Fireworks: Naked, If I Want To

Moby Grape: Naked, If I Want To
[purchase]

I was at the gym the other day, trying to distract myself from how much I don’t like being at the gym by thinking about something to write about. And then this song came on my iPod, with its lyrics about “fireworks on the fourth of every single July,” giving me a topic.

Moby Grape. If ever there was a name that immediately brings to mind the psychedelic era, it is Moby Grape. Despite the fact that their self-titled debut album, from which this song comes, is generally considered a masterpiece, and at least one critic has stated that it was better than any album released by their better known temporal and geographic contemporaries the Jefferson Airplane and Grateful Dead, they are all but forgotten today. (But not at Star Maker Machine.)  Unfortunately, if Moby Grape is remembered at all, it is for singer/guitarist Skip Spence’s LSD induced mental illness, or for their failure, for a number of reasons, to ever record a worthy follow up. There’s also an unfortunately all-too-common history of record company bumbling, band strife and litigation, none of which is as interesting as the music.

“Naked, If I Want To” is a short, countryish song, 55 seconds long, written by guitarist/singer Jerry Miller, and it is about the irrationality of certain laws. The band released an electric version of the song on its second album, Wow, but I kind of like the original.

You’d think that such a short song by an overlooked band would be forgotten, and you would be wrong. None other than Robert Plant has covered it:


And Cat Power has done both a slow version:


And a fast version (in which she sounds more than a little like Grace Slick, who joined the Airplane after Spence departed):


In both cases stretching the song out well beyond its original concise confines.

FIREWORKS: BLUE OYSTER CULT

Buy B.O.C.

Well, I thought my limited interest in fireworks may have been dissipated by my sour grape juice, but, lo and behold, I learnt a new thing this week, just in the nick of time.

So.......

Tell me all you know about Darwin Day? (Sorry, that's February 12 and all about Charles.) I meant, of course, Territory Day, which is about Darwin, Australia, and was yesterday, 1st July, and which commemorates the day that the British Commonwealth gave self-rule to the Northern Territories in 1978, which seems somehow astonishingly recent. A big day up (down?) there, celebrated as 'Cracker Day', and seemingly the one day when fireworks may be set off without fear of litigation. Here's an article about this year's celebrations. So how/why do I know all this? Actually courtesy of a message board blog I belong to, the Afterword, the bereft survivors of erstwhile UK mainly music mag, the Word, largely, not exclusively, men of a certain age, sharing the bonds and bondage of music addiction, poor souls. This motley camaraderie is spread worldwide, factions existing as far apart as Oz, Sweden, Thailand and Ohio as well as in Blighty, revealing that the UK is perhaps the premier firework capital of the world, who knew, bangers banging on a nightly basis, with the slaughter of horses thereby a daily occurrence. Whereas Texas, gunworld capital of just about everywhere, comes down ever so hard if that precious powder is wasted on the fripperies of light, sound and magic, except in publicly curated display. Don't believe me? Check it out.

I guess we need a song. Searching long and hard I found one where the lyric seemed to suit the dangers, being apparently all about what happens when a firework explodes in your face. I think. Unless it's allegory. Who care's, it's a catchy Blue Oyster Cult number, from Spectres, 1977. Work it out for yourself.

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Fireworks: My Bloody Valentine

[purchase]

On the 4th of July, fireworks are anticipated and still their sudden shellacking ignites tremors, right before sonic boom and crack blooms into flowery light. The first time I heard My Bloody Valentine's "Only Shallow" was like being assaulted unsuspectingly with fireworks. Pounding snare into crashing wave of dense guitar, whammied into horrific bluesy afterglow. Viscous honey-sweet vocals are spread in the mix rather than forced on top. 

MBV is called shoe gaze due to their shy, frozen live performance style, but sonically and visually, their style is more like Stargaze. The groundbreaking Dublin group's Loveless (1991) must be listened to all the way through. And turn it way up. For ultimate firework effect, close your eyes and let the imagery unfold.  Although the guitarist and chief writer Kevin Shields was too fastidious to put the final touches on a new album until 2013, they did do a few shows to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Loveless. Earplugs were handed out at the doors. At the Roundhouse show in London, I counted three people collapsing to the ground, hands covering their ears in the first 10 seconds.


California's Medicine was another shoegaze band with equal amounts psychedelia and creative use of distortion. Their music is a wedding of ugly and beautiful. On stage, they're the same: members of an Otto Dix painting, although there is physical beauty behind the grotesque. In Minneapolis, 2001, during a 15-minute version of "The Pink", the gaunt drummer beckoned a cleanly-dressed young girl on stage, just curling his finger creepily. After two minutes she went up. He put his hand on her neck and pulled her into wide-mouthed French kiss. 30 seconds. Snare still snapping. Black, red, dark purple fireworks.

courtesy of JB (who should be doing his own thing here soon)

Fireworks: The Fourth of July

X: The Fourth of July

purchase 

LA Punks, country troubadours, rockabilly guitars, deeply rooted Americana rock. X had it all covered. 

X were ahead of their time, firmly planted in punk, but expanding deep into what we now all alt-country. They were the sound of Los Angeles for a while, but their expressive, off-centered sound had a broad appeal. See How We Are is a ready-made prose poem, filled with images of stories you know and might have told about yourself.

Founder and co-leader, Jon Doe is a bit of a renaissance man—actor, singer, poet of the miseries of life. And he’s never been better than on their break though masterpiece, 1987’s See How We Are.

“The Fourth of July” is a song about dissolution and loneliness . Doe’s protagonist tells of a relationship that is fading fast but he still clings to what they had. He says he has no idea what’s wrong, but offers a full, blanket apology for whatever he’s done. It’s dark melodrama, but he uses the 4^th of July motif as a way to say, whatever’s wrong, let’s forget about it for tonight and celebrate. The Mexican kids shooting fireworks below don’t care what’s happened, and really, why should they, and why should we, for that matter?

Fireworks in the air; the summer is still young; you should be drunk and celebrating late into the night like there really isn’t anything serious to worry about. The 4^th of July is one of those kinds of holidays where everything should be golden and horizons untroubled. It’s always been one of the best days of any year for me.  X’s take on the day might be wrapped around a tearful little lament, but it sounds great—chiming, Leslied guitars, reverbed-out drums, Exene Cervenka’s gospel-glorious backing vox.

X started much different than what they ended up as, trading trashy, rifle-shot punk tunes for something much more rock ‘n roll, full of the traditional soaring choruses, strutting and twanging guitars , always with a hint of rockabilly reverb, and Doe’s low drone playing off Cervenka’s beautiful and sharp howl. They never lost the sharp edges, but X did lots of sounds well, and to me, that’s as punk as you get—doing it the way you want to, disdaining labels and just playing it out as loud, fast and hard as you can.

 

Fireworks: Green Eyes and a Heart of Gold

The Lone Bellow: Green Eyes and a Heart of Gold
[purchase]

Most of the time, I’ve been posting at least twice to each theme, in part because I enjoy writing these things, and in part because the blog needs content. After my first post on the Reunion theme, I decided to wait until after I attended the Clearwater Festival to see whether something would spark a second post on that theme (like when Patterson Hood and Jason Isbell played together a couple of years ago). Unfortunately, I miscalculated, the theme ended between the two days of the festival, and here we are in the Fireworks theme. Which is kind of too bad, because, as it turns out, I actually found a few Reunion ideas over the weekend, starting with the fact that I spent Saturday listening to music with my wife, my sister and a cousin, sort of a reunion in and of itself, and Sunday, I got to hear old friends Lucy Kaplansky and Richard Shindell, who recently had a bit of a reunion themselves with their recent cover album as The Pine Hill Project. And after a crazy rain squall interrupted their set, on a stage hard by the Hudson River, they returned to play some of their solo work, including Kaplansky’s great, personal song entitled, yes, “Reunion.”

But I blew it, and now I have to write about Fireworks. I like fireworks. But they have to be serious fireworks—not the small town, shoot off a few blasts before ending with a nice finale type that they had for many years where I live (although they have been improving lately). No, I’m talking about the kind of fireworks that fill the sky with colored lights and make your stomach hurt from the booms.

I have a few fireworks memories, and at the risk of leaving myself without a second post subject, here are some of them, in rough chronological order.

After my junior year in college, my roommates Neal and Jon and I went to Europe. We were in Paris one evening, in Montmartre, when a crowd started to gather in front of the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. We had no idea what was going on, and since none of us spoke French, if there were any posted signs, we were clueless. Eventually, someone told us that there would be fireworks that evening, for a midsummer celebration. They were pretty great fireworks, especially because they were set off directly over the crowd. The consequences of that decision were apparently not considered, because flaming paper and debris began to fall over us, which was kind of scary. I don’t think they do it that way anymore.

I remember going to Shea Stadium in the 1980s, when the Mets were, as usual, bad, and Fireworks Night meant a rare full house. (Now, they do more than one, which just seems excessive). I remember sitting way up in the upper deck a few times for the excellent pyrotechnics. There was this guy who sat up there, a heavy guy with a thick beard known as “Fuzzy,” who insisted that the airplanes that flew over Shea were “taking a big risk” flying over the stadium as the fireworks were exploding. Fuzzy was, clearly, an idiot. However, to this day, I insist on repeating “They’re taking a big risk” every time I see a plane fly overhead during a fireworks display.

Also Mets related is my third story--I was going to watch the Fourth of July fireworks on the East River from the roof of my friend Joe’s apartment building in 1985. I remember it being quite a wild party, but even more memorable than the fine display in the sky were the fireworks at the Mets/Braves game that night in Atlanta, which we followed during the night and into the early morning. Often considered one of the craziest games ever, it went 19 innings and ended at 4 a.m. The Mets were winning 7-4 going into the 8th inning. The Braves went up 8-7 in the bottom of the 8th, and due to two long rain delays, it was near midnight when the 9th inning started. It was Fireworks Night in Atlanta, but most of the fans left, assuming that they would be cancelled due to the length of the game. The Mets tied the game up in the 9th, and it went to extra innings. The Mets scored 2 in the 13th, and the Braves tied it up again. It dragged on the 18th, and the Mets took the lead. The Braves were down to their last player, Rick Camp, a relief pitcher who was an awful hitter. Of course, he hit the only home run of his career to tie it. But in the top of the 19th, the Mets plated 5. The Braves answered back with 2 more, and the tying run at the plate was Camp. He struck out to end the game, and at 4 a.m., the Braves shot off their fireworks, scaring their neighbors.

The following year, 1986, was the centennial celebration of the Statue of Liberty, and New York threw an enormous party. There were speeches, concerts, Tall Ships, and what was, until that time, the largest fireworks display ever in the world. I remember that it was hot, crowded, and that the fireworks were spectacular. I also remember that somehow, no one seemed to realize that the subway would be mobbed immediately after the fireworks ended, and we all moved slowly, trying to stay together, as we were herded toward the few open entrances. I remember that the train thankfully was air conditioned, and that it was so crowded on the trains that strangers sat on people’s laps to squeeze more bodies onto the cars.

My son was born in April, 1990, and I think that it was in 1991 that my wife and I thought that it would be a good idea to take him to the Fourth of July fireworks. We started by going to a barbecue restaurant on the Upper West Side, then took the subway, with Adam in his stroller, downtown, then walked over to the East River to watch. Almost immediately after they started, the kid understandably got scared and started to cry. We decided to leave and take a cab home. Of course, the traffic was crazy, and we were stopping and starting all the way home. As we got sort of close to our apartment, Adam threw up in the cab, which did not make us popular with the driver. We finally got home, threw the kid in the bath to clean of the vomit, then cleaned ourselves off. My wife still, nearly a quarter of a century later, wrongly believes that this incident demonstrated bad parenting. I think it was just a well-intentioned mistake that had no lasting negative effect on the boy, who seems to like fireworks just fine.

