Apr 292010
 

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Townsman Al came across a couple of posts on musician Robbie Fulks‘ website that got him thinking…and got him thinking it was time to call on his fellow Townspeople to help him work through some feelings. He asked that I post some excerpts from Fulks’ posts and open the floor for discussion. Take it away, Al!

I came across the following two posts by Robbie Fulks on his website. It’s Robbie ruminating on the relationship between artist and fan, and it struck me in several ways. Most obviously, and despite my best efforts, I saw myself in several of Fulks’ scathing anecdotes. And, unsurprisingly, I was insulted.

Here’s an excerpt from his first post, entitled dumb things to say to singers:

It doesn’t seem too much, though, to expect some manners and social common sense, even from emotional people who have just been roiled by divine vibrations. My mom could hardly believe it when, one of the first times she helped me sell records at a show in Kentucky, a guy recited the last ten years of his personal story. He started in his adolescence and ended in graduate school, mentioning along the way his places of residence, college major and minor, romantic attachments, and shifting musical tastes. It took just over five minutes, and it seemed to be the price, imposed on me by him, of ongoing show attendance and CD purchases. “Why did that asshole think any of that was interesting to anyone?” said Mom, heated by outrage to a profane boil. I answered her honestly, “Some people think they know you very well, so it ‘s only equitable that you know them.”

The other week, a friendly, bright fellow who comes to see me play a lot bumped into me and right away started getting carried off by somber reflections on the course my career had taken over the last 15 years. “It’s always great to see you play,” he said, “but sometimes I feel bad about your audience. You’ve been at it so many years, you put out all this different music. And sometimes people like it, and your shows are packed. And then there are these other periods, when…” In his pause you could almost hear the ellipsis bumping brokenly off — Dot! Dot! Dot! “You are making me depressed,” I told him. I know he was trying to share some simple fellow feeling for what he took to be my Job-like woes, but it’s of no use to me hearing about problems that I’m in no particular position to affect, such as the starving infants of Africa or the turnout at my shows. I actually thought for a second of punching him.

One reason this comment gets on my nerves is that I’ve made it to others. I’m not sure why, but one has a need to acknowledge the unjust obscurity of others. One time I was doing a show with Marti Jones at the Bottom Line in New York. Boy, I wince just thinking about this. Excited to meet her, I pulled her into a private room backstage and just unloaded. “Your records are so good!” I gushed. “And not only good, but perfectly designed in style and production finesse to make you a worldwide superstar! Why didn’t this happen? It bothers me!” She was polite but didn’t fabricate a specific answer to my question. What in the world was I thinking?

Another time I heard the Dixie Chicks singing Darrell Scott’s song “Long Time Gone” on the radio. It sounded so very nice, and so very much like the New Grass Revival, that I immediately called New Grass’s bassist and lead singer, John Cowan, just called him right there from the car in the middle of Pennsylvania. “John!” I breathed. “The Dixie Chicks just sang this song, and it’s a hit for them, and it sounds exactly like you guys used to sound!” “Yes,” he said. “Well?” I retorted. “How does it strike you when someone takes a sound and style that you invented and struggled to achieve commercial recognition with, and sells millions of records with it, twenty years later?” A short silence ensued. “I guess I don’t feel that great about it,” he said at last, beaten. What in the world was I thinking? [More…]

There’s a lot more in this post that I’m sure many of you will identify with, from whatever perspective you’ve had in this artist-fan dynamic. The weekend’s upon us; I encourage you to take some time in the coming days to read his post in whole. For now, if you’re itching to discuss, Fulks eventually comes to this conclusion: Continue reading »

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Apr 292010
 


It’s nothing dramatic, but check out Blood, Sweat & Tears‘ replacement singer (did you know someone replace the fantastically bad David Clayton Thomas, who was a replacement singer himself?) during the solos in this cover of Traffic‘s “Empty Pages.” The solo starts at 1:43, and you’ll catch the replacement singer doing the Half-Hearted Blinded by da Blooz move at the 2:06 mark. This pedestrian move is commonly employed by lead singers during instrumental breaks. It involves some pseudo-blind man head bobbing and swaying that quickly degenerates into the posture of a dude following a humorous conversation around a keg. If I were ever a lead singer without a guitar to holster, I fear I’d resort to some lame move like this one.

Typically the singer has at least three responsibilities to uphold during instrumental breaks: 1) direct the audience toward the soloist; 2) offer support and encouragement to the soloist, thereby actually cueing the audience to applaud the singer’s re-entry in the song; and 3) stay the hell out of the way of the musicians and their chords and effects boxes!

It’s fascinating to watch a singer who knows how to make something distinctive of those long instrumental breaks. David Thomas of Pere Ubu has been known to employ the age-old Hat Wave technique to cool off his soloing guitarist’s axe. A little touch of the singer’s showmanship goes a long way during a long instrumental break.

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When I saw Yes, tiny Jon Anderson had to fill long stretches doing nothing more than banging an inaudible tambourine and letting his dashiki flow to the music. His movements are extremely awkward but sincere, as you’ll see in the background of the instrumental break in “Roundabout” (beginning at the 5:27 mark). Devoid of drama, the Anderson, as I’ll call this move, projects confidence and keeps the singer front-and-center, commanding his band through challenging instrumental passages. It’s a subtly effective approach.

So what things that singers do during long solos impress you? For future discussions, is there a term that can be given to these moves? Beside the three I listed, what other responsibilities might a singer have during his musical breaks? What moves should a singer avoid during instrumental breaks?

I look forward to your thoughts.

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Apr 282010
 

Name a band that changed their name by either adding OR subtracting a word or words but not doing both.

Adding AND subtracting to a name does not count (eg, Jefferson Airplane to Jefferson Starship, which involved the deletion of “Airplane” followed by the addition of “Starship”).

Also, the name change must have occurred before the band made their mark and not later on, when they are doing their Big Cash-In tour with some new guys (eg, The Cars to The New Cars).

I’ll start: The Silver Beatles to The Beatles.

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Apr 282010
 

A recent issue of GQ is sitting in the men’s room at my office, with Jake Gyllenhaal making goo-goo eyes at me. I’m sure it’s just the way God made him – and I’ve only seen him in one or two movies that he did not single-handedly destroy – but that guy really annoys me. Believe me, I know nothing about him (he may be a fantastic human being and all that), but every time I look at him he strikes me as a world-class kiss ass!

This got me thinking about Townsman E. Pluribus Gergely‘s Six-Pack or Shotgun theory on how we actually assess acting talent. To summarize, if you don’t have the time to go back and read the original thread, Gergely’s legendary late-night pronouncement on the topic should do:

“There’s no such thing as Acting Ability!” he said in typically definitive fashion, slamming his fist for emphasis. “When we watch any any actor in any movie it comes down to one thing: If that actor showed up unannounced at your back door, would you greet him or her with a six-pack or a shotgun?

Today, let’s see if we can tackle the near-impossible task of applying this theory to related pairs of polarizing musicians. Sure, we’re loaded for bear when it comes to passionate, informed musical opinions, but let’s see if we can leave musical content out of it and investigate whether there is a deeper truth to our feelings on the following pairs of artists.

Your mission is to choose which artist in each pair gets the six-pack and which gets the shotgun. There’s no in-between, no ties, and especially none of this! The only risk you face in participating is the risk of revealing something deep about yourself.

A final reminder: If at all possible, leave your opinions on the artists’ music out of it. To aid in this I have attempted to kick things off with the selection of a few pairs of artists whose music most Townspeople have equal amounts of musical interest in.

When you’re done assigning the six-pack and the shotgun to each of the following sets of related polarizing artists feel free to add your own pair of related polarizing artists for us to ponder.

Let’s get it on…after the jump!

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Apr 262010
 

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My apologies to a few of you who heard this story already. On Saturday my family and I were suited up and hitting the road for the Bat Mitzvah of the daughter of a friend and Townsman. Car rides to formal events always start off with a bang in our family. In the hour leading up to our departure we’re all on each other’s case, pointing fingers at each other for jeopardizing our ability to get on the road on time. One person’s shower is taking too long, while another person is taking too long to get into the shower. There’s always one more chore to knock out, like a basket of laundry that needs folding. I begin sweating like a pig as soon as I begin putting a tie on. There must be a pill I can take to stop sweating when I’m putting on a tie! I inevitably yell to no one in particular.

For this trip, although I had to finish reading the sports page and have one more cup of coffee before hitting the shower – and although I was already feeling the heat of the tie – I vowed to be the roadtrip’s Dr. Feelgood. I refrained from pointing fingers and threatening to leave without anyone who wasn’t ready at the appointed departure time. Then, in what seemed like a brilliant stroke of spreading some good vibrations, I readied disc 1 of Paul McCartney‘s Wingspan collection – nothing but the hits! I knew this CD would ease my wife’s rising stress level, and if Mom’s relaxed the boys have a better chance of being relaxed. (I was cool, mind you, totally sold on my pose as Mr. Calm.)
Continue reading »

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Apr 262010
 

Years after the fact, years after I wrote off all of these bands (with the huge exception of X-Ray Spex, whose “Oh Bondage, Up Yours” is one of the most-invigorating songs ever) as undisciplined, often shrill, distaff entrants into the punk world, what am I to make of bands like Au Pairs, The Slits, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Raincoats, and many more? I so quickly dismissed these bands in my first few years of hearing punk rock and early post-punk that I’ve got them all confused these days. This called for a candid, from-the-gut reassessment.

On Saturday a couple of friends were talking about Au Pairs. One of them described them as a “female Gang of Four,” which is how I’d remembered them. Just now I found the clip that kicks off this post and confirmed both my memory of the band and my friend’s comparison. It’s pretty good, but as I felt back then, there was only room for one Gang of Four in my tastes. I still love hearing my Gang of Four albums a couple of times a year, but their style of music is a dead end. How many variations on the choppy funk chords and didactic, talk-shouted, 2-note vocals does a man need?


I went back and revisited Delta 5, another band I recalled being in this vein and having similar strengths and limitations, and my gut feelings held true. The music of this song is as good as the music in a Gang of Four song, but the lyrics sound like something a few creating kids would crank out for their 8th grade basement band. There’s a lot to be said for the off-the-cuff creativity of youth, but I felt a hundred years older than that when I was young. My loss, I’m sure. Although I truly understand the appeal of this style of music, I’m surprised young bands are still trying to ape that pose. We get it already, or at least I do.

Next, The Slits…

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