IT'S ELEMENTAL

At first I had a silly and somewhat vainglorious notion of posting a song relating to each and every element. That would get the posts up, I thought, failing to recall quite how many of the buggers there were. After a quick chat with my friend wiki I realised/remembered  there were 118 of them, meaning a minimum of 14 posts a day, given I have already left this so late. And then, as I perused the list, I saw that few are exactly household names, sufficiently known as to be stimulating the pens of even the most scholarly lyricist. But these ideas are hard to shake off, and so, like a grass seed in the ear of a dog, here’s a germinated selection of some of the less likely. (None of your oxygens or lithiums, mind, that would be too easy.)

So, here’s to part 1, hoping I won’t be stepping on the shoes of too many colleagues, themselves eagerly pursuing these very titles for more complete discussion and discourse.

HELIUM: The Plain White Ts are what I would call inoffensive. Easily digestible, processed and slightly punky pop, with melodies and purpose to satisfy the easily pleased. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike them, I just don’t sort of need them. This track, written by their main songwriter, Tom Higgenson, comes from 2013’s ‘Should’ve Gone to Bed’, and is typically catchy, tho’ I fear I may have forgotten it by tomorrow.

Buy Helium

NITROGEN PINK: Polly Scattergood sounds as if she ought to be good, if not better than this song, her debut single in 2007. Sadly, the vocals are too knowingly off-kilter. The construction behind it is OK, but, tellingly, 2009 was her last release. And WTF is Nitrogen Pink anyway? (Possibly something Bjork inhales?)

Buy Nitrogen

NEON MOON: At last, one for the old folks, it’s that nice Brooks and Dunn, mega-sellers from Linedancing Land. Can you take it away now? Please.

Buy Neon

SODIUM LIGHT BABY: Matt Johnson, aka The The, produced a flurry of dance influenced records from the mid 80s until, after a gap, 2000, this song coming from his 6^th, ‘Dusk’, in 1993. With the move towards a more guitar based sound, courtesy Johnny Marr, I hear a tinge, appropriately perhaps, of the ‘Mad’chester Happy Mondays sound, but with better vocals.

Buy Sodium

MAGNESIUM NIGHT LIGHT: Actually this is a pair of tracks, being a composite of Infrared Roses and the aforementioned. I’d tell you where the join is, but, to be fair, despite listening, I have no way of knowing. It’s an instrumental and I’m guessing it’s live. No doubt, because it is the Grateful Dead, you had to be there, but I never thought I would be missing Jerry’s vocal ‘strengths’. Can I be the first to go on record and say I prefer their studio stuff.

Don't buy Magnesium; you can't. (But it does have a touch of grey about it.)

ALUMINUM: Or Aluminium, as we charmingly call it over here. The White Stripes or, massively overated as, likewise, we call them over here. I like the Jack White/Brendan Benson ‘Raconteurs’ stuff, largely, I suspect, as Benson has the discipline to rein in White’s more, um, experimental side. Pleasantly short.

Buy Aluminum

SILICON JESUS: I had never heard this or of Psykosonik, making my aimless wittering of worth, if only to me, ‘cos I rather like it’s somewhat generic and derivative take on techno. If Plain White Ts went electronic with a few sequencers I think they would sound like this.  (How many different Jesus’s can you think of in popular music?)

Buy Silicon

SULFUR: The temptation to belittle and deride Slipknot with more ribtickling mirth around the spelling of Sulphur is actually dissipated by a gallingly shocking fact. This is quite good. OK, get rid of the vocals and it’s very good. Who knew? Having never knowingly allowed myself to listen to them, should I now be exploring their back catalogue? This is from 2008s ‘All Hope is Gone’ and it is almost fusion in its frantic pace. Mind you, I’m not that keen on fusion either.

Buy Sulfur

CHLORINE: From 2014, a group called Title Fight about whom I know next to nothing. The youtube metacritics argue about how or not hardcore they are, and AMG says nothing. ‘Pitchfork’ told me more, without, true to form, actually telling me anything. It’s their second LP, if that helps.

Buy Chlorine

POTASSIUM: Bones, another new-to-me, in a broadly electronica beats tonepoem, with a glorious harmonium like intro. Given LastFM tell me there are 5 different groups/individuals called by this name,  it was intriguing as to whether this was/is the same Bones who has an earlier song called, intriguingly for this piece, ‘Calcium’? If so, Bones is a ridiculously prolific individual called Elmo Kennedy O’Connor, and is described as a rapper. (Well, if this is rap, like Slipknot above, or nearly like Slipknot above, count me in for more.)

