As a bridge between 2 weeks’ threads, may I offer a little butter? And not in the Marlon Brando/Maria Schneider way, although I’m sure the band was referencing that classic film.
This week’s Mystery Date was performed by Butter 08, a New York band who released one self-titled album in 1996 on the Beastie Boy’s Grand Royal label. Members included Miho Hatori and Yuka Honda of Cibo Matto, Russell Simins of the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Rick Lee of Skeleton Key, and Mike Mills, graphic designer of album covers and later, a director of film (Thumbsucker and Beginners). But the mystery guest on the Mystery Date track, “It’s the Rage,” was Sean Lennon performing the keyboard solo. He was dating Yuka Honda at the time, and when Cibo Matto toured, played the bass.
I couldn’t find any Butter 08 live performances, but here is their one and only music video (sans Sean):
My family and I were having lunch in a hipster diner in Philadelphia the other day when the radio station or playlist switched from fun ’60s songs like The Zombies‘ “Time of the Season” to early ’90s hits, from half-remembered Britpop bands to that Janet Jackson video shot in sepia tone, when she’s super-buff and frolicking in the sand with an equally buff model-type of guy. Remember that song?
The music made me unexpectedly nostalgic for the early ’90s, a palette-cleansing decade of sorts, following the most culturally offensive decade of my life to date, the ’80s. I mainly got to enjoy the early ’90s during the year my wife and I lived in Budapest, Hungary, from October 1993 to October 1994. Living over there by ourselves, watching Ray Cokes‘ MTV’s Most Wanted on EuroMTV, without our network of like-minded culturally snobbish friends to insulate us, I could appreciate artists like Blur; Suede; Darryl-Ann; some heavyset, black, super-corny English “hippie” guy…and those mainstream videos from back home with drop-the-cat moments by the likes of Janet Jackson and Madonna. I even learned to love a song by The Cure, a remix no less with some Sid and Marty Krofft-style “undersea” video. I can never remember the name of that song. Some day, when I do, I’ll purchase it and add it to my iPod.
It was during that year abroad that Townsman andyr sent me cassettes with Matthew Sweet‘s Girlfriend, Crowded House‘s Together Alone, and Martin Newell‘s Greatest Living Englishman. It was inspiring to hear albums with that ’60s-based vibe. Even the cheesiest of those Britpop bands, like Jesus Jones, had a groovy ’60s vibe beneath the surface. Then there was “Groove Is in the Heart.” Now THAT was a song (and video) that made the early ’90s worth living.
Curly hair came back into fashion, and all-cotton fibers. Grunge bands were kind of like ’70s burnouts of my youth. Elaine on Seinfeld was cute and funky the way women had not been during long stretches of mainstream ’80s living. The early ’90s held mild promise. Beck came along and seemed poised to take it to the next level, maybe even put our culture over the top to my long-awaited Peace Warrior era. But it was not to be. Maybe Bill Clinton getting busted for his Monica Lewinsky affair did us in. Now we seem to be living through the most prudish stretch since the 1950s. Or maybe we’re too far onto our own little social astral planes.
Where were you in the early ’90s? What was your musical world?
John Doe displays his bass-fueled rock superpowers.
My close personal friend Townsman chickenfrankrecalled a show in which one of his former bands played on a bill with John Doe. This was probably 1995, when Doe’s second solo album, Kissingsohard, came out. I bought his 1990 debut solo album, Meet John Doe, when it came out, but I couldn’t convince myself that I liked it. Nevertheless, we both loved X. I was sure his solo stuff would sound better live.
Doe took the stage that night playing guitar. He didn’t look right with a guitar in his hands. He didn’t have the same cool stage stance I was accustomed to when I saw him in X, playing bass. I even used my ears that night to assess that he did nothing special on guitar. It’s not like he’s an especially skilled bassist, but he drives the band from that instrument. Doe’s rock superpowers as a bassist were immense. He was a mere mortal on guitar.
John Doe in his guitar-wielding "Clark Kent" mode.
Not all musicians, however, lose their rock superpowers when they switch to a secondary or even tertiary instrument. Paul McCartney, in fact, is a quadruple threat and then some. Brian Jones is another example. He retained his rock superpowers on even the daintiest of instruments.
Nick Lowe? It’s debatable. I would argue that his rock superpowers were sapped during his mid-’80s years on guitar owing to the malaise of His Cowboy Outfit more than his instrument. Since he’s mellowed and grown into his older age, he’s as cool as he ever was in his Rockpile days.
What musician possessing rock superpowers on his or her main instrument do you feel is sapped of those same powers when they switch instruments? And can you think of an artist who actually gains rock superpowers when he or she reaches for a secondary instrument?
A video is posted for us to view with the sound off.
We comment on what we’re seeing with the sound off.
We most likely share in the sense of wonder that there’s much to learn about music with the sound off.
You will be entrusted to view the following video with the sound off. If we could disable the video’s sound we would, but something tells me the copyright holder of the video might object to that. Trust us, for the purposes of this thread the sound will get in the way. Beside, you may be viewing this at work, in which case coworkers will only be distbured by your giggles; you won’t have to worry about the artist’s music leaking into their cube.
After the jump, why don’t you turn the sound off and watch the following video!
In my ongoing trial on Rock Crimes for having turned down the opportunity to see The Rolling Stones live from the second row of Chicago’s big arena circa 1981, Townsperson hogdog suggested an excellent offshoot thread. Check out hogdog’s tale and cool thread suggestion:
In a semi similar situation I have to confess to attending a “Clash” show on their final tour in support of the “mush” album Cut The Crap. Had a great time, had no other Clash show to compare it to, and the show and energy itself was top notch for what it was.
So how about a thread for: Shows I almost did not go to but was glad I did!
I look forward to your tales of reluctantly acquired good fortune.
Last week the family and I were in the car for a short trip out for dinner. I switched on the local Classic Rock station and “Waiting on a Friend” came on the radio.
“This song isn’t up to your high standards, is it?” my wife asked with a mocking glance from the passenger’s seat.
“Actually, I like this song,” I said, leaving out the fact that for a good 15 years I did not allow myself to like it. “It’s ‘Start Me Up’ that is the last straw for me and the Stones.”
With each passing year I really do like “Waiting on a Friend.” I like the video even better. I value friendship above just about everything else. It’s really nice how patient Mick is waiting for Keef to show up and take a walk. In contrast, the guy sitting at the cafe window at the 1:33 mark looks so sad, doesn’t he? He clearly doesn’t have a great old friend like Keef who’s running just a few minutes late. I’ll stop now before I tear up at the site of Mick and Keef eventually meeting up with Ronnie at the bar, where they swig beer; sashay to the music; lean into each other; and practice multiple means of self-stimulation by running hands through messy hair, playing with a scarf, and taking deep drags off a cigarette.
With each passing year I like “Start Me Up” less. I didn’t like it the day I first heard it, when it was released. I don’t like it even one bit today. It’s the musical equivalent of Mick’s stupid football pants. It’s a real ass-kisser of a song by a band that made its bones kicking ass. It’s Mick run wild with his penchant for 17-year-old Brazilian models. It’s musical Viagra, before there even was such a pill. It’s Keef doing that stupid knee bend while pulling off one of his patented “no-hands” 5-string guitar moves. It’s the sound of all the wrong people suddenly getting excited over a band that meant a lot to me.
I didn’t tell my wife any of this stuff that was running through my sick brain, but I did tell her this: “Did I ever tell you about the time sophomore year when I turned down second-row seats for that Stones tour in Chicago?”
“Huh?” My wife has good taste and is a snob in her own right. She knows that Stones were beginning to head downhill at that time, but she doesn’t read deep meanings into “Under My Thumb” and the groove of “Beast of Burden.” She can enjoy “Start Me Up” for what it probably is: a fun dance song.
“Yeah, a guy in our frat’s dad was some kind of union head,” I explained. “He got us an entire row of seats, the second row, front and center. I was offered a ticket for $20. I was already certain the band sucked. I turned it down.”
“You need to turn yourself into Rock Town Hall for one of those Rock Crimes,” my wife exclaimed. “You’re sick! If you don’t turn yourself in I’m going to log on and out you. Turn yourself in and see if they find you guilty!”
So here I am, Too Cool for School, circa 1982. Was I justified in turning down that second-row ticket—maybe even visionary—or am I guilty of having been Too Cool for School?
You don’t have to name names, if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but if you’ve ever been backstage at a concert, in whatever capacity, do tell a memorable moment!
Here’s one: I was backstage visiting my close personal friend and bandmate chickenfrank one time, maybe 15 years ago, when he was playing with another band. His band finished its opening set, and booted Pogues singer Shane MacGowan and his new band of faux-Pogues were about to take the stage. As his bandmates waited in the wings, Shane quickly ducked into the backstage bathroom, where he vomited, wiped his vomit-covered lips on his sleeve, and walked onstage to begin singing. Gross.
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