European Road Trip: Truckin'

Grateful Dead: Truckin'
[more free media from this same concert @ the Internet Archive]

Give or take a year, most aficionados (even Deadheads) would probably agree that 1972 marks the high point of the Grateful Dead’s career. Always renowned for their live shows, they toured (western) Europe in 1972, and came out with an album – actually a double/triple album (depending on the medium) - appropriately named  Europe ’72.  

By ’72, the Dead had refined their sound/show. That said, while it was billed as a “live” album, the originally marketed version of Europe ’72 was heavily over-dubbed before it was released. Personally, I don’t think that the dubbing detracts from its value: quality music doesn’t always have to be “pure”- as in “live only” – just so long as it isn’t billed mistakenly. In this case, for a “live” recording, the quality is darn good: they took some quality equipment on tour with them and the studio dub after the tour seems to have enhanced the result. 

Although the band remained quite active, releasing new albums into the 90s, most living members staying and playing together until Garcia’s death in '95, the death of “Pigpen” in 1973 may have been the start of the end. He was an eratic member of the band: kicked out, brought back, and while he was in the band, an integral part: many live shows concluded with what was his "signature" piece: Turn On Your Lovelight

Their music from the period exudes a sense of unity and harmony (both in terms of aural and aura/karma) that goes beyond the vocal harmonies: they sound comfortable and happy. More often than not, they even manage a loose jam that is fairly coherent/cohesive (a major feat, perhaps, considering the reputed extraneous influences).  

Truckin' may have been one of the band's lasting memes: the image on the cover of the band epitomizes the idea: a "cat" moving on- on foot. Originally released on their "American Beauty" album in 1970, the song has been accorded the status of "national treasure" by the Library of Congress.

For more details about the dead, check out one of the best Dead-related online links I have ever seen: http://deadessays.blogspot.com/

European Road Trip: King of Spain

The Tallest Man on Earth: King of Spain
[purchase]

One of the casualties of having children in college, and a mortgage, and a house renovation, and……is that my wife and I haven’t traveled as much as we would like. Now that I have one kid out of college and another heading toward the finish line, maybe that will change. Of course, much of that hinges on the success of my start up law firm, so who knows. One of the most important lessons that I have learned in my half-century plus is that plans are meant to be changed.

So, the European road trip theme is kind of bittersweet, because while there are more than enough possible songs out there that fit the theme, when I try to make it personal, I realize how I would like to have had more such road trips. And I recognize that I am luckier than most, because I have been able to see many of the great sights of Europe, but travel is so wonderful that it is hard ever to be satisfied.

I have previously written about my family’s trip to London back in 2000, when we saw Richard Thompson perform, and I have written twice about our trip to Amsterdam in 2007, when we saw The Decemberists. Now, I’m looking forward to the first week in February, when my wife and I are heading to Barcelona to visit our daughter, who is studying there this year. I’ve even written about a song about someone else’s Spanish vacation (but now I am actually going to get one).

I was last in Spain in 1976, when I was in high school. We got a flyer in class for a meeting for a trip to Spain, and I mentioned it to my mother, not expecting much. The next thing I knew, we were at a meeting, checks were written and shortly thereafter I was on a plane. It was a great trip. Our small contingent was connected with a much larger group of students from different parts of the country. I’m pretty sure the statues of limitations have lapsed on the truly negligent behavior of our chaperones, who looked the other way at rampant underage drinking and fraternization between teenagers with raging hormones. But beyond that, we saw a great deal of the major attractions of the country, from the south to Madrid. Franco had died only the previous year (and remained dead, as we were often reminded by Chevy Chase), and the country was slowly emerging from his oppressive rule. I’ll never forget seeing the Guardia Civil, who were considered instruments of Franco’s tyranny, walking the streets with automatic weapons and their silly three cornered hats. Coming from suburban New York, it was a shock to see this kind of open display of guns, a feeling I didn’t get again until September 11 in New York City.

We never went to Barcelona, which in those days was not the tourist attraction that it became, before the recognition of Catalonian autonomy and the 1992 Summer Olympics. But now, Barcelona is considered one of the must-see cities in Europe, for the sights, the culture and the lively nightlife. I’m looking forward to not only seeing my daughter, but also this great city. In preparation, I’ve been brushing up on my Spanish, using an online site that occasionally has thrown me some odd sentences to translate (“I am in the witness protection program,” for example), and am also trying to pick up some Catalan from another site (which is much harder since I am coming at it without any background).

So, in honor of our impending European road trip, please enjoy “King of Spain,” by The Tallest Man on Earth, who is actually Swede Kristian Matsson and is only about 5’7”. As I previously mentioned in one of my Decemberists pieces, the Dutch are actually the tallest people on Earth. And to add one more connection, my wife and I caught part of a set by The Tallest Man on Earth on an American roadtrip in 2012 to the Newport Folk Festival, but I don’t recall if we heard this song, because it was pouring rain.

In Memoriam: Kevin Ayers and Peter Banks

Soft Machine: We Did it Again [purchase]

Yes: Beyond and Before [purchase]

As we wind down the In Memoriam theme and move on to (I hope) happier discussions, I decided to wedge in another pair of tributes, this time to musicians who played on early albums by prog bands, and then left. In both cases, the bands reached significant popularity after their departure, while the musicians went on to long careers, mostly under the mainstream radar.

Let’s start with Kevin Ayers. Born in England, he was raised in Malaysia, and seemed to have taken a more stereotypical tropical approach to life. An early member of what later became known as the “Canterbury Scene,” he joined the Wilde Flowers, sort of the “mothership” of the scene. The Wilde Flowers split, essentially forming two bands: Caravan and Soft Machine, in which Ayers played bass and guitar, sang and wrote songs. Initially Soft Machine also included Robert Wyatt on drums and vocals, Daevid Allen on guitar and Mike Ratledge on organ. Unfortunately, after some gigs in France, Allen was refused entry back to England, so he stayed in France and formed Gong (which turned out pretty well for him).