Download Potassium (for free!)

11 down, including the 2 from Elmo Bones.

To be continued?

It's Elemental: Earth Angel

The Penguins: Earth Angel
[purchase]

Change is one of the few things that we can count on. Marriage equality, which not so long ago seemed first impossible, then unlikely, is now the law of the land. Donald Trump has changed from a bufoonish businessman to a bufoonish politician. In my lifetime, we have gone from a world with a handful of TV stations, a music industry dominated by large companies issuing vinyl and computers that filled rooms to virtually unlimited access to all media, including on powerful computers we carry in our pockets.

When Plato and Aristotle passed for scientists, they understood that there were four elements—earth, air, fire and water, and maybe a fifth, “aether.” A similar five element system was posited in Hindu writings, and the Buddha taught about the first four. The Chinese philosophers had five—Fire, Earth, Metal, Water and Wood, while Japanese tradition followed the Hindu system. Or at least, that’s what Wikipedia says. Modern science, however, considers elements to be substances defined by their atomic numbers, with 118 of them currently identified. If anything, the classical elements are now loosely identified with the states of matter—solid, gas, liquid and plasma.

The song, “Earth Angel,” refers to one of the classical elements directly, and even, to some degree, to the aether, because that’s where angels dwell. It was the one and only hit song by the Penguins (penguins, of course, live where Water is often a solid, although the group was from Los Angeles, where Water is now at a premium, the Earth quakes, Fire ravages the countryside and the Air is almost solid). The Penguins, a doo-wop group that morphed from an earlier group, the Hollywood Flames (Fire!!), literally recorded the demo version of the song in a garage in 1954, often having to stop recording when a neighbor’s dog barked.

The music business was so different in those days that the demo, physically carried to a record store as an acetate by producer/label owner Dootsie Williams (who also recorded comedy records by Redd Foxx and violinist Johnny Creach, who years later, as Papa John Creach, played with the Jefferson Airplane/Starship and Hot Tuna), was played on a radio show, requests came in, Williams decided to release it without dubbing any more instrumentation, and a hit was born (despite the fact that Williams insisted on releasing it as the b-side of the now forgotten "Hey Señorita"). The success of the song created a demand that apparently almost bankrupted Williams, who ran out of label paper. Its timelessness and beauty has resulted in sales of millions of copies over the years, numerous cover versions and soundtrack appearances. And not surprisingly, it resulted in years of litigation among Williams, members of the group, putative song writers and Mercury (an Element!) Records, which later signed the Penguins and released a more produced and less successful version of the song.  One of the songwriter claimants, Jesse Belvin, actually was required by the judge to stand up and sing his version, which led to his being awarded a portion of the credit.  The Penguins later released a nostalgia novelty song called "Memories of El Monte," based on the "Earth Angel" chord changes, and containing bits of other doo-wop songs, including "Earth Angel," which was written by Frank Zappa and Ray Collins, pre-Mothers of Invention.

I was introduced to this song years ago by my parents, who are high school sweethearts and remembered dancing to the song during their courtship during the 1954-55 era. My parents married in 1959 and are still together. And while that hasn’t changed, like all relationships, theirs has changed over the years, from being young marrieds with small kids, to successful adults who put those kids through college, to amazing grandparents. I’ve seen my parents dance over the years, usually at weddings and bar mitzvahs, and while I’m sure that they dance differently now than they did back when “Earth Angel” was a hit, I know that their love and respect for each other hasn’t changed, and, if anything, has grown stronger.

Rainbow: She's a Rainbow

purchase [She's a Rainbow] from Amazon MP3s

Back in the late 60s, my musical tastes were as eclectic as they are now. My LP collection as of 1970 consisted of Jimi Hendrix Are You Experienced, something from Smokey Robinson, Sergeant Pepper's, Between the Buttons and Aftermath. Oh yes ... Switched on Bach and Tom Lehrer. Die-hard Stones? No. Ever-loving? Yes.

Their Satanic Majesties Request, from whence this songs comes,  has been labeled (at least for its cover ) a riff on Sergeant Pepper's - the seating, the dress, the "air".

To me, the song comes from a time when both the Beatles and the Stones were searching. Mysticism, drugs, religion (including the satanic) .

But - for the Stones - it is also a time when they began a transition. Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile on Main Street are of a different realm - to me, influenced by whatever came out of their satanic request.

Jimi, Smokey, the Beatles .. gone. The Stones? >> ZipCode Tour 2015

Colors of the Rainbow: Tangled Up In Blue (Indigo Girls Version)

Indigo Girls: Tangled Up In Blue
[purchase]

I’m going to keep this short, but you are going to get three colors for the price of one.

Considering the theme, it seemed like writing about the Indigo Girls made sense. Not only do they have a Color of the Rainbow in their name, they were LGBT activists before that was easy or popular. Their commercial and critical success in light of their openness about their sexuality in the late 1980s and 1990s helped to open doors and change attitudes. Back in 1994, I joined a law firm as an associate which had been started by three guys who I had worked with or known at a big Wall Street firm. I remember that during my first week on the job, I had to leave relatively early, because my wife and I had tickets to see the Indigo Girls at Radio City Music Hall, a couple of blocks from my office. And I remember getting shit from some of the partners because I was going to see a couple of lesbians perform. I should have realized what I was in for, but I missed that sign. It was a great show, and since then we have seen them perform a few times, all of which have been wonderful.

I’ve written in detail about the Indigo Girls here, and I’m not going to repeat myself, but there is a bunch of good stuff there about the band, and some pretty rare covers, so check it out.

In scrolling through my list of Indigo Girls songs, their cover of Dylan’s “Tangled Up In Blue” jumped out at me, since it also references a color. It is a live version, recorded at a show in 1992 in San Francisco, from the band’s excellent 1200 Curfews album, most of which was actually recorded on the 1994-95 tour, although nothing from the Radio City show made the cut. I hadn’t listened to it for years, and when I let it rip, I realized that it was quite good. One of the highlights of the track is the violin part, and when I looked up who played it, I was pleased to find that it was Scarlet Rivera, adding to the colorful theme.

Rivera, I discovered, also played on some Dylan albums and toured with him, as a member of the Rolling Thunder Revue in 1975 and 1976. It is hard to tell, because the sound quality is poor, but Rivera may well be playing on this rocking version of the song, performed by Dylan and the band at a show in Ft. Collins, Colorado on May 23, 1976.

Bob Dylan and the Rolling Thunder Revue: Tangled Up In Blue

Colors of the Rainbow: Scarlet Begonias/ Fire on the Mountain

Grateful Dead: Scarlet Begonias/ Fire on the Mountain (Capitol Theater 4-27-77)

[purchase Dick's Picks Vol. 29: 5/19/77 (Fox Theater, Atlanta, GA) & 5/21/77 (Lakeland Civic Center Arena, Lakeland, FL]

Grateful Dead with Trey Anastasio: Scarlet Begonias/ Fire on the Mountain (Soldier Field 7-3-15)

[preorder 11-20-2015 release]

This week‘s theme was inspired, of course, by last week‘s historic Supreme Court ruling on gay marriage. I rejoice in that decision, and I hope no one thinks I am making light of it with this post. But in the music world, there was another event last week that I would like to celebrate. The Fare Thee Well tour celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the Grateful Dead. The grand finale was three nights of shows at Chicago’s Soldier Field. This was also the site of the last Grateful Dead shows twenty years ago. At that time, it was reasonable to assume that the Grateful Dead were done, since leader Jerry Garcia had died. Garcia was a wonderful guitar player and songwriter. But more important to the band was his personality. Garcia‘s voice was not always on pitch, but there was always a great warmth to the man that came through whenever he sang. Garcia welcomed you in to his musical world, and once you were there, the whole band dazzled you with their musical acrobatics.

How then was it possible for there to be Grateful Dead shows last week? The surviving members of the band brought in Trey Anastasio of Phish to sing some of Garcia‘s parts, and to play lead guitar. Because this is jam band music, Anastasio interprets the music in his own way, but also sounds like he has been with the band his whole life. In a way, he has. Phish is the leading jam band of these times, and all jam bands owe a debt to the Grateful Dead for setting the standards of the form, and showing what is possible. Further, I found a cover of Scarlet Begonias/ Fire on the Mountain by Phish while gathering material for this post. So my second video shows Anastasio with a stupid grin on his face for most of the video‘s eighteen minutes; the man is clearly living a fantasy for as long as this strange trip lasts.

I will leave to the hard-core Dead Heads among our readers the question of when the Dead began playing this medley of Scarlet Begonias and Fire on the Mountain. But I would argue that 1977 was the year for some of the band’s best performances of it. After that year, Scarlet/ Fire became a staple of their shows. The purchase link is to a version from May of that year, and some Dead Heads commenting on Amazon regard this as the Dead‘s definitive performance of the song. Sadly, I could not find a decent quality video of this performance that presented the whole thing one video, instead of splitting it into two. So I went with a performance from a month earlier. By the same token, I could not find a readily available CD of the performance I chose. This April performance has some of the painful vocals of Donna Godchaux. With the Dead, she often had pitch problems, and sometimes belted out her parts when a softer approach would have served the material better, and both of those problems show up here as well. Despite that, this is still a fine example of the Grateful Dead at an artistic peak. By contrast, the new Scarlet/ Fire lacks Garcia‘s warmth, but Donna‘s miscues are gone as well. The excitement of the band‘s playing is still as present as ever.

A final note: especially if you are not a jam band fan, this post contains a lot of music! The first video is 21 minutes long, with an additional 18 minutes for the second one. So let me offer a small break. The first video has a point at about the 16 minute mark where the music almost but not completely stops. Despite that, this marks, not a continuation of a medley, but the start of a new song, Good Lovin‘. So you can stop at that 16 minute mark if you want to.

COLO(U)RS OF THE RAINBOW: HOMOPHOBIA

Sorry, but I find myself some way distant from all-out celebration.

Same-sex marriage, please don't get me wrong, I am all for the equality of opportunity so arising, and the equivalence of status, in law, if not the sanctity of the religious ceremony, for those who seek it, but. There remains a but, primarily a fear, the fear, that the bigots and the blind will use this as ever more rationale to champion their bluster, to bludgeon and bash, to blame the gay for queering their pitch. So the songs I propose remain those of the oppressed. And I hope to a pink garbed God that I am wrong. And that she will forgive me.

My love for erstwhile agit-p(r)op anarcho-punks Chumbawamba is no secret, their support for societal underdogs high on their many and varied agendas. This song, from 1994's 'Anarchy' spells it out starkly, in the style and format of an old English folk song. OK, so the scene described is arguably less common an occurrence these days, the weapons being now much more subtle and refined. But still vital listening, and it still makes me weep. Here's a different arrangement, with the powerful video made by the band:

Perhaps it is no surprise, but, here in the U.K., where same-sex marriage has been mostly* legal for shortly over a year, this has lead to similar "reminders", or rose-tinted warnings from the past, the most direct being the film 'Pride', commemorating the role of Mark Ashton, who formed the LGSM: Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, during the bitterly divisive class warfare of the Miners Strike of 1984/5. (The same Mark Ashton to later die of A.I.D.S., commemorated here by his friend Jimmy Somerville of the Communards.) It's a good film, go see it.

(My asterisk* above denotes that the province of Northern Island, hotbed still of a fermented and fermenting religious hypocrisy, has differed from Scotland and from England & Wales by still disallowing the ceremony, allowing only civil partnerships, and with no plans to change.)

The lyrics of Rod Stewart's 1976 hit, 'The Killing of Georgie' might seem a little clunky nearly 40 years on. But, even with all our modern and civilised ways, especially with all our modern and civilised ways, I wonder. I guess it's up to us. And our children.

Buy Chumbawamba version 1 and version 2
Buy Communards
Buy Rod Stewart
And buy Pride, the film.

Colors of the Rainbow: Pink City Twist

Fabulous Poodles: Pink City Twist
[purchase]

The Colors of the Rainbow theme was specifically chosen to celebrate the decision of the United States Supreme Court in Obergefell v. Hodges, which determined that the United States Constitution required that a marriage between two people of the same sex be treated the same as a marriage between two people of different sexes. In other words, mandating that same sex marriage be legal throughout the United States. Following the announcement of the decision, the rainbow flag motif has been everywhere. In addition, coincidentally, just the other day, the United States Women’s Soccer team, coached by an openly gay woman, with two proudly gay stars, one of whom is already married (and a few other players who have, at least, hinted at being lesbians) won the Women’s World Cup, and the adulation of men and women of all sexual preferences. While certainly not perfect (anti-discrimination laws still need fixing, and acceptance still isn’t universal, but it will never be considering that there are always going to be small minded people who reject logic and progress), I think that it is fair to say that this is the best time ever to be gay in the United States.

I was ecstatic when the Court issued its decision. It doesn’t directly affect me—I’m a straight man in a “traditional marriage” (whatever that means), and both of my children are currently in heterosexual relationships. But as a human, an American and a lawyer, it was hard for me to understand exactly what the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment meant if it didn’t mean what it said—that no state could “deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” I never understood how anyone could read that and think that it was acceptable to allow some people to marry and not others. So, to see that five Justices of the Supreme Court finally realized that this was the case was a beautiful thing. That four Justices couldn’t see it was disappointing, if not surprising, considering the degree of brainwashing (mostly religious based, in my opinion) that our country has tolerated for years against gay people. I can’t think of many days that I was prouder to be an American than on June 26, 2015.

And, as long as this struggle has taken, it is remarkable how quickly things have changed. When I was a kid, the concept of gay rights was never discussed. Even in my liberal home, in a pretty open minded area of the world, it simply wasn’t a topic of conversation. I don’t remember anyone in my high school identifying as gay, and to be fair, I don’t remember any overt anti-gay activity or taunting. Which is not to say this was a good situation—it was simply swept under the rug, presumably out of fear of ostracism, or worse. In fact, it wasn’t until 1980 that the New York Court of Appeals struck down all laws against private consensual homosexual sexual conduct between adults, a decision that had no resonance in my life (the decision warranted only a small story on page B2 of The New York Times). If my memory is wrong, then I hope that my high school friends set me straight (no pun intended). In college, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I was aware of the existence of a Gay Alliance, and parties sponsored by gay groups, but again, I have no memory of anyone in my circle of friends identifying as gay. I’m actually surprised at how many of my college friends are gay, and embarrassed that I didn’t know it then, either because I never even considered the possibility or discussed it, or because they were uncomfortable being out in that place at that time.

My children’s generation is completely different, and that shows how things have changed, for the better. From a love that dare not speak its name, to joyous celebrations of pride, attended by everyone and anyone.

To my children, a person’s sexuality is not an issue. They have had friends come out in high school with essentially no difficulties. The high school they attended has a gay-straight alliance. They both went to colleges where there was zero stigma attached to homosexuality—in fact, at my daughter’s college it seemed that gay culture was actually the more dominant (or at least the most vocal).

I know that it is probably a cliché to say that the next generation will look at mine and shake their head at the fact that it took so long to recognize that Obergefell was the only logical conclusion that could be drawn from the Fourteenth Amendment, like my generation has trouble believing that it took until 1954 for the Supreme Court to rule that “separate but equal” treatment of blacks also violated the Constitution. And they will look at the four Obergefell dissenters as troglodytes whose reason was overwhelmed by their prejudices, like the seven Justices in the Dred Scott or Plessy majorities.

So the theme is to write about colors of the rainbow, and despite the fact that the color pink isn’t on the standard ROY G BIV rainbow, there is a long-standing relationship between the color and the gay community. I have to assume that the Nazis chose it as the color for the triangle badge they forced gay prisoners to wear for a reason (no quick answer presented itself through a Google search, and this is a music blog and not a research paper). And like so many slurs, it was later adopted as a symbol of pride. Pink was originally part of the rainbow flag designed by Gilbert Baker in 1978 for San Francisco’s first Gay Freedom Day Parade, but as demand increased, the pink stripe was removed because of the difficulty in obtaining enough fabric.

When I tried to think of a song about the color pink, there were a few that seemed to fit, but none seemed as much fun as this goofy trifle from the pretty much forgotten band The Fabulous Poodles, a band whose first album was produced by the Who’s John Entwistle, who also played bass on it. Although initially a pub-rock act, like many of their contemporaries, they morphed into a new wave band, with poppy songs and zany stage antics. Their first American album, Mirror Stars, was released on pink vinyl and reportedly outsold the debut albums from The Jam and The Clash. They even opened for the prog-rock supergroup UK on some dates in 1978, which would have made for an odd, if strangely entertaining, evening of music.

The sort of title track from their next record, Think Pink, “Pink City Twist” is essentially a surf-rock sounding instrumental track with heavy breathing and the occasional interjection of processed vocals saying “Think Pink.” I know that description doesn’t make you want to listen to the tune, but give it a listen and I guarantee that it will become lodged in your brain, like it has in mine for more than three decades.

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.

Join the blog

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!