In our ongoing discussion regarding the merits (if any) of Paul McCartney's solo debut album Townsman misterioso posed the following thought:

...I love With a Little Luck, and that in my alternate universe it would have made a great Beatles reunion single, both thematically ("there is no end to what we can do together") and musically (albeit with less synth and a nice George slide solo).

This got me thinking: Imagine if, during the solo Beatles years of the 1970s through John Lennon's death, each former Beatle had the good sense and dedication to the band's fanboys and fangirls set aside a couple of songs from his solo catalog specifically for use on an eventual Beatles reunion album. In other words, they each would have said to themselves, "You know, I'm not going to release this song on my next solo album. It really needs input from all the lads. I'm going to save this one for our eventual, inevitable reunion album."

What 11 or 12 songs solo songs (4 or 5 by Paul, 4 or 5 by John, 2 by George, and 1 or 2 for Ringo, whether he would write them or not) would best have been served by a fully reunited Beatles?

And I should note: this isn't intended to be a Best of the Best of the Solo Beatles collection, but an attempt at determining 11 or 12 songs from their solo careers that would have best fit the fully reunited Beatles. In other words, there might be some solo songs that best fit each Beatle as a solo artist. I don't want us re-creating a less unified reunion album than The White Album.

DOWNLOAD LINK: Rick Buckler Crash Cymbal Quotient Analysis, edited source material

I pass along a note I received today from RTH Labs' Senior Music Engineer, Milo T. Frobisher:

MEMORANDUM

FROM: Milo T. Frobisher, Senior Music Engineer, RTH Labs
TO: Townsman Hrrundivbakshi, Senior RTH Labs Liaison
RE: Rick Buckler' Crash Cymbal Quotient/Numerical Crash Analysis, "Away From the Numbers"

Townsman Hrrundivbakshi, I send this quick note to summarize our recent research findings in re: Rick Buckler's Crash Cymbal Quotient (CCQ), as found in "Away From the Numbers," by the Jam.

Our methodology was simple, though far from easy: over the full four minutes (exactly) of this song, our junior engineers counted the exact number of times Rick Buckler deployed his crash cymbal for rhythmic emphasis. Please note that we did not undertake the low-frequency extraction from his snare as you requested, nor a pattern analysis of his tom fills to determine their similarity to, or substantive difference from, those of KISS' Peter Criss, aka "Cat Man."

I should warn you that by listening to the edited source material above, in which we replaced each instance of Buckler hitting his crash cymbal with a spoken word marker, you run a significant risk of never being able to listen to this song in the same fashion again. I should specifically point out that my nephew, James Frobisher -- an intern in RTH Labs -- needed to physically remove himself from the Laboratory premises after being asked to do the CCQ analysis in the instrumental break in the middle of this song, so profound was its effect on his young mind. You have been warned.

The results of our investigation are startling. Over the course of this four-minute song, Rick Buckler hits the crash cymbal -- importantly, he seems to hit the same cymbal every time -- a total of 137 times. By our base-60 calculations, that amounts to, roughly, one cymbal crash every 1.8 seconds. We leave it to you and your more contextual thinkers in the Hall to determine the subjective value of this datum.

Thank you for your time in this matter. I look forward to working with you further in the future.

MTF

Recently some members of a discussion group on the official website of Dag Nasty came across this old post by our friend Townsman Berlyant, who's also a friend of the Daghouse gang. They were a bit surprised, I think, to find a grumpier group of rock farts than themselves. They were particularly concerned, I believe, with my inability to get what our man and their's, Berlyant, was getting at. When asked to explain what RTH was all about, Berlyant outed me and my general distaste for The Ramones. I felt compelled to log on and explain how we operate. The Daghouse gang is good people; I've got no beef with them. However, in revisiting this post I'm still troubled by the fact that no one in the Halls of Rock adequately explained what this music does for them. Mwall seemed to get closest to making sense with his "tribe" comments, but I'm confident that this time around I'll be better able to understand the magic of the music itself. Right?

This post initially appeared 9/28/07.

A while back I remember Townsman saturnismine linked to this video as well as another, older clip of The Faith (basically the same band except that Ian MacKaye's brother, Alec, sang for them) playing "You're X'd" somewhere in DC a few years earlier. I also remember some resistance from Townsman hrundivikbashi as well as general amusement, befuddlement, and confusion as to why we (and perhaps others who haven't come out of the woodwork) would even like this type of stuff. Since I was unable to bond with Townsman saturnismine over the issue of a song that gives one a "visceral" thrill thus far, I submit this clip as both a submission of a song that gives me that thrill as well as an attempt to bond over this issue.

Some historical perspective is required here for those who don't know what they're watching. This is Ian MacKaye's short-lived, post-Minor Threat, but pre-Fugazi outfit. They and other DC bands like Rites of Spring, Gray Matter, Beefeater and others started what became to known as "emo" during the "Revolution Summer" of 1985. This was a deliberate move to get away from the simplistic thrash that most DC punk bands had produced before as well as the violence that had plagued the scene for years up to that point. The influence of early '80s UK post-punk is strong on this record, particularly that of The Empire (featuring Derwood Andrews and Mark Laff of Generation X) lp, Expensive Sound. Your comments are welcome.

I don't know if Paul McCartney blew his mind out in a car in 1966, but it's clear to me that by 1969-70, he'd gotten pretty rich and tired -- or maybe just lazy. His noble savage/country farmer persona -- only hinted at during the Get Back sessions -- probably reached its most fervent, greasy-haired expression in the music (and photos) that fill his first solo album, entitled simply McCartney.

Who knows why Paul decided to retreat to his farm/lighthouse/sheep station/rock studio and record this half-baked collection of unfinished demos? But he did -- and, for my money, it's a sad preview of the dozens (hundreds?) of half-assed songs he's foisted on the world since then, just because he can.

As usual, there's at least one jaw-dropper on the album (in this case, "Maybe I'm Amazed") -- the song that makes you want to sock the guy in the nose for betraying his talent on the rest of the record. But the rest of it is just stupid. I mean, really: is this LP any better than a bootleg collection of home demos -- clearly never meant to get "finished" -- would be?

Reading current reviews of this record, I'm sensing that the rock and roll revisionists are circling around this disc, telling us that it's a hidden "rough gem" in McCartney's otherwise polished catalog. Bullshit! The album sucks eggs.

Don't you agree?

HVB

If you were in a band, which of the following guys would you rather have on rhythm guitar based on their Look and stage presence alone?

First, please check out Hiram Bullock making sweet, sweet love to his sunburst Strat at the 1:00 mark in the following clip:

Then, check out that guy in the back with the two-toned acoustic guitar and the colossal hat at the 00:12 mark in this next clip:

This is the opposite of a Morton’s Fork, a choice between two equally unpleasant alternatives. I don’t this there is a wrong choice here, but that should not prevent you from choosing.

Shall we kick off the month of September with a little Dugout Chatter? Trusting your gut, please answer the following questions. Absolutely no expertise is required.

What's more shocking about Cee-Lo's new "Fuck You" single, the fact that he works "fuck you" into the song multiple times or the fact that such an old-fashioned, gentle pop song contains so many instances of the phrase "fuck you?"

Although he became a parody of himself long ago, what do you appreciate most about Mick Jagger?

What artist/band, in your opinion, could have most used a kick in the ass to fulfill their potential?

Who's the Jennifer Aniston of rock 'n roll?

What instrument should all lead singers who don't normally play an instrument be capable of playing in a pinch?

I look forward to your responses.

As of this writing I'm 47 years old. Hopefully a day will come when someone reads this and I'm 48, 49, or even 79. The point of stating my age is that I've been listening to, loving, and discussing music for a long time and any kids reading this owe their elders the time of day to attempt to understand what we may be getting at! I know what makes me tick, and I do my best here and elsewhere, whether by written or spoken word, to articulate that. If I fail to communicate what I intend to communicate now and then, I'll do better next time. Today I want to take a misguided complaint someone made about a piece I wrote elsewhere and blow it up into a potentially more interesting thread for discussion.

On a personal blog that I started years ago and now very rarely update, Overlooked Gems of My Lifetime, some pipsqueak reacted to a piece I did on Tom Verlaine's Dreamtime. He misunderstands a reference I make to the guitar work on some 1960s records I love and goes into this badge-of-honor rant about how I'm not capable of appreciating Tom Verlaine and how he was so inspiring despite his lack of popularity. He also pulls out a reference to My Bloody Valentine, a one-trick pony that also is frequently lauded for being "fucking inspiring" despite the fact that few people ever bought their records, to further tear down my stodgy, mainstream point of view. Here's the full text of Pipsqueak's reply:

Read more

Who have you been dreaming about?

Last night, after watching Walkabout, a 1971 film by Nicholas Roeg, Mr. Royale started humming Big Audio Dynamite's "E = MC2." I didn't initially get the connection until Mr. Royale reminded me that the lyrics of that song describe characters and plots of multiple Roeg films, including Walkabout, Performance, Don't Look Now, The Man Who Fell To Earth, Insignificance, and Eureka. So now I've been wondering why Jones et al. wrote a song about that director. Is it because Mr. Roeg has stated that he likes musicians (examples: Mick Jagger, David Bowie, and Art Garfunkel) to be in his films as they are used to emoting in front of an audience? Or that the mosaic-like plots of his films are somewhat like creating a song? Maybe they are simply fans. I don't know, but it is a question I'd like to ask Mr. Jones.

"E=MC2" has got me thinking about other songs that reference the movies, be it the plots, the directors, or the stars. I've thought of a few. But I'm interested in your "take." Extra kudos if the song describes the film but doesn't mention it outright.

"Punk rock's for pussies!"

Yesterday a friend and I were discussing the responsibilities big siblings have toward their little siblings when it comes to building a strong rock 'n roll foundation. Actually my friend initially termed what his big brother did for him in terms of rock 'n roll guidance as "giving shit." As a big brother myself I explained to my friend that his big brother was actually looking out for his little brother's best interests. He was upholding his responsibility to guide him in the ways of rock 'n roll, just as I had long ago upheld my responsibility to my little brother to steer him away from the aesthetic evils of KISS.

Big brothers and big sisters aren't always "right" in their advice, but it is helpful nonetheless to get advice from an older sibling. If nothing else it can give younger siblings a firm sense of what music he or she doesn't like. There's nothing worse than getting through college and still questioning whether you like Jackson Browne, for instance. Sometimes I wish I had an annoying Jackson Browne-loving older sibling to strengthen my gut feeling that Jackson Browne's music is not for me.

So how about you? Are you a big sibling? Did you fulfill your responsibility to provide rock 'n roll guidance to your younger sibling(s)? Did your advice fall on deaf ears, as my heedings against KISS to my little brother did?

Are you a younger sibling? Did your big sibling fulfill his or her duties? Did you give a shit about the "shit" he or she was giving you? Did his or her bad taste strengthen your resolve against the likes of Jackson Browne, Wishbone Ash, or whatever?

If you are a middle child, how did it feel being on each end of this key responsibility?

I look forward to your thoughts.

See also: Letters from the KISS Army.