The Other Guy(s): Jefferson Airplane

Jefferson Airplane: Chauffeur’s Blues
[purchase]

Obviously, I like this theme, so I’m back with a third entry. And to pile it on, it is about two “other guys,” one of whom isn’t a guy.

When I was in high school, my friend Chris and I worked our way back from the then-popular Jefferson Starship through the discography of the Jefferson Airplane. I remember hours spent in the cutout bins at Korvette’s in Nanuet flipping through records to find their music. If you are a casual fan of the band, you know about Grace Slick’s powerful vocals, and maybe even Marty Balin’s blue-eyed soul singing or Paul Kantner’s folkier sounds. Or maybe you are a fan of their interesting harmonies, or the few songs that Jorma Kaukonen sang before moving full time to Hot Tuna. Four vocalists is pretty good for a single band, and these days it is rare to find a popular group that allows more than one, or sometimes two, singers to take regular lead vocals.

But the Airplane had even more singers. The Jefferson Airplane discography (not including live albums, solo projects and compilations) consists of 7 albums released between 1966 and 1972 (plus a reunion album from 1989). And although Kantner, Kaukonen and bass player Jack Casady were constants, Slick joined after their first album, Balin was there at the start, but left before the sixth album was done, and there were a number of drummers and other members that played with the band.

So, before Grace Slick, there was Signe Toly Anderson (no relation to previous “Other Guy” subject Jon). In the early days of the band, and on their debut record, Jefferson Airplane Takes Off, her role was mostly to sing backup and harmony. She left the band in 1966, following the birth of her daughter Lillith (and possibly because other members of the band didn’t get along with her husband.) On October 15, 1966, the Airplane played the Fillmore, and at the end of the show, Balin announced that Anderson was leaving the band. Anderson’s farewell to the audience is a classic Sixties statement—“I want you all to wear smiles and daisies and box balloons. I love you all. Thank you and goodbye.” The band then played “Chauffeur’s Blues,” with Anderson on lead vocals, followed by one more song. The next night Slick performed with the band.

Anderson returned to Oregon, where she raised a family and sang with a jazz band before suffering from a number of health problems. She has made occasional appearances at reunion shows, with the KBC Band (Kantner, Balin, Casady), and with later incarnations of Jefferson Starship.

Jefferson Airplane: Pretty As You Feel
[purchase]

Fast forward to 1970, when the Airplane were recording the followup to their last great record, Volunteers. Drummer Spencer Dryden, who had joined the band after the first record, had left, ultimately to end up in the New Riders of the Purple Sage.  He was replaced by Joey Covington, a self-taught drummer who had played with Hot Tuna, in unrecorded performances. Then Balin left the band, and they were looking to replace his material on the album, which became Bark. Covington was jamming one night with Kaukonen, Casady, Carlos Santana and percussionist Michael Shrieve on a piece that was given the working title of “Shitty As You Feel,” and little was expected of it. But the engineer, Pat “Maurice” Ieraci thought otherwise, and the title was changed to something more printable. Slick and Kantner overdubbed vocals, Papa John Creach added some fiddle, and a good song emerged. “Pretty As You Feel,” with Covington’s lead vocal, was released as a single and hit 60 on the Billboard chart, the last charting single for the Jefferson Airplane.

Covington left the band in 1972 for a relatively obscure solo career and as a sideman, and passed away last month at the age of 67 in a car accident.

THE OTHER GUY: Keith Moon

The Who: "Bell Boy"
[Purchase]

For this entry in the Other Guy theme, you could almost say it's the Other Other Other Guy. Yes, when it comes to the Who, Roger Daltrey was the lead singer, Pete Townshend (The Other Guy) sang the songs that Roger couldn't interpret the way Pete heard them in his head (at least that's the way I've always figured it), and then John Entwistle (The Other Other Guy) would sing his one composition per album. But unlike the Beatles, where Ringo always had a song per album as well, Keith Moon typically didn't sing on Who albums.

But on "Bell Boy," from the Who's classic 1973 double-LP concept album, Quadrophenia, Moon took the lead for a good chunk of the song. Daltrey starts things off by setting the scene for Moon's entrance, letting you know that he (in the character of Jimmy, from the album's storyline), has found that his idol, "Ace Face," is now a bell boy at a resort hotel ("I can see The Face coming through the haze/I remember him from those crazy days"), no longer the anti-authority figure he had been as leader of the Mods. And then in comes Moon as Ace Face himself, singing in a gruff Cockney accent, bemoaning his current situation. Obviously, Moon is hamming it up, so his singing isn't really as off as this might lead one to believe. In fact, while he's thinking back wistfully ("Some nights I still sleep on the beach/Remember when stars were in reach") you can hear him channeling his inner Townshend. Clearly it's a part that would have otherwise been sung by Pete -- but Moon handles it quite well, showing that he did in fact have some melodic range, even if it was rough around the edges.

Townshend has said that he tried to get Moon to sing the song more seriously, but that Moon simply couldn't help mugging for the part, so he gave up trying to get him to do it any other way. And he should be glad he did, as it's certainly one of the most memorable songs on a very memorable album -- and, it should be added, has one of the greatest power-chord riffs in the Who's repertoire. Moon's moment in the vocal spotlight was no throwaway tune, by any means.

The Other Guy : Mick Ralphs

[Purchase]

In the movie Almost Famous, Lester Bangs tells Cameron Crowe's stand-in "1973 is a dangerous time for rock n roll".

It was certainly a dangerous time for Mott the Hoople. The hard rocking, all-straight band suddenly found fame with the David Bowie penned and produced  glam rock gay anthem "All the Young Dudes", a #37 hit in the US. They toured like mad but couldn't escape the pop music pundits labeling them a Bowie band.

For 1973's Mott, Ian Hunter pushed the band to prove they could produce a great album on their own. He may have pushed a little too hard. Keyboardist Verden Allen had already left before sessions began in February. After the recording,  founding member and guitarist Mick Ralphs would depart to form Bad Company with his childhood friend, Paul Rodgers of Free.

But before he did, Ralphs took eight minutes in the spotlight to shine on this classic cut from Side Two of 1973's Mott."I'm a Cadillac" is all Mott with its heavy, chiming guitar sounds and sexually charged lyrics. Then, at about three minutes in, the electric guitars drop out and Ralphs steps up to the front with "El Camino Delo Roso", a Spanish guitar showcase.




With Rodgers, Mick Ralphs found someone who could reach the high notes on a song he'd just written called  "Can't Get Enough", soon to be a worldwide #1 hit. Bad Company also recorded Ralphs's All the Young Dudes showcase "Ready For Love" on the 1974 debut which sold 5 million copies. That year Ian Hunter left Mott after being hospitalized for physical exhaustion and eventually pursued a moderately successful solo career.

Mott the Hoople still play reunion gigs. There's a week of them coming up in the UK in November.

The Other Guy: Walter Becker

Steely Dan: Slang of Ages

Steely Dan: Slang of Ages (live)

[purchase]

Steely Dan got their start forty years ago, but they only qualified for this week’s theme with their last studio release, 2003’s Everything Must Go. Until then, Donald Fagen always handled all of the lead vocals. One thing that becomes clear from listening to Fagen’s solo work is that, with Steely Dan, he is usually singing the words of Walter Becker. Becker has a cynicism and a sense of irony that are missing when Fagen writes for himself.

One stock character in Becker‘s writing is the sexual predator. You find him, in various forms, in Everyone‘s Gone to the Movies and Cousin Dupree, just to name two. Slang of Ages features him in a less threatening form. Here, he is a down-on-his-luck would-be Lothario, trying to pick up a woman in a bar. This character is not Becker, but rather someone he wants us to see and understand. We don‘t have to like him, and we are even allowed to laugh at his misadventures. But the laugh must be a nervous one, because the character shows us urges we try to deny in ourselves. The way the song is written, it is even possible that the entire encounter takes place only in the narrator‘s mind. In the end though, it does not matter if it is real or not; we have still seen what Becker wanted to show us.

Becker speak/sings his way through most of the lyric here. He can carry a tune when he needs to, but this delivery suits the character. Nevertheless, based on the evidence of this performance, Donald Fagen is certainly the more expressive singer. There is no sign that Steely Dan has any intention of doing any further albums, although they continue to tour. It may be that they decided that Becker should take this vocal because it would be his last chance to do so in the studio with Steely Dan.

I found a nice fan-made slide show for this song. As a bonus, I have also included a live version, also from 2003. The live video should have cut off thirty seconds before it does, however; the song that Donald Fagen begins to introduce at the end, if you’re wondering, is Peg.

The Other Guy: Jon Anderson

[purchase]

I’m working on a King Crimson related post for another blog, and it reminded me that, in King Crimson terms, Jon Anderson is the other guy. Crimson is a band that, if anything, is consistent in its inconsistency— its history is filled with constant turnover in personnel and styles, with Robert Fripp as the only member who has been in every incarnation of the band. Most histories of King Crimson seem to refer to musicians leaving because they didn’t like or understand the music, which raises the question of why they joined in the first place. Wikipedia reports that there are over fifteen-hundred releases on which members and former members of King Crimson appear.

The band’s third album, Lizard, was a departure from the first two, with greater jazz influences, and Greg Lake’s powerful vocals being replaced by Gordon Haskell’s more ethereal style. But the song “Prince Rupert Awakes,” was too high for Haskell, so Jon Anderson, of Yes, was enlisted to sing, his only contribution to the Crimson oeuvre.

On the other hand, when it comes to Yes, in my mind, Anderson is the guy, despite the fact that Yes has had membership turnover that rivals King Crimson. But despite the fact that Anderson was replaced as lead vocalist by "other guys" Trevor Horn, Benoit David and Jon Davison (the latter two having been vocalists in Yes tribute bands before moving up to the major leagues) who attempt to mimic the original, there can be no question that for that band, Anderson is affirmatively the guy.

The Other Guy: Brian May

Queen: 39
[purchase]

As much as Mick is associated with the Stones, Freddie Mercury’s soaring vocals are synonymous with Queen. And yet, most Queen albums included at least one, sometimes more, songs sung by the other members of the band, typically guitarist Brian May and bassist Roger Taylor. Both men could certainly sing, but neither had a voice with the distinctive qualities of Mercury. Of course, few vocalists do, so that is not really a criticism.

I’ve been a fan of Queen since high school, and like many my age listened to their classic A Night at the Opera many, many times. As much as “Bohemian Rhapsody” blew my teenage mind, and the rest of the album was enjoyable (including the Taylor-sung “I’m in Love with my Car,”) something about "’39," sung by May, has stuck with me through the years.

Until I started researching this post, I was under the apparently common mistaken impression that the song was about 1939 and the start of World War II. The wistful tone of the song fit with my belief that it was about someone looking back to the simpler times before the war, which devastated England beyond what we here in the States experienced.

Turns out, the song is about space travel.

The song, which May has described as “sci-fi skiffle,” tells the story of space explorers who head off on a journey and return a year later, only to find that a hundred years have passed, and everyone they knew is dead. Thus, the wistfulness.

In addition to being one of the greatest and most distinctive guitarists in rock music, Brian May is an astrophysicist. He was studying for his Ph.D when he decided to take a break to become a rock star. But he was no slacker, and in 2007, he finally completed his degree. Shortly thereafter, he was appointed Chancellor of Liverpool John Moores University, a mostly ceremonial position, allowing him to continue to tour and make guest appearances, including at the London Olympics. May has also co-written books on astrophysics and has an asteroid named after him. So, if he wants to write a song about space travel and “time dilation,” he has the musical and intellectual chops to pull it off.

Interestingly, although May sings the song on the album, in concert Mercury usually sang the lead.

THE OTHER "GUY": LORRAINE McINTOSH

Lorraine McIntosh (Deacon Blue) : Cover From the Sky
(purchase)

Good old wiki, I think, label Deacon Blue as one of the best unknown bands from Scotland. If they don't, they should, but with a disclaimer. For the truth is more they should or could have been, and I never quite know how they didn't make the grade. Apart fom the unknown bit, of course, at which they excelled. Cue angry and irritated of Dumfries pointing out their cumulative sales and hit singles etc etc, which is all well and good, but being world famous in Scotland, sadly, doesn't always equate to international fame and fortune. Go see Big Country, Runrig, The Fire Engines. Strangely, The Proclaimers did.

Deacon Blue sprang from nowhere during that amazingly fertile period for british  literate rock, mid to late '80s. If I look behind me at the groaning shelves, that period evokes Lloyd Cole and early to mid U2. Raintown, their first LP appeared in 1987, it's cover evocative, unsurprisingly, of a rainy day in Glasgow, if there is any other sort. But the songs were full of hope, the stand out for me being Chocolate Girl, positioned so that I just had to play side one time and time again. (Note to younger readers, records had 2 sides!). It wasn't until later on, as they started having hit singles and appearing on Top of the Pops that I gained the image of them. Rather than a standard issue half-hidden girly singer duo or trio, gyrating, semi-synchronised, on the sideline, this band had but one, right in the middle. And usually on a pedestal, woowooing and aaahing away, as her life depended upon it. This seemed undue prominence until I realised she was the girlfriend of the singer. Who also wrote the songs...... Hmmm.

Later came an EP of Bacharach songs, including a plaintive version of I'll Never Fall in Love Again, which, given I was in the throes of a doomed and inappropriate relationship at the time, somehow hit a chord. But the said girly singer sang a line all by herself. And I was rather taken with that. A bit like the shock when Phil Oakey lets one of his girlys, I forget which, sing in Don't You Want Me, except, on this occasion, actually carrying the tune. Or any tune.

In truth I went off them after that. The singles became too complicated and formulaic, too wordy and clever, at least for me. But I retained a candle for their brand and concept, so, when this topic came up, I wondered if she had ever been allowed out, totally alone. And I found this. It isn't bad, either, making me maybe feel I have judged them a little cruelly, but, is it not true, when the magic has gone, the magic has gone. Listen to to all three songs, and be the judge.

The Other Guy: Keith Richards

 

Keith Richards: You Got The Silver
[purchase]

The Other Guy theme is about that member of the band who doesn't do/rarely does the lead vocals. Keith Richards fits the bill. As I dug around for background info for this post, I came across an online resource that credits Richards with the main vocals in only about 20 of the hundreds of songs the Stones have recorded. Yes, he frequently sings background vocals, but that's not at all the same skill. Hence, the other man.

Away from the Stones, for example on his solo Talk is Cheap album from 1988, Richards is credited with the lead vocals, and you can catch him here doing the lead vocals with X Pensive Winos. Although it is noted that he sang in a (young) boys' choir for the Queen, today, his voice sounds kind of scratchy and he doesnt exactly shine at keeping a melodious tune (post-puberty voice change, no doubt). However, there are those few and far between times when his voice is a better choice for a Rolling Stones song than Jagger’s.

And this is one. Originally recorded for 1969’s Let It Bleed, the live version of You Got The Silver linked above is tagged as being only about a month old. Having dug for several hours to research my options, I have to say that this is one of the better showcases of the man's vocal talents that I was able to locate. His singing calls to mind the quality(?) of Bob Dylan's voice.

As an additional thought, if you consider the relationship between gold and silver/Jagger and Richards, I wonder if there is more to the choice of lead vocalist for this song than meets the eye.

And Bands: Eli et Papillon

Eli et Papillon: Train de Vie
[purchase]

I don’t speak French, but I know enough to know that “et” means “and.” I have written often about my son, and less about my daughter, which is just because my son and I seem to have more similar musical tastes, although maybe not really. I do love them equally, no matter what they may think. But I am always looking for a reason to mention my daughter, and when I came up with an idea in connection with this theme, I jumped on it.

My daughter is a young woman who has an intrepid streak and loves languages. Her goal in life, right now, is to live outside of the U.S. A French student in high school, she also started teaching herself Spanish and spent a summer in Ecuador. In college, she started studying Arabic, and is a Spanish major, studying last summer in Buenos Aires. She has taken a semester of Portuguese, and will be spending her junior year in Barcelona, studying Spanish and likely some Catalan.

The summer before her senior year, she attended the Middlebury Monterey Language Academy in Vermont, which is an immersion program, so the students are supposed to speak only their chosen language, in my daughter’s case, French. The students were cautioned that the only books they could bring would be in French, and any music they planned to have on their iPods had to be in French. So I started to look for music in that language for her. Along with the obvious Serge Gainsbourg, Carla Bruni, and the like, I found some French prog rock, some Cajun songs and a few other random things. She and her then-boyfriend found French ska and rap. But probably my favorite discovery was Eli et Papillon, a duo from Montreal, which my daughter also liked.

It turns out that “Eli” is not an old Jewish guy or a hipster kid from the Upper West Side, but is singer Elise Larouche, and “Papillon” is not Henri Charriere, but is multi-instrumentalist Marc Papillon-Ferland. They were offering their demo for free, and I snapped it up. It was well crafted music, somewhere between folk and pop, and Eli has a beautiful voice. It reminds me a little bit of Hem.

About a year ago, Eli et Papillon released a final version of their first CD, and they have fleshed out the songs a bit. The version of “Train de Vie,” which Google translates as “Lifestyle,” posted here is the new version, and it proves that you don’t need to have any clue what a song means to enjoy it.

And Bands: Geno Washington and the Ram Jam Band

[Purchase]

Any band that would put out a live album called "Hand Clappin', Foot Stompin', Funky-Butt...Live" is one you know you need to hear. So find it 'cuz this track from Geno Washington and the Ram Jam Band is from 1968's Shake a Tail Feather Baby!


       
  In the mid 60's The Air Force stationed Indiana native Geno Washington in England  where he met up with the Ram Jam Band. Together they recorded some of the finest, best selling and most frenzied live albums of the decade. In the 70's Geno left the UK to become a hypnotist. But he wasn't entirely forgotten. In 1980 Dexy's Midnight Runners hit #1 for two weeks in the UK with their tribute "Geno". That prompted a come back of sorts. Geno still performs every now and then.

  "Understanding" was the last track on side one of the '68 album so listen closely towards the end for a passionate prompt to flip the record to side two.

AND BANDS: Sniff 'n' the Tears

Sniff 'n' the Tears: "Driver's Seat"

[Purchase]

There are so many band names including the word "and" that it would be nearly impossible to arbitrarily decide on a good place to jump in here. It would more or less be a matter of closing your eyes and throwing a dart at a dartboard with all the names posted on it. Which actually isn't such a bad idea, but where to find a dartboard that large and the time to print out and cut up all those names . . . well, it just doesn't seem that do-able once you start to think about the logistics.

So instead, I'm approaching this from the angle of the most creative use of the word "and." Not typically a word that is used all that creatively, this narrows it down incredibly. Placement of the word might in fact be creative, such as "And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead," where it's the first word, or some band that has it at the end (can't think of one offhand at the moment).

However, my selection today is the band Sniff 'n' the Tears (yes, of course the "'n'" counts as an "and" as much as, say, an ampersand -- heck, it's "rock 'n' roll," after all). Here, it's used as a bit of a pun, simultaneously conjuring up "Sniff and the Tears" and "Sniffing the Tears" -- pretty clever. And really, a pretty good band name however you look at it. If only their name had carried over to a long and fruitful career -- unfortunately for them, as it turns out, despite the release of a couple more albums, they're a one-hit wonder if ever there was one.

"Driver's Seat" was released in 1979 on the debut Sniff 'n' the Tears album, Fickle Heart, and to this day I hear it frequently on the classic rock stations. And you know what? It's still a great song. The strummed acoustic guitar really makes it pop (and the vocals are pretty cool too). There's a nice guitar solo in there as well, although for some reason I suspect the work of a session musician (but any of you devoted SntT fans should feel free to correct me on that). "Driver's Seat" hit the Top 40 (which I recall well because it was during a time when I was young that I would listen to Casey Kasem every Sunday morning and keep a handwritten list of the songs tacked to my wall, including their chart movements from the previous week), but the original band broke up soon after the album's release and reformed versions never again found any chart success to speak of.

"And" that's that.

And Bands: It Beats Me Every Time

Peter Bjorn & John: "It Beats Me Every Time"

One of the major pitfalls of buying digital albums is that you don't get all the real, touchable things that come with a physical purchase. The case (is it a jewel case or just a simple cardboard sleeve?), the CD itself (will the disc art match the album art, like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's Take Them On, On Your Own, or will they be separate entities, alien to each other in their own world), and — most important to me — the liner notes. The liner notes usually contain the lyrics. The lyrics that the band wrote. What exists on lyric websites are almost always approximations based on what the transcriber thinks they're hearing, and that is usually far from accurate. (Tangentially, this is another reason why I love extreme metal; nobody is out there saying I think he's growling "blah blah blah" and then writing that nonsense on a lyrics site. Death metal lyrics get transcribed from the liner notes directly to the websites.)

Take Them On, On Your Own inside of case...

...and disc.

What I'm getting at is this: I bought the digital version of this album (Falling Out: Planekonomi, 2004), so I have to rely on the websites for the lyrics, but they're not always accurate, so there are some discrepancies in what you'll find on various lyric sites for this album. The refrain, however, comes through crystal clear, and the message (whatever some of those slurred words in the verses are) is unmistakable: "We need to talk."

To start, according to Peter Bjorn & John, this album primarily deals with, as the title suggests, people falling out of love from the things and people they fall in love with:

"In everyday life we tend to compromise. This is neither good nor bad. Well, in art it's merely negative, when in life it's just necessary. We give up things we believe in to avoid being left behind, or locked out. In this compromising life we also tend to fall in love. Not just with people, but with places, philosophies, societies and our picture of what life should be. We stare sheeplike in the direction of this ideal picture. But we'll never get there. That way we're bound to be let down. We get confused. And we hurt each other. 

But these clashes, bullfights and mannered conflicts are there for a reason. We need them there in order to grow and to move on. We need to be confused. Sometimes we fall out with ourselves, and our expectations of ourselves. These are the hardest ones. But also the most important ones. Here are our songs about falling out. Some about falling in as well, but mostly out. Have a listen."

This song seems to be directly about a person. The narrator is in a relationship and is about to leave, perhaps for a tour (I gather that the main character of this song is none other than the actual band member who wrote it, bassist Björn Yttling). But while he's (presumably) been enjoying the relationship, he's conflicted. Being away from home for a long time calls relationships into question that way, and not knowing whether you want to keep things together or not can sometimes be reason enough not to. Just before he leaves, he finds out he'll be gone for several weeks, so what to do now? There's an appeal here for him, to be sure. Enough to keep him on the tipping point every time he thinks about it: "I just can't figure out what you're up to. It beats me every time." But reevaluating everything brings up a key point in his decision: "But I know what you've done for me ... it's nothing." 

What sort of relationship status will our character be posting by the end of the song? It's left undeclared, but perhaps there's a bit of revelation in the second stanza: "Taking out the trash and by mistake I throw away the keys."

Compared to other PB&J songs, this one doesn't stand out as a particularly ripe choice for lyrical criticism. To be honest, it gets a lot of repeats through my speakers because of that dead-on drop in tone at the end of each refrain. That's the sort of sonic turn I love!

And Bands: Eric Clapton Edition

John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers: Steppin’ Out

[purchase]

Delaney and Bonnie with Eric Clapton: Poor Elijah

[purchase]

Derek and the Dominos: It’s Too Late

[purchase]

There are some pretty obscure pieces of trivia in the Guinness Book of World Records, but “Artist associated with the most And Bands” is probably not one of them. My guess would be that the record is held by Eric Clapton.

Eric Clapton’s first recorded work was with the Yardbirds, but the style that he became famous for first began to take shape during his brief tenure with John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. Clapton only made one album with them, in 1966, but that was enough to start his legend as a blues-rock guitar god. The album was simply called John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton. Mayall had a deep love of the blues, a great talent for finding sidemen who would go on to greater glory, and a horrible singing voice. He was also generous to his bandmates. Steppin’ Out is one of several instrumentals from the album that prominently featured Clapton’s guitar, and the album also included Clapton’s first recorded vocal, on Ramblin’ on My Mind.

