I’d forgotten about this little hit song of Dave Edmunds, “Slipping Away.” It’s got a lot in common with one of ELO’s last hit songs, “Don’t Bring Me Down.” That song and this Edmunds production by ELO’s Jeff Lynne set the stage for a decade of constipated production jobs by Lynne for already established tight-ass artists Edmunds, George Harrison, and Tom Petty. I don’t necessarily dislike the records Lynne produced for these artists, man, get these guys some bran muffins!
Like a Hurricane
I’ve got a terrible sense of geography. If I haven’t been to a place—and even this isn’t a sure thing—there’s a good chance I don’t know much about where it is in relation to other places. Two of my interests have given me at least some awareness of places around the globe. Baseball has made me conscious of the spring training locations of major league baseball teams in Florida and Arizona as well as minor league towns. Songs can also give me a sense of place. As with baseball’s spring training outposts, off-the-beaten track locations noted in songs I like sometimes become my primary (or even sole) association with that location.
I had to drive about 70 miles north of my house today for work, to the town pictured above. I don’t think I passed this building, but I couldn’t get a particular song out of my head: Bob Dylan’s “Hurricane,” about Ruben “Hurricane” Carter, who was imprisoned in what was then called Rahway State Prison. Prior to doing business up there, the ONLY associations I have with Rahway, New Jersey involve that prison, both through the Dylan song and the old TV documentary Scared Straight. I don’t care how much business I will ever do in Rahway the song “Hurricane” will always be the first thing that comes to mind when I think of the town’s name.
Is there a song you associate with a specific town you’ve actually been to above all other associations you might have with that town?
I’ve been searching the Internet for the opening to the old Canadian syndicated video show of my high school years, Rock World, for as long as I’ve had access to surfing the Web. Finally, I have found it. This one goes out to the Class of ’81, especially my bandmates and close personal friends, Townsmen andyr, chickenfrank, and sethro. Hold onto your britches when this clip reaches the 45-second mark!
Before leaving for work this morning I watched about 45 minutes of some Scott Walker documentary, 30th Century Man. It took a lot of concentration to stick with it for as long as I did, but I was doing it for you, especially those of you who profess to like the solo recordings by Scott Walker. (You’re welcome.)
Wow, as I wrapped up a long day at work on a mighty 2 hours of sleep I just read that Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys has died from cancer at the age of 47. This feels sadder to me than most celebrity deaths involving artists I’m not particularly involved with. To be honest, there’s a chance I wouldn’t be able to tell you which Beastie Boy was Yauch if you showed me a picture of the three of them. However, I liked their team spirit, and no member of a team as funny and spirited as the Beastie Boys should have to die like that. I remember reading that Yauch was battling with cancer a couple of years ago, but come on, this was a guy pretty much my age with a lot of energy and a great sense of humor. He’d laugh his way through cancer and send it scurrying on its way.
It took me awhile to like much in the way of rap music, and to this day I’m skeptical of the genre, but the Beastie Boys’ appeal was hard to deny. They were in your face and funny, the way a couple of my friends were funny. Even before I liked any of their music I couldn’t help but like them, if only because they had tapped into a pop culture humor completely specific to my generation. The following fanboy video, in which a group of friends possibly much like my own mates re-creates the band’s amazing “Sabotage” video, says a lot about what made the real McCoys so lovable.
It’s not often we get to see Robert Fripp laugh, is it? I forgot King Crimson played on the failed early challenger to Saturday Night Live, Fridays. Clearly, Fripp had a good time that night.
Collective critical wisdom probably considers Robert Fripp to be an “influential” musician, much like it does his old partner in crime, Brian Eno. However, unlike the body of work Eno produced, I’m not sure Fripp’s work as a guitarist, composer, producer, conceptualist, and iconoclast actually influenced many musicians. Who else plays in that weird scale that’s so distinctive of Fripp’s work? Who else uses Frippertronics? What other rock guitarists play seated on a stool? Eno inspired a generation of non-musicians to produce music, and he actually helped change the way we hear music. Fripp’s body of work suggests a musician needs to spend a lot of time practicing. Baby, that ain’t rock ‘n roll!
I’m not criticizing Fripp, mind you. I like his body of work. I like that one circular scale he plays repeatedly—and the other one, involving 2 notes that don’t quite go together yet move up the neck in some weird harmony. I love those soaring, melodic solos he occasionally plays on Eno records and The Roches’ “Hammond Song.” I consider Fripp to be an inspiring musician but not an influential one, if that makes sense. Along the same lines, I call bullshit on most folks who claim Captain Beefheart as an “influence.” His music is inspiring, but how can one be influenced by Beefheart without aping him? “Yeah, man, I like to stick daggers in the blues and sing ‘out there’ lyrics!” With rare exceptions (eg, Pere Ubu, early PJ Harvey), that is Beefheart more than it is influenced by Beefheart. I think he’s too idiosyncratic to be that useful an influence.
If you can get on board with this concept, are there other musicians you can think of who may be so idiosyncratic that they do not leave much room for influence, in terms of “building off” their work?