As a trio, Soft Machine toured the United States, opening for Jimi Hendrix, a pretty good gig, I’d have to think, and recorded their first album, The Soft Machine in New York. The album, which is as much an odd psychedelic album as it was a proto-prog rock collection, is one of those albums that is considered very influential but is probably rarely played, and that’s too bad. The track featured above, "We Did it Again," was written by Ayers, and he sings lead. You can hear the diverse influences, including blues, psychedelic rock and prog, in the song. Imagine, if you can, hearing it go on for 45 minutes, in 1968, at a concert, especially if you were under the influence. Apparently, it was an almost religious experience.

Later, in 1968, Soft Machine recruited a guitarist named Andy Summers to replace Allen, and he toured with the band on some more American dates, including opening for Hendrix again, before Ayers had Summers fired. Summers, of course, did fine for himself, joining a little trio in 1997 called The Police.  (There must not have been hard feelings between Ayers and Summers, who later played with him).

Ayers, however, decided the touring grind was too much, sold his bass to Noel Redding of Hendrix’s band, and went off to Ibiza to hang out with Daevid Allen. I have to believe that the gentlemen enjoyed themselves pharmacologically, as befit the times, and Ayers wrote a bunch of songs that are featured on his first solo album. Through the next decades, Ayers recorded and toured with a wide variety of musicians, releasing uncategorizable albums that delighted and confounded the music world. Interestingly, one of Ayers longest musical collaborations was with guitarist Ollie Halsall, the mostly uncredited guitarist for the Beatles parody band The Rutles.

Ayers rarely seemed interested in commercial success, and he never had much, due to his musical tastes, laid back personality and, unfortunately, substance abuse issues. In the late 1990s, Ayers reappeared, but it wasn’t until 2007 that he released The Unfairground to critical acclaim and, of course, few sales. He died on February 18, 2013 in France.

Soft Machine, in Ayers’ absence, with a regularly changing cast of members, moved gradually away from psychedelia and prog toward fusion (but generally the interesting kind, especially the fascinating Third album). Allmusic considers them to be one of the more influential bands of their era.

Peter Banks was the first guitarist in Yes, and appeared on their first two albums. Was he a good guitarist? A couple of influential DJs from the BBC refer to him as the “Architect of Progressive Rock.” Gibson Guitar named him as one of the "10 Great Prog Rock Guitarists." So yeah, he was. The song above, "Beyond and Before," is the first song on the first Yes album, and Banks plays the first note, and follows that with some fine playing. So, what happened?

Artistic differences, of course. Yes was formed in mid-1968, and the initial lineup was Banks, Jon Anderson on vocals, Chris Squire on bass, Tony Kaye on keyboards, and my favorite drummer, Bill Bruford. Of course, they needed a name, and after considering Anderson’s suggestion, Life, and Squire’s suggestion, World, they agreed on Yes! (suggested by Banks, and including the exclamation point). They began to perform live, Bruford decided to quit the band and return to university, but luckily was lured back. In 1969, the band recorded and released a self-titled debut album (without the !), consisting of original songs, and two covers. Although the album failed to chart, it received generally positive reviews.

The band began to work on its followup, Time and A Word, but Anderson and Squire wanted to use an orchestra, which was still kind of a radical idea. Banks wasn’t pleased by this in theory, and when he found out that the arrangements were going to pretty much replace him (and Kaye), he became really miffed. The album was released, it did O.K., although there were some negative reviews of the use of the orchestra, the band did a tour, and the disgruntled Banks was given the boot. He was replaced by Steve Howe. (Kaye lasted one more album (The Yes Album, the band’s commercial breakthrough) and tour before being replaced by Rick Wakeman).

After a while supporting others, Banks and Kaye reunited to form Flash, which not surprisingly sounded like Yes and had minimal success in its short life, after which Banks worked as a sideman, appeared on tribute albums and released solo material (check out this one featuring Jan Akkerman of Focus, Phil Collins, John Wetton and Steve Hackett). He wasn’t even part of a Flash reunion in the early 2000s. but toured and released an album in 2006 as part of a band called Harmony in Diversity. He passed away on March 7, 2013.

Of course, Yes went on to enormous fame, with an oft-changing revolving door lineup (that, however, never again included Banks). Their most recent album featured only Squire from the original lineup, and they still tour regularly.

In Memoriam: Donald Byrd

Miles Davis flirted with fusing jazz and funk on his 1972 album On The Corner.  Donald Byrd--who died last February at age 80  - had a full on menage a trois with the two and became one of the most successful jazz crossover artists of the Seventies, beginning with 1973's Black Byrd.



Byrd began his career as a highly sought after trumpeter during the Be Bop era. He played with George Wallington, did his spell with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers ( '55-56). His "Cristo Redentor", from 1963's A New Perspective,  fused jazz and gospel.





By the 70's, after Curtis Mayfield, Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye had proved Soul Music was an art form, Byrd embraced funk. The tunes on Black Byrd have a groove. Some have lyrics. (Marvin Gaye recorded "Where Are We Going?" a year earlier). The result was the Blue Note label's best selling album ever... at least until Norah Jones came along.




While the R and B community embraced Byrd, the jazz world did not. As Byrd said in a 1982 radio interview:

“The jazz people starting eating on me.They had a feast on me for 10 years: ‘He’s sold out.’ Everything that’s bad was attributed to Donald Byrd. I weathered it, and then it became commonplace. Then they found a name for it. They started calling it ‘jazz fusion,’ ‘jazz rock'."




