With the spiritual healing of Edgar Allan Poe, a kinder, gentler, wiser Lou…at least until about the 6:30 mark.
Jun 152007
Jun 142007
E Pluribus,
You posed a difficult question to me this afternoon, asking me to list 10 country songs that I could tolerate, not including rock-influenced country songs. I admire you for posing this question in such a straightforward manner, requiring me to abide by some restrictions. As you know, without rules there can be no rules to break. As you also know, nothing beats breaking the rules from the inside, that is, by abiding by them and respecting them more vigorously than even those who’ve set the rules. Along with answering your question and commenting on 10 songs that I can tolerate, if not actually like, I’ll do my best to meet and exceed your expectations.
A few things up front for readers hoping that my tastes will dovetail with their own:
- Because my list will not include country-rock songs, I will refrain from including anything involving
GrahamGram Parsons, including his best works, all of which were done with Flying Burrito Brothers. - Johnny Cash spent a lot of time with rockers and started out, more or less, as a rocker. I’ll leave my favorite Johnny Cash songs off the list. Beside, hie best songs are basically rock ‘n roll songs, which give them an unfair advantage compared with real country songs.
- No songs by that controversial trio E Pluribus claims to like so much – the two sisters with bad posture and the pig-nosed, badass lead singer – will be included. I don’t know enough about their music to include them, and I’m bugged by their Look.
- Finally, I’ll refrain from including any songs from the film soundtrack for Nashville. Although it’s by far my favorite country album, its inclusion might upset the apple cart and hurt my credibility. Likewise, I’ll rule out the scenes in Tender Mercies in which Robert Duvall picks up his acoustic to play that new song he’s been working on, or when he sings the song he pretended he couldn’t remember singing to his daughter. That whole movie kills me, but although Duvall’s character is not influenced by rock, some of you might gripe that Duvall himself is not a real country musician and that including him on my list cheapens this entire effort. I’ll respect that possible concern.
So here goes, 10 real country songs I can tolerate, if not like… Continue reading »
Jun 142007
Maudlin,
How’s it goin’, man? I apologize for not getting back to you about the whole “Good Day Sunshine” and “Got to Get You Back into My Life” thing, but I’ve been pretty busy lately: cleaning rust off beer cans, removing name stickers from record labels, experimenting with other foods for the brats to eat besides kielbasa and hot dogs…that kinda stuff. Anyway, no defense of those songs is necessary. If a listener can’t zero in on the magic of those numbers, something’s just not right. For some reason or another, reflecting on the majesty of those songs got me thinking about the whole New York Punk scene. And how much the actual music from the scene sucked. My exhaustive research shows that most of the scene’s music came from very pretentious brains with limited playing skills. And when those same pretentious brains gained chops, the music got even worse.
From what I can gather, the only good thing about the New York Punk Scene is that it influenced a whole slew of Brits who churned out loads of dynamite, well=balanced records. By well balanced, I mean well written, well performed, and well produced. A simple system of checks and balances miraculously kept even the most pretentious of songs on an even keel. Take the entire Gang of Four Entertainment lp, for example. God only knows what the lead singer is going on about (ranting in that manner is common when one has nothing worthwhile to say and is still expected to gain an audience’s attention). He is saved by the construction of the songs, the chops of the band, and the producer’s ability to make all the noise sound like a truck blasting its way through the listener’s speakers. I hear none of this in even the most acclaimed New York productions. There’s a thinness there that permeates nearly all of the recordings, save a few. No surprise there. What else should one expect from records which are, for the most part, written, performed, and produced by pinheads.
That said, I’m glad to say I am able to list 6 and a half winners from the New York Punk scene. There are always exceptions to the rule. The following titles still hold up after repeated listenings:
1) “The Tide Is High”
2) “Sunday Girl”
3) “Hanging on the Telephone”
4) “Dreaming”
5) “The Hardest Part”
6) “Heart of Glass”
Honorable Mention: “See No Evil” (regardless of the fact that it sounds like it was recorded with wooferless equipment courtesy of the Soundesign Corporation)
Speaking of well-balanced things, I think I’ve presented a more than fair argument for my dislike of anyone making a noise in or anywhere near CBGBs during the mid- to late-70s.
Maudlin, my only fear at this point is that I might lose your support. Maybe you can come up with 10 gems from the scene. I gave it my best shot, but I couldn’t do it. There just wasn’t anything from the scene even close to a track with the overall quality of “Good Day Sunshine” or “Got to Get You into My Life.” There wasn’t even anything on the level of a second-tier ’60s title like “Let’s Live for Today”. And for that matter, I couldn’t find a single title that gave even something like “Elusive Butterfly” a run for it’s money.
If you see it differently, more power to ya. If you’ve got the 10, give ’em to me.
Sincerely,
E. Pluribus
Jun 142007
There’s so much to love about Rubber Soul, beginning with the all-important album cover. That fish-eye lens photo of the band, in their best collective