Of course, Clapton cemented his early fame in Cream, starting later in 1966, but I have excluded them from this post for obvious reasons. Cream was followed by Blind Faith, another band that does not fit our theme. But the opening act for Blind Faith was Delaney and Bonnie and Friends. Clapton quickly became one of those friends, and his association with Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett would last longer than Blind Faith did. The Bramletts made important contributions to Clapton’s first solo album. Bonnie even co-wrote one of Clapton’s early solo hits, Let it Rain.

Finally, this post would not be complete without Derek and the Dominos. The band consisted of Clapton, plus Delaney and Bonnie’s rhythm section, joined on their best known album by Duane Allman. They are seen here on Johnny Cash’s old TV show. Cash knew well the connections between country music and the blues, and it’s great to see that the in studio audience appreciated this as well. I’m not that the audiences for what passes for country music these days would respond this way, although I would like to think so.

AND BANDS : FRANK ZAPPA AND THE MOTHERS OF INVENTION

Ruben and the Jets: Cheap Thrills

Purchase Link

OK, guys, I'm playing with you today, but you probably knew that. I felt the opportunity for a double "and band" too tempting to pass, hence the apparent contradiction between the title and the subsequent link. For those who don't know, "Cruisin' with Ruben and the Jets" was the 4th LP by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, or, strictly speaking, the Mothers of Invention, but, hey, it's my column, and it's what we all called 'em. This record, a pastiche of and paean to Zappas love of doo-wop, deliberately played the Mothers entirely in role, as a  mythical band, Ruben and the Jets, with  Zappa being their leader, Ruben Sano. Arriving on top of his earlier and decidedly uncommercial product, perhaps as the original singles made no mention of Zappa or the Mothers name, the songs received considerably more airplay and exposure, ironically, than when it became re-released with the "real" name of the band. Indeed, jocks felt they had unearthed some old original songs from the 50s. This is an old trick, not forgotten by many a band and canny producer to this day.
My exposure to this, over the other side of the atlantic, and barely into double figures of age in 1968, its year of release, was somewhat arduous. Indeed, it was, I am shamed to admit, only as I researched this piece that I ever got round to listening to any of the tracks.(Please don't tell anyone I know.) Because Zappa was always to me a far better idea than a reality. I'll explain. During my early teens many, many afternoons were spent in one particular record shop, which had a very liberal approach to letting local schoolboys while away their days, headphones on, going thru' the racks. As well as filling my ears with what I wanted to listen to, generally standard UK rock, I could fill my eyes with all the weird and wonderful names and album covers of innumerable west coast bands, as they were then called. So, as Deep Purple choogled in my ear, I was leafing through Stoneground, It's a Beautiful Day, Captain Beefheart, Moby Grape etc etc. And Frank Zappa, with and without the Mothers of Invention, clearly the ugliest group of reprobates ever. Which was high praise. My guess now is that the owner of the shop was a fan, but, given their duration of stay in the racks, I sometimes wonder how many ever got sold. Believe me, there is somewhat of a difference between L.A. and Eastbourne, Sussex. I did eventually buy "Hot Rats", loving it to this day, but other and earlier Zappa was, shall we say, rather too difficult an appreciation to aquire, so I had to remain with just liking the image and dropping the name.
So, fast forward forty plus years and what do I think? Hmmm, Ok, I suppose. I guess you had to be there....... But I defend my right to upholding this self-deception for much of my life. I dare say I am not alone, especially when I note Beefheart is also in the list mentioned above.
When and if, having been blown away by my enthusiasm, you get to listen to the link, you will discover this a bit different from the one currently available for purchase, the originals having fallen victim to a later re-mix, by Zappa, with some change of musicians, causing uproar within hardcore afficianados. The youtube link is a vinyl rip from the original version.
Should you be looking for any other product by the "Ruben" band, you will probably find another LP, confusingly also by Ruben and the Jets. Just to be awkward, this is a conceptual tribute band, formed to emulate and take forward the success of the brand. Their producer, awkward as ever? Frank Zappa!

And Bands: Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band

Photo courtesy of Katherine L. Ehle

Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band: Danny Callahan
[purchase the studio version]

It struck me that I’ve been writing for this blog for about a year and a half without posting about one of my favorite bands, Wilco. Not on this blog, at least. I’ve seen Wilco perform a few times, and their shows are almost always memorable. My favorite one, however, was an outdoor show in 2009 at the minor league baseball stadium in Wappinger’s Falls, New York (home of the Hudson Valley Renegades). It was a beautiful summer night, I was there with my son, we stood close enough to the stage to hear well without being too close, and the band was incredible. Because it was at a baseball stadium, they shot Wilco t-shirts into the crowd between sets. And we got one.

I turned my son on to Wilco, and he became a big fan. In turn, my kids have introduced me to a number of musicians that I now enjoy, and Wilco’s opening act that night was an artist that my son loved, Conor Oberst. It took me a while to appreciate him, and I will argue that his music has improved over the years, as he has matured, become somewhat less affected and simplified his writing. I loved his later Bright Eyes album Cassadaga and his self-titled “solo” album. But on the tour in question, he was performing as “Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band,” making them theme-appropriate.

Some artists need to be reined in to prevent their excesses from overwhelming their brilliance, and I think the fact that even though Oberst was the clear leader, it was more of a band than a solo project, made their output extremely appealing. In fact, as much as I was looking forward to seeing Wilco, I was hoping for a good set from the opener.

And Conor and the Mystic Valley Band kicked ass. Their set consisted of mostly songs from their then-current album and the “solo” disc, and I even recognized most of them. The band put on a great show, and I think that they impressed and even converted most (if clearly not all) of the audience, some of whom sadly had no interest in appreciating the quality of the performance and just wanted to get on to the headliner. They set a high bar that night, and Wilco actually surpassed them, which is no shame.

“Danny Callahan,” from Oberst’s self-titled album, is one of my son’s favorites, and for good reason. A great, almost bouncy, melody is coupled with literate and uplifting lyrics, but about a very serious subject, the death of a young cancer patient, failed by “Western medicine”.

That night, my son and I stood in front of a large taping rig, and we later found out that the show was recorded and posted at the incredible nyctaper.com site, which offers a huge archive of interesting and usually amazingly well recorded live shows from the New York area. This recording is from that great evening, when my son and I saw two transcendent sets, standing in centerfield under the clear Hudson Valley sky.

And Bands: Bill Janovitz and Friends

Bill Janovitz: Tumblin Dice
[Janovitz's website]

And so … for the next two weeks it’s “Bands with <and> in the name”. You could make a game out of this: how many such bands can you think of without Internet help? But the real/money question is: how many can SMM highlight and which would you have had us mention? (You can do so in the comments)

For the most part, bands in this category include the famous leader in the name (ex: Eric Burdon and the Animals), but there are almost equally many others where the “lead” is a figment (Derek and the Dominoes).

Bill Janovitz is prolific. He founded Buffalo Tom back in 86 and they are still playing together out of the Boston area. If you do a YouTube search for him, you’ll find clips of Bill Janvitz and Crown Victoria, Tanya Donelly and Bill Janovitz and more collaborations/ands. One of his projects has been a coversong blog started back in 2007 where you can read his thoughts about and download close to 100 songs. In his blog, he says:

I would love to share what I have been listening to more often, and as an artist, I encourage such use of music as another outlet for exposure. I don't want anyone posting files for downloads of whole records as thievery, but a sample tune or two would be fine.

Several years back, I had the fortune to pick up a couple of songs by Bill Janovitz and Crown Victoria, from music.download.com in what was then a legal process. Despite Bill Janovitz’s sentiments about sharing, the song I wanted to post has been flagged as copyrighted by my file hosting service, so I can’t share it here.

Numbers: One

Nilsson: One 
[purchase]

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

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

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

-- Dave Gershman, Reselect.com