His group made up of Howard University students, The Black Byrds, eventually recorded on their own and had two notable pop hits: "Walking In Rhythm" and "Rock Creek Park". Hip Hop artists sampled his music ( favoring 1975's Places and Spaces over the 1973 album)

But it all started here with Black Byrd.

For a great feel about Byrd's career and a few portable tunes, check out this  Soul Sides.Com's article.

In Memoriam: Storm Thorgerson and Arturo Vega

[purchase The Gathering Storm - The Album Art of Storm Thorgerson]

[purchase the iconic Ramones T-Shirt]

They were both artists, they were both influential in the music world, and they both died in 2013. But Storm Thorgerson and Arturo Vega were also very different, in their lives, in their art and in the music that they were associated with.

Thorgerson was born in England in 1944 and was a friend of Syd Barrett, Roger Waters and David Gilmour. He was a graduate of the University of Leicester and obtained a Master of Arts degree from the Royal College of Art. In 1968, he founded Hipgnosis, a graphic arts company, and Thorgerson and the company designed many of the most iconic album covers of the 1970s and 1980s, regularly for prog rock groups. The cover of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, designed by Thorgerson, is often considered to be the greatest album cover of all time. Thorgerson’s work frequently was surreal, with sharply focused and well lit figures in bizarre or unexpected situations. Back when an album cover was a relatively large surface, Thorgerson’s designs were definitely a lure to record store browsers. And if you were someone who partook of psychedelic substances, they could be looked at for hours in an attempt to unlock their meaning. Or so I have been told.

It would take too long to list all of the incredible covers that Thorgerson had a role in designing and creating, but to list a few (other than most Pink Floyd covers)—Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy and Presence, Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Yes’ Tormato and Going for the One, the first three Peter Gabriel albums, and albums by Renaissance, Brand X. 10cc and The Mars Volta. And I am probably leaving out your favorite. It was not, however, all classic rock or prog—his portfolio included covers for Ian Dury and the Blockheads, The Cranberries, The Cult, Megadeth and The Offspring.

In addition to designing album covers, Thorgerson directed music videos for artists such as Yes, Robert Plant, Pink Floyd and Nik Kershaw.

Thorgerson suffered a stroke in 2003 and later battled cancer, which claimed his life in April, 2013.

Arturo Vega’s career may not have had the same broad scope as Torgerson’s, but his work, primarily for The Ramones, who rejected all of the pomp and excess of many of the bands that hired Torgerson, may well be as influential, and probably sold more t-shirts. But art isn’t a competition (unlike, apparently, cupcakes).

Vega was born in 1947 in Chihuahua, Mexico, but moved to New York in his early 20’s to try and become an artist. New York at that time was not the chain store paradise that it is today, and the early-1970’s music scene that grew out of bands like the Velvet Underground were spawned from grungy, dangerous downtown neighborhoods which are probably remembered more fondly now than they were back then.

While living in a loft in the East Village in 1973, Vega met Douglas Colvin, who complemented the music on Vega’s stereo. Colvin later morphed into Dee Dee Ramone, and Vega became known as the “Fifth Ramone.” In addition to often feeding, housing and supporting the band, Vega was what would now be called a branding consultant. He helped to develop their look, their lighting, and, most of all, designed one of the truly great rock band logos ever. The faux presidential seal, featuring an eagle holding an apple branch (to signify that The Ramones were as American as apple pie) and a baseball bat (in honor of Johnny Ramone’s favorite sport), with a “Hey Ho, Let’s Go” banner in its beak, surrounded by the names of the members, is not only instantly recognizable, it represented a subtle, if unmistakable “fuck you” to the establishment.

Vega claims to have seen all but 2 of the bands 2,200 plus live shows and sold t-shirts with that logo, which helped to support the band when they weren’t selling that many albums or tickets. He continued to sell Ramones shirts and memorabilia, and his logo became a badge of coolness, even with people who weren’t even born when The Ramones broke up. Although Vega worked with other musicians, he will always be identified with The Ramones, and without Vega, The Ramones might never have survived to become a force that changed music forever.

He died, of undisclosed causes, in June.

In Memoriam: Ray Manzarek

 

The Doors: Light My Fire (live)
[Purchase]

Ray Manzarek, the Doors' keyboard player passed away in  May 2013.

Granted, the Doors' lead singer- Jim Morrison - commanded top billing during their heyday; it was Morrison who drew the crowds, but, without Manzarek's keyboard, the Doors would not have been the same. At his passing, his ex-bandmates said, "... there was no keyboard player on the planet more appropriate to support Jim Morrison's words", and "[he was] ... totally in sync with you musically".

Krieger, Densmore and Manzarek individually rarely rank high on today's musicians' lists of <the best>. It's generally as a band that they get the credit they deserve for laying some of the paving stones of today's rock music. Morrison is remembered for his "outre" style/personality; the rest of the band .. for being members of the Doors [right place/right time].

Manzarek - along with Krieger - continued playing after The Doors disbanded. We see him touring/performing until fairly recently: into his 70s. But check out the linked video from '68, where he bangs out a major part of the song on a primitive piano [extra credit points if you can name the keyboard brand?] At this time, Morrison appears not to have not yet hit his "prime/stride" - you can see that he is almost there, but not quite yet. Ray is doing most of the work. Clearly, however, Morrison is showing his (shortlived) potential.

In Memoriam: Charlie Chesterman

The Law: King Size Cigarette  
Scruffy the Cat: My Baby She’s Alright
[purchase a tribute/benefit album]

2013 saw its share of famous musical deaths, with Lou Reed probably considered the most significant. I find it more interesting to highlight some of the lesser known members of the musical community who passed on, and this year, in fact, I’ve already written about two, drummer Joey Covington and singer/songwriter Jason Molina (and I wrote somewhere else about Reed). I have a few ideas, and my schedule will dictate how many of them actually get written.

But I’m going to start with someone who I may have met, who has been in bands with people I knew in college, and whose death most of you probably missed, Charlie Chesterman. Although he lacked broad, mainstream recognition, Chesterman was an influential and respected musician. His obituary in the Boston Globe stated that his “dynamic performances as a singer and guitarist with the roots-rocking Scruffy the Cat were legendary.” Chesterman was a pioneer in that amalgam of punk, garage and roots music that became known as alt-country.

Chesterman was from Iowa, and eventually became the lead singer, guitarist and primary songwriter for The Law, an early punk band that helped to create a central Iowa scene. I’m sure that I never would have heard of The Law, in the pre-Internet era, except for the fact that another member of the band, Kevin Hensley, was a couple of years behind me at Princeton, and was a WPRB DJ and staffer (under the name Billy Disease). Kevin brought The Law to campus to play gigs, and they were raw and fun and put on a great show. I may have met Chesterman during this period, but maybe not, but I was certainly impressed by his talents as a front man. Through Kevin, I own a copy of The Law’s “King Size Cigarette” single, and the “Instant Party” cassette. In researching this piece, I found out that Kevin works at a law firm that I have worked with as co-counsel. Small world.

I have to admit that I pretty much missed out on Chesterman’s next and most well-known band, Scruffy the Cat. At that point, I had graduated from college, and after a year as a paralegal, I went to law school, started working long hours as a Wall Street lawyer and met the woman who is now my wife. It was hard for me to keep up on music in those days in the same way that I did when I was in college. I was, I guess, tangentially aware of the existence of the band, which included two more people I knew in college, Stona Fitch (now a novelist and publisher) and Burns Stansfield (now a minister), but I can’t say I remember hearing them on the radio. But in the mid-1980s they were an integral part of the Boston music scene, and their 1986 EP, High Octane Revived, was the #4 EP in the prestigious Village Voice Pazz & Jop poll. They were probably ahead of their time and never broke through to national popularity.

Following the breakup of Scruffy the Cat, Chesterman formed The Harmony Rockets and Chaz and the Legendary Motorbikes and also performed as a solo act.

Chesterman was diagnosed with cancer, and his popularity in the Boston music community was demonstrated by the way they rallied to raise money for him. There was a Scruffy the Cat reunion show, and the tribute album, which includes contributions from Letters to Cleo and the Young Fresh Fellows, that is linked to above (and which can also be downloaded here). He passed away on November 4, 2013.

IN MEMORIAM: J.J. CALE

Cajun Moon : J.J. Cale
Purchase hint....

I'll freely confess that I first came across ol' JJ through the works of one Clapton, E, Cocaine and After Midnight. I imagine the same would be true of most, but I was lucky enough to have schoolfriends with the pockets to pursue further to source, opening up dusty and windblown originals, exuding faded workwear and a consummate lack of fashion, meaning he was never quite in style. Or out, ploughing a timeless unchanging farrow of bluesy folky choogle over 4 decades, one I was happy to dip in and out of right up until his last release, 2009's Roll With It.

There seems some uncertainty as to even his real name, various stories existing, but it was probably John, initialised to avoid confusion with a certain welsh viola whizz.

Born in 1938, single-handedly he gifted his home town, Tulsa, with it's own identifiable style of music, the Tulsa Sound, most likely played in Tulsa Time, a laid back minimalist shuffle. Having failed to make any name for himself, he was on the verge of quitting when Clapton lifted his songs (and, arguably, one aspect of his own style) from him, on his 1970 recording of After Midnight. Compare it with the original . (Inevitably, there would come times when they would play it together , with this particular clip giving a snippet of each of their thoughts around it.)

Another artist who undoubtedly channels much of the same feel is Mark Knopfler, whom some accuse of basing his entire career on similar mumbled vocals with a singing finger and thumbpicked guitar over a railroad rhythm track. (Sorry, some of you are no doubt ahead of me here, so, for you, here's his version, again with Eric Clapton)
He died, aged 74, of heart failure. R.I. P. JJ, long may your legacy live. After midnight and into every day henceforward..

(P.S. I noticed in my youtube forays that frequent questions are raised as to who the omnipresent female guitarist in his live shows could be? Well, she is Christine Lakeland, his widow, who co-wrote many of his songs. I couldn't find a version of After Midnight by her alone, but the song highlighted in unmistakeably from the same lode.Go search, there are a couple of albums out there.)

Holiday (Modern/Classic) Jinglebell Rock

Tanner Patrick: Jinglebell Rock
[It's at SoundCloud]

I grew up in a household where Christmas music meant Handel’s “Messiah”, played on my dad’s new stereophonic record player back in the ‘60s and we sang it in the choir (and orchestra) he conducted.  Hardly modern.  But … how do you define “modern”? Being of an age where certain folk call me a “dinosaur”, I am sensitive to definitions and interpretations of the term “modern”.
 

Trite as it may be, to me, “modern” Christmas music is unequivocally associated with a late ‘50s rock – no – they say it is rockabilly – hit that has maintained its status/stature as an “all time favorite” [wait a minute – all time since when?] that gets plenty of airplay during the Christmas season: Jinglebell Rock.

Popularized by Bobby Helms in the late ‘50s, we have here a SoundCloud “modern” rendition of Jinglebell Rock by Tanner Patrick, who generously shares (in the Xmas spirit) his efforts. Tanner’s got various online links you can trace to learn more: here is the FB URL: https://www.facebook.com/TheTannerPatrick

Holiday (Modern and Sad): Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

Darlene Love: Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)
[purchase]

If the Band song I wrote about earlier isn’t my favorite holiday song, then maybe “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” is. And I’m not the only one—in 2010, Rolling Stone chose it as the greatest rock and roll Christmas song of all time.

There are many things about this song that are remarkable. First, unlike the Band song, it is a wholly secular song. Yes, it mentions church bells, but it is not about anything religious. It is about the sadness of being separated from one’s love during the holidays. Yet despite its sad message it has become a true Christmas classic because of its exuberance. (There is a totally secular version of the song, titled “Johnny (Baby Please Come Home)” which is perfectly fine, but lacks the extra emotion squeezed out of the holiday setting).

Another remarkable thing about the song is the vocal performance by Darlene Love.  It was written for a Phil Spector produced Christmas album by legendary songwriting team Ellie Greenwich and Jeff Barry, and it was intended for Ronnie Spector. But she reportedly failed to give the song the emotional punch that it needed, and instead, Spector turned to Love, who nailed it. One of the best movies that I saw in 2013 was 20 Feet From Stardom, about the difficulties that face backup singers, including Love. One of the most poignant parts of the film is Love’s story of hearing this song come on the radio while she was cleaning a bathroom in someone else’s house. According to Love, she realized that music was her calling, which the world can be thankful for. Although Love never became a superstar, she became a well-respected singer and actress and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2011.

Love appeared in a revue, Leader of the Pack, featuring Greenwich's songs, which, in its early, pre-Broadway, incarnation, included Paul Shaffer as Spector. This relationship led to Love performing the song on the last pre-Christmas episode of Letterman’s show each year since 1986 (except for 2007, when a writer’s strike resulted in the showing of a rerun of the 2006 performance). Here’s a video from this year’s show featuring the 72-year old Love belting the crap out of the song, with a band of what looks like hundreds.

Not only did Love give an incredible performance on the original, the backing musicians are amazing. Spector’s trademark wall of sound is clearly in evidence, with massed background vocals from The Blossoms, The Crystals and The Ronettes, as well as a teenaged Cher. The band included members of the legendary Wrecking Crew, including drummer Hal Blaine, Leon Russell on piano, guitarist Barney Kessel, along with Sonny Bono on percussion. “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” is one of the most popular holiday songs to cover, by artists as diverse as KT Tunstall, Joey Ramone, Death Cab for Cutie, Jon Bon Jovi, Michael Bublé, Anberlin and Lady Antebellum, to name but a few. Maybe the most famous cover, though, was by U2, which fittingly included Darlene Love as one of the background singers.

HOLIDAY (MODERN): WHITE CHRISTMAS

White Christmas: The Wailers
Purchase link

I love the incongruity of this on so many levels. Firstly the whole idea of snow in Trenchtown seems likely to be counter-intuitive, at least acknowledged within the lyrical change: "not" like the ones I used to know. Secondly, both the song and the pictures of the fresh-faced youngsters seem so far removed from dreadlocked ganga images, being far more akin to early motown with a sloppy ska bluebeat. Thirdly, anything that replaces the cheese of Bing with this happy smile is just fine by me. OK, it was very early in the career of Marley, Bunny Wailer and Peter Tosh, presumably the 3 vocalists, and I dare so that they seldom dragged it out in their later incarnations. Legalise It it ain't. And I'm also tempted to think their elderly aunties could listen to this and muse, disappointedly, on how it all went so wrong!!

There is actually quite a strong tradition of ska-rry eyed yuletide songs in the reggae canon, so I have dug out a couple more. Here is Ding Dong Bell by the Ethiopians and Christmas Day by Barrington Levy . You might note that the youtube publisher for each goes by the monicker of  RastaClaus85 and has put up several others.

Holiday (Modern): Christmas Must Be Tonight

The Band: Christmas Must Be Tonight
[purchase]

So many “modern” original holiday songs are arch or ironic, or are novelties or are overly treacly. To my mind, it is easy to tire of these types of songs, and since the holiday season comes up every year, I appreciate songs with staying power.

I make no bones about the fact that I’m an atheist, and I have discussed here and elsewhere that I was raised Jewish, so it might be surprising that I picked this song to write about. It is a simple, beautiful, low key song with a strong Christian message. Not only that, but I’m willing to bet that no member of my family—who have listened to holiday music with me over the past quarter century plus—would guess that I’d pick this song to write about.

I’m not sure if I should admit to this in public, in a blog where I purport to opine about music, but when I listen to music, lyrics are not as important to me as the overall feel of the song. I suspect that some of that comes from the fact that with many rock songs, you can’t actually understand the lyrics, and when you do, often they are less than stellar. I mean, is “Louie, Louie,” less amazing because the lyrics are impenetrable? And I know that “Stairway to Heaven” still rocks, despite the fact that it exhorts me not to be alarmed by the bustle in my hedgerow, because it is just a spring clean for the May queen. And what exactly is an American aquarium drinker, anyway, Mr. Tweedy? Which is not to say that I don’t appreciate a good lyric, which adds to my enjoyment of pretty much any Richard Thompson or Bruce Springsteen song. Just a few weeks ago, when my son and I saw Lucero, I was struck for the first time by one of Ben Nichols’ lyrics—“It was Texas, it was Tennessee/It was exes and some wannabes.” Not deep, but clever and fun.

