I’m not sure any of them don’t suck, but: what’s the best “rock” musical? I contnue to believe that “Jesus Christ Superstar” is patchily listenable, but in general it’s still a turd. Can it really be the best of the bunch?
Nov 062007
Nov 062007
KingEd reviews the 43rd digital repackaging of Led Zeppelin’s Greatest Hits…in real time!
Funky dollar bill
The other day I was driving around with my oldest son when Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times, Bad Times” came on the radio. I cranked it up – and then cranked it up further as the solo approached. I tried to square my jaw like Bill Cowher’s and show the boy what it means to be alone, not to care what the neighbors say. Little did I know the song was probably programmed to play at that particular time on that particular Classic Rock station to celebrate the release of the latest 2-CD, remastered, repackaged Greatest Hits collection by these mighty titans of ’70s hard rock, Mothership. This edition was personally sequenced, remastered, and violated by the surviving members of Led Zeppelin. Even the ghost of deceased drummer John Bonham is said to have done his part with a red snapper.
Listen to “Dazed and Confused” and consider just how small Jack White’s well-intentioned dick is in comparison. Oh, John Paul Jones, no wonder Robert Plant is moaning during the psychedelic breakdown! As noble as Plant’s recent collaboration is with bluegrass artist Alison Krauss, this is the sound that gets the kingsnake-a-rattlin’. By the time we get to Jimmy Page’s typically ham-fisted guitar solo, who the hell cares?
As far back as the late ’60s, did the dark arts in which Plant and Page dabbled divine the following decade’s coming punk rock revolution? “Communication Breakdown” would forever haunt stuck up, insecure punks of my generation. No matter how cool we thought we were with our pumping, Ramones-style Barre chords, the mighty Led Zep had been there, done that.
Manliness established, it’s time Page picks some delicate arpeggios on his acoustic while Plant trolls for a maiden or three. “Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You” goes out to the ladies. The delicate pleas of the front men are punctuated by the massive tom fills of John Bonham, rock’s heaviest drummer. Eventually, following one last volley of Page-Plant curlicues, Bonzo inspires the pretty boys to give up the chase and go for the kill. “Baby, baby, baby, baby…” As a teen I was amazed and disgusted by how many times Page could moan “baby” and “woman.” To this day I’m a bit baffled by this practice, but now I’m willing to let it ride.
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Nov 052007
Hey, guys and gals! I’ve got a super swell idea for a Thrifty Music edition — let’s put up some of the keenest, niftiest songs I’ve ever found in thrift stores and flea markets… so long as they’re songs that were obviously targeted exclusively at an extremely white listening audience! Then, after RTH members have had a chance to really swing to some of these neat-o numbers, we can all talk about our fave songs that are also, you know, very White and everything! Wouldn’t that be the coolest? Sure it would!
Yet another band reputation besmirched by a “tribute” from REM
To start with, here’s a ginchie number by a groovy combo called The Clique. You may know the tune as popularized and largely ruined by REM, but here’s the extremely white original. I’m talking of course about “Superman”.
Let me know if you want to hear the wonderfully-titled A-side
Next up, “It Just Won’t Be That Way”, by super-pale band The Critters, who enjoyed a modest hit back in, oh, 1967 or something with “Mr. Dieingly Sad” — one of my fave rave song titles ever. “IJWBTW” is the less-often heard B-side, about which I want impressions from Townsmen Mockcarr, Velv, Trolleyvox, Mod, and anybody else out there with an ear for nifty white pop hooks. I want reports!
Ow — my extremely white teeth hurt!
Third in line, a sickly sweet bubblegum confection by White Plains, entitled “My Baby Loves Lovin'” — yet another song title to die for. As much as I love and appreciate music from all kinds of people of all sorts of ethno-cultural backgrounds, every now and again, a steaming pile of whiteness is shoved under my nose, and I must admit I thrill to its mac-and-cheese, bologna sandwich pungency. This is one of the artefacts that does it to me. It’s simple. It’s silly. It’s catchy. It’s draped in 100% Rayon from head to toe, and I love it. I hope you will too.
The reason I like this song
NOT the reason I like this song
Lastly, the track that will get my posting privileges revoked for sure: “Where the Action Is”, by John Paul Young. This was actually originally the A-side to JPY’s one global super-mega-smash, “Love Is In the Air,” but it was eventually relegated to the flip when its authors/producers realized they’d miscalculated. Most of you already know that I am a total ass-lick fan-boy for the svengalis behind John Paul Young on all of his musical offerings — Harry Vanda and George Young. I had to include this silly, extremely white number because, even in 1978 or whenever this song was released, the Vanda/Young songwriting team just couldn’t help but offer up some choice, extremely white, Easybeats-like production and arrangement touches — especially those background vox in the chorus! (In fact, I coud swear that’s actually Harry and George singing back there.)
Anyhow, as always, I look forward to your comments.
Yours, etc.,
HVB
p.s.: I also get a big kick out of how John Paul Young says “alright, alright, ALRIGHT!” after every chorus. Just wanted to toss that into the whiteness equation.
Nov 052007
Let’s say I’ve just landed here from Mars, excitedly clutching a sackful of Mojo magazines and the Trouser Press Record Guide, which I ordered through Amazon’s universal browser. Let’s say I have browsed cool rock blogs and read reports of this artist named Robert Wyatt. Let’s say I have not yet heard his music, but I’m tingling with anticipation over the first notes of Marxist, jazzbo, Canterbury whimsy that’s promised on anything from a classic Soft Machine album through one of a half dozen critically acclaimed Wyatt albums. Then I hear something like this.
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Nov 052007
Nov 052007
The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. So have the reports that I hate everything. Unless of course we’re talking about this steaming piece of crap, appropriately titled Cut The Crap. Cut the Crap indeed.
Like my brave sampling of Life Cereal I took it upon myself to bravely purchase, listen to and do everything possible to find the light in the tunnel of “The Clash’s” last official release.
I’m a Strummer man. Always have been. Always will be. The Clash without Jones couldn’t be that bad, could it? Couldn’t be worse than Bad Audio Dynamite, could it?
You have no idea how much I wanted to find some gems in here to wave in your holier-than-thou faces. “Conventional wisdom” has it this album bites. And the lot of you gulp this second hand wisdom shit down without boldly going yourself. Conventional wisdom IS The Man. Fuck conventional wisdom. Fuck The Man! Let me hear it, I’ll judge for myself.
Sadly I have been put in my place. Conventional wisdom (CW) has made me his bitch. Those of you who took CW at its word have saved yourself time, effort, money, and dignity. This album = the sound of your post-coffee BM trudging and struggling its way down your far-past-due-for-rooting plumbing.
Please accept my apology. I too should have swallowed this CW shit. I fought The Man, and The Man won. Allow my suffering to enlighten you on this travesty without soiling your own fine footwear.
Here’s the closest thing to gems I could find. That is to say that these are as good as it gets. I might be able to find some tracks on Combat Rock that I like less but, I just showered this Crap off me and don’t want to have to Bactine-swab my nipple-ring holes again:
Nov 052007
Hail and well met, fellow seekers of the weird, the unusual and the dirt-cheap. Today’s post is a quick one, as it restates a case we discussed in the form of “Walkin’ the Dog” many months ago. This time, we’re going to take a closer look at a song from the Stones’ 12×5 album — “It’s All Over Now”. I’ve got this song in my crosshairs as a result of finding a copy of the original, done by The Valentinos, at a flea market this weekend. One spin of the original caused me to take a small sip of brandy, stroke my chin thoughtfully, and wonder: Didn’t anybody back in 1965 or whenever the Stones released this turd point out that the original was a damn sight better than the Stones’ cover?!
Seriously, are there any Townspeople who wouldn’t prefer this:
“It’s All Over Now”, The Valentinos
to this?:
(Yes, yes, I know; that Stones “video” is a helluva way to present my case in an unbiased fashion. It was actually the only studio version of the song I could find online — and if anything, it serves to help illustrate the central point of my case!)
