Rock Town Hall • Rock Music Discussion

Once in Love with Amy

Jul 022007

Designed for “comeback”

Townsman Saturnismine sent in the following thoughts and asks the Hall for its advice.

Thankfully, every now and then, the Great Big Music Machine in the Sky spits something out that’s flawed, irregular, maybe not even likable, but possessing qualities so intriguing that we can’t look away, even if we sense tragedy in the final frame. This time it’s a British soul Jewess named Amy Winehouse. She’s a one woman freakshow of mixed signifiers, a completely “hot mess” if you will: big hair, tattoos, a seemingly authentic “other woman” persona, a fine pair of husky pipes, and a feel for vocal phrasing so subtle that the utterance of a single note can make this Townsman feel connected to the Universal life force at its very source.

Just as the Summer of ’06 was The Summer of (Gnarles Barkley’s) “Crazy”, Summer ‘07 may very well go down in pop annals as “Rehab” Summer. If you haven’t heard this neo-Ray Charles handclapper in the supermarket, the Laundromat, or while waiting for Sethro Baer to fix your teeth, then you live under a rock. For cryin’ out loud, this is the song that made my mother teach herself how to download music from iTunes. For those of you who haven’t heard “Rehab” (from Winehouse’s late 2006 release Back to Black), take a listen.

It’s nice to hear a distinctive voice interpreting and performing a song. It’s also a pleasure to hear some thoughtful production that manages to sound new (without embracing studio-by-numbers, Sam Ash trends) while at the same time sounding vintage.

If we dig deeper into Back to Black, we find everything “Rehab” promises – and more: lyrics with intelligent word play that doesn’t obscure meaning; nuanced, but never labored sounding vocals on every track. But perhaps most impressive is that Amy wrote the songs. We hear an in-depth tutorial in the “isms” of Billie Holliday, Spector’s girl-groups, Motown, Memphis, Aretha, and Amy’s British girl forebear in the pursuit of Americanness, Dusty Springfield. Somehow, we also hear more than a few fucked-up-isms stolen from the bottom of Rickie Lee Jones’ bag of tricks. But Amy hasn’t just skimmed the surface in order to graft this or that move from her idols. She’s inspired. She “walks with” her idols rather than looking up to them. One imagines that she’s been listening to the stuff (and nothing but this stuff) and singing along all her life.

The combination of sadness and bounce in “Me & Mr. Jones” is so evocative of a post-war/pre-Beatles past that it automatically conjures images of too much lipstick, cat glasses, and grainy 8-mm movies of children in footy pajamas around Christmas trees spliced with, oh, I dunno…equally grainy footage of JFK’s head splattering all over Jackie O’s pink coat. But what really make “Me & Mr. Jones” special are little moments like the one at 0:20. Check how Amy drops her throat into her heels to sing the words “Slick Rick gig.” If we suspected, before this utterance, that we were listening to the bitch offspring of Ma Rainey, Billie, and Ronnie, we’re sure of it by 0:26.

The album’s crowning jewel is “Love is a Losing Game”, a pungent chunk of turf from Nelson Riddle’s backyard, featuring a devastating, harsh, but vulnerable and hesitating vocal. At 0:46, Amy tosses the word “love” across a sea of strings with a sad carelessness rarely mustered by singers in any era. Effortlessly, she has shared with us an exceedingly private moment, when she has mournfully, but absentmindedly thrown something into the dustbin that was once more important to her than anything else in the whole world; heartbreaks have turned love into a trifle that has been gathering dust on the mantle, something obsolete that needs tossing before it becomes a problem again.

Choose any moment to focus on her voice, you’ll find stuff like this. Back to Black is an ocean full of treasures buried beneath the gravel at the bottom of the sea.

And if there’s any question as to whether or not Amy can bring this kind of heat live, search Youtube for her Letterman performance, or check this one: a cracked, yet powerful reading of “Rehab”…

…all while fixing her hair! Say what you want about some of the more affected vocal stylings in this appearance, the girl’s got “stuff.”

And this is where it gets complicated. Continue reading »

The Longest Concert Ever… As Slow As Possible!

Posted by sally_cinnamon

Jul 022007

Did you know that as of this March, a group in Japan was awarded as the current record holders of the World’s Longest Concert? Beating out Canada (who held it since 2002) in the Guinness Book (to my own chagrin). On Thursday night, when The Fiery Furnaces played, the audience was put to the test for almost an hour and 45 minutes of original concert material. For an indie band, that’s kiiind of a long set – especially when you’re not expecting it.

Sparks; in a pensive mood. I would expect a long set from Sparks.

With no breaks between songs when your band sounds more like a melodic Trenchmouth or Red Red Meat fronted by a not less interesting Patti Smith or PJ Harvey, it can test your fortitude and rock n’ roll strength to stay interested – and I like to think that I’ve got a pretty good attention span. Double drummers, and lots of on stage action almost trick you into believing that the momentum and excitement could keep up with itself, but all that just falls to the background once it goes way past the hour mark – even the encore is mixed in with the regular set to “save us” from waiting for them to come back out on stage (we are told).

Is it possible that the band may have exceeded even their own expectations in length? Is it simply a practice in showing us who’s The Boss? After seeing Yo La Tengo‘s live show again earlier this year (not having seen them since the mid-90s), I was lamenting to a friend that I really liked most of the band’s set, but that the actual length of the show went on forever! He completely understood, having seen Yo La Tengo many times himself in recent years, what I was getting at:

Should experimentation take the live stage or go back to the garage?

Dugout Chatter

Posted by Mr. Moderator

Jul 022007

The new essentials!

I’m blanking on answering what is probably an easy question to answer: Name an artist beside Springsteen who started as a “new” version of an established artist (eg, The New Dylan) who later developed into a major and influential artist in his or her own right.

Which Velvet Underground & Nico deep track would you be more likely to skip, “Black Angel Death Song” or “European Son”?

Honestly, what are you more likely to listen to when it comes on the radio, a Phil Collins-era Genesis song or a Peter Gabriel-era Genesis song other than “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” (ie, assuming other PG-era Genesis songs ever get played on the radio)?

When you think “struck harmonics on the guitar,” what are the first TWO songs that come to mind?

What’s so good about David Bowie’s “Heroes”? In other words, what “makes” the song for you, assuming the song is one you like. (I like it myself, by the way, so don’t think I’m setting you up for some rock crisis of faith, as I may have done with one of these other questions).

What rock band made the most unlikely use of piano?

What makes one “wasted” artist cool and another one pathetic? When does the cool wasted artist cross the line and become a pathetic wasted artist? Is it all about the music? The Look? Something else?

Lou Reed…As His Music Was Meant to Sound!

Posted by Mr. Moderator

Jun 302007

Flubbed intro and all!

God Save The Clientele; Lord Lighten The Polyphonic Spree

Posted by KingEd

Jun 292007

Lay some Bread on Davy!

I’m finding that one unexpected part of the aging process is reliving every half-decent pop culture trend of my youth. Musically, I feel stuck in some prepubescent summer of ’74 pool jukebox rut of pleasant mediocrity. It makes sense. This is the era when major label releases of surprisingly interesting material could fly under the radar, get tossed into the cheapest bins at used record stores – you know, the ones that sit on a table in the sun, dog-eared covers and missing inner sleeves be dammed – and await the adoption of a hopeful, budget-conscious rock nerd. A lot of great albums that otherwise would have been lost to the ages have been discovered through this process, such as Big Star’s #1 Record, which beginning in 1980 or so made its way from the sun-baked bargain bins of used record stores to the vaunted wall slot, reserved for overpriced collector’s items. Today, countless bands have sprouted from the hopes of stumbling across the next 25-cent copy of a forgotten late-period Association or Roy Wood album. This brings me to the latest from The Clientele and The Polyphonic Spree.

God Save The Clientele answers the question, What would The Monkees’ Davy Jones sound like fronting an indie pop band in 2007? The album-opening “Here Comes the Phantom” must buckle the knees of modern-day Marcia Bradys. The indie pop scene has been working toward the fulfilling the wish that Bread actually released more than three great soft-pop songs for years. Think of all the quarters that have been spent at used record stores in hopes of scoring that one great Bread album. The Clientele manage to turn out an album that sounds as consistently great over the course of an album as those scant great Bread songs that make only that band’s greatest hits album worth dropping a quarter on! “I Hope I Know You” and “Isn’t Life Strange” sound as if Elvis Costello spent a few weeks writing with David Gates himself to achieve this bargain-bin fantasy. Hell, I’m almost willing to think that Bread really were America’s answer to The Zombies all over again.

True believer!

The Polyphonic Spree, that 40-piece collective of brightly colored robes and Kool Aid-sipping marching band freaks, sets itself a tougher task on The Fragile Army, trying – once more – to marry the symphonic pop delights of ELO to the feel-better sentiments of landmark ‘70s self-help tome I’m OK, You’re OK. The results are as muddy and unsatisfying as the many Roy Wood and Wizzard albums I’ve dropped a quarter on in hopes of finding one more whacked-out gem like Boulders. Like the worst of George Harrison’s solo works, instrumental breaks are constructed not so much to highlight expressive flights of musicality but to allow for the shimmying and hand-raising of all those robed backing singers. Damn flutes flutter at every given opportunity! Some songs start out perfectly cool, like “Younger Yesterday”, before getting bogged down by their up-with-life platitudes. Hey, I love life as much as the guy in the chartreuse robe, but let how about giving the life of the song itself some space? Other tracks, like “We Crawl”, identify the depressingly fine line between Eno and Styx. I went back and listened to some ELO albums, a Queen album, and the one-man recordings of Wood and Todd Rundgren. Do 40 musicians really contribute to the sound and ideas of The Polyphonic Spree, or am I correct in thinking their records sound smaller and shorter on ideas than any of a half dozen Elephant 6 releases made by a 10th of musicians? “Too much of nothing,” sang Bob Dylan, “can make a man feel ill at ease.”

For the Good Times: Rock Man Crush Remembrances

Posted by Mr. Moderator

Jun 282007

In a recent thread, a veteran Townsman warned a new Townsman to steel himself, as follows:

watch it: plurb’s got a man crush on you. i don’t envy you the day you post an opinion he disagrees with…it’ll be diva time.

This warning was in reference to the growing appreciation and interest Townsman Epluribusgergely has developed in response to the expressed tastes by a relatively new Townsman, who will remain nameless. The “man crush” referred to is a particular kind seen around these parts: the Rock Man Crush. Usually a budding Rock Man crush is a wonderful thing to see blossom in the Halls of Rock. Mix CDs are burned, joint campaigns are launched to promote an obscure album, sometimes even face-to-face meetings are scheduled. In the case of the Rock Man Crushes involving our friend Epluribus, who’s become known as the Warren Beatty of love-em-and-leave-em Rock Man Crushes, there is a sense of dread. Let me explain the warnings of our veteran Townsman.

You’ve probably been on both ends of the Rock Man Crush. You spot a cool record in a new acquaintances collection – or he (or she) spies a cool record in yours – and in short time you’re hungry for some rock nerd bonding.

“Oh, you know that album too? I love that album!”

“Sure. You know that album? None of my friends like this album.”

In due time, two rock nerds are sitting cross legged around a stack of records and love is in the air!

It’s not unusual that the new rock crush eventually runs out of gas and the two rock nerds move on, thankful for their time of bonding and additions to their respective music collections. There are some among us, however, who fall more deeply than others, and the first time an undesired album comes between the new friends, the most-smitten friend feels betrayed and lashes out at the other. This describes the cycle we’ve seen – and in many cases felt – at the hands of Epluribus. It can get ugly. One day you’re best buds, the next day your manhood is called into question in front of all the super-cool rock nerds who gather here.

Here’s what I have in mind as a way of healing past rifts and perhaps helping Gergs to tread more gently in his Rock Man Crushes, to find a way to allow them to end more gracefully: If you’ve been through the ups and downs of a Rock Man Crush with Epluribus, please share with us the highs and lows, the joyous beginning and painful ending of this crush. I ask you to do to help our friend recall what was really important in each of these crushes, to appreciate the good times.

If you have another Rock Man Crush to share, one not involving Epluribus but that you find might be helpful, please share your experiences. Thank you.

That’s Cool: Nick Lowe, At My Age

Posted by Mr. Moderator

Jun 282007

As all but the most tolerant, patient, and dedicated fans of Nick Lowe probably agree, shortly after Nick’s first two albums, the lone Rockpile album, and the breakup of the entire Rockpile working arrangement, the guy’s career hit a long stretch of mostly unsatisfying releases. Surely one of us is a greater fan of Nick the Knife or Party of One than the rest of us, and there’s probably even a Nick Lowe fan who regrets his breaking up His Cowboy Outfit, but let’s be honest, the guy lost his spark when he lost that Rockpile crew and from all accounts began changing as a person.

Lowe’s reemergence as an unabashedly adult artist following the release of 1994’s The Impossible Bird or 1998’s Dig My Mood, depending on when you began paying him any attention again, was a welcome and inspiring reemergence. I loved hearing this guy who’d always had a facility for classic pop traditions bear down and confront them head on. How many more mediocre to bad releases would it have taken to convince me that the guy could no longer turn pop conventions on their ear? The guy could have released 100 more albums in a “rocking” vein and never come up with another “I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass” or the exquisite “Cruel to Be Kind”. That’s cool, and what’s cooler is that he had the great sense to get out of the Jesus of Cool business and embrace the pop conventions that have always been at the core of his work.

Jesus Has Left the Building

In an interview with Terry Gross on Fresh Air around the time of one of these mature albums, Terry asked Nick if there was a song that he loved that might suprise his fans. (This is a great question that Gross has asked musical guests over the years, and it could be a good thread for us here at Rock Town Hall someday, so keep it in mind.) Lowe’s song was Tommy Edwards’ ballad “It’s All in the Game”. He picked up his acoustic guitar and played a few measures of the song. It made so much sense, especially with his new direction. Dig My Mood and the follow up, The Convincer, each contained a few songs in that style (along with strong hints of Nat King Cole and The Platters). When he wasn’t crooning on those fine albums he was doing the sort of country-soul identified with the songwriting and production of Spooner Oldham and Dan Penn. His whole “changed man”/”man who’s finally found love” lyrical stance comes through loud and clear on these recordings, and I find them moving despite the “coffee table rock” aspects of The Convincer, in particular.

That brings us to his new release, At My Age. The whole adult rock/changed man thing continues to be at the foundation of his work and his publicity campaign, and that’s all cool. The songs on this album are highly reminiscent of songs from his previous “mature” works, and as far as dedication to craft goes, this is somewhat cool. The arrangements and recordings are still display tremendous taste and understatement, which is very cool, but I’m not sure that I’m cool with the same batch of songs, the same lyrics, the same stance. If Lowe has dedicated golden years of his career to recrafting classic pre-Beatles pop, is he hitting the wall that halted the great works of Lieber and Stoller and associated artists, like The Drifters? Is there a reason that great stuff went by the wayside that has nothing to do with racial ceilings and moptops?

I know some of you would like me to shut up with the backstory and talk about some of the album’s finest tracks, like “Long Limbed Girl”, “Hope for Us All”, and “I Trained Her to Love Me”. That’s cool. You’re excited to hear a report on his breezy collaboration with former student and flame, Chrissie Hynde, on the breezy, insignificant “People Change”. That’s cool too. I’ll tell you what, how about listening to the songs sampled here and digging them for yourself, discussing them as you see fit? Just click on the song titles with the mp3 links.

If there’s any problem with this album it’s that Nick and I are aging at different rates. As much as I appreciate him setting a dignified pace for rockers in their 50s – and believe me, this is a solid, enjoyable album and heads and shoulders above cynical “golden years” crap like that series of Rod Stewart Trashes the American Masters releases – I’m not ready to slow down that much yet. I want to hear Nick lash out at just one classic pop convention now and then. I know he’s a changed man. I know he’s finally found love, but he finally found that love 10 years ago. It’s time I hear about something slightly new, pitched somewhere slightly new. We can work through this together, I’m sure, Nick. If all works out, I’ll be your age one day too, and I’d rather feel what you’re feeling than whatever it is crotchety old Bob Dylan‘s feeling on his recent releases. Maybe Bob is still putting up a fight, but I wish he’d include a tune along the way, just as I’d like to hear Nick kick back the slightest bit. That’s cool, isn’t it?

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