Maybe what I like about “Christmas Must Be Tonight,” is that it just sounds like a good Band song. Written by Robbie Robertson with lead vocals by Rick Danko backed by Levon Helm and featuring Garth Hudson’s organ, it works on its own. Robertson wrote it after the birth of his son Sebastian, and it can’t be a coincidence that the song describes how a little baby boy could “bring the people so much joy.” He intended it to be a Christmas single in 1975, but the record company wasn’t interested, so it languished until the Islands album, a collection of unreleased songs and outtakes. When The Band was good, their music had a timelessness to it, and this song fits that mold, with a gravitas that never crosses the line to overly reverent (although I have seen it referred to on another blog as “kitsch.” But what do bloggers know, anyway?). There is a “rehearsal” version that was later released as a bonus track to the Northern Lights, Southern Cross album which is faster and rocks more, and is missing the organ part. It is ordinary. (Robertson also recorded a version for the movie Scrooged with himself on vocals and a synth driven backing track that is really disappointing.)

The Band never performed the song live, but Danko, who coincidentally died 14 years ago today, did at some solo shows, and based on a few versions I’ve heard on the Internet, he played it well. But there is still something about the original version that strikes a chord, and if it doesn’t pop up on my iPod during the holidays, I make sure to throw it on my computer so that I hear it a few times.

Holiday (Modern): Toyland

R.E.M. Toyland

[From the Fan Club Only Single]

   Starting in 1988 R.E.M. rewarded its fan club members with Christmas singles. Some of them contained cover songs originally recorded by such bands as Television ("See No Evil"), The Vibrators ("Baby, Baby") and Flipper ("Sex Bomb"). Most of the time they let bassist Mike Mills handle the vocals, but in 1992 Michael Stipe sang the 1903 nugget "Toyland", popularized by the adorable Doris Day in 1964.

Holiday (Modern): Folsom Prison Christmas

For the past few years, I have been the glad recipient of postings from Santastic. Although the mashup genre may not be your bag, it certainly seems to fit the theme of "modern holiday".

Granted, most music is built on "the shoulders of others" (Isaac Newton), but the Mashup genre brings the style to the fore: take a collection of other people's songs and mash them together to create something new. This is a topic I covered at least once in my own (sadly neglected) blog >> see the right side list, but the subject of mashups deserves a re-visit at this time.

My favorite of the collection this year: banabul.com/muzik/fpc.mp3
It's a mashup of "Mr President" and Johnny Cash called Folsom Prison Christmas

[I suspect you will have to right click copy/download the file even though it is Creative Commons]


See this link for much more of this genre:http://www.christmash.com/

Leftovers (Storytelling): One Time, One Night

Los Lobos: One Time, One Night
[purchase]

Los Lobos deserve to be considered as one of the greatest American rock bands of all time. They deserve to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (and that’s not only my opinion). They deserve to be remembered for a remarkably diverse body of work, and not just for covering “La Bamba.” My wife and I saw them last night at the Tarrytown Music Hall on their 40th!! Anniversary Tour, and they blew us away. (And opener Amy Helm and her band were also incredible).

In 2011, we got tickets to see Los Lobos at the Music Hall, and we were very excited. We had seen them back in 1987, not too long after we started dating, at The Pier in New York. For those who don't remember The Pier, it was an outdoor venue on the Hudson River in Manhattan, near where the Intrepid is now. Every summer, they would set up a stage, a bunch of uncomfortable metal chairs and a few food vendors, and for very little money, there would be great music. I saw so many great shows there, ranging from The Clash and U2 to Miles Davis, King Crimson and Jean-Luc Ponty. I saw Elvis Costello and Pat Metheny. Not to mention Stanley Jordan. At the time, Los Lobos were hot, fresh off the success of “La Bamba,” but my wife and I appreciated their other work. Even better, the opening act was The Smithereens, another great band (but not my daughter’s future a capella group).

The show was great. Both bands rocked, and we had fun. Over the next few years, we really enjoyed what Los Lobos were doing. In addition to exposing us to various forms of Mexican folk music, they also demonstrated their abilities to play rock, blues, jazz, folk and even odd experimental music. And yet, despite the consistently high quality of their music, their popularity decreased from the probably artificial high of the “La Bamba” years.

For whatever reason, it wasn’t until 2011 that we decided to go see Los Lobos again, at the Music Hall, and I know that we were excited. The opening act was blues legend Taj Mahal, and he rocked the place. Then, Los Lobos came out. And they were awful. They were missing their usual drummer.  David Hidalgo, their great vocalist/guitarist/accordion player seemed off his game and the band was lethargic. Maybe it was because it was the opening night of the tour, or because of the personnel issues, but they chose to play a set that was heavy on Spanish language songs and light on their more recognizable numbers (to an Anglo audience, at least). Which is not to say that there weren’t some good moments, but overall, we left disappointed.

Last year, the band returned to the Music Hall to perform one of their best albums, Kiko, in its entirety. We chose not to attend, and, as it turned out, Cesar Rosas, the band’s other main singer and guitarist, was out sick.

But, for some reason, when the Music Hall announced another show, with Amy Helm as the opener, we decided to give them another chance. And they really delivered. Playing a good mix of songs from their entire career, as befits an Anniversary Tour, they seemed to be in sync and having fun. Everyone was there—including their remarkable newish tour drummer, Bugs Gonzalez, who appeared to be having a blast. They ended the first set with an incredible medley—starting with “Dream in Blue” then segueing into a cover of Traffic’s “40,000 Headmen,” complete with flute, which turned into “Maricela,” before morphing into a raucous Spanglish “Más y Más.” For the final encore, they brought out Amy Helm’s band (without Amy, who had joined them earlier in the set for two songs) to replace Gonzalez on drums and Conrad Lozano on bass, and added Helm's incredible guitarist Dan Littleton to the mix for a raucous cover of The Sir Douglas Quintet’s “She’s About a Mover.” Everyone was having fun, and about halfway through the song, Hidalgo put down his guitar and switched into the drum seat.

To me, though, the high point of the night was their version of “One Time, One Night,” which is not only one of my favorite Los Lobos songs, but is one of my favorite songs, period. The wrenchingly sad story of how life doesn’t always work out, even “in the home of the brave [and] this land here of the free,” always affects me. It made me think and actually brought me close to tears.

And in the end, isn’t that what a good story is supposed to do?

SPOKEN WORD: POG AON OIDCHE EARRAICH

POG AON OIDCHE EARRAICH : RUNRIG
Purchase link

I'm feeling a bit stuck in this folkie groove, worried whether I should feel worried. But, do you know what? I don't. This is important. Well, I think so.

This is a song, poem, whatever, about Flora McDonald, and it is in gaelic. It probably neither rocks nor rolls, and has a choir singing on it. What's not to love? Well, try it......

The scottish band, for it is they, have legend similar to that "Scottish Play" that dare not say it's name. To invoke their name can lead, I'm led to believe, to untold harm, yet they plough their 40 year farrow, unabated, give or take an occasional change of character. This song stems from what I consider their classic period, when Donnie Munro was still fronting on blood-curdling vocals, yet he scarcely figures in this, beyond background wails. I find the goose bumps rise inevitable on this, perhaps a result of my hebridean lineage, but I can't but be affected by this piece. When my mother died, several years back, this was the obvious choice of music for her send-off, not least as she was a gaelic-speaking native of Melbost, near Stornoway, on the Isle of Lewis.

This band came from Skye, I understand, another of the hebridean islands, steeped in history, real and invented. It is another world to the one I live in and know, with a poetry and presence at odds with the elsewhere world. I love it. It is my home from reality, a home from home. Fogive my indulgence. Enjoy the song.

LEFTOVERS (DISASTERS): THE GRESFORD DISASTER

Albion Band: Gresford Disaster

Purchase link

No, I am not evoking "Disasters" to equate with my sausage-fingered ramblings, that's your job*, but as a sign of my gratitude to Uberdude Darius for pointing out I could sift through the leavings of years other than this. Clearly I remain somewhat of a newbie in these parts, so the choice offered thereby is immense, with all the posts I wished I could have done, before sneaking up the gangplank, now available. Indeed I may multi-post this fortnight. Be warned.

(*This is as good a time as any to hitch some link to the asterisk, pointing your eyes to the upper right of this page. If you are sick of the same old, same old, jump in and jump on. Could do better? Do it then. Can't be that hard, eh?)

OK, then, disasters...... I love a good disaster, me. No, not really, I am not taking pleasure from the world of natural, but the songsmithery, particularly in days gone by, can really hold the mind and have you there.Bear in mind, before newsprint was ubiquitous, and before video feeding killed it, the broadsheet ballad was how the news was transmitted. None of your tweets and sky news e-mail updates, if it was the top of the moment action you needed to hear about, it was down to the tavern and listen to the troubadour de jour.

Now it is true I am a bit of an unreconstructed folkie. I'm keen on ye olde folke rocke. (You've noticed?) Yeah, yeah, not everybodys cup of tea, and I try to be a little varied. But on this one I can't. This is my favourite long and drawn out dirge ever. The Albion Band were the warhorse of ex-Fairport and ex-Steeleye "Godfather" Ashley Hutchings, a varied compendium of styles and strummers over at least a couple of decades, being sometimes a bijou accoustic quartet, and at others a rumbustuous 11 piece electric storm of modern and medieval mixed. "Rise Up Like the Sun" was, for me, their tour de force, and was produced in 1978. I was also lucky enough to see this incarnation on a couple of occasions, in a London slowly coming to terms with punk rock. 2 drummers, 2 guitarists, keyboards, a horn section (including crumhorns), girlie singers and electric fiddle for starters. And the Albion Morris Men to dance onstage. Perhaps the switch to a smaller and less eclectic line-up was inevitable. The album had numerous guest vocalists,as amply demonstrated within this song, despite already having, in John Tams, one of the soundest traditional and warming voices in the genre. It is him in the later verses, with Martin Carthy, the harshly angular doyen of the male folk vocal style, in the openers. The fiddle is by Ric Sanders, long, long ahead of his part in Fairport Convention. In these days he was contemporaneously in Soft Machine. (Yes, I said Soft Machine) Guitars are Simon Nicol, never that far away from any of his old Fairport cohorts, and Graeme Taylor, late of odd chamber folk outfit, Gryphon. Also tucked into the mix is a certain Phil Pickett, on ancient reeds and brass, the afrementioned crumhorn, curtals and shawms, daylighting from his other job as leader of the New London Consort, a respected orchestra of renaissance musics on original instrumentation. Drums were Michael Gregory and the best drummer in the world, in my humble, the estimable Dave Mattacks. Yes, another deportee from Fairport, but whose session history, from Mary Chapin Carpenter, through Elton John, to Paul McCartney, makes stellar reading. Go see

I implore you to take the time and listen to the whole of the song, even if you find the bare harmonium a bit hymnal, and the vocals a bit too, um, specialist. It builds from this relatively simple beginning, through a Coltrane inspired wah-wah fiddle frenzy, thence into some guitar pyrotechnic, before returning to the baseline (bassline?) melody. I love it. You may not, but give it a try. Surprise yourself. It won't be a disaster. (I should add that, because it is a "long track", the good folk at A***** won't supply it outside the whole LP. Dare you???)

Leftovers (Heart) : I Left My Heart in San Francisco

[Purchase]

It may be Tony Bennett's signature tune, but "I Left My Heart In San Francisco" has been recorded by thousands of artists including Frank Sinatra, Rosemary Clooney, Sammy Davis Jr and William Hung. Most renditions are faithful to the original, which was first sung by Bennett in the famous Venetian Room at the Fairmont Hotel atop Nob Hill in 1961.

But Bobby Womack sped it up and spiced it up with the Southern Soul sound he was cooking up for the classic New Orleans-based Minit Records label. Womack's first two solo albums for Minit, Fly Me To The Moon (1968) and My Prescription (1969) , are fantastic.

As a Bonus: 

Here's The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band's take on the supper club classic.

Leftovers (Resurrection): Golden Boy

The Mountain Goats: Golden Boy
[purchase]

This is one of those songs that inexplicably has grabbed me. If you are not a Mountain Goats fan, please listen to it, and maybe it will grab you, too. Apparently, though, if you are a Mountain Goats fan, “Golden Boy” is considered the “Free Bird” of their prodigious body of work. It is a song about peanuts, and the entire moral structure of society. Both of which are important.

The Mountain Goats started in the early 1990’s as a solo project of John Darnielle, one of the more interesting and productive songwriters around. Much of their/his early work was aggressively low-fidelity—recorded on a boom box with awful sound. Yet, the quality of the songs, and their quirky, yet deep lyrics, based on Darnielle’s twisted view of the world led to a significant cult following. More recently, The Mountain Goats have become a real band, and they have abandoned their lo-fi sound for more conventional production, although their songs continue to be anything but conventional.

“Golden Boy” originally appeared on an EP released in 1998 called Object Lessons: Songs About Products, which included 5 songs by 5 bands (4 of which I have never heard of) about products, including “Grenadine” and “Honeywell Round Thermostat.” It was later included on a Mountain Goats compilation album, Ghana.

The track starts with what appears to be Darnielle telling “Paul” (presumably Paul Lukas, who was behind the Object Lessons EP) that he believes that this take is better than the one he was about to send, because “I have my boots on, which always guarantees a good showing.”

The song then begins with an exhortation to live a good life, and to follow the Golden Rule (do unto others….). This is generally good advice, but in the song, Darnielle does not suggest the moral course because it is the right thing to do, or for a general shot at eternal paradise. No, according to Mr. Darnielle, one should live a good life, specifically so that

When you die 
You’ll find Golden Boy Peanuts 
Waiting in the afterlife for you 

These must be some damn good peanuts.

Further, Darnielle warns about the horrible alternative—

There are no pan-Asian supermarkets down in hell 
So you can't buy Golden Boy Peanuts 

Clearly, the traditional fire and brimstone, ceaseless pain and suffering, etc. are nothing, when compared to spending eternity without a specific brand of Singaporean peanuts, distinguished by a

Drawing of the young Chinese farmer 
The eastern sun behind him smiling at you. 

I can’t really explain the charm of this song, but as someone who finds pretty much anything about religion to be ridiculous, maybe the idea that the reason to live justly is to assure an eternal supply of a particular brand of snack just amuses me.

Leftovers (Fiddles and Violins): Blues Rock Edition

Sugarcane Harris: Where’s My Sunshine

[purchase]

Papa John Creach: Bumble Bee Blues

[purchase]

As the unofficial keeper of Star Maker traditions, I would like to set the record straight on this week‘s theme. Leftovers week is not simply the time to revisit themes from the past year. Any theme we have ever run is fair game. So some of us may choose to revisit themes from the past year, and I may be one of them as the theme continues. But for my first Leftover, I have chosen one of our older themes, from 2010 in this case: Fiddles and Violins.

I am amused whenever I hear the term “jam band“. I grew up in the 1960‘s, and all bands I knew of jammed. It was a badge of honor, and bands that couldn‘t jam well were laughed at. The San Francisco rock bands of the time were famous for it, but so were the British blues rock groups. I can‘t think of Jerry Garcia without thinking of jamming, but Eric Clapton was just as good. It is natural to think of electric guitar players in this context, but there were jammers on other instruments too. The two musicians featured in this post both began their performing careers before jamming was common in popular music. One usually thinks of jam bands as being white, but both of these musicians were black. And both played an instrument that is not usually associated with either jam bands or, especially, with the blues. I’m talking about two fiddlers who achieved fame with rock bands of the 60s and 70s: Don “Sugarcane“ Harris and Papa John Creach.

Sugarcane Harris began his recording career in the mid 1950s as half of the duo Don and Dewey. After the duo broke up, Harris recorded with the likes of John Lee Hooker, Little Richard, and Johnny Otis. By the 60‘s, Harris had come to the notice of Frank Zappa. Harris recorded two albums with the Mothers of Invention, and several more with Zappa. This was followed by a mid-70s gig with a late edition of John Mayall‘s Bluesbreakers. Where‘s My Sunshine comes from a solo gig during the transition from Zappa to Mayall. It is more of an excuse for a jam than a song. But the quality of the jam makes up for that. Harris‘ solos are brief, as this is more of a full band effort, but his playing still shows the adventurousness that would have appealed to Zappa. At the same time, a solid blues foundation, which would have been what attracted Mayall, is also evident.

Papa John Creach began performing in Chicago bars in 1935. Blues as we know it now was still taking shape at that time, and Creach was most likely influenced by the black string bands of the day. Blues fiddlers were far more common in those days. Creach managed to stay in music for the next thirty years, but he never recorded until he met drummer Jon Covington, and became a member of Hot Tuna. Creach would go on to record with Jefferson Starship as well, before finally starting his solo career. Bumble Bee Blues hasan intro that recalls the early roots of Creach’s playing, but it soon turns into a fully plugged in electric blues number. Not surprisingly, Creach’s playing is much closer to traditional blues than Harris’. Together, they offer fine examples of the range of music that “jam bands” were making, long before anyone felt the need for the term.