Numbers: One

Nilsson: One 
[purchase]

When it comes to the subject of numbers, it sort of all starts with the number 1, doesn't it? In some ways, it also ends there as well, when you think of “1” as the completion of the whole: 100%, a full circle, the high end of a probability ratio. Zero is nothing, and one is everything: everything in between is just partial. 

But then there's 2. Which in relationships, is the perfect, ideal number, and can make 1 seem like so much less than the whole. And that's where Harry Nilsson was coming from when he wrote “One” for his second album, 1968's Aerial Ballet. And whereas the better known version of the song is the cover recorded by Three Dog Night and released actually a month prior to Nilsson's, theirs lacks the intimate despair of Nilsson's version. They belt out their anguish, wanting the world to know their pain; Harry sits quietly in his room and thinks the same thoughts but all to himself, maybe as he writes a letter to his ex that he'll never actually send. And that makes the song seem so much more sad and, yes, lonely -- not exactly the stage tragedy of the Three Dog Night version.

Possibly the song's most potent line: “One is a number divided by two.” Which, actually, is a half, and that's what Nilsson is feeling like: half a person, without his other. The end of the relationship is tearing him apart. And the result is, to paraphrase the song, one of the greatest pop songs of heartbreak that you'll ever do.

-- Dave Gershman, Reselect.com

Numbers: Rocket 88

Jackie Brenston and His Delta Cats: Rocket 88
[purchase]

Last year, at about this time, I posted the song “Tiger Rag” and discussed my 30th college reunion, which turned out to be a great deal of fun. Last weekend, I returned for my 31st—but just for the day, the highlight of which was the long alumni parade, called the P-Rade, which is traditionally led by the 25th reunion class, this year, the Class of 1988. Thus the picture above, of a float that the class sponsored, in keeping with their “World Tour” theme. Princeton was probably not the first college to have formal reunions, but it may be the only one where all alumni are invited back every year and where everybody wears (usually garish) costumes all weekend (I’ve seen Senators, Cabinet members and famous actors and actresses wearing weird outfits and zany hats). I regret, however, that in 1892, the college ended a practice that any alumnus who returned to campus for Commencement three years after graduation received a master’s degree.

Figuring out “firsts” can be hard, especially when you are talking about things that go back a long way. Or, as in trying to decide what was the first “rock ‘n’ roll” song, where there is really no clear demarcation between rock ‘n’ roll and the many other musical streams that led up to it. In fact, it is kind of a silly debate, but it gives me something to discuss in connection with “Rocket 88,” which its producer, the future legend Sam Phillips (who, it has been said, was the only man that Jerry Lee Lewis would call “sir,”), and others, have touted as the first. Some other contenders are discussed here.

Even if it isn’t the first rock ‘n’ roll song, it is a great one, and its subject, cars, booze and women, certainly helped set the template for the style. Recorded in 1951, “Rocket 88” was credited to “Jackie Brenston and His Delta Cats,” a band that did not exist. In fact, the band was Ike Turner’s Kings of Rhythm, featuring Brenston on vocals. That Ike Turner. And it does rock, with high energy vocals from Brenston, Turner’s boogieing piano, and one of the first (!) uses of distorted guitar.

The song was a big hit, and as was common in those days, it was covered by a white group, Bill Haley and the Saddlemen, and it was a hit for them, too. In fact some critics somehow consider Haley’s version the first rock song (while others think that Haley and the re-named Comets’ “Rock Around the Clock” deserves the title of “first”).

So, if you think that Tina Turner was the more influential member of the couple, you may want to reconsider.

Numbers: 4 + 20

RadioBuscio: 4+20 (CSNY cover)
[Purchase CSNY version]

As some of you know, I write out of Istanbul, Turkey, and while the SMM purvey here is not political, obviously, my thoughts have been focused locally these past few days. Focused, in that I have been asking myself which song could best combine current regional events with our current theme of numbers.

As you may have read or heard, the long-cowed local press was slow to provide facts (Turkish journalism is generally poor on this count: generally omitting the who, what, where and when  - I taught Journalism here several years back so I consider myself somewhat informed) But in this case, because the government has long since subsumed most news outlets through financial and legal threats, they were once again slow to provide the facts/ the numbers. And that is a major issue behind the brouhaha at Taksim Gezi Park.

Having participated in the marches on Washington in the early 70s (and a few I myself organized), I find it easy to draw parallels: government information in the US in the 70s wasn’t always above board. And it was – more often than not – the musical community that stood up and pointed this out.

In this respect, I  think first of CSNY. Even before they were outright vocal about their anti-war opinions, their music was provocative: “Almost Cut My Hair” and “Woodstock”, for example. Although they weren’t alone by any means, there are several CSN(Y) titles that were anthems of a kind for the Vietnam protest era: “Ohio” (about Kent State), “Find the Cost of Freedom”, “Chicago” (about the 1968 Democratic Convention)

However, all this needs to revert to our current theme of numbers, and it is the CSN song 4+20 that I present in this light. The lyrics of the song say: “a different kind of poverty now upsets me so”, and ..if I may extend the thought, that seems to be a major part of the current unrest in Turkey: a different kind of poverty – a poverty of freedoms.

This version of the song, by RadioBucio (aka Jonathan from Chicago [again!]) is a free download from SoundCloud

NUMBERS: Pacific 202

808 State : Pacific 202

Purchase


Time to try something out... I get the feel that this site is, shall we say, sometimes a bit, um, dated, relishing and rejoicing in the golden years of our middle youth and earlier. OK, the tradition of scrupulously avoiding anything from the decade immediately ahead of the day of posting perhaps governs (some) aspects thereof, but I suspect most of us are stuck in comfort zones of yesteryear, and the genres therein. Well, stuff that, I love "electronica/dance" or whatever the fish it's called. As one way to old to be able to curry kudos from the correct lingo, to paraphrase Billy Joel, it's all techno to me, from the Prodigy to Swedish House Mafia. And it's great. (When it's good, that is, like all other genres, when it's bad, it's horrid, with the "charts" usually being the demonstrator of the dross.)
So, you ask, am I a fully paid up raver? Have I been to a club, loved out on Es, Ibiza eternally on my mind and Goa in my heart? No, clearly not. I listen to it in the car on the way to and back fom work. That's where I dance and where, beneath my skin, I'm screaming. (£5 book token to anyone who can source the lyric reference there, groovers!). Yup, when it's good, it's great and I love it loads.
So what about 808 State? Probably  groundbreakers in their way, they formed in 1987, the name stemming fom the drum machine de rigeur at that time. No new material since 2003, allowing this infomercial, but, as they say, still performing DJ sets etc etc. Whatever that means.
I can hear the cynics and traditionalists groaning. Where's our guitars? Where's our sensitive singer-songwriters? Don't panic, still here/there is the answer, and I'll probably post the Stray Cats or Charles Mingus next time. (Guitars? Sensitive singer songwriters? Jeez.....) Unless anyone wants different.

Numbers : 39-21-46

[Purchase]

The Norfollk Virginia based Showmen followed up their 1961 #61 hit "It Will Stand" with this Carolina Beach classic which was originally titled "39-21-40 Standard". Due to a label misprint, the song became known as 39-21-46, adding a hefty 6 inches to the bottom measurement and forever suggesting the group were "Ass Men".

 Lead singer General Johnson left the Showmen and formed Chairman of the Board. Their debut single, "Give Me Just a Little More Time", peaked at #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1970.

Numbers: When I’m Sixty Four

The Beatles : When I’m Sixty Four

[purchase]

I feel it’s important for musicians to get around to local nursing homes and retirement facilities to bring a little joy and a few smiles to the elderly and infirmed. Folks tell me that they really look forward to our monthly visits. So I commit to regularly singing and playing with the Accordion Club of Roseburg. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine myself plunking on a banjo or strumming my guitar with as many as six accordionists! For some, it might conjure up images of purgatory.

Actually, it’s a lot of fun, quite entertaining, and I’ve learned many new tunes in the process. That’s because our club presents a different theme each month for our hour-long program. As Mother’s Day occurs in May, this month features all songs with a woman’s name in the title. Next month will be songs with a man’s name in the title.

A few months ago, I encouraged our club president to develop a “Numbers Program.” Thus, we start that show with “One Dozen Roses” and “A Bicycle Built for Two,” followed by “Three Coins in the Fountain.” We only play through each song about twice, and we encourage everyone to try to remember the title, lyrics, sing along, and guess what year the song was written. I’ve a special affinity for those songs dating back to the 1920s which are rarely heard today, but they’ve managed to survive over the decades. Before the hour is over (and exactly 21 songs later), we’ve reached “Seventy-Six Trombones” before we close with “I Found a Million Dollar Baby.”

During the course of that program, we also present a few of my favorite Beatles songs … “Eight Days a Week” and “When I’m Sixty Four.” Both of these songs are very special for folks coop’ed up in the retirement facilities. The former has an important message that we should all attempt to adhere to – “Eight days a week is not enough to show I care.” And the latter reinforces that same message – “When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now. Will you still be sending me a Valentine, birthday greeting, bottle of wine?”

Life in retirement homes doesn’t have to be dismal, depressing and institutional. Music can help alleviate that. Try to think of some ways that you can bring a little cheer to residents in the same way the Beatles have to so many of us, as we don’t want to become “yours sincerely wasting away.”

Numbers: Nineteen

Old 97’s: Nineteen
[purchase Fight Songs, because Amazon doesn’t appear to have the version of Satellite Rides with the bonus track]

With a theme like this, with literally an infinite number of options, I decided to simply go with the first appropriate song that popped into my head. And this one is doubly appropriate, with a number in the title and the name of the band, proving that sometimes it is better to not overthink things.

Back in 1999, we had great neighbors across the street, Wayne and Denise. They were interesting, smart, their oldest child and our daughter were friends, and, maybe best of all, their musical taste was similar to ours. (Fact—like fingerprints, no two people have the same musical taste.) One day, Denise gave us a copy of the Old 97’s new CD, Fight Songs, as a thank you for something that we had done. I have no recollection of what it was, but I do know that the CD, and the band, became huge family favorites (and not just because, as my wife says, Rhett Miller, the lead singer, is “dreamy”). And my family’s love of the Old 97’s has continued to this date—we have seen them a few times (and Miller as a solo act), most recently a few months ago when I went with my two kids (my wife doesn’t like standing at concerts) to see them open for the Drive-By Truckers. Sadly, our neighbors moved a few miles away, and although we do see them occasionally, I suspect we would get to spend more time with them if they had stayed across the street.

The music of the Old 97’s is a fusion of country and pop, fitting them squarely in the “Americana” or “Alt-Country” world. Critics seem to like their more country sounding songs, while their more pop oriented efforts tend to be more popular. But whichever you like better, you have to appreciate the quality of the songwriting and the literate, interesting lyrics, usually from Miller, who briefly attended Sarah Lawrence College on a creative writing scholarship before dropping out to pursue his musical muse.

“Nineteen” is a song that is more rock than country, like most of Fight Songs, and like so many great songs in any genre, it is about lost love. What makes it so poignant is that the narrator realizes that he made a huge mistake in letting his love go. He acknowledges that he was an idiot, that she was great, and that he misses just lying in bed with her. And his excuse? He was only nineteen, which is “not the age of reason,” a fact borne out by many actual scientific studies. The narrator doesn’t plead for a second chance; he simply appears to accept the fact that the train has left the station without him.

The Old 97’s are a great live band. Their energy on stage is incredible, and they are tight, as they should be, considering how much they have played together in their two decades as a band. Therefore, I have posted a live version of the song, released as a bonus track on the band’s next album, Satellite Rides. They didn’t play the song when I saw them earlier this year—I read somewhere that the band won’t play it anymore, but Miller will sometimes perform it solo.

NUMBERS: 5 TO 1

The Doors: 5 to 1
(Purchase)

Is it me or is the current tide of grim reaping swelling over the gunnels of rock music with a greater ferocity than before? OK, the demographic of age and lifestyle choices, arguably, would always get to cut a rug through the legends and leg-ends of 60s/70s music at some stage, but why so many now? With that  sombre thought in mind, clearly there was ever only going to be one choice this time.

It's 1970, I'm 13 years old, just starting my long journey into obsession, this compulsion to explore and acquire music. My 2nd LP, bought with my own money, savings from Christmases and birthdays, is L.A.Woman. Bang. Bang. Bang. One song after another, all blowing my teenage mind into an imaginarium of exotic delight, mysteries and mischiefs I could only guess at. Out there in the perimeter, I too was immaculate. (The stoned came a lot, lot later....)

I heart the Doors. Always have, always will. So they say the singer was a drunken buffoon with delusions of poetic grandeur? I just hear a wonderfully rich voice, capable of both trampling tortoise-shells and cradling egg-shells, in its canter between growl and croon. And the keyboard player a caricature of the lysergic boffin, locked in a laboratory of reminiscence? I just hear a sparkling inventiveness, tripping lightly over his instrument, underpinning and extrapolating simultaneously. They say little about the others, why not I don't know. The guitarist, strangely never in the list of the greats, yet capable, effortlessly, of a wider panoply of moods and manners than most. And the drummer? The spaces are as important as the strikes, whether loping alongside the melody as a counter, or simply marking time. (Faint praise? Hell, it's their job! If a drummer can't keep time, well, he could. And some.)

I guess I should say something about the song. I have to say it has never been amongst my favourites, yet, as I listen to it today, now, I'm hearing aspects new, even after 40 odd years. I think the younger me had thought it a little too blunt, a little too obvious, even. (In defence, my 1st LP had been by Emerson, Lake and Palmer...) I'm now appreciating the stark simplicity of the rhythm and picking up the nuances of tune lurking just under the surface:the shimmering electric piano until then, suddenly, that primal and powerful guitar solo, a calling, an exhortation to arms. 1968?  Unbelievable.

Morrison, Manzarek, Krieger, Densmore: my top guys. And now two of 'em gone. That jam band in the sky is getting to have a better selection of players than the one here below. This one's for you, Ray!

Numbers: 25 or 6 to 4

Chicago/Earth, Wind & Fire: 25 or 6 to 4 (YouTube)
Purchase CTA version

Not one, not two, but three numbers in a single title: 25 or 6 to 4 (and when you say it aloud, you hear a fourth, no?) Releasing their first album in the late 60s as the Chicago Transit Authority, the band quickly renamed themselves Chicago when faced with legal action from the “official” CTA.

My friends and I (and obviously millions more) had their music on heavy rotation in the early 70s. You must know their major hits such as Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is and Color My World. They rank 13^th on the Billboard list of All Time Top Artists.

There was speculation that the songs was about drugs (“Flashing lights against the sky …”?) So much else in that era was. However, Chicago band member and the song’s composer, Robert Lamm, says it is a reference to 3:35AM (“Waiting for the break of day …”)

There are a number of YouTube versions of this song, but as I viewed them, one stood out in particular: Chicago and EWF together. Sorry: the sync seems to be off just a little, but the color, energy (check out Verdine White, the EWF bass player!) and sound quality here is better than in many of the other online files.

Earth Wind and Fire rank a little lower on Billboard’s list, but still within the Top 100. Like Chicago, they also hail from the Windy City and trace their roots back to within a year or two of Chicago’s. Like Chicago, one of their strengths is a horn section. I think they make a great combination on stage.

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?

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.

Flowers: Snow Flower

[Purchase]

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."

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.

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.
               

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.

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.

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