Here’s something fun that Townsman Hrrundivbakshi put together last fall and is worth bringing back to The Main Stage today. (For future reference, most baseball-related pieces should be tagged “baseball,” as this one was. Those of you reveling in the start of the greatest season of all sports may want to click on the tag at the bottom of this post to see other baseball-themed pieces from the past.)
Now that’s what I call walk-up music!
As uncool as it now seems for knowledgeable, passionate music lovers like ourselves, I think we can all agree that The Who produced one masterpiece of an album, Who’s Next. After that, I don’t know that they produced a second great album. Some of us Who fans will go to the mats for Sell Out, but in all fairness it does get bogged down in gimmickry for a so-called great album and contains more delicate Townshend lead vocals than some Who fans prefer to hear on one album.
What else comes close to Who’s Next? I love Quadrophenia for its epic celebration of The Power and Glory of Rock, but at this stage in my life can I listen to it more than once every couple of years? No.
We’re all too in the know to claim Tommy is a great album. The first two Who albums, which I bought in high school as a twofer, have their obvious high points but they’ve also got a ton of filler. Then there are long stretches in the band’s prime years that are devoid of a contender. Someone’s likely to suggest that Live at Leeds is the band’s second great album, but we’re not about to reach consensus on that one.
Among bands who blossomed during the album era, is The Who the most highly regarded band that lacks a second great album?
In honor of Easter Sunday, it’s only right that Rock Town Hall reserve some time and space to discuss issues of rock ‘n roll martyrdom, resurrection, and communion.
Who are rock ‘n roll’s martyrs? What constitutes rock ‘n roll resurrection? Who makes up your rock ‘n roll ministry? Mine begins with Patti Smith and Joe Strummer, with the self-excommunicated John Lennon working in the wings. Let’s roll away the stone this weekend, shall we, and enjoy the festivities in whatever way seems right.
Artist Toby Wetland pulls no punches with his depiction of The Boss’ second fall. “Even with help, The Boss stumbled and fell to the ground once more,” explains the artist. “This time Julianne was the tipping point, but not – I stress – the sole cause of his fall.”
Bruce has seen death before, but now He can feel the profound weakness of disability and disease and aging itself, there on his knees, clutching onto the mic stand, under the weight of his Telecaster. Continue reading »
Aside from obvious outdated or never-cool production trends, such as the 1980s-era “big drum sound” and today’s Auto-Tuned vocals on pop records most of us wouldn’t be caught dead listening to without a tweener daughter or son in the car with us, too much of what instrument in a mix severely jeopardizes your enjoyment of a recording? Please feel free to be specific and overly picky. My intent is to learn what bugs you when listening to forms of music that you typically like. Please see if you can avoid blanket dismissals regarding particular instruments, such as “Even a single note of flute!” I’m curious to hear about your sense of taste and balance regarding the mix of instruments you are typically comfortable hearing in the music you like.
Also, it goes without saying that the answer It depends will be greeted by some variation of this: Continue reading »
Lamont Dozier, “Breakin’ Out All Over”
Greetings again, fellow Thrifty Music enthusiasts!
You thought I was kidding, didn’t you? 20 Thrifty Music tracks in 40 days? Surely not! I say: surely! And today’s track is a stone winner from 1976 — a bit of proto-disco flava from one third of the legendary Motown songwriting team Holland-Dozier-Holland: Mr. Lamont Dozier.
I’ll spare you the history lesson about Lamont’s disaffection with the Berry Gordy machine and how stingy they were with the proceeds from the hard work of staff writers and performers — and the long, fascinating saga of the Invictus label and its ultimate failure. This track, “Breakin’ Out All Over,” actually comes from Lamont’s years at ABC, when he tried to parlay his undeniable talent and his Gary Coleman, uh, “good looks” into a career as a solo artist.
Well, as great as much of Lamont’s music was during that era, he never quite gained the solo artist traction he was seeking. But the music — much of which remains out of print — was frequently quite good, and this song is no exception. So, yes, as usual, I’m looking for your impressions of this sweeping, soaring, orchestral soul number.
But more than that, I’m looking for an answer to a question: What would you do if you had a million dollars to spend on bringing a musical dream to life?
You know what I’d do? I’d put together my own Love Unlimited-style Orchestra and tour the larger, fancier concert halls of this great, over-compensated nation. I’d work the music media like hell, getting them to realize that it’s been THIRTY FREAKING YEARS since anybody’s been able to hear the orchestral masterworks of Barry White, Thom Bell, Isaac Hayes, and yes, Lamont Dozier in their proper live setting. I’d sell $80 tickets to the 50-something BMW and Mercedes set, and thrill to the knowledge that I could a) keep a magnificent part of America’s musical heritage alive, while b) actually paying my 40-piece orchestra fairly. And I might put on a few cheap shows, too, at larger clubs in town where the proles could actually get down and dance if they wanted to.
That’s what *I* would do with a million bucks. What would *you* do?
I look forward to your responses.
HVB
In our sixth Station of The Boss, artist Hans Wheeler asked us to look at The Boss in a new light. “Perspiration was increasingly becoming an issue for The Boss and His E Street Band in the early ’80s.” explains Wheeler. By 1983, concerts typically ran for 4 hours or more, testing the band’s improved cardiovascular fitness. Wheeler says the band was up to the challenge, and decided to emphasize their newly crafted “guns.”
“The scrawny, hairy, sweaty, bearded, wool cap-wearing Boss was a thing of the past,” said Wheeler, as we sipped soy vanilla lattes on the roof deck of his Dayton, Ohio condominium. “He liked the way the sweat ran down His sculpted physique, and He wanted to make sure this Look worked within His show.” The problem, Wheeler explained, was how to keep all that sweat from gumming up the works of the band’s equipment.
“In the old days,” Wheeler continued, “the hats, beards, vests, and jackets sopped up enough sweat to keep the gear dry enough to play through the night.” Now The Boss and His band were often down to one layer of clothing, with their sleeves rolled up high and tight over that finely honed artillery. Eventually something had to give, and the band introduced a new article of clothing into its ranks:
