Honesty And Truth: Father Of A Boy Named Sue

Shel Silverstein: Father Of A Boy Named Sue

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We are all familiar with the tale of the boy named Sue, as told by Johnny Cash in his concert in St Quentin jail. To recap, the boy named Sue bumped into his father, who abandoned the family when Sue was three, in a bar in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. He starts a fight with the appalling dad as payback for being saddled with that awful name. Once both are suitably bloodied they make up and the father explains that he gave Sue his effeminate name because he’d be bullied for it, and therefore be compelled to fight back and “get tough or die”. I wager that Sue’s dad was not of the Dr Benjamin Spock school of pedagogy.

Well, Shel Silverstein, who wrote the song, felt it only fair to give the old man his say as well. And it seems that the father was an even bigger bastard than we thought. He confirms that he told Sue the story about the name prompting resilience by the fatherless boy. But that was a lie. The truth is, when Sue – “the ugliest queen I've ever seen “ – pulled a gun “out of his carter”, the old drunk told him “how I named him Sue just to make him tough”. And Sue obviously bought the lie, and…well, the ending is decidedly odd; listen to it yourself.

The big question really is this: why didn’t Sue just change his name to Bill or George or anything but Sue?

Incidentally, in last week’s entry on Ben E. King’s “Don’t Play That Song”, I lied about Elvis having been interested in recording that song. Though I wish he had recorded it.

Honesty and Truth: Gimme Some Truth

John Lennon: Gimme Some Truth

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Like some other contributors at Star Maker Machine, this is a busy week for me, with nary a moment to spare. But I couldn't let this week's theme go by without posting this song. Lennon always knew how to speak the truth. In this song, he asks for it. It is, unfortunately, a timeless sentiment.

Dishonesty and Lies => Honesty and Truth: Confessin’ the Blues

Jay McShann: Confessin‘ the Blues

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I’ll get to the main body of this post in a moment, but first, I have a confession to make. I’m sure many of you noticed that last week’s posts were… odd. There was a secret theme that became less secret as the week went on: each post had to contain at least one lie in honor of April Fool’s Day. So now, those who wish to can go on a scavenger hunt. Find the lie in each post. Beware, some posts had more than one, and the lie isn’t always the one identified in the comments. To start you off, my last post of the week was a sort of existential lie. Everything I said about Would I Lie To You was true, but, of course, that wasn’t the song I posted. Can you find the other lies? Have fun with it, and good luck.

Confessin’ the Blues seemed to me to be the perfect transition song, going from lies to truth. The narrator here is promising his honesty in the name of love. Jay McShann leaves it at that, but some versions have additional lyrics that imply that he used to be a liar, and that the woman he sings this to has lied to him. So, he is at a turning point, and he hopes she can love him back and join him there. Like many others, I first heard Confessin’ the Blues as performed by the Rolling Stones. The Stones were a fine blues band in their early days, and they always tried to get their fans to seek out the great blues masters they covered. In the case of Confessin’, the Stones probably based their version on the one by Little Walter, but the song is older than that. There is a fine version from the big band era, by Joe Williams with the Count Basie Band. McShann slims that version down a bit, and creates a wonderful jump blues version.

Dishonesty and Lies: Would I Lie to You?

Eurythmics: Would I Lie to You?

[purchase]

I seem to be reliving the days of synth-pop this week. First the Thompson Twins, and now this. But surely, no one did it better than the Eurythmics. One reason for this was the amazing voice of Annie Lennox. But the songwriting of Dave Stewart may have been just as important. In turn, this may be because Stewart’s first instrument was not the synthesizer, but the guitar. Whatever the case, by 1985, the group had decided to feature more of Stewart’s guitar playing, and one result was the crunching guitar parts of Would I Lie to You? It was a high point of the band’s artistry, and probably my favorite song of theirs.


;)

Dishonesty & Lies: Lie I Believe

The V-Roys: Lie I Believe 

[purchase]

Scott Miller has built a reputation over the last decade as one of the finest songwriters and performers in the roots/rock game today.  His quick wit and quicker pen have earned him a strong fan base and easy comparisons to artists such as his one time producer Steve Earle and his idol John Prine.

Prior to his solo career, Miller performed in a band called the V-Roys alongside Mic Harrison, Jeff Bills, and Paxton Sellers.  Few people know, however, that before his time with the V-Roys, Miller spent some time in the NFL as a wide receiver/punt returner with the Miami Dolphins.  Miller amassed 487 return yards, 274 receiving yards, and two total touchdowns during a five year career from 1991-96.

This song about self delusion comes from the V-Roys 1996 debut album, and Miller's first post-football release, Just Add Ice.  

Dishonesty and Lies: Lies

Thompson Twins: Lies

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The Thompson Twins song Lies takes off from the worst lie you can tell a person, if it is a lie: “I love you”. The song says the rest.

I caught up with the Thompson Twins in the summer of 1983. They were playing at my local new wave/ punk dive, City Gardens in Trenton, NJ. I had never heard of them, but I had seen enough good shows at City Gardens to take the chance. The band took the stage, and I almost left. At this point, the Thompson Twins were a trio, with Tom Bailey, Joe Leeway, and Alannah Currie and her amazing hair. There they were, with no instruments except synthesizers of various sorts. Now, I didn’t like the synth-pop bands as a rule, and I still don’t. Their music sounded emotionally chilly, and their sound was robotic. But, as I soon found out, this was not the case with the Thompson Twins. I still don’t know how they did it, but the gave one of the most amazingly energetic shows I have ever seen. Sadly, by the next year, things changed. The band’s lineup was the same, but now they were making bland pop songs like Doctor, Doctor. But that amazing energy was glorious while it lasted. They were able to capture it on record, and it still sounds as good to me now as it did then.

And I am happy to say that there never was either a threat to Stonehenge or a British version of the Mouseketeers that I know of. This was a reference to our Mouseketeers theme that appeared on April Fools Day in 2009. Incidentally, in the late 70’s, the Walt Disney Company had the idea to buy Stonehenge and build a British Disneyland around it. They wanted to prepare the country for Disneyfication, so they created a British version of The Mickey Mouse Club for the BBC. It didn’t take, so Stonehenge was saved. But I mention it because Alannah Currie was an original British Mouseketeer.

Dishonesty and Lies: C'est Une Peche De Dire Un Mentire

Ann Savoy: C'est Une Peche De Dire Un Mentire

[purchase]

Cajun music has its roots in the French-speaking northeastern Canadians who settled in Louisiana in the mid-1700s.

Ann Savoy, a little-known mid-twentieth century Cajun artist, learned music from her father, an itinerant preacher, fiddler, and singing teacher. She collected and sang traditional ballads throughout her life, usually unaccompanied in the Cajun tradition. Introduced to a wider public by folklorist and musicologist Alan Lomax, Savoy recorded extensively, and claimed to be able to perform over 500 songs. She was often known as Granny Savoy. This original version of the later-famous song (known as It's A Sin To Tell A Lie in English) was collected by Lomax in 1941 and appears on his collection Folk Songs of the United States Vol. 5: French Ballads and Dance.

Nothing I wrote about Ann Savoy is true. She's not an historical singer discovered by Lomax; she's contemporary (and I was merely lucky in that she posted a picture of herself that looks decidedly old). This song's from the 2002 movie, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, in which she played a small role as a musician. It's not the original version, which was written in 1936 (in English) and was recorded first by Fats Waller.

Dishonesty and Lies: Lies

The Beatles: Lies

[currently unavailable]

Such were their abilities at the height of their powers that even the Beatles' b-sides were pop gems. "I Saw Her Standing There"? B-side. "I Should Have Known Better"? B-side. "Rain"? B-side.

While "Lies" is not as well know as those (it was only released as the flip side of "You're Gonna Lose That Girl" in the Benelux countries), it is just as good as any of them and deserves a more prominent spot in the Beatles cannon.

Dishonesty and Lies: Lola

The Faces (Japan): Lola

[purchase]

The obvious lie in this post is that the version I posted wasn't the Kinks at all, but a girl J-Pop group, The Faces. It's a fairly bad cover, beginning from the idea of a girl group singing the story in the first place, don't you agree?

Here's the Kinks version:

The Kinks: Lola


According to the Roman Catholic church, there are lies of commission (things you say) and lies of omission (things you don't). This song is about one of the more intriguing of the latter sins.

Those introductory power pop chords — C-D-E— are nearly universally recognized by now. Ray Davies of the Kinks states that a true event inspired the story. He claims (but can we believe him?) that their manager spent one debauched evening happily dancing with a black transvestite in Soho, London. The rest, as they say, is history. This 1970 tune of the unwitting yet oddly contented punter gave us the immortal words, "I'm glad I'm a man, and so is Lola!" and gave the Kinks one of their biggest hits. It's become an anthem in sports arenas right up with the songs of Queen and Gary Glitter. Which may be saying something we'd do well not to investigate too carefully…

I made up the part about this song being a sport anthem. I've never once heard Lola at a game, have you?

Dishonesty and Lies: John Riley

Chuck Durfur with Connie McKenna: John Riley

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John Riley is a song with a very big lie. Riley has sailed for seven years, and now he is home at last. Does he run to his wife, and press her into his arms? No! He tests her first, by pretending to be another man and trying to woo her. Only when she proves true to him does he reveal his identity. Question: at this point, why should she believe him?

I first heard the song in a version by Joan Baez. This one follows her melody and lyrics, but shows the influence of Bert Jansch. It’s an unlikely mixture, but it works beautifully. Chuck Durfur is an obscure figure. His John Riley comes from one of only two albums he ever made. Durfur is a guitar player, and most of his music is instrumental. The singer here is somewhat better known. Connie McKenna was the lead singer for the group Ceoltoiri, and I believe she has also done some solo work since.

Of course, you may recognize the story in this song from Homer’s Odyssey. Odysseus does the same thing to his wife Penelope when he returns from the Trojan War. But you may not know that the story is older than that. If so, there is a good reason; the remainder of this paragraph was my second whopper. In the earliest versions we have of the myth of Persephone, she is not abducted to Hades’ realm; rather, Hades woos her, and she goes willingly. Six months later, her mother Demeter finds Persephone, and persuades her to return to our world. But, again in this early version, Hades appears in disguise to Persephone six months after that. He woos her all over again, but in the guise of another person. As in the song, Persephone stays true to Hades, he reveals himself, and they go back to his realm. From there, the story follows the myth as we know it today. A beautiful retelling of this version of the tale can be found in Ancient Myth and Modern Magic by Moonbeam Truehart, (Llewellyn, 1986). Sadly, this book is long out of print.

Dishonesty and Lies: Jack-A-Roe

Bob Dylan: Jack-A-Roe

[purchase]

This song is really a story within a story, although you don't find that out until the last verse. Of course the lie in the story is the young woman passing herself off as a male sailor. But the way I see it, the whole story is was fabricated to win the heart of the woman the narrator addresses in the final verse. Yes, I'm assuming the narrator is a guy, because it sounds like the kind of thing a guy would do. (Or perhaps I've been watching too much How I Met Your Mother.) So multiple lies are afoot in this song.

One of only a handful of songs written by Mark Twain (using his given name, Samuel Clemens), "Jack-a-Roe" has gone on to become a folk standard. Indeed, it's often mistakenly attributed to the ubiquitous "trad."

Like many people who didn't grow up on folk music, I was introduced to the song via the Grateful Dead. (Specifically, the version on 1981's live acoustic Reckoning.) In the mid-80's, Bob Dylan toured with the Dead as his backing band. A few years later, Bob recorded his own version of the song for his first solo covers album, 1993's Good As I Been to You. It's his version I've included here.

Dishonesty & Lies: Fake Plastic Trees

Radiohead: Fake Plastic Trees

[purchase]

There's nothing oblique about these lyrics: keeping up the appearances of a perfect, plastic lifestyle really does wear you out. And it's familiar, too: because of its straightforward, soaring melody, and its poignant take on modern existentialism, it has spawned versions from Amanda Palmer, Duncan Sheik, Lori McKenna, KT Tunstall, Jeff Tweedy, and more - more covers, ultimately, than any other Radiohead song, except perhaps Creep.

But the circumstances of this song's origin are surprisingly straightforward, for a band now known for unexpected album releases, cryptic album combination easter eggs, and a densely textured, often challenging songbook: after rejecting several "Guns and Roses-like" takes as far too bombastic, management kicked the rest of the band out of the studio; the band's singer Thom Yorke subsequently recorded the song in one take, and mixed it himself afterwards, making this one of the very few solo efforts recorded under the band moniker.

As a result of its unusual origin, though Fake Plastic Trees is often cited as a turning point, representing a move away from the grungy sound of their earliest works, both Yorke and band guitarist Jonny Greenwood have since distanced themselves from the song, choosing not to perform it in public except under contract or duress, and claiming in various publications that it is, ultimately, not meaningful enough to bear repeating "any more than we have to, to keep the fans happy".

Dishonesty and Lies: Liar

First lie: This is not Three Dog Night; it's Argent!

Three Dog Night: Liar

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Three Dog Night is the only group I know that had three lead singers. (Second lie. As some of you pointed out, there are many groups with 3 lead singers.) It's a testament to how bad my late 60s tween radio quality was—or to how clueless I was—in that I never realized this until much, much later. All I was aware of at the time was how cool I thought they were. Some things never change.

Liar, like most of Three Dog Night's top ten songs, was a cover tune. This one was penned in 1970 by Argent member Russ Ballard. They also managed to make hits out of tunes by Paul McCartney Williams (third lie!) (An Old Fashioned Love Song), a hit from the musical Hair (Easy to Be Hard), Randy Newman (Mama Told Me Not To Come), Harry Nilsson (One), Laura Nyro (Eli's Coming), Hoyt Axton (Never Been to Spain, Joy to the World), and Elton John (Your Song).

I want to be with you as long
As you want me to,
I won't move away,
Ain't that what you said?
Ain't that what you said?
Ain't that what you said?
Liar, liar, liar.

Dishonesty and Lies: Promise

Violent Femmes: Promise

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You know that I want your loving
But my logic tells me that it ain't never gonna happen
And then my defenses say I did't want it anyway
But you know sometimes I'm a liar


Sometimes the person we lie to the most often is ourself. As Jeff Winger said on last week's episode of Community, "Nine out of ten lies occur six inches or less from the mirror."


Violent Femmes were an alternative rock outfit hailing from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. They became instant post-punk darlings with their hit-filled self-titled debut album which included unforgettable songs like Gone Daddy Gone, Blister in the Sun, and Never Tell.


Like any great record, Violent Femmes was full of excellent deep tracks as well. Promise is one of those.

Dishonesty and Lies: Don't Play That Song For Me

Ben E. King: Don't Play That Song

[purchase]

Here’s another original, one which I have not featured in my long-running series over at my place. More famously covered by Aretha Franklin eight years after Ben E. King’s 1962 original, the song states this week’s theme unequivocally: “You know that you lied, you lied, you lied, lied, lied, lied.”

Don’t Play That Song was written by Atlantic supremo Ahmet Ertegün with Betty Nelson. Before Ben E. King, former singer of The Drifters, recorded the song, legendary RCA producer S. Elmo Blum had come across a demo recording of it. Recognising the song’s hit potential, he urged his record company to buy the rights for Elvis Presley, who according to some reports even demoed it. One can almost hear Elvis singing it; alas the many esoteric Elvis studio cuttings have revealed no recording of Don’t Play That Song, so we should take that rumour with a pinch of salt.

In the event, Ertegün wisely decided that one of his artists should record the song, using a riff that is more than just a bit similar to that of King’s big hit the previous year, Stand By Me. It reached #11 in the US charts.

Dishonesty & Lies: Step Right Up

Tom Waits: Step Right Up

[purchase]

Boyhowdy is responsible for the pictures on the sidebar that accompany our themes. When I saw this week’s, I knew what my first song had to be. Step Right Up is Tom Waits’ brilliant send-up of late night TV advertising pitches. These contain, in the words of Douglas Adams, “much that is apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate.” Tom Waits takes this to its logical extreme. Since Tom Waits wrote this song, these kinds of pitches have moved from late night TV to cable infomercials. So the song is at least as relevant now is it was then. Ironically, a version of Step Right Up with different lyrics was once used as an advertising jingle by Enron. In the company’s messy collapse, the only tape of this version known to exist mysteriously vanished.

Actually, I know of no one who ever tried to use Step Right Up for any sort of jingle. This was my first lie of the week.

Trouble -> Dishonesty & Lies: Trouble Over Me

Tift Merritt: Trouble Over Me

[purchase]

Tift Merritt carries us from trouble to dissent with this fully self-aware plea for self delusion, in which a litany of boldfaced lies ("I don't want a boyfriend", "leave me alone") belie a fully honest urging for someone to make some trouble over her. Twenty-something Merritt, who was born and lives in small-town Texas, is an oft-overlooked singer-songwriter in terms of commercial success despite two failed Grammy nominations in 2004, in part because although her music is often mis-categorized and sold as country, its sound is more of a folk-rock hybrid, but she has plenty of cred in the industry and in-crowd; the song was featured in audiophile Nick Hornsby's 31 Songs project, and other works have found placement on several prominent TV and film soundtracks in recent years, including the 2009 Hornsby-adapted vehicle An Education.

Trouble: Trouble

Todd Snider: Trouble

[purchase]

I have not posted in forever - shame on me!

Back in the days when I was a "regular", you could count on me for two or three submissions a week... and Todd Snider's tunes would show up frequently to illustrate my musical points (samplings can be found here, here, here and here)...

I first fell in love with him from his debut CD, Songs for the Daily Planet, released in 1994 - I always thought Trouble was the best non-country country song ever written. "A woman like you walks in a place like this, you can almost hear the promises break" - does it get any better than that? (rhetorical question... :-)

Trouble: Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen

Grant Green: Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen

[purchase]

This post is courtesy of Mr. Geoviki, who first turned me on to the amazing jazz guitarist Grant Green. I discovered a fair share of guitarists on my own, but Mr. G's the real guitar fan. In fact, while I sit upstairs and write these blog entries, he's down in the mancave practicing chord progressions and arpeggios.

Green released this album of spirituals cum instrumental wonders in 1962, the third in a series of concept albums recorded for Blue Note, and it's brilliant. Not only is Green in fine form, he's accompanied by a young Herbie Hancock on piano. If you like your jazz straight up and accessible, you'll like Grant Green.

Trouble: Trouble (x3)

So many songs are just called "Trouble" - seems the word itself is sufficient to set the stage for artists aching to address the challenges and pain of life. We started the week with a cover of the Little Feet song of the same name; as we come to the end of our theme, here's three more favorites, none of them in their original form, all of them relatively rare and hard to find, even as their original versions are likely familiar to the average audiophile.

Shawn Colvin: Trouble (live)

[out of print; purchase used]

According to chart data and Amazon, Shawn Colvin's 1996 popfolk opus A Few Small Repairs is her best-selling album; it spawned her highest charting single, and garnered two Grammys, for Song and Album of the Year, two years after its relese. But I saw Shawn long before the world saw her coming, on a small stage in a cramped Cambridge coffeehouse, and to me, her best songs have always been the delicate ones, where her little-girl voice and the raw lyrical distance she draws from a portrayed world of pain shine through in their simplest form.

This version of Colvin's Trouble offers the best of both worlds: the song has its origin on A Few Small Repairs, yet here we hear it live, with Colvin's voice able to crackle with the energy of the late-nineties Lilith Fair audience who saw her as both a headline act and an icon of female empowerment. But after all that, it's not so different from the studio version: listen, and you can hear the album arrangement coming through, proving once again how vital the support of Colvin's cowriter, producer, and musical partner John Leventhal is to her commercial success.

The Holmes Brothers: Trouble (Cat Stevens cover)

[purchase]

Everyone knows who Cat Stevens is, though sadly, in a world where religion is a dirty word, many modern audiences know him less as a poetic seeker and more as the seventies artist who converted to Islam after an apocryphal near-death experience and disappeared from the scene for decades. But proud folk artists and others still cover the man's greatest works, most of which date from his delicately textured acoustic period between '69 and '77, and since Trouble was there at the beginning - it's originally found on Mona Bone Jakon, which gets much less in the way of play or props than Stevens' two subsequent discs, Tea For The Tillerman and Teaser and the Firecat - I have several versions of this seminal tune on my hard drive, including this one, featuring the Holmes Brothers' raspy blues harmonies, originally found on the Crossing Jordan soundtrack.

Mutual Admiration Society: Trouble (Jon Brion cover)

[purchase]

Mutual Admiration Society was a one-shot collaboration formed out of LA's Largo, a club which for decades has been a mainstay of the LA singer-songwriter scene. The band's single, self-titled album was rehearsed and recorded in a six day period in 2000, and eventually released in 2004 on bluegrass label Sugar Hill, possibly due to the rising name-brand recognition of the trio of young musicians who play alongside Toad The Wet Sprocket founder and frontman Glen Phillips here - Sara Watkins, Sean Watkins, and Chris Thile, a group you probably know as Nickel Creek.

The album contains two covers, both relevant to our theme this week: a delightfully gypsy-folk take on Harry Nillson's Think About Your Troubles, and this one, originally penned and performed by Jon Brion, arguably the central figure in the Largo scene, and sadly best known outside of that for penning the soundtracks to several films, including Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Magnolia, Boogie Nights, and, embarrassingly, Popeye, starring Shelly Duval and Robin Williams, neither of whom are known for their singing, and for good reason.

Today, of course, Glen, Sean, and Sara still play and record together as part of Works Progress Administration, another on-again off-again collaboration who released their own one-shot album in 2009. And Largo? It still functions as a locus for the likes of Aimee Mann, Brion, Phillips, and others; I'm still hoping to make it out someday, to see the scene at play.

Trouble: Trouble Man

Marvin Gaye: Trouble Man

[purchase]

In 1971, Marvin Gaye was coming off the success of his 1971 groundbreaking album, What's Going On (which Motown president Berry Gordy had tried to deep-six because of its deeply political message). The early seventies saw many soul musicians (including Curtis Mayfield, Isaac Hayes, James Brown, and Barry White) scoring for the new genre of movies catering to a black audience. Gaye moved to Los Angeles to write, produce and record the soundtrack for the 1972 blaxploitation movie, Trouble Man. The movie tanked, but the soundtrack lived on, giving us this soulful tune.

There's only three things that's fa sho': taxes, death, and trouble.

Trouble: You've Got Your Troubles

David and Jonathan: You've Got Your Troubles

[purchase]

David and Jonathan, perennials in lists of one-hit wonders for their cover of The Beatles’ Michelle, were actually Roger and Roger — Cook and Greenaway.

If you don’t know their names, you will know their songs. They wrote such hits as Gene Pitney's Something's Gotten Hold of My Heart, The Hollies' Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress and Gasoline Alley Bred, Home Lovin’ Man for Andy Williams, Deep Purple’s Hallelujah, Something Tells Me Something’s Gonna Happen Tonight for Cilla Black; White Plain’s My Baby Loves Lovin’, Blue Mink’s Melting Pot, Whistling Jack Smith’s I Was Kaiser Bill’s Batman, Cliff Richards' High And Dry, and Gary Lewis’ Green Grass.

They also wrote a song called True Love and Apple Pie for Susan Shirley. They later rewrote that song with two other chaps to produce the famous Coca-Cola jingle I'd Like To Buy The World A Coke, which in turn became a rather annoying hit for The New Seekers (get the Susan Shirley song and the Coke jingle as well as the story of the song HERE). By contrast, for themselves they wrote songs with titles such as Gilly Gilly Ossenfeffer Katzenellenbogen By-The-Sea (well, they did have another UK hit with the more soberly titled Lovers of the World Unite).

Their first successful songwriting collaboration was You've Got Your Troubles, which was a US and UK top 10 for The Fortunes. The Birmingham band would have a hit with another Greenaway/Cook song, This Golden Ring. The two Rogers recorded the song themselves, but it seems unclear when: one source claims that they did so before The Fortunes recorded their version in May 1965; most sources say David and Jonathan’s version was released in 1966.

Anyhow, the two Bristolians ceased their biblically-monikered George Martin-produced duetting high jinks in 1968, having recorded a flop with Softly Whispering I Love You (four years later a hit for The Congregation). Greenaway was invited to join the newly-formed band Blue Mink. He declined, but recommended Cook, who became co-lead singer with Madeline Bell. Cook and Greenaway wrote the bulk of Blue Mink songs.

After Blue Mink, Cook moved to Nashville, eventually becoming the first British songwriter to be inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame.

Trouble: Lookin’ For Trouble

Steve Goodman: Lookin‘ For Trouble

[purchase]

When I think of Steve Goodman, I think first of his wonderful sense of humor. Next, I think of his warmth, and the love for his characters that comes through in songs like The Dutchman. (Yes, I know Goodman didn’t write The Dutchman, but his performance brings out this quality, and it also shows up in his writing.) At first listen, Lookin’ For Trouble is another matter. Goodman’s base of operations was Chicago, and here that city’s blues comes out through him. But listen again. The song is a piece of advice to someone who might still be able to benefit from it. In this take on the blues, all is not lost. Goodman’s narrator is singing this to someone he wants to help, and what comes through most is how much he cares.

Incidentally, Lookin’ For Trouble is a song that I first encountered in a wonderful performance by Mollie O’Brien and Rich Moore. Later, I found an equally wonderful version by Red Molly. Both were too recent to include in this post, but, if you like this, you will want to seek out those versions as well.

Trouble: Trouble Every Day / More Trouble Every Day

The Mothers of Invention: Trouble Every Day

[purchase]

Frank Zappa: More Trouble Every Day (Swaggert Version)

[purchase]

Here we have two versions of the same song--though with different titles and very different arrangements--from opposite ends of Frank Zappa's career. The first track, "Trouble Every Day", comes from the first Mothers of Invention album, 1965's Freak Out. Infused with themes of race, violence, social injustice, and sensationalist journalism, the lyrics are, sadly, timeless.

In later years, Zappa revisited the song, speeding it up, addressing current events, and retitling it "More Trouble Every Day". The version here comes from his last tour in 1988, and was released on the album The Best Band You Never Heard in Your Life. Like several songs on the album, Jimmy Swaggert is the main target of Zappa's ire. The '80s were a kind of golden age for hypocritical television evangelists. And for Zappa, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Sadly, Zappa passed away in 1993. One wonders what he would have produced were he still with us today.

Trouble: Trouble in Mind

Big Bill Broonzy: Trouble in Mind

[purchase]

Jimmy Witherspoon: Trouble in Mind

[purchase]

James Blood Ulmer: Trouble in Mind

[purchase]

Trouble in Mind is a primal blues song. I don’t know if anyone knows how old it is. From the lyrics, it could be as old as the railroads, but the versions heard here each present a slightly different set of lyrics. So maybe the railroad reference is a late addition and maybe the song is even older. This is the kind of song that invites such wild speculation, because it speaks of an emotion that goes back forever. Trouble in Mind is the perfect expression of despair. Even the lyric that says, “the sun’s gonna shine in my back door some day,” sounds more like a desperate wish than a statement of faith. Big Bill Bronzy, Jimmy Witherspoon, and James Blood Ulmer are three artists who get that. They understand that Trouble in Mind should be sung and played as a cry from the bottom of a man’s spirit. And yet, these three performances are completely different. Big Bill Broonzy sobs his way through the song. His guitar playing appears and disappears, like a stuttering cry, but he never loses the beat or the shape of the song. Jimmy Witherspoon works within the tight structure of a jazz ballad, but his emotional expression is just as powerful. Gerry Mulligan’s sax part seems to be trying to comfort him and offer support, but Witherspoon is unable to accept this, his narrator is beyond help. Ulmer’s version seems to say that this despair is so deep that it comes from another world. I’ve never heard blues sitar before, but, in Ulmer’s arrangement, it makes perfect sense. His vocal is strangely calm, as if he is all cried out but really no happier.

Trouble In Mind is a blues classic which has also crossed over, not only into jazz, but also into country and western swing. There are many ways to make the song work, and there are also some versions that don’t work. But the ones I have chosen are, I think, a fair sampling.

Heritage -> Trouble: Inara George

Inara George: Trouble

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Inara George never really knew her father, Little Feat founder, frontman, and primary songwriter Lowell George - he died when she was five, leaving a young Inara to be raised by her mother. But having Jackson Browne as a godfather, and Van Dyke Parks as a family friend, kept her connected to the arts in her blood: she trained to be an actress, and after a high school reunion jam session led to a major label contract, a career in her father's footsteps seems to have inevitably followed.

I love the poignant, delicate way young, pre-fame Inara takes on this track, recorded as the final track for her father's tribute album in 1997, trading the slow, steady heartbeat of her father's original for smooth balladry and strings. And if you want to hear more from this wry, clear-voiced siren, there's plenty to find: though her first band's sole album is out of print for good reason, her early post-millennium work with Merrick was featured in episodes of (and soundtracks for) Felicity and Grey's Anatomy; fifteen years later, her current bands The Bird and the Bee and retro-girl-group The Living Sisters are all the rage in indie circles.

I know that our Heritage theme wasn't intended to provide comparison between parents and their progeny. It's rare for artists to cover their own parents, after all. But as our theme this week will feature songs with the word "trouble" in the title, I've also included the 1971 Little Feat original as a bonus. After all, it's Lowell's song, to begin with.

Little Feat: Trouble

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Heritage: Eliza Carthy

Eliza Carthy: Fisher Boy

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Billy Bragg and Eliza Carthy: My Father's Mansions

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Old friend and once-upon-a-time Star Maker Machine contributor Divinyl may be up to her eyebrows in grad school, but she still had time to check in via FaceBook to express excitement about this week's theme, offering alongside her kudos and hellos a short wish-list of folks she hoped we might get to. Her first suggestion, Rufus Wainwright, has already been covered with aplomb by Anne, and despite impeccable if relatively localized famous parentage, her second and third choices - the Unthanks and Martha Tilston - are a bit recent for our usual standards, having started their recording careers post-millennium.

Eliza Carthy, on the other hand, fits both our high standards and our practice. And so today's secondhand recommendation, though last on Divinyl's list, comes first on mine, with my full endorsement.

I've written about Eliza Carthy and her family within the year, in fact, over at Cover Lay Down, and Darius posted a song of hers way back in February of last year, so I won't go too deeply into her work here, except to note that, like Rufus and Anita, Eliza comes from a long and broad musical lineage - she's the daughter of Martin Carthy and Norma Waterson, niece of Mike and Lal Waterson - and started out as a wee lass performing alongside family, with mother, aunt, and cousin. Since then, she has put out several solo albums, and records and tours with both the larger family and as Waterson:Carthy with her parents. But regardless of who she is paired with, or not, one listen, and you, too, will have little doubt that the tendency towards traditional Brit-folk of the Yorkshire revivalist sort runs rich in her veins.

As this week's theme asks us to focus on progeny specifically, I've selected two favorite "sans family" pieces as introduction: the former a simple mid-nineties take on a traditional tune featuring Eliza's bold vocals, the latter featuring her potent fiddling, alongside Billy Bragg's voice, on a Pete Seeger song which resonates exceptionally well in the lyrical tones of those from across the pond.

Heritage: Joshua Redman

Joshua Redman: I Had A King

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Here's another example of the fruit not falling far at all from the tree. Joshua Redman, the brilliant free-form saxophonist, learned his craft at his father Dewey Redman's knee. Dewey was known for his solo free-form/bebop recordings as well as collaborations with Ornette Coleman and Keith Jarrett, especially, as well as with Pat Metheny, Paul Motian, and Charlie Haden.

I treated you to a song by Joshua Redman (St. Thomas) during Saints week. This time I'm sharing a Joni Mitchell cover that he borrows and makes his own.

Heritage: Aoife Clancy

Aoife Clancy: Are You Sleepin‘ Maggie?

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Happy St Patrick’s Day! For the occasion, I wanted to present some Irish music. Shouldn’t be to difficult, right? After all, look at the on-line bio of almost any well known Irish musician, and it will say that they came from a musical family. The trouble is, most of those mothers and fathers were strictly amateur musicians. However, look at my artist’s last name. Yes, those Clancys. Specifically, Aoife’s father is Bobby Clancy of the Clancy Brothers. Love them or hate them, they have to be the best known Irish musical family. But Aoife is another matter. Her music is more rooted in the traditional sounds of Ireland, and she also uses a more modern folk sound. Aoife Clancy began her recording career as a member of Cherish the Ladies, and her solo work is just as beautiful.

Heritage: Anita Carter

Anita, Maybelle, June and Helen Carter

Anita Carter: Anita Carter – (Love’s) Ring Of Fire


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Last week I featured an original of a song known better by its cover (“Bossa Nova Baby”), and this week’s theme invites another lesser-known original (those who know my little corner of the blogosphere will be aware of my love for those).

Anita Carter was part of the Carter Sisters, successor to the original Carter Family, the pioneers of country music. The Carter Family comprised A.P. Carter, his wife Sara and Sara’s cousin Maybelle, who by dint of her marriage to A.P.’s brother Ezra was also the sister-in-law to her fellow band members. They recorded for only nine years, from 1927-36, but left behind an immensely influential body of work, one that would help define country and folk. Maybelle was a groundbreaking guitarist: in her hands, the instrument made the transition from a rhythm to lead instrument.

The Carter Family broke up after A.P. and Sara divorced in 1936. Sara married A.P.’s cousin (really!) and moved to California. In 1938, Maybelle (still 29 years old) roped in her nine-year-old middle daughter June, and soon after her older daughter, Helen, who as an eight-year-old in 1935 already had appeared on stage with the Carter Family. Eventually youngest daughter Anita, born in 1933, joined the group which was alternately known as Mother Maybelle and the Carter Sisters, or just the Carter Sisters, or the Carter Family. They performed together until the 1970s, and after Maybelle’s death reunited briefly in 1987, roping in June’s daughter Carlene.

In the 1950s Anita (who in the Carter Family played the stand-up bass) began to score solo hit singles. She also supported Elvis Presley tour (there were rumours of some kind of romantic relationship). More hits would follow sporadically, but Anita never hit the big time as much as did her sister June, who ended up married to Johnny Cash.

At the time when June was falling for Cash, she was regularly writing songs with fellow country singer Merle Kilgore. Kilgore later recalled Ring Of Fire being born the day June spoke to him about her love for Cash. While searching for an idea for a new song, the story goes, June remembered a letter she had received from a friend going through a divorce which described love as “a burning ring of fire”. The song essentially described June’s feelings for Cash. But it was Anita who recorded it, in November 1962. The song was only half-finished when Anita was ready to record it; June and Kilgore banged the rest together in ten minutes, fortuitously retaining the word “mire” from a provisional lyric.

Cash liked the song when he heard Anita’s record (as he well should) and decided he would record it. Deferring to his future sister-in-law, he waited four months before recording his version, with the famous Tijuana trumpets. His version was a hit, saving him from being fired by Columbia Records. Cash’s career revived to such an extent that he was later given a TV show, on which both Anita and Maybelle would feature frequently.

Maybelle died in 1979 at the age of 69; Anita died in June and Johnny’s home on 29 July 1999 at the age of 66.

Heritage: Martha and Rufus Wainwright

Martha Wainwright: Laurel & Hardy

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Rufus Wainwright: April Fools

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Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle were great folk singers in their own right. Sadly, Kate died last year, but Loudon still is going strong. The marriage between Loudon and Kate didn't last but the union left a lasting legacy nonetheless. Their children, Rufus and Martha, have become talented musicians on their own. Songwriting is obviously in their blood.

Martha's song "Laurel & Hardy" from her 1999 EP is about her brother Rufus and makes it clear that they have a close relationship, something that was probably fostered by their bitterness over their father not being around for most of their childhoods. Rufus is the more well-known of the two (at least so far), though, and has found much critical success.

After Loudon and Kate's divorce, Loudon had another child with another folk singer, Suzzy Roche, of The Roches. The child, a girl named Lucy, also has become a musician...as a bonus, here is a track of hers.

Lucy Wainwright-Roche: Chicago

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Heritage: Wynton Marsalis

Wynton Marsalis: In the Court of King Oliver

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I have the perfect album for this week’s theme. Standard Time Vol. 3 The Resolution of Romance is Wynton Marsalis’ tribute to his musical heritage. The album’s 21 songs form a sort of travelogue through the generations of jazz that inspired Wynton Marsalis. Naturally, the journey begins in New Orleans, Marsalis’ home town. In the Court of King Oliver is a Wynton Marsalis original, but it pays tribute to the first great New Orleans trumpeter, King Oliver.

Now, you may have noticed that this week is not about musical heritage but about family. Wynton Marsalis is the best known of six brothers, but three others are also jazz musicians. Branford is the saxophonist in the family, and the youngest brother Jason plays drums and vibraphone, and is just now starting to make a name for himself. Another brother, Delfeayo, has become a well known jazz trombonist, but he served as producer of this album. They all get it from their father. Ellis Marsalis made his first recording before the first of his sons was even born, in 1956. From there, Ellis Marsalis forged a dual career as musician and jazz educator. Ellis Marsalis is the piano player heard here, and father and son are both pictured above on the album cover.

Dance Moves -> Heritage: Bebel Gilberto's One Note Samba

Bebel Gilberto w/ Venicius Cantuaria: One Note Samba/The Girl From Ipanema

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Daughter of Brazilian singer-songwriters and composers João Gilberto, who is generally credited with inventing the Bossa Nova beat, and his wife Miúcha, whose career began at age 38 when her husband brought her in as a performing partner for his work with Stan Getz, Bebel Gilberto made her Carnegie Hall debut at just nine years old, singing alongside her parents and the inimitable Stan Getz. Today, she brings a perfect balance of modern beats and neo-classical portuguese style to her work, releasing remixes designed to appeal to the world beat market and her younger countrymen, and it works: this delightful samba is but one of several she has recorded, and to be fair, it's but one half of a medley of two of her father's signature tunes, both originally written by Antonim Jobim, but it showcases her style better than the ubiquitous and oft-sampled club remixes I also had sitting around.

As the daughter of musical royalty, Bebel's work also kicks off a week's thematic exploration of second generation musicians. Note that, as with previous artist-centric explorations, this week's posts will use artist names, not song names, in their titles.

Dance Moves: Waltz

Kyosuke Himuro: Waltz

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After spending the evening watching the horrible news from Japan, I wanted to share something soothing, beautiful, and Japanese.

Kyosuke Himuro made his name in the 80s with fellow Boøwy bandmate Tomoyasu Hotei (of Battle Without Honor or Humanity fame). Since that band's demise, he's been a successful solo artist, leaning more towards the pop side of things. This English-titled song, Waltz, is a gorgeous ballad that really shows off his rich voice. Stylistically, he's a lot like George Michael, except he's not, you know, a creepy, entitled wanker.

Dance Moves: The Stroll, The Twist, The Limbo Rock, and The Cool Jerk

The Diamonds: The Stroll (1958)

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Chubby Checker: The Twist (1960)

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Chubby Checker: The Limbo Rock (1962)

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The Capitals: Cool Jerk (1966)

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I know a few weeks ago, I opined that SMM wasn't meant to be the definitive resource for the weekly theme. But somehow, I just think that one of us has to chat about the raft of dances and their respective songs that blossomed in the late 50's and early 60's. Not that this list is at all definitive – it's just a few of the songs I really remember from those days.

One of the precursors to the boom in dance songs is the first song, a 1958 gem. I can't say I remember it exactly, but notice that photo up there? Well, that's yours truly in the frilly slip, along with my older sister and mother, doing my best at learning the Stroll, dancing along to American Bandstand on the TV.

The next song is much more vivid in my mind. I'm not sure if this was a universality, but in our suburban mecca, people actually did the Twist at weekend parties. I remember all the parents in the neighborhood twisting in our basement. And they did the Limbo, too---well, that was only possible, as far as I could tell, after a few of those funny-smelling highballs. Although we limbo'd a lot in school. It was the Macarena of the early 60s – everyone knew how it was supposed to be done, although the actual execution was wobbly.

Finally comes my personal favorite, the Cool Jerk. My sister bought me the 45 for my birthday (mostly because she knew she could "borrow" it whenever she liked.) I still own this 45, too. The top-notch Motown backing group, the Funk Brothers, provide the backing.

Dance Moves: Evangeline Waltz

Beausoleil: Evangeline Waltz

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Every dance event I ever attended, after a high energy evening, always wound down with a slow dance. I imagine that this might also hold true for Mardi Gras, so here is a beautiful Cajun waltz to bring things to their natural conclusion. Evangeline Waltz is a traditional song. The liner notes say that this is a song of unrequited love, and I must believe it since I don’t speak French. If anyone who does can provide a translation, please do so in the comments. Merci. I must rely on the sound, and Beausoleil has never failed me yet.

Dance Moves: The Frug

Rilo Kiley: The Frug

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Some songs don't lend themselves to over-detailed analysis. This 1999 song by indie pop group Rilo Kiley is one of those. Lead singer Jenny Lewis lists some things she can and cannot do, most of which are of passing value (I can make some mac and cheese), which stand in stark contrast to the fundamental thing she claims she cannot do: I cannot fall in love.

For what it's worth, I cannot do the Smurf either. I can, however, still do a passable frug and a damned good Freddie.

Dance Moves: Mardi Gras Mambo

The Hawketts: Mardi Gras Mambo

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Darius recently wrote about the Meters, a precursor to the Neville Brothers formed in the late '60s. But their pre-history goes back even further, and this song is as good a starting point as any. The Hawketts' "Mardi Gras Mambo", featuring Art Neville on vocals, was released way back in 1954, but it remains a popular Mardi Gras anthem today. Indeed, I woke up this morning with this song in my head, and it seems like the most appropriate song to post on Fat Tuesday.

Dance Moves: Tango Atlantico

Joe Jackson: Tango Atlantico

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“You may think that this song comes too late.” So sings Joe Jackson on his 1986 album Big World. The song seems to be about the Falklands War, which was fought in 1982. Most of the songs about it came out in 1983, so you can see Jackson’s point. But in wars, soldiers are always left behind, as peacekeepers or advisors. These are who Tango Atlantico is about. Here in 2011, the United States is still fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Both have gone on so long that the public has turned their attention to other things. To me, Tango Atlantico is also about our troops in those two countries. You don’t have to agree with the reasons these wars are fought to appreciate the sacrifices of our soldiers, who volunteered for this with the best of intentions. It seems that there is always a forgotten war being fought somewhere. So, Mr Jackson, your song does not come too late at all.

Dance Moves: Bossa Nova Baby

Tippie and the Clovers: Bossa Nova Baby

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Bossa Nova Baby has been unjustly regarded by some as a bit of a displeasing novelty number from an Elvis movie (1963’s Fun In Acapulco). Even Elvis is said to have been embarrassed by it. If so, he had no cause: it may not be a bossa nova — it’s too fast for that — but it has a infectious tune and a genius keyboard riff which begs to be sampled widely. Perhaps it was the lyrics which had Elvis allegedly shamefaced, but the lines, “she said, ‘Drink, drink, drink/Oh, fiddle-de-dink/I can dance with a drink in my hand’”, are not much worse than some of the doggerel our man was forced to croon in his movie career as singing racing driver/pineapple heir/bus conductor. Or perhaps Elvis was embarrassed by the idea of including a notional bossa nova number in a movie set in Mexico. So here we won’t revisit Elvis’ version of the song, but the original.

Tippie and the Clovers, who were signed to Leiber and Stoller’s Tiger label, recorded the song first in 1962 to cash in on the bossa nova craze. Apparently the composers preferred the Clovers’ version of Elvis’. These were the same Clovers, incidentally, who had scored a #23 hit with Love Potion No. 9 (also written by Leiber & Stoller and later covered to greater chart effect by the Searchers) on Atlantic in 1959.

(photo from farbror-sid.se)

Dance Moves: Little Black Samba

Grover Washington, Jr.: Little Black Samba

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I have a handful of songs on my hard drive that I'm just waiting for the right theme to match, and this is one of them. I could have chosen among 66 other songs I've got with the word "Samba" in the title, but one look and I knew this would be the one. Its rhythm is so infectious and compelling that I'm having a hard time sitting still long enough to write this entry.

In 1980 when Come Morning was released, the saxophonist Grover Washington, Jr., was at the peak of his popularity and was a key artist in the explosion of smooth jazz, a genre of jazz blended with funk, R&B, and pop. This song in particular celebrates the heavy African influence in Brazilian music in both lyrics (sung by the drummer Grady Tate) and rhythm (ably assisted by Eric Gale, guitar; Ralph MacDonald, percussion, and Steve Gadd, drums).

I like its cleverly punned title, too.

Doublespeak -> Dance Moves: Everybody Loves To Cha Cha Cha

Sam Cooke: Everybody Loves To Cha Cha Cha

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James Taylor: Everybody Loves To Cha Cha Cha

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Things heat up a bit as we move from one title theme to another this week, leaving behind songs that use the same word twice to start a set of songs which mention dance styles or dance moves in their title. Yes, folks, it's a Star Maker Machine Dance Marathon, and if it works, I'm hoping it'll become an annual pre-spring event, marking the warming of the world with a bit of energy as we shake off winter with some dance floor moves.

Sam Cooke provides a solid transitional tune with his hot, humid, heavily rhythmic tribute to the Cha Cha Cha, a dance of Cuban origin often referred to doubly in American parlance; Sam's original is a worthy addition to the canon, and it'll certainly teach you how to do the moves, but it's James Taylor's 1991 version, off his sorely underrated Adult Contemporary album New Moon Shine, that brought me here: slow, sultry, languid, and aching with a kind of longing that Sam surely never envisioned, bless his heart.