I couldn’t help but watch the first song of this Styx concert on VH1 Classic. We’ve already discussed the bewildering, inherent contradictions of the classic Styx lineup. This recent Styx iteration — Tommy Shaw, James “J.Y.” Young, and hired hands — raises some new questions. Pay very close attention to the keyboardist’s innovative accoutrement. You’ll first see it 24 seconds into the video. Where can I get one of those?
In round-robin fashion, let’s share our rock ‘n roll regrets. I’ll start. Your regrets do not have to mirror my initial example in form or content. The regret could be over the buying of a particular album, like one of those Style Council lps. The regret could be about a public expression of rock beliefs among the wrong crowd. Just be honest.
I regret not buying Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols on vinyl within a few years of its release. For years I was content to listen to friends’ and roomates’ copies, saving my precious few dollars for buying other records that no one in my circle of friends owned. Then, by the time I felt I should own the album myself, CDs were out and I didn’t want to be confused with some yuppie asshole who was coming late to the party. Cool record store clerks keep track of that stuff, you know. To this day I do not own Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols. I keep thinking I’ll find a used, worn copy at some out of the way location, where my latecomer purchase may not be recognized and reported by The Cool Patrol.
I really thought about that patriotic song challenge and came up empty. I couldn’t think of a single song that made me “proud to be an American” until latelydavid mentioned Buffalo Springfield and then I realized that the protest songs of the 60s genuinely make me feel proud to be an American.
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I know a lot of these types of songs feel cheesy in hindsight but if you can’t set that aside for just a moment and revel in the revolution and the sentiment of these tunes and time well then mister you’re a better man than I.
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There’s an AM radio show out of Seattle that I podcast called Too Beautiful To Live. Last month, the show ran a contest called the TBT-Ella-Ella Watch, to decide on the summer single of 2008. Out of several worthy contenders (“American Boy” by Estelle and Kanye, and Snoop’s bizarre collaboration with Willie Nelson, “My Medicine,” being the other good ones), the clear winner was “The Stoop” by Little Jackie. This is a friggin’ glorious song, a sleek modern recasting of the old Invictus Records sound, circa 1971, by a Brooklyn-based duo consisting of neo-soul singer Imani Coppola (who had some solo hits in the 90s) and producer Adam Pallin. (The album, also called The Stoop, comes out Tuesday.)
Little Jackie,“The Stoop”
Well, this week there was a shocking and unexpected development in the story, which was that when the show’s producer and co-host, Jen Andrews, called Little Jackie’s label, S-Curve Records, to tell them the good news that Little Jackie’s song had won the listener poll, the PR person’s response was basically to flip out and demand to know how she had even heard the song (remember, the album isn’t out yet), and then to say that “The Stoop” wasn’t going to be released as a single.
Seriously, people. How is this song not a single?
I saw a commercial the other day for a collection called Patriotic Country. “Is there any other kind of country music,” I thought to myself? Well, I’m certain those US of A hatin’ Dixie Chicks were ruled out from consideration by the CD’s compilers.
Curtis Mayfield, “This Is My Country”
Feel free to snigger along with the concept of patriotic country, rock, and soul, but as we enter our Independence Day festivities, see if you can’t identify a song or two that actually touches on your personal notions of patriotism.
Despite the enthusiasm of one man’s experience at a Levon Helm concert, his may be about as hard to get through as that Billy Idol concert from Wolfgang’s Vault. At least it’s a lot shorter. While you’re taking this challenge, is there anyone you would less like hearing discuss an artist you love than Don Imus?
From The Lodgers
On my arrival I was greeted by four characters. Stephen White, who had just been proclaimed Master Of The Sticks by a pirate station in Cumbria run by a retired colonel. Miss Dee C. Lee who I espied on a clifftop alone with nothing but her sweet voice singing out into the clouds and a large parrott on her shoulder. Paul Weller, who sat naked in front of the sea on a deckchair shouting, “stop I say, hold thyselves, my parts freeze,” as the waves rushed past him, and Master Michael Talbot by a bonfire, splendidly clad in a lame blanket and hard at work on one of Stravinsky’s unfinished works he had come across in a disused priory.
Remember The Cappuccino Kid, that mysterious liner note writer for releases by The Style Council? Nobody knew who exactly The Cappuccino Kid was, but many speculated!
Not ringing a bell yet? Perhaps the following passage from Our Favourite Shop will jog your memory:
