The comments in a recent thread on unlikely jam in rock mentioned a nearly 20-minute version of some Hall & Oates song, which reminded me of a live clip I’d seen of the band performing some long, proggy song. I had to go back and find the clip, which kicks off today’s Friday Flashback, and when I did I thanked God once more. I bet you will too.
This post initially appeared 2/27/07.
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OK, now you guys tell me there’s a lack of clarity on the term jamming. Some of you feel that the more it’s planned out the less it’s jamming. I’m not so sure that I agree. I think, in part, the term refers to a communal activity among musicians that involves the stance of jamming. As a group, let’s define what we mean when we talk about jamming.
Today’s jam is from Sonic Youth‘s Silver Session (For Jason Knuth), an entire jam supposedly recorded with no musicians actually playing the instruments put to tape. It’s short, pretty, and painless. Check it out.
Legend has it that Sonic Youth was frustrated by the attempt to record some song. To relieve the tension, the band members turned all their amps up to 11 and rested their axes in front of them, for, like, maximum feedback. They recorded the random feedback tones and then edited them down to an album’s worth of concise, fairly tuneful pieces. I like this album better than anything Sonic Youth has done while actually handling their instruments.
What’s the unlikeliest band to have ever jammed on record? The first that comes to mind for me is The Kinks, on the relatively long solo that closes one of my favorite songs from Arthur, “Australia.” I’m sure there are more unlikely bands that have jammed. Does the expanded Odessa, for instance, contain free jazz scat singing by the Brothers Gibb?
Note: The 1971 featured above, in which The Beach Boys joined The Grateful Dead on stage for a cover of “Okie From Muskogee,” may not count because it’s only from some Deadhead archival release. However, it’s a most unlikely jam!
Let’s take a walk, shall we? Tell David whatever’s on your mind.
What would JAMuary be without at least one visit from the “Mother of All Jam Bands,” the Grateful Dead? The legendary “Dark Star” was the opening cut on Live/Dead, the 1969 record of the band at the height of its JAM Powers. And JAM it is, a long, modal, free-form expansion of a 3-minute single into a 23-minute exploration into the outer limits of rock. It is not the most rockin’ of JAMS, but rather a contemplation of subtle interplay, tone, and feedback that you will concede rises far above any charges of mere noodling.
The Grateful Dead, “Dark Star”
Don’t miss Phil’s resonant melodic inventions, Bobby’s light touch on rhythm, and most of all, Jerry’s repeated reinvention of his guitar tone for each of the flowing sections. In fact, anyone with an open mind should agree that it sounds as if “it’s planned out” and not mind it at all.
Our recent Curse of the Completists thread has me thinking about times when I’ve reached the end of the road with an artist. Like so many Beatles fans, I was pretty excited by the Anthology sets that were released in the mid-1990s. I was underwhelmed by Vol. 1, and then I was not-quite-satisfied with Vol. 2, culled from my favorite period of Beatles albums. I especially hated the two Lennon demos they completed with Jeff Lynne. The best thing I got out of buying those two collections was final confirmation that The Beatles had the exquisite taste not to bother recording many songs not worth their time. How many big, long-running bands can boast so few totally unrecorded, unreleased songs?
Anyhow, that was the end of the road for me and Beatles reissues. I didn’t feel like hearing scraps of the unlistenable jams from The White Album and the Abbey Road medley. I already had my German true stereo version of Magical Mystery Tour. There was nothing more left for me to explore in The Beatles’ catalog, and I’ve felt confident holding this point of view. I can’t imagine what Beatles recordings could be unearthed or repackaged to make me want to add onto my collection. I can’t even get excited to read any more books on them. How much more do I need to hear a pathetic, jealous rock journalist tear down John and Paul for their personal lives? Some day I’ll read that latest recording book on them, but even that will likely fail to make me love the band any more than I already have loved them since boyhood.
Have you ever reached the end of the road with collecting records by a beloved artist? Do you recall the exact moment when you knew it was over?
