imitations of their style. Through the 1960s and into the early 1970s, the umbrella of rock music was broad enough to include diverse sounds including Motown and other similar music, Jimi Hendrix, James Brown and Earth, Wind & Fire. For example, a random show at the Fillmore in 1967 featured headliner Bo Diddley supported by Big Brother and the Holding Company, a white blues-rock band, Quicksilver Messenger Service, a white rock band, Big Joe Williams, a black bluesman and another band, Headlights, who seem to have left no trace on the Internet. But, by the late 1970s, it seemed like the fractionalization of rock music into increasingly narrower slices for marketing purposes had resulted in a split between white music and black music.

Enter The BusBoys, who released their debut album in 1980. The band was made up of five African-Americans and one Hispanic (another group that was long marginalized in rock between the heyday of Santana and the rise of Los Lobos), who made rock music, but incorporated soul and funk influences. This made the band a bit unusual and got them some publicity, but their debut, Minimum Wage Rock & Roll was good enough to live up to the hype. In other words, they were more than a novelty act. The songs on their first album, and its followup, American Worker, addressed issues of race and economic inequality, but it had a beat and you could dance to it. Or pogo to it.

In Ronald Reagan’s America, when society seemed to be turning from civil rights movements and wars on hunger and poverty to a glorification of greed and individual success, it took some guts to include sarcastic songs such as “KKK” and “There Goes the Neighborhood,” and our featured song, “Minimum Wage,” which discusses the plight of people who “work so hard . . . work all day. . . . because we need to stay.”

In 1982, the band reached its highest level of popularity because they were championed by Eddie Murphy, who, at the time, was making blockbuster movies, and not the dreck that he has been mostly turning out recently. The band appeared in his hit 48 Hrs. and had songs on the soundtrack. They also served as Murphy’s opening act on his tours. After having a song in the Ghostbusters soundtrack and a third album, featuring Murphy on background vocals and in a video, the band toured, but never really seemed relevant, and they disappeared until the release of a reunion album a few years ago.

I remember playing this album on the radio, and enjoying it at the time. Revisiting it now after 30 plus years, it sounds OK. It’s not a great album—they were a talented bar band with a gimmick that made solid if unspectacular music. But I give them credit for raising important issues, even if people really weren’t listening. A few years after Minimum Wage Rock & Roll was released, another band, Living Colour, created a similar buzz by playing rock music while black, and again coupled their music with a message.

In the current environment where iPods and streaming services allow everyone to be their own DJ, and where Sirius/XM seems to have a channel for every tiny subgenre, it may no longer matter whether there is a split between black and white music, because you can pretty much find whatever you want, but it seems clear that when artists try to cross or muddle the divide, like The BusBoys, or The Beastie Boys, or Bad Brains, or TV on the Radio, race is still part of the discussion.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Work: We Can Work It Out


Stevie Wonder: We Can Work It Out
[Purchase link]


This selection is a little off the original train of thought for our new theme: work. Still, my choice complies with the theme in that it includes the word <work> in the title.

Whereas I had initially thought this week’s theme would provoke musical ideas about employment, I found myself thinking repeatedly about the Beatles' "We can Work It Out".

By 1965, when Rubber Soul came out, the Beatles:
  • Were an established hit band
  • Had been to the US on tour
  • Appear to have been inclined to alternative sounds (their India contacts start at about this time and I think you can sense it in Rubber Soul)
Two years ago, I was lucky to catch the initial round of “The Beatles Complete on Ukulele”, when Roger Greenawalt and crew were giving away their collection for free (it is still a free listen but no longer a free download). The Beatles' Rubber Soul album is one of my all-time favorite albums. It's an album that contains several personal preferences and seems to me to mark a turning point in pop music (what else was “hot” in ’65?)

There are YouTube versions of the original masters doing their thing: Lennon tickling a (more orless) pre-electric organ in one. But the version that I chose here carries so much more value to me. Without making my voting preferences too blatantly obvious (among the available options, of course), there are several things that caught my attention here:

Mr Obama (and even more so Mrs O) are clearly groovin' on the sounds (with Paul sitting right next to POTUS). More importantly, there is the underlying message that fits with Obama’s message of Hope : We can "work it out.” Throughout this version, I get the feeling that the timing isn’t quite right – but it works out all the same.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Rain: I Wish it Would Rain

The Temptations: I Wish it Would Rain

[purchase]

When I attended high school in the 1960s as a “military brat” in Japan, I would have to ride a drab Navy-gray school bus daily for about 40 minutes to Yokohama. We’d have a lot of fun during those rides, and I’m not sure how the Japanese bus drivers put up with us. One great memory is the back of the bus rendering a terrible version of The Temptations’ “I Wish It Would Rain.”

Sunshine blue skies please go away, The girl has found another and gone away. With her went my future my life is filled with gloom, So day after day I stay locked up in my room. I know to you, it might sound strange but I wish it would rain.

One good musical friend (Brent Cooper, drummer in one of my high school bands) would sing lead while the rest of us would respond with “Oh how I wish that it would rain.” Even if some of us didn’t know all the lyrics, the entire bus of kids would build a final crescendo when the part came around exclaiming “Oh I wish it would rain, Let it rain, let it rain.” It was a sure way to bring a little sunshine to our teenage lives.

Sadly, on New Year’s Eve 1967, songwriter Roger Penzabene committed suicide a week after the release of “I Wish it Would Rain.” He couldn’t bring himself to leave his cheating wife. Besides "I Wish it Would Rain," his other last composition ("I Could Never Love Another") is also full of heartfelt soul and emotion.

