Remember Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska, his first stripped-down, hard-hitting attempt at getting away from the numbers? I know some of you own this album. It never did anything for me, but I’m using it to set up what I hope will be a discussion in which we share the outer ranges of our listening moods, from whatever you consider your most stark, bare-bones album to the album that suits your richest, frothiest listening needs. Please don’t bother with all the albums in between. Be a man (or woman) and choose one album from each end of your emotional spectrum: what do you most want to listen to when you need to spend some time in your personal Nebraska, and what do you most want to listen to when you need to run free through your own personal Wonderland – you know, maybe fill up the tub with bubblebath and pour yourself a glass of champagne! You dig?
A televised Amy Winehouse performance would not be complete without a lot of camera time given to her retro-style singin’ and dancin’ backup singers. You know these guys: two stylish, handsome, and animated black guys in dark, ’60s-cut suits who perform a frantic, nonstop array of choreographed Motown-style moves to add some needed life behind the scrawny atrocity exhibition who’s paying the bills. The camera can only hang so long on Winehouse, in hopes of her falling over or throwing up. The backing singers keep things FUN and LIVELY!
During our examination of the African American Robed Choir (AARC) I addressed whether a rock band being supported by “colored girls” as backup singers constituted an example of exploitive black rock history. We seemed to agree that if a performance called for the tone of African American backup singers, the selection of a trio of African American singers as acceptable in terms of instrumentation, no different than a guitarist selecting a Gibson over a Fender. None of us would deny the importance of showmanship and mach schau in rock, so we can’t immediately jump on any backing singers who dance and dress in a way that adds to the performance. In the case of Amy Winehouse, however, a young, white, English singer who apes African American vocal characteristics and themes, I’ve got to question whether her use of her backing singers is a ploy for Blackredibility or the acceptable selection of human instrumentation. Continue reading »
In a recent post, Mr. Mod bemoaned the fact that no chicks — sorry, “womyn” — are posting in these hallowed halls. Could it be because rock and roll is pretty much idiotic when it comes to its relationship with the fairer — sorry, “fiercer” — sex? I think this is something that deserves further exploration. But let’s not get all tweedy and pipe-tamping about it, okay? Just post your favorite rock pick-up lines in this space.
Moddie would probably appreciate a few lines that might actually work as panty-peeler — sorry, that might help prove that rock and roll really understands, loves, and respects women — but speaking for myself, I’d prefer to hear your worst. Ted Nugent‘s “My Love Is Like a Tire Iron” springs to mind. You’ll find this gold in song titles, for sure, but for extra credit, give us some lyrical snippets that you think prove the case that rock music is a.) going home lucky; or b.) doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with the ladies.
We sometimes joke about the fact that few Townswomen comment in the Halls of Rock – in fact, I can’t tell you how long it’s been since the last time we’ve had a comment from a woman – but it hurts. I don’t know about you, but I worked hard to get this passionate, witty, and articulate about the the music I love – and here I am, still stuck in the same wrong side of the party, along with Mohammed, Jugdish, Sidney, and Clayton.
If this were Literature Town Hall or Film Town Hall I’d bet we’d hear from almost as many men as women. Why not Rock Town Hall? I see women at concerts. I know women buy records. There are even women who play in bands. Wasn’t it the Year of Women in Rock just a few years ago? Women were talking rock shit in that special issue of Rolling Stone, but it seems they’ve been quiet ever since.
I can’t be sure that every Townsperson who does post here on a regular basis is a dude, but I’m pretty sure that’s the case. It’s easy to think that the problem is with us, but I want to look at this from another perspective: Are women capable of talking rock shit? Continue reading »
The television host who soberly introduces this Neil Diamond classic as being about an imaginary boy whom he’d call on to spell his loneliness. I’d always thought the song was about a dog, but he does say that the only friend he could find was in his mind. Regardless, to celebrate Valentine’s Day, why don’t you share your favorite love songs to imaginary lovers. Extra credit for breakup songs about imaginary lovers!
On this Valentine’s Day, may your lover be the real thing, be it human or canine.
I’m going to try to start a little series inspired somewhat by BigSteve’s awesome Pub Rock articles, but just as much as an idea I’ve had forever to come up with a way to share all the bands from Ohio, or that were Big in Cleveland but never seemed to make it anywhere else. I know a lot of people think supporting local music is just going out to clubs, but these bands are releasing albums and singles (or did) and I think it’s a shame that they were (or are) largely ignored, often right here in their home state. There probably won’t be any rhyme or reason for why I pick someone, other than I like them.