Finally, starting in 1996, to celebrate the university’s 250th anniversary, Princeton began to have a fireworks show during Reunions (yep, I came back to that theme anyway). The following year, at my 15th Reunion, we saw the display, which was pretty incredible. In a flashback to my Montmartre experience, flaming debris landed in some dry grass and a brush fire started, which was quickly extinguished. The Reunions fireworks continue to impress (we saw it again at the 20th, 25th and 30th). The picture above, though, is by my friend and classmate Noel Valero, from this year’s show, and it won the reader photography competition sponsored by the Princeton Alumni Weekly. (One of my wife’s pictures from Reunions, of a little baby, was chosen as an editor’s favorite.)

And while we are bringing things full circle, back to Clearwater. On Sunday, I arrived late after coaching a youth soccer game (my boys scored three at the end to win 3-2, a heck of a way to end a season), and was confronted with a choice. Toshi Reagon, who in some ways embodies the festival as much as anyone—the daughter of Freedom Singers and civil rights activists Bernice Johnson Reagon and Cordell Hull Reagon, the goddaughter of festival founder Pete Seeger and named after Pete’s wife, she is also a political and lesbian activist and a kick-ass performer. Or The Lone Bellow, one of my favorite new Americana bands. My wife chose Toshi, and I went for the Lone Bellow, on the theory that Toshi is likely to be there next year, but I wasn’t sure that The Lone Bellow would. They really put on a great set, although it was distractingly hot. And they sang this song, which mentions New York Fourth of July fireworks, and the subway. If it only mentioned Reunions, Paris and the Mets, it really would have tied everything together, but you can’t have everything.

FIREWORKS: INDOOR FIREWORKS

Buy Costello,

Buy Cantrell or just buy indoor fireworks.

Not being a Yank I find it difficult associating fireworks with a summery and bright night sky, my sympathies lying more with Aimee Mann, in her wonderful 4th of July "celebration", a waste of both gunpowder and sky. But I am here to be no party-pooper. I guess I could post some wintery pyromania, to utilise our own UK-centric firework feast, commemorating the day one Guido 'Guy' Fawkes failed to blow up the Houses of Parliament, remaining a hero to this day, more, I feel, for his intent than its thwarting. (Given I was raised in Lewes, near the south-east coast of England, where this achieves some notoriety and fame; remind me nearer the time and I will.)

So my fireworks today are arguably tamer, being of the indoor variety. And you can indeed get such a thing once more, a throw back to simpler times, aka pre-HBO box sets. Deemed safe and sedate, it is hard to see the attraction now. However, back in 1986, Elvis Costello penned my featured song, the lyrics of which contain their evident danger, albeit by way of allegory, below in solo demo starkness:

Undoubtedly one of his finest, or, to detractors, finer lyrical outlays, the conveyed poignancy suits the less frantic setting, the Attractions laid off, by and large, at this stage of his career, replaced by the Confederates, an amalgam of some of the cream of U.S. session men. Here's the studio version, to demonstrate that claim.

Costello has arguably been too wordy and, possibly, too misogynistic to attract as many covers as similarly prolific writers. (Or, decent covers, let's say, as no shortage of karaoke kopyists, spitting his words out in ever more faint mimeograph.) But there are some artists who can catch his drift, intriguingly often female. Laura Cantrell, (yet another) favourite of late UK DJ provocateur John Peel, so possibly even better known in my country than in her own, succeeds with ease and aplomb, wreaking yet more angst in her mournful, keening delivery. Astonishingly, not on YouTube, so I had to make my own, with apologies for the less than galling vid. 

If only for completeness, eternal/occasional E.C. buddy, Nick Lowe covers it as well, his way, with a good deal less charm.

Finally for those who are intrigued by Ms Cantrell covering Costello, here's the logical next step. the pair together, covering James Taylor:

Personally, I find it a bit of a firework itself!

fireworks: U2/Promenade

U2: Promenade
purchase [promenade]

Yes, the fourth is still a few days away, but the upcoming celebration was a part of the thought behind our current theme of fireworks. July 4th ... there may be reunion somewhere in your fireworks, but I'll make no further attempt at a conceit/an effort to combine these two themes. Just a fire-related thought or two to get us rolling ...

Things in the sky above use are naturally spacy (as in ether = air?). You look up. You see the stars. You see lights. You see beyond.  And it's often even more awesome/beautiful when there are human-made colors and lights above your head. For example, airplanes, satellites and fireworks.

This is one of those songs that embodies the qualities of the air/the sky: As in the lyrics, as in the stars above - there is a spiral to the guitar, to the music. The song makes use of a repetition that seems to embody the motion of the stars, to lights in the sky: to the continuity of "earth, sky, sea and rain". To me, it calls to mind the roman candles of its lyrics, lights that spiral and spin through the heavens and enthrall us from below.

For some reason, this song also called to mind a realization that there is a similar effect in Midnight Mile off of Sticky Fingers - part of it is that guitar, part of it is the vocal style and part of it is the ethereal lyrics. Cf:

Reunions: Come Together

Beatles: Come Together
[purchase Come Together tribute mp3]

Perhaps the greatest rock reunion that could have been but never did happen was the Beatles. I wonder what was “going on in their minds” as the Beatles came up with Get Together. By all accounts, they were pretty far from getting together (although individually, they may have been getting their s*#! together at that point in time)

The Beatles as a group dissolved at the height of their career (what better way to go out?) But, as we now know, there is much, much more behind what was visible on the surface.

That said, in the early 70s, there was hope that the Beatles would get together at least one more time. The Concert for Bangladesh … partial participation. And then McCartney going solo with and “Band on the Run” and John Lennon’s solo projects … sort of put an end to it.

 

10 years ago, I fortuitously caught the early days of a project titled “The Beatles complete on Ukelele”, during which period, Roger Greenawalt deemed it the right thing to do to give away every song in their project to cover the entire Beatles collection – provided the cover included a ukulele. I dutifully/religiously collected them all – visiting the website more or less every week to get the most recent addition. The project included many no-names, and a  few knowns. Some really good, some not so good. Regretfully, they turned the project into a monetized endeavor after about 2 years.

