Twice in the last week, I punched up the local “classic rock” station on the car radio, and *twice* heard the exact same song the moment I switched to the station. I’ve attached an audio collage of snippets from the tune, processed a bit to do a decent job of masking the artist in question. Your task: summon all you know about classic rock playlists — and tune your nerdy earbulbs — then tell me the artist and the song in question. First correct answer gets a coveted RTH No-Prize, and the opportunity to rant at length about how totally lame today’s “classic rock” playlists are.
Postscript: please note that these two times I tuned in the classic rock station were the *only* two times I’d tuned to the damn station in about three years!
As some of you know, Townsman and RTH Main Stage contributor cdm dedicates a significant piece of his busy schedule to his band, The Donuts. In what’s practically an RTH exclusive, the band has agreed to provide the Halls of Rock with an early look at their new video, “Guantanamo”, scheduled for release on election day. Check it out!
Great tune. Great Look! I’m jealous of the jumpsuits. Your fellow Townsperson, cdm, is playing the blonde Telecaster. This handsome cat is featured on the right side of your screen at the 1:12 mark. Sorry, rock nerds, he’s taken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t turn him onto some rare German import-only B-sides!
Some of us have lived in towns that have been namechecked in songs. Often, the namechecking means little to you or is even annoying. There may be, however, that one song with a geographical namecheck that makes you proud to have had a direct association with it. What song and geographical namecheck has this effect on you? It doesn’t have to be your hometown, but it has to be a geographical location that you’ve spent significant time in. What you might associate in your imagination of some song namechecking a place you’ve only passed through at best does not count.
I’ve got to think about a song with a geographical namecheck that might mean something to me. I’ve spent most of my life in Philadelphia, which has been referenced frequently, but of songs namechecking my hometown only the insignificant and/or annnoying ones come to mind, like “Philadelphia Freedom”. I’d like to say “Expressway to Your Heart”, which Philadelphians know is a reference to a heavily trafficked expressway that we all dread being stuck on, but the song doesn’t directly namecheck Philadelphia or the specific expressway, the Schuylkill.
The recent discussion of the Abbey Road medley and my ability to slowly appreciate it thanks to the “communion” of seeing it performed by a lame, local Beatles cover band at my town’s annual July 4th fireworks extravaganza reminded me of this post. Feel free to think beyond issues of The Beatles and their cover bands, if you like. Feel free to think about the concept of Rock Communion. Wasn’t that a big part of the allure of the Dead? Have you ever taken Rock Communion?
This post initially appeared 6/22/07.
For my recent birthday my brother bought me 2 tickets to see The Fab Faux play at The Bowery Ballroom in New York. The Fab Faux is a Beatles cover band led by longtime, lanky Letterman bassist Will Lee and Conan guitarist Jimmy Vivino. My brother knows what makes me tick. Although he’s aware of my multitude of hang-ups, he rightly ignores them and helps steer me toward the path of pure pleasure now and then. So he had no worries about sending me off to see a show in which I’d be faced with the second- or third-most annoying member of the Letterman band. He had no worries about my fear that the whole thing would be as bad as I imagine that Cirque du Soleil thing must be. A pointy guitar or a strap-on synth never entered his mind. To him, this was about a Beatles fan and the music of The Beatles.
When I heard about this gift coming my way, I got myself in a very positive frame of mind, so much so that I was able to talk my wife, who can be as critical as yours truly, into a decent state of mind. For one thing, we’d get some time to ourselves in a favorite spot in New York, Soho. The theater was a mere few blocks away from our favorite restaurant, Balthazar, which we hit a few times a year. Traffic from Philadelphia to the Holland Tunnel complied with our mid-day departure plan, and we readily found street parking. The only thing that didn’t go perfectly right leading up to the show was my not seeing Kyle MacLachlan, who my wife spotted crossing a street. I got a look at him from the back, and his hair was long and dyed light brown. He must have looked a lot like his Ray Manzarek character from the front. Damn!
Regrets? I had one.
As we waited for the band to come out, I explained to my wife that this show could only be fun. A crappy Beatles cover band plays at our town’s July 4th fireworks each year, and we enjoy them simply because they’re playing the music of The Beatles. People of all ages and tastes feel good hearing the music of The Beatles on a warm summer night before fireworks shoot off. As we scanned the audience full of middle-aged Beatles dorks (myself included, although I think I was about the coolest guy there), I told her this would be like Wednesday night guitar mass, the only type of Catholic mass I could stomach during my rare visits to church as a boy. Wednesday night guitar mass was as hip as punching the clock would get.
During the long wait until The Fab Faux hit the stage we bitched about all the Harry Shearer’s Le Show-type Beatles covers that played over the sound system (ie, The Beatles as covered by artists sounding like Randy Newman, The Neville Brothers, and others who think it’s a good idea to make Beatles songs sound like they’re being performed by middle-aged white men in Louis Armstrong blackface) and tried to position ourselves safely away from all the big white collar guys who’d toked their first joint since 1992 and who were itching to elbow those around them while playing air guitar to the songs. It turned out to be impossible to avoid these types.
Finally, an Asian woman came out, and I thought, “Christ, they’ve got a Yoko Ono character with them?!?!”Continue reading »
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As we learned in the 2008 NLCS, the manager of a major league team functions as a DJ of sorts, selecting just the right groove to fit the ebb and flow of the game. We’ve yet to determine exactly what Phillies manager Charlie Manuel spins while sipping a late-night bourbon, but we’re pretty sure its not an artist who would be confused with a Kentonite. Charlie’s probably more of an oldtime, late-night country radio DJ, making his selections from that ample gut. He’s not worried about rocking the house as much as he is putting a little spark in the lives of longtime couples trying to reignite what little spark they have left after a hard day’s work.
Tampa Bay Rays manager Joe Maddon, on the other hand, fancies himself as an auteur, with his cool horn-rimmed glasses and fauxhawk, his tales of drinking beer in some souped-up early ’70s Javelin with his Hazleton, PA high school buddies, and his penchant for peppering the Ray’s locker room with literary quotations. He’s some unexpected cross between Phil Jackson and Drew Carey, or as one Townsman pointed out recently, the older, wiser Joe Walsh. When he talks music, which is more often than any Major League manager I can remembers talking music, he usually starts with The Stones and ends with The Boss. He’s not been shy in declaring which side of the Temps vs Tops divide he leans. As a fan of the team that I’m hoping will smash his team’s march to the Top of the Pops, I can honestly say this is all cool. Joe Maddon is a breath of fresh air. If he were managing any team but the Rays at this point in the baseball season, I’d give the guy his due and move on. As it is, however, I feel compelled to take a more critical look at his iPod.
As some of you know Rock Town Hall has its roots in an old Yahoo Group, which exists to this day. It’s often referred to in discussions here as either the “Chess” edition or the “Basement,” depending on the tint of veterans’ glasses. Regardless, Olde School RTHers still share the occaisional deep cut and rarity with each other, in private. It’s almost always cool stuff, and today I’m dragging a few of these tracks to The Main Stage. Thanks, old friends!
Along with some basement tapes that I’m hauling into the light of day, I’m posting a few room-clearer songs that were sent to me offlist. We discussed the concept of room-clearing records a few weeks back, and a few Townspeople wanted to share their go-to room clearers. More than Townspeople themselves, the tired mates of Townspeople will thank you for helping get the last nerdy guests to leave.
I’ve mixed the basement tapes with the room clearers. Some Townspeople may find one category of songs interchangeable with the other. Enjoy!