A year or so later, The Chambers Brothers covered The Temptations’ hit. The USO brought them and The Temptations (as well as many other great acts like Sam & Dave, The Supremes, Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, etc.) out to the Yokosuka Navy Base where I was lucky enough to see them live in concert for about $5. Released in 1968, the song appears on their vinyl album “A New Time – A New Day” as the opening track on the B-side. The Chambers Brothers had hit it big with "Time Has Come Today," and I liked their sound. They had great vocals backed up with their signature Sixtyesque psychedelic soul, jams, cowbell, screams and fuzz-toned guitars. I think I’ll go hunt down that LP and give it another spin for some fine nostalgic memories of the sixties and my high school bus rides.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Rain: As The Rain



Jeb Loy Nichols: As The Rain
[purchase]

My last post discussed a memorable concert that I attended with my whole family in 2004, memorable not only because of the great music, but which has stuck in my mind for a silly reason---some guy yelling out at a random moment in a song. Today’s post is about a concert that I attended with my wife, a few years earlier, that is memorable not only because of the music, but because of another, not at all silly reason.

Jeb Loy Nichols is another one of those guys who I tend to write about—people who seemed close to a commercial breakthrough, but never quite got there. “As The Rain” was probably the first song of his that I was familiar with, from his debut album, Lover’s Knot. His sound was an interesting mix of rock, folk, jazz, R&B, and whatever, and his voice was unusual, in a good way. His next album, Just What Time It Is, released at the end of 2000, was the one that seemed poised to do something—it had at least three great songs on it. After that, though, I kind of lost track of him, although I have recently discovered some more good music from him. He was one of the performers at the concert at issue.

Lucy Kaplansky was the other. Although a Chicagoan by birth, she became closely identified with New York, both because of her participation in the local folk music scene and because she went to college and practiced psychology here before she fully committed to her music. Her literate songs and exquisite covers, combined with her beautiful voice, has made her a family favorite for years. Here is a link to a bonus track from Kaplansky: Manhattan Moon [purchase] which not only references her adopted city, but also our theme, rain.

One of the great things about living near New York is that there are many opportunities to see outdoor concerts, many of them free, and the kind of musicians that I like often participate in these free shows. The Nichols/Kaplansky show, which was a fine, free concert, sponsored by the wonderful WFUV, part of a series of folk/rock shows on the plaza of the World Trade Center, was held on a beautiful July evening.

Less than two months later, coincidentally on the same day that Kaplansky released her album Every Single Day, the plaza ceased to exist.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

RAIN : THE HISTORY OF RAIN

                      


Jackie Leven :  The History of Rain
(purchase link)

At last, a reason to post an offering from my hero, if that be an odd concept for someone of my, um, mature years. Having dipped my toes into the waters of  this Machine, I now feel sufficient confidence to put up what may read little more than a paean of praise, albeit wherein my bias is accepted freely and openly. This man, with us sadly no longer, is a GENIUS. And I can say "is" rather than "was", as his legacy lives on and is there for the finding, yet many may be unfamiliar with his considerable back catalogue. Let this be an introduction, from perhaps his most conventional and accessible LP, the Argyll Cycle, Volume 1. Forget  all the brouhaha around any other ideas of celtic soul, for this is the real deal, gorgeously evocative of his homeland, drenched in mists of melancholia, aching at the seams of heartbreak.

A gigantic bear of a man, Jackie had what many may call a colourful life, even when extricating the mythology from his usually self-penned manuscript, as there was a delight, maintained lifelong, in embellishing the truth, as if this lily ever needed any extra gilding. For the truth involved near-death, serious drug abuse, torrents of alcohol and the poetry of the gutter. I won't regurgitate the details, but this eulogy by eminent media scribe, Paul Du Noyer, covers most of the tracks, as well as pointing toward a not half bad sampler. The problem with Jackie, however, is that samplers can merely but flicker over the quantity of his output, rushing out product on a more than yearly basis, whether under the ever supportive patronage of his always loyal record label boss,or side pseudonymed projects to soak up his excess. And songs were not always or even his greatest strength, as his live shows, usually just himself in shorts and ripped denim shirt, tousled hair and battered accoustic, with his tapping foot miked up for percussion, adjacent to a pint glass of indeterminate sustenance, were a whole other experience. A song, lovingly crafted over very many layers in the studio, would emerge, beautifully barren and bare, accompanied only by his stunning instrumental technique. But a song would often be preceded by an as long as the song anecdote, wherein he could display, within the same tale, both the heights of his literacy and the depths of his profanity. Truth, as cited, often immaterial to the telling, he could have you laughing for your life, ahead of then making you weep for and with his widescreen window on a bleak humanity, populated in granite streets leading to stormy harbour walls, rain, always rain, falling incessantly.

If you do nothing else today, search out this man. You will, I promise,be the better for it.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Rain: Rain (De Rain)



Alzo and Udine : Rain ( De Rain)

  [purchase]


Some "strum and be happy" pop from the NYC combo Alzo And Udine captures the sunny hippy vibe of the late 60's with a dash of latin soul and a guitar riff borrowed from Archie Bell and The Drells.
     Little is known about childhood friends Alzo Fronte (born Alfred Affrunti) and Udine ( whose birth name may have been Ali Noor Uddi) except that they originally recorded together as Keepers of the Light with Brill Building songwriter Jeff Barry producing. With Udine sidetracked by drugs, Alzo continued recording as a solo artist with little commercial success.



 


 Eventually he and his wife opened up a store selling "new furniture made in the old ways". Village Chairs and Wares is still there in Port Jefferson, NY. The couple were featured in House Beautiful in the late 90's. In 2004, just as a Japanese reissue of Alzo & Udine led to the duo's rediscovery, Alzo died of a heart attack in a local restaurant. 

     I've got that Japanese reissue and all I can say is that sunny hippy vibe shines throughout the album. But it's a bit of a one trick pony. Nearly every song has the "Tighten Up" guitar riff.