Like a slightly younger approximation of Hubert, son of Rawlin, Herbert Khaury was in his 30s and still unusual when he finally got noticed. The Bonzos supported Mr Khaury in 1968 at the Royal Albert Hall, and I have occasionally wondered since whether Viv Stanshall based Hubert either consciously or subconsciously on Herbert, or at least his alter-ego, Tiny Tim.
He certainly was unusual.
I first chanced upon him as the musical interlude on a popular game-show on British TV in about 1968, as he wandered through a mock up of an English Country Garden plinking his ukulele and singing “Tiptoe Thru The Tulips” in glorious black and white while my grandparents tapped their toes in time to my mother railing and seething against this assault on her sensitivities.
Rolling forward about a decade, I started going on the train to the first of the Brighton record fairs as soon as the Saturday job money started picking up, and I can remember quite clearly the one when I came home proudly bearing copies of An Evening with Wild Man Fischer, half-a-dozen Monkees albums, some really weird looking singles, a demo of ? and the Mysterians’ “96 Tears,” and a copy of God Bless Tiny Tim.
“The Other Side” is, though admittedly by a fairly short stretch, the oddest song on the album. I wasn’t expecting to find it on Youtube, and was completely unprepared for this live rendition.
That evening I took God Bless Tiny Tim around to my mate’s house, the mate in whose house I would be living in just a few months later, and we listened to it three or four times, we would enjoy it many more times in the years to come, and he was as excited as I was when a year or so later I chanced upon a copy of Tiny Tim’s Second Album, which is as enjoyable in its own way as its predecessor.
As punk was turning into new wave, and as new wave turned into new romanticism and it all mushed back into nasty early ’80s pop, the first two Tiny Tim albums provided regular welcome respite.
Jack White‘s new solo album, Blunderbuss, has been promoted by performances featuring an all-female backing band. For his appearance on Saturday Night Live, for instance, he performed one song backed by his women and one song backed by his dudes. The discussion I hope to explore in no way is meant to question the qualifications of either of his backing bands. What I’d like to discuss is how these promotional efforts—and based on White’s long career built on exquisite “branding” there can be no denying that his new band of “Jack’s Angels” is not part of his latest promotional campaign—play for you, especially the legion of women who often lurk here in the Halls of Rock.
Townswomen, when you see a Jack White (or a Prince—this seems like something he’s done) backed by an all-women band for the launch of a new album do you feel that more of a sincere support of sisterhood or a Fellini-esque male fantasy is at play? In other words, is there a part of you that wonders whether this a legitimate version of this?
Here are two instructional videos. Please do us the favor of sharing your thoughts on either one or both of them. I suspect, if you’re a fan of the thunderbroom, you’ll have much to say.
As if I don’t think about music enough, THIS was brought to my attention.
Starting May 1, YOU can browse through John Peel‘s record collection. I took a quick glance at the A‘s (the rest of the alphabet will be posted one letter each week) and immediately had to look away. Like looking at a mirror reflected in another mirror, I could see the endless hours that I would be spending browsing, listening, sampling, obsessing and conducting other musical whathaveyou.
I’ll share some thoughts on seeing Nick Lowe and his band at the Keswick Theatre, in Glenside, Pennsylvania, outside Philadelphia and a stone’s throw away from where I spent 12 years in lower, middle, and upper school, sometime later, when I can catch my breath. Mad props! to Philly music and film writer extraordinaire Sam Adams for providing me this opportunity.
This week’s special guest edition of Saturday Night Shut-In comes to you from Chez Royale! That’s right, ladymisskirroyale and Mr. Royale share with you a mix entitled Geniuses, Crackpots & Visionaries. A note from Mr. Royale, including the tracklist and notes on this evening’s selections, follows.
[audio:https://www.rocktownhall.com/blogs/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Geniuses-Crackpots-Visionaries.mp3|titles=RTH Saturday Night Shut-In, episode 77: Geniuses, Crackpots & Visionaries]
Mr. Royale sez…
Let’s see, this mix is actually part of a larger compilation I’ve put together, which includes the likes of Harry Partch, Brian Wilson, John Cage, Stockhausen, Glenn Branca, Morton Subotnick, John Zorn, Captain Beefheart, Steve Reich, Iannis Xenakis….etc. In other words, musicians who have stood on the outside and came up with something unheard before, some kind of personal, uncompromising artistic vision. Perhaps these artists have been obscure or widely followed, but there’s something of an independent spirit in each. The title of the collection is, of course, tounge in cheek. Hey, maybe Lucia Pamela really did go to the moon
With the post on Wildman Fischer, Erika and I hit on the idea of a G,C & V shortlist, this time highlighting the “crackpots” section. Certain names came up that were too obvious. People with mental health issues (Syd Barrett, Roky Erickson, Mary Margaret O’Hara, Kristin Hersh), but who make very “acceptable” music. I was adamant that this list be a WTF kind of a thing. We refined it to a criteria of “unhinged” recordings, ones that make you say “how in hell did this EVER get recorded? Somebody thought this was a good idea? Did somebody lose a bet?” And yet, in their own way, each of these is delightful!
Nick Lowe’s 45-year career as a singer-songwriter, record producer, and all-around musical instigator is a one-man Village Green Preservation Society, to quote the Kinks’ 1968 mission statement. After brief spell in a Cream-influenced psychedelic rock band, Kippington Lodge, Lowe and his fellow UK mates, including future standouts in the late-’70s new wave scene, got an early start on “preserving the old ways” in the Americana roots-rock band, Brinsley Schwarz. A big push to launch the band in the States flamed spectacularly, and in the US their records would be left for music nerds to dig out of the far reaches of used record bins for the next decade.
In 1976, following the demise of the Brinsleys, he hooked up with veteran Welsh musician and producer Dave Edmunds and carved out a role for himself “protecting the new ways,” as house producer for fledgling punk/new wave label Stiff Records. His “So It Goes” b/w “Heart of the City” was the first single on Stiff, and it heralded the artist’s devil-may-care approach to writing subversive takes on AM Top 40 hits of the ‘60s and early ‘70s. His solo output at this time peaked with his second album, Labour of Lust, on which he was backed by Edmunds and fellow members of Rockpile. The single from that album, “Cruel to Be Kind,” with the shaggy video including scenes from his wedding to Carlene Carter, is the most vibrant expression of the new wave era’s cheerful sense of fatalism. He must have been a good fit for the June Carter-Johnny Cash clan.
As a producer, Lowe made his mark helping Elvis Costello & The Attractions craft a diverse, high-octane run of 5 straight albums in 5 years, including their unexpectedly sincere take on one of Lowe’s Brinsley Schwarz-era hippie goofs, “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding.” Known as “The Basher,” for his no-nonsense approach to both work and play, Lowe wasn’t messing around, although frequently it just seemed that way.
By the mid-’80s, despite a few minor hits and continued successful production work, Lowe was losing his way. His records lost their snap. The jokes were growing stale. The snappiest of that run, 1990’s aptly named Party of One, was nevertheless the end of the line for Nick the Knife.
I suppose with my advancing age I’m not quite so interested in tricks in the studio, sort of wham-bam-thank-you-m’am.
A few years later, financially secure thanks to a Curtis Stigers cover of “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding” being included on the soundtrack to Whitney Houston’s schlock smash, The Bodyguard, a mature Nick emerged. He was done chasing pop stardom, done with dick jokes. He embraced his pop classicism on albums like Dig My Mood, The Convincer, and At My Age. His latest album, The Old Magic, goes even further in this vein, skirting the raunch of rock ‘n roll, soul, and country music for something more akin to early ‘60s dinner club pop balladeering. The new album has been a tougher sell for me than his last few gems, but Lowe’s craftsmanship and comfort in his own skin are impressive. Over the phone, Lowe was as warm, open, and engaging as his music might suggest. He made a couple of mentions of the thrill of meeting and playing with one of his own heroes, the recently deceased Levon Helm, and his new musical friends, Wilco. A thrill’s a thrill, whether it’s the thrill of looking backward or the thrill of looking ahead.
RTH: I was looking at your tour schedule and was saddened to see that this coming Saturday you were supposed to play a Midnight Ramble show with Levon Helm. I know you’d appeared with him on Elvis Costello’s Spectacle, which I didn’t get to see. Had you met Levon before, say in the Brinsley Schwarz days?
NICK LOWE: Yes, I sure did. The Brinsleys had a house just outside of London., where we all used to live together. One day some people phoned up and said the Band, who were doing a big show at Wembley, in 1972 or ‘73, needed a place to rehearse. These people said, “Can they come out to your house and rehearse?”
They hadn’t played for a while. We just couldn’t believe it, we were such big fans. Anyway, they all turned up, they played on our equipment, you know, ran once through what they were going to do on the show, and off they went again. I might have said, “Hello.” It was a huge thrill.
RTH: When you played with Levon on Spectacle was that the only time you’d performed with him?Continue reading »