I’m going to start with The Damnation of Adam Blessing. This was a band from the West Side of Cleveland, firmly rooted in the hard, psych-blues rock of the late ’60’s, early ’70’s. Some of the lyrics are uncomfortably corny these days, but there’s no denying the big riffs, slamming drums, and heavy bass that’s kind of stayed on as a driving factor in rock music from the Midwest. It may be dated, but I think it’s part of our DNA. As much as I like Punk or Americana or whatever it is that I like, I always fall back on bands with big riffs and loud guitar solo’s. It’s like my baseline, and I think it’s like that for a lot of bands from Ohio no matter what genre they wind up being a part of.
At some point their name was shortened to just Damnation, but everyone I’ve ever known has used their full name whenever they talked about them. While they truly belonged to the generation just before mine, I knew a few kids that listened to them besides me, but we were way too young to go see them. Finding their records used to be easy. They were on United Artists, so there was always a copy at the store if you wrecked yours or gave it away to a friend visiting from out of town. I remember going to replace my copy of the first album one day and finding out that they were just gone, out of print and unavailable. Back then Record Conventions were pretty new (I think), and the out of town dealers would mark up some of our beloved old Cleveland bands to ridiculous prices, so I didn’t replace my Damnation music for years. I had a crappy cassette of some beat as all hell LP’s, and that just had to be good enough.
Damnation released three albums, and a fourth that was called Glory was actually Damnation but due to disagreements with United Artists, the band was forced to change their name (or so I’ve heard). I don’t have Glory, but I remember hearing it and being incredibly underwhelmed. Even the band members kind of shirk off that album, like bass player Ray Benisch:
In January of 1982 I was involved in a domestic shooting, at which no one was permanently injured. Inspite of having no prior criminal record, (except for that Glory album), I was sentenced to 27 years in prison.
An Italian label called Akarma released all the albums, and even released a boxed set of the first three albums. The boxed set is beautiful, with gatefold LP sleeve style jackets and the full artwork from the albums with a poster and a great booklet included. The booklet has a history of the band along with some quotes from interviews of the band. There’s really very little reference material on the band, outside of an article Ugly Things did and the boxed set booklet. Damnation were contemporaries of The James Gang and shared bills with them. They also opened for The Faces, Grand Funk Railroad, and Eric Clapton. They tell a story about Iggy and The Stooges that makes it sound like they really didn’t quite get what The Stooges were all about. I have to say, they really did get a shot with UA and their distribution network and management that could get them on stage with some pretty big crowds to see them. I’m not really sure why they’re so unknown.
Their fans have generally pointed out that what separates them from the hard rock bands of their era is their sense of melody and their harmony vocals. I don’t necessarily agree with that, because the songs I like best are probably their least melodic, but the vocals do add a lot of depth that a lot of the Power Trio’s of the time could never come close to. Unfortunately I also think it’s those vocals that lend themselves easily to orchestration, and orchestration tends to be overkill. The addition of strings on their third album, Which Is the Justice, Which Is the Thief? don’t add much to the music. In fact, they tend to overwhelm the band, and leave them struggling to be heard over the orchestra. Which Is the Justice… may not have been much better without the strings, but the label just added them after Damnation turned over their tapes for the album. The band was really unhappy with the end results, and I can’t blame them. Damnation could pull off a ballad like “Everyone,” and they didn’t need a string section and grand piano to write new outros to tack on to the end of their songs.
Nonetheless, their first two albums, Damnation and The Second Damnation are excellent examples of Midwestern hard rock. “Cookbook” is an original song that shows off all the band’s strengths in one nice, tight little song. I can remember seeing high school bands still playing that song when I was a kid, almost 10 years after the album had come out. I’m pretty sure they patterned their version of “Morning Dew” after The Jeff Beck Group’s version, but I grew up hearing Damnation’s version on the portable record players and car stereos of my youth. I can remember the first time I heard their version of “Last Train to Clarksville” and kind of freaking out because they were playing a Monkees song! How could a band with a name I wasn’t supposed to even say in front of my mom be playing a Monkees song? It was kind of cool, though. It was certainly better to my teenage ears than anything the Monkees had ever done. I like the rest of the album because it’s a little druggy and just a great late night record. Continue reading »