The Beatles are not going to rise from their graves and perform a reunion concert, so in its place …

Alternatively, from the "uke" project:
http://thebeatlescompleteonukulele.bandcamp.com/track/come-together-kirsty-rock

REUNIONS: THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

I should here state I generally, to my shame, disapprove of the idea of Thin Lizzy, their cocky swagger always offending my carefully nurtured metrosexuality. Yet, dammit, the songs are so catchy and the twin guitars so darn effective, pop it on the playlist and I'm there, singing along and air-guitaring like a good'un. And I hate them for that. And love 'em, all the more with the doomed 'romance' of an early death, that crazy plus factor in the madness of rock and roll.

Wide boys out on the town is a recurring theme in Lynott lyricism, from Jailbreak to simply wild nights out on the lash. What group of drink-fueled youths cannot fail to feel the bigger and better for an anthem celebrating their empty celebrations of optimistic and all too often dashed hopes? When all there is left after the swagger and the bluster is the camaraderie of going home alone.

Phil Lynott seems to me the archetypal "lad," perhaps having to big his way in 60's/70s Dublin, where his background and complexion may have insisted on a rebel stance, otherwise facing an ostracism from the Irish Catholic orthodoxy and conservatism. Maybe he embraced that outlaw chic too hard, but it worked, it worked. Until.

The song was originally on the Jailbreak album in 1976, and was the lead single and opener for side 2 of the LP. Reaching 12 in the US charts and 8 in the UK, it was a resounding 1 at home in Ireland, being named, just, within the original Rolling Stone best 500 songs. (499) Another accolade came later, when British music magazine Q placed it 38 in the 2005 list of best ever guitar tracks, as the song is undoubtedly propelled by its dual riffing, adding verve to its already spunky vocal delivery.

Catnip for any band wanting to show off an edgy gang mentality, even if ironic, there have been a number of covers, notably the Happy Mondays and Bon Jovi . For all that, my favourite version is that by Sofia, on 'Search and Destroy, a Punk Lounge Experience,' in 2008, which transforms the song into the perspective of a maybe wistful witness, perhaps one of the the hideously dated "chicks" in the lyric.
Guilty pleasures abound.
Enjoy!

Reunions: Mother-In-Law

Rockin’ Dopsie, Jr.: Mother-In-Law [purchase]

It’s too bad that the Reunion theme didn’t follow the Wedding theme, but I’m actually going to work in both of those, plus the Water/Wet theme that snuck in between them.

A couple of weeks ago, I attended part of my 33rd college reunion. Although not a major reunion, a hardy group of my classmates were there, some because their kids were graduating, others to march in the alumni parade (the “P-Rade”) with their parents or grandparents or spouses who were celebrating major reunions, and others, like me, just for the hell of it. I’ve written before about my 30th and 31st reunion, so I won’t get too deep into it, but what is fun about showing up at “off year” reunions is that you get to talk with classmates who you might not at a major reunion, because everyone spends time with their closest friends. And, you get to see friends from other classes, especially the ones celebrating their major reunions.

Then, last weekend, my wife and I went to a wedding in New Orleans of the daughter of one of my wife’s college friends. Including my wife and the mother of the bride, there were 8 Smith classmates in attendance (and a few other Smithies from other classes, too). So, it was a different kind of reunion, because all of them were friendly in college. In the nearly 35 years since graduation, each of them had stayed in touch with each other, to different degrees. As an outside observer, it was interesting to see how they sort of fell back into behavior patterns that I bet were similar to when they were in college.

It was a fun time. We had some good food and times with her friends, and explored New Orleans, a city that neither my wife nor I had been to (not counting my overnight business trip to Metarie). We wandered and toured some of the city, learned some history, ate well, and saw great music, from the Cajun/Zydeco Festival in Louis Armstrong Park, at Preservation Hall, to incredible street musicians at Jackson Square and on Royal Street, and in a bar on Frenchmen Street.

The wedding was fun, too. The reason that the wedding was in New Orleans was that the bride and groom were both medical students at Tulane and were going to be doing their residency there. Almost none of the guests were from the Crescent City, and the families decided to make the weekend a celebration of the city. There was a crawfish boil (with pulled pork sliders available for the non-seafood eaters, like me). We had cocktails at the elegant Windsor Court Hotel. After the ceremony, we second lined behind the Kinfolk Brass Band to dinner at Antoine’s, the oldest family run restaurant in the country, for French-Creole food. After dinner, we danced to the zydeco flavored music of Rockin’ Dopsie, Jr. & The Zydeco Twisters, who virtually blew the roof off the place. And the following morning, we had lunch at local landmark Dat Dog.

Rockin’ Dopsie, Jr. is the son of the legendary Rockin’ Dopsie, and took over the band when his father died. They said they had never played a wedding before, and that’s too bad, because they were, probably, the best wedding band I’ve ever heard. They mix in classic cajun/zydeco music with soul, blues, rock and funk, with an incredible energy that had elderly women standing on chairs, and reluctant dancers (me!), boogieing away (after a fashion). Now, we left before they finished, so I have no idea if they played the featured song, a cover of a classic written by the great Allen Toussaint and made famous by Ernie K-Doe, who lived off the song, and its fame, the rest of his life, including as the owner of the Mother-In-Law Lounge, now owned by more recent New Orleans musical icon Kermit Ruffins.

I needed a way to tie the Reunion theme to the wedding weekend, and I wanted to use a Rockin’ Dopsie, Jr. song, and this one seemed to be the best choice, based on the title alone. But the lyrics are about a very bad mother-in-law. Very, very bad. So, I don’t want to look unkind, or unappreciative of the generosity of our hosts and all that went into making the weekend so memorable and fun. Therefore, I want to make it abundantly clear that I know that my wife’s friend, who is a truly wonderful person, and the mother of the groom, who I met and who seems like a great woman, will be the exact opposite type of mother-in-law to the one that the song discusses. I repeat—they will NOT be like the mother-in-law in the song. And let me also make it clear that I have a great mother-in-law, too (who recently celebrated her 60th college reunion).  My wife would also like to close the loop by stating that she, also, has a great mother-in-law.

I promised that I would also tie in the Water/Wet theme. Of course, New Orleans sits astride the Mississippi River, is bordered by Lake Pontchartrain, sits in great part on land reclaimed from swamps, is crisscrossed by canals and bayous, and, of course, was memorably and tragically flooded by the effects of Hurricane Katrina (amplified by some bad human decisions). So it is hard not to think about water when you are in the city. And, on our way to the airport to leave, it started to pour rain. There, I did it.

reunions: mother and child reunion

 

Paul Simon: Mother and Child Reunion
[purchase mp3]



Moving from "Wet" to "Reunion" with this piece.  Here is Paul Simon  (and Art Garfunkel) doing some slipping and sliding.

Within the last week or so several news sources have referenced interview/comments from Art Garfunkel that make a new Simon and Garfunkel reunion seem even more unlikely that it might have already been. Granted, the duo split (after what was known as a difficult relationship) back in 1970 ... but they wouldn't have been the first to get together again for a reunion that would likely prove profitable. They did get together off and on several times over the years - never comfortably, it appears.

After 1970, each pursued solo careers. Garfunkel gravitated more towards film while Simon focused more on the music. 1972's <Paul Simon> album was well received/sold pretty well. Garfunkel - solo -wasn't as successful.

Getting back together off and on, together they managed >My Little Town> in the mid 70s and a couple of memory lane concerts afterwards.

Paul Simon, on the other hand, put out solos albums in 72, 73, 74, 75 ... that included major hits such as Me and Julio Down in the Schoolyard, Kodachrome, Loves Me Like a Rock, Still Crazy After All These Years, and - of course - Mother and Child Reunion.
 

Wet/Water: Energy Orchard's Sailortown

Wet/Water: Energy Orchard's "Sailortown"
Purchase

So much to say about this band that hasn't been said. Where to begin? Hailing from Belfast, they scored a criminally semi-hit with their track "Belfast" from the 1990 eponymous debut.
Led by Bap Kennedy (brother of the famous pop vocalist, Brian Kennedy), lifted and sent gloriously soaring by the lead guitar work of Paul Toner, Energy Orchard were one of those bands that probably (unfairly) got their shot at a major deal because: Irish. And because: U2. But they deserved better. Much better.

Their first album has been in my regular rotation since 1990, not only for the allegiance it pays to it musical predecessors, Van Morrison being the obvious comparison, but also because it is a collection of rock songs so solid, so perfectly played, so gloriously about the emotional lift that only rock music can bring, as to be timeless. Kennedy's vocals and themes are full of longing and hope; the music rises in hopeful crescendos, a spiritual and strange sort of aching that transcended the limited '90s studio production of gilded keyboard and polished glitz. The best songs on their first album smolder, then blaze like church hymns. The Celtic roots are unavoidable, both because of geographical origins, but also because there is something of that rollicking Irish pub sing-around that sits at the heart of this music. But, like all great bands, Energy Orchard kept that original idealism and took it well beyond the limits of genre.

Energy Orchard went on to put out three more albums (Stop the Machine, Shinola, and Painkiller) as well as double disc live set called Orchardville. The live set burns with a vibrant, ripping energy that never quite came across on the studio stuff, but one senses that labels and producers might have had more to say about that than the band did. It always seemed to me that Energy Orchard, left on their own, would have been much more of the amazing band they were, but also a truly influential rock band. I suspect there was always some meddling prat in their midst, pushing for radio-friendly pop songs. And if you recall early to mid-'90s pop radio, you might forgive the band for only making four albums.

The amazing potential the Energy Orchard had, however, is evident in Bap Kennedy's solo career. An incredible country singer, he's worked with the likes of Steve Earle, and his catalog, which includes a stunning album-length tribute to Hiram King Williams, Hill Billy Shakespeare ( you know him as Hank), is as stellar and legit as anything you'd label as 'real country'.  (Domestic Blues and Lonely Street are amazing, too among others.) Kennedy's still producing albums, including last year's Let's Start Again.

I went to Belfast a few years ago, and listened to Bap's solo stuff, as well as all of the Energy Orchard albums--it was something I always wanted to do: connect the place the music came from, see if the connection of place matched the emotional connection Bap's music had always made with me. It was a good experience, and I couldn't help feeling a little like the protagonist of "Sailortown", their other big hit and one the greatest songs  ever recorded about youth and all it's mysteries and how they can be figured out by escaping, out to sea, through the bottle, in the arms of love. It's a sad song, with an incredibly redemptive sense of celebrating even the darkest of our days.

...I can't sit still, too much on my mind.
Gotta get outta this place, while I'm
Still young and alive.

I'll go walking down to Sailortown,
And I look out to the sea.
When them big ships come sailing in,
Maybe this one's for me.

I've belted out "Sailortown" many a night when I felt the same way. I belted it out in Belfast that night, too, drunk on more than beer and whiskey. The power of great music: even the inherently sad songs, when played with the right kind of guts, can lift you. "Sailortown" has always made me think that no matter what, as long as I had a song (and perhaps a drink or two), I'd get to stay 'young and alive', too...

Sailortown, live :

 and studio:

And, a bonus track, just so you can get an idea of that gospel-true soaring takeoff and comedown these guys did so well, an incredible version of "Hard Street":

WATER/WET: CALIFORNIA, THE BEACH BOYS

Too obvious, huh? Well, yes and no, especially when the whole vast lexicon of Beach Boys songs that reference water, waves and Waikiki Beach is out there, so why this one? (Waikiki Beach? OK, made that up, but I bet there is one, maybe in the lyric of "Surfin' USA"? Answer: No!). Let me explain, at this time period, early 70s, this was when I suddenly re-got the Beach Boys. No longer lame dudes in candy stripe shirts, this was now a bona-fide band of beats, beards aplenty, sort of Charles Manson meets Paul Revere & the Raiders. Yup, sure the Manson reference is tasteless, but Dennis (R.I.P.) was part of that whole sad and sorry tale. The above image is taken from the very excellent 'Rock Dreams', by artist Guy Peellaert and writer Nik Cohn. Cohn, a longterm fan and "critical friend" of the band and their ouput, aptly contrasts their then world-weariness with the, by now, lost youthful innocence of before. (Lord only knows of what he makes of the currently still touring travesty helmed by Mike Love, but that's another story....)

Anyhow, this is about me and the music. Between 1970 and 1975 I was at what you might call high school, gauche and gawky, trying to find my way in the bitterly divisive cliques of music aficionados. I had decided I was not a full blown heavy rocker: this was the era of Deep Purple, Black Sabbath and the like. Quite keen on E.L.P and, less so, Yes, I felt I needed something a bit different. Luckily one of my chums was the son of a diplomat, spending school holidays in exotic climes, a.k.a. the US of A. He drew my attention to the likes of the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield and I was hooked. He also had a copy of the Beach Boys Live from 1973. The gatefold sleeve was enough for me, the band looking more like the Dead than the Dead: I just loved the way the cleancut popstars could have decayed so wonderfully. Hell, there were even a couple of black guys in the line-up. Of course, the music was still there, new songs mingling with all the classics, all the more exotic to hear those pristine harmonies emanating from these grizzled mouths. My own backward foraging led me to Holland, the LP not the country, although that was where they cut it. Still my favourite, above Pet Sounds, above Surf's Up. From the funky tropes of "The Trader" and "Leaving this Town," to the mystical triad of "Californian Saga," this hit all my spots. (Maybe not "Funky Pretty," in hindsight.) My titular track, is the 3rd part of "Californian Saga," and is a simultaneous flashback to 60s Beach Boys, with echoes of "California Girls," yet umphed into the 70s by a rather more muscular beat and quirky instrumentation. No surprise that it became a big hit, as a single, in the UK, though I bet the publicity showed more of the band then, as was, rather than their shaggy doppelgangers. Love it, love it, love it. Still do.

Buy the song
Buy Holland or Live
Buy Rock Dreams

Water: Water Song/Hot Tuna

Hot Tuna: Water Song
[purchase Water Song from Burgers]

Water: at the same time powerful and soft. It flows gently around your toes and ankles at the beach. It roars, surges and tears apart the largest, strongest edifice that man can build.

The therapeutic value of music is more or less established: you know, "music soothes the savage beast".

In fact, early practitioners of the art of medicine made use of the sound of water to heal the ill: there is plentiful archaelogical evidence that doctors at the ancient Greek city of Pergamon (Bergama) made use of the sound of running water to heal their patients. The Pergamon ascelepium (various spellings) was a medical center designed so that ran water past the hospital rooms.

G.F. Handel gave it a try back in 1717. Handel's <Wassermusik> flows almost like water - but that is easier accomplished with classical music and acoustic instruments than with electro-rock (not to detract from Handel's composition skills: and it's not just Wassermusic that flows like water - listen to the Messiah, and it's like listening to water therapy.)

Incorporating the sound of water in rock music is no mean feat. Yes, rock/music can soothe the soul, but the pump and beat of rock almost defies the relaxation that the sound of water signifies: imagine waves quietly lapping the shore of your summer retreat. Now imagine the sound of the Jefferson Airplane. Doesn't quite match up.

However, Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Cassady of the Jefferson Airplane came pretty close to conveying the sound and emotion on Water Song from their 3rd Hot Tuna album, 1972's Burgers.

There's a ripple to the notes. There's the rolling repetition of Kaukonen's finger picking style that makes the music come close to the sound of water. I loved it back then and am even more impressed to see this version, when the gentlemen are in their 70s and still going strong.

Let it flow.

Wet/Water: Cool Water

Joni Mitchell (with Willie Nelson): Cool Water
[purchase]
Sometimes a set of lyrics can change meanings depending on who sings them. On the surface, "Cool Water" is a simple enough song, about a thirsty man who sees a mirage in the dessert. (Old Dan, by the way, is his mule). But as I listened to the original version of the song by the Sons of the Pioneers, I was struck by a religious subtext, in which the song becomes a battle for the man‘s soul between the devil and God. In this interpretation, the poisoned water represents sin, while the clear water is the promise of Heaven. Joni Mitchell made minor changes to the lyrics for her recording in 1988, mostly to make the rhythm work for the way she wanted to sing the song. But this is Joni Mitchell, so the song, for me at least, still has a spiritual dimension, but now it is about environmentalism. Joni Mitchell rarely covered other people‘s songs, and this is the only time the meaning of the song changed. "Centerpiece," when bracketed by "Harry‘s House," became more bittersweet, but still expressed a yearning for perfect love. "Twisted" remained joyfully intact. "You‘re So Square" may not have been Mitchell’s finest interpretation, but the meaning of the song did not change. And "Unchained Melody" should be regarded as more of a reference than a cover, since Mitchell only used the chorus.

Water/Wet: Dirty Water

The Inmates: Dirty Water
[purchase]

Over at my other blogging home, we periodically contribute to “Q&As,” where the editor poses a question, and the staff responds. One of the questions was, “What was a song that you didn’t know was a cover?” and I wrote about Johnny Cash’s version of “Ring of Fire.” Back in the pre-Internet days, it was not always easy to learn musical factoids like whether a song was a cover or not, especially if it was a relatively obscure song. Unless you heard the original, or heard a radio DJ mention it, you had to rely on word of mouth, or reading something in a magazine or book. Seems pretty damn quaint, doesn’t it?

As I have mentioned before, starting to work at WPRB in 1979 was not only a huge thing in my musical life, but has influenced my whole life. And having access to the massive, somewhat annotated, record library, and other musical obsessives to talk about music with definitely increased my musical knowledge, but there were, and still are, many gaps.

When I first heard the Inmates’ song, “Dirty Water” when it was released in 1979, I immediately liked its raw energy. It was clearly a retro-garage band sound, with a bit of early Stones, and it was, it seemed, about the dirty water of the Thames and London. I remember playing it pretty often, never once mentioning that it was, in fact, a cover of a song by the Standells, which was about the Charles River and Boston. Because I had no idea that it was a cover. Here’s the original.

Frankly, I have no idea when I learned that, probably when I heard it played on the radio somewhere, and it clicked in. And look, in my defense, it wasn’t like the original was a big hit. It was released in 1965, ran up the charts, peaking at #8 and pretty much faded away, except maybe in Boston, where I am not from, and have never lived, although it later became acknowledged as a seminal rock song.

The Standells were from Los Angeles, and the song is actually not particularly positive toward its subject city. (A few trivia asides—The leader of the Standells was Larry Tamblyn, the younger brother of actor Russ Tamblyn, who was, among other things, Riff in the movie version of West Side Story and Dr. Lawrence Jacoby in Twin Peaks. Lead singer Dick Dodd was a former Mouseketeer who was a dancer in the movie version of Bye Bye Birdie. For brief periods, Dewey Martin, later of Buffalo Springfield, and Lowell George, later of Little Feat, were in the band. And they appeared on The Munsters.)

According to the Internet, despite the negative references in the song about the bad water, frustrated women and crime, including a Strangler, in Boston, the Boston Bruins, a team I don’t root for in a sport that I barely follow, began playing the Standells’ version in 1991, 1997 or 2007, depending on what you read (and there are probably other cites, too, but I got bored looking). The Red Sox, a team that I sort of like, mostly because they are the sworn enemies of the Yankees, also started playing the song, as did the somewhat deflating New England Patriots and the Celtics, who I haven’t liked since the late 1960s.

This has led to a revival of interest in the song, and it has become often covered (and stolen—the Buffalo Sabres play a version substituting the Niagara River). Boston based Celtic punks Dropkick Murphys, big sports fans themselves, cover the song, as has former Red Sox pitcher Bronson Arroyo, a fair rocker in his own right. Other bands often play it it when appearing in the city, including local boys Aerosmith, Bruce Springsteen, who, as you might be aware, is from New Jersey, Dave Matthews Band and Steely Dan.

Although the Inmates had a minor hit with their cover, and have continued to record and tour to this day, I've never heard from them again.

Wet/Water: P.J.Harvey

So then, how wet is the "Dry" hit maker? Well, quite a bit really, not least with this track on the aforesaid LP. OK, call it contrived, but there is quite a shower (sorry) of songs pertaining to this increasingly unclassifiable English singer-songwriter.

Always effortlessly quirky in both look and deed, Polly Jean was, just, a child of the 60s, a decade her parents seems to have partaken to the fill, introducing her to the joys of blues, Beefheart and Bob Dylan from an early age. Hailing from the english west country, with the accent to boot, she started her musical life as a member of local musical collective, Automatic Dlamini, with whom, astonishingly, she played saxophone. But it wasn't until she peeled off to form her own trio that she became better known, again, as is so often the tale, through the support of maverick radio DJ, John Peel, a frequently namecheck in these pieces. Indeed, it was he, by chance, as guest reviewer in  venerable inky, New Musical Express, who gave her debut single, 'Dress' the status of single of the week. As a response and reaction to that, she played a session for his radio show, which included a live version of the song featured above, 'Water'.

Aware of her name, it wasn't really until her 3rd LP that I really pricked up my ears. Or maybe eyes, as this stunning footage from Glastonbury demonstrates, as she more fully embraces an evanescent theatrical sexuality into her persona. And a much wider sonic landscape:

Ostensibly leaving her band behind her, she then both explored her career as lead name and in collaborations, musically and romantically, notably a liaison, of both hues, with Nick Cave, whose 'The Boatman's Call' is said to be based on their time, which adds yet another watery element to the mix. Her next record was 2000's 'Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea', which is as wet as I can reference here, but is a gorgeous song, featuring the additional vocal of Radiohead-er, Thom Yorke:

Well into her stride, despite or because the accolades accruing, it seemed time to alter the template, which she did with a vengeance, 2007's 'White Chalk' being near entirely piano based, if anything bleaker and starker than her scrubbed and sparse guitar. And whilst I can't find any moisture within the songtitles, let me indulge myself otherwise by offering the fact that one Flood is a co-producer. And play the standout track, end-piece, "The Mountain":

To come nearly as far up to date as her recorded output allows, here's a short film, made by Seamus Murphy, to accompany 'The Last Living Rose', a modern folk song, or I think it is, from 2011's 'Let England Shake', a truthfully groundshaking record, made during the height of the Afghan conflict, within a nation divided as to the legality and provenance of said warfare. For many the album of her career, and certainly, in many publications, the album of that year. (Yes, and it is her playing the saxophone.)

Never an easy listen, oft compared to a harpy or to a banshee, Harvey continues to challenge, continues to apply her music with an astringent tongue, lashing all into hearing her voice. With all of us mainly water, she seems saltier and more bitter than most. Go seek and rummage here, for what flotsam and jetsam she has left in her wake........

Wedding: Laura Nyro

Laura Nyro: Wedding Bell Blues
[purchase Wedding Bell Blues]

When we first posited the Wedding theme, it seemed a natural that this song be included. It has the theme word in the title (score one for me). It was the first song that came to mind when I considered "Wedding" as a theme.

The Interweb notes that the song is somewhat autobiographical - one generation removed: apparently Nyro's (aka Laura Bianchini) aunt had a relationship with a "William", and there is a story about waiting for him to propose that pumped the lyrical content. Hard to believe she wrote the song at age 18.

Music critics more expert than myself note her vocal range in addition to her song writing skill. As I listen to the song again, I am struck by the great back vocal work on the song. Nyro had great vocal range - her backup vocals team bring it out.

That said, the song - to me - transcends 1966 - the year she penned the song. That's the year we had such hits as "Wild Thing" and "I am a Rock".

Nyro never realized the same status as others who covered her songs, probably most famously, The 5th Dimension. However, she did get inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of fame back in 2012. She's not only the author of "Wedding Bell Blues," but also of "Stoned Soul Picnic," again, a 5th Dimension major hit. 

Wedding: Drive-By Truckers’ Decoration Day Album

[purchase]

I’ve written about the Drive-By Truckers many times, maybe more than any other band, in part because they are one of my favorites, and, I think, in part because their songs tend to be about unusual topics, lending themselves to discussion on a theme-based blog such as this.

That the Decoration Day album was my gateway drug to the Truckers was discussed in a prior post, but in thinking about the Wedding theme, it struck me that many of the songs on the album, in some way, related to weddings, or at least, to marriage or getting married, which is close enough. And I’m not even going to get into the fact that at least three of the songs on the album were written by Patterson Hood in reaction to the breakdown of his marriage.

Decoration Day starts off with “The Deeper In,” which is about Patty and Allen Muth, who were, at the time, the only couple in the United States who were imprisoned for consensual sibling incest. Which sounds pretty bad, but there are many extenuating circumstances, not the least of which was that because their own parents were pretty awful people who lost their own parental rights, the couple at issue never met until Patty was 18 years old. They held themselves out as married, although they weren’t, and had four children, who were taken from them. You can read an article about them that was in Esquire magazine here (Hood changed the location from Wisconsin to Michigan in the song to make the last line rhyme better). Following the United States Supreme Court decision in Lawrence v. Texas striking down homosexual sodomy laws, Allen Muth appealed his conviction, but the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals dismissed his suit based on a narrow, and criticized, interpretation of Lawrence as being limited only to homosexual sodomy cases. Coincidentally, Allen Muth was, for most of his working life, a long haul trucker. Here’s a live version of the song recorded in Louisville: in 2010.



The fourth song on Decoration Day is “Marry Me,” one of the band’s best rockers. Written by Mike Cooley, it is filled with the clever wordplay that makes his songs so much fun. It’s hard to pick a favorite. There are the opening lines:

Well, my daddy didn’t pull out, but he never apologized
Rock and Roll means well, but it can’t help tellin’ young boys lies. 

Or the end of the second verse:

There’s a fool on every corner, on every street, in every one
and I’d rather be your fool nowhere than go somewhere and be no one's 

 Or the last line before the final chorus:

Just cause I don’t run my mouth don’t mean I got nothing to say.

According to Cooley, the song was inspired by a friend who, during sex, yelled out the name of a former girlfriend, Mary, and, thinking quickly, changed it to “Marry me.”

Here’s a version of the song recorded in the band’s hometown, Athens, Georgia in 2013, at the actual wedding of Jenn Bryant, long-time member of the extended DBT family.



Finally, “My Sweet Annette,” tells the tale of Hood’s great uncle (not the same one he wrote about in “The Sands of Iwo Jima”) who ditched his betrothed, Annette, at a pre-wedding party and eloped with the maid of honor, Marilee. In the song, Hood provides some moral ambiguity—his uncle and Marilee never intended to hurt Annette, but, as the song notes, Lord have mercy when two people get alone, and you can sense the guilt he had in leaving Sweet Annette . . . standing at the altar.

This version of the song, recorded in 2012 in Gainesville, includes fiddle from Scott Danborn, of Centro-Matic, who played on the album track.



O.K. One more—Jason Isbell, who joined the Truckers in time to contribute two possibly perfect songs to Decoration Day, released his first solo album in 2007, after leaving the band. That album, Sirens of the Ditch included a song, “Shotgun Wedding,” that begs to be included here. It is, reportedly, about a creepy acquaintance of Isbell’s who liked pregnant women.

Wedding: When A Man Loves A Woman

Percy Sledge: When A Man Loves A Woman
[purchase]

Last week, I went to a cocktail party celebrating the wedding of my wife’s cousin. It was unusual, in part because the bride and groom were in their mid-40s and getting married for the first time. Also, they aren’t going to be living together, at least not right away. Having been married for less than a month, the bride remarked to me that she found married life easy, and didn’t understand why people complained about it. I’ll assume that she was making a joke, because she’s a very smart woman. My only advice to her, speaking as someone who has been happily married for more than a quarter century, was that she should make sure that her husband was her best friend.

Which made me think about the fact that my wife, who is my best friend, and I have had incredible role models. Both of our parents have been happily married to their best friends for decades, and it is a rare thing these days for kids like mine to have parents and two sets of grandparents who are still married. The conventional wisdom is that 50% of marriages end with divorces, but that statistic is actually outdated and inflated. A recent article in the New York Times reported that the divorce rate peaked in the 1970s and early 1980s and has been declining for the three decades since. The article noted:

About 70 percent of marriages that began in the 1990s reached their 15th anniversary (excluding those in which a spouse died), up from about 65 percent of those that began in the 1970s and 1980s. Those who married in the 2000s are so far divorcing at even lower rates. If current trends continue, nearly two-thirds of marriages will never involve a divorce.

So, maybe my potential grandchildren will not see a similar spate of divorces, which I think is a good thing, because of the reasons why couples are staying together (for the most part, not for religious reasons or fear of disapproval).

There are many things that I remember about my wedding, which, I remember to have been a fun party. First, how beautiful my soon-to-be wife was. Second, it was hot. Very hot, but she didn’t seem to sweat. Third, how I had not a single moment of “cold feet” (and not because, as I may have mentioned, it was hot). And I remember the first dance (to the extent I actually “danced”) with my wife to this great love song by Percy Sledge, who sadly passed away recently. (By the way, the original version of the song was re-recorded because the horns were out of tune. But the revised version was, through an error, not released, so the hit song is apparently flawed. I can’t tell, but I’m a drummer).

For some reason, over the years, my wife has commented to me about how she would have done things differently at our wedding if she was doing it today. And I get it, because our tastes and situations and attitudes have changed, but it always seemed to me to be a waste of time to think about it. What’s done is done, and we enjoyed it then. Interestingly, though, I don’t think that she said she regretted picking this song. Because it really is about a man loving a woman, and not vice versa. Not to mention, most of the lyrics are about the love-besotted singer overlooking the woman’s bad behavior. And if you know my wife, you know that she is a true feminist, so it wouldn’t have surprised me if she had reconsidered that choice.

But it is a soulful love song, and I agree with its first lines:

When a man loves a woman 
Can't keep his mind on nothing else 
He'll trade the world 
For the good thing he's found 

Another memorable thing about our wedding was the toast given by the maid of honor, the very same cousin whose cocktail party we attended last week. As I have previously discussed, , my wife and her cousin traveled up to Connecticut for the wedding a few days before I did. It was during one of the hottest stretches ever recorded to that point in the Northeast, and the two of them sang together in the car. I believe (and I didn’t mention this the last time) that they had car trouble, making the fact that one of the songs they sang, R.E.M.’s “It’s The End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” very appropriate. Her cousin worked the song into the toast, and last week, my wife returned the favor in her toast. So, here, as a bonus, is the other song that reminds me of my wedding. And it is a video, uploaded to YouTube by the record label, not a link, because the last time, I got in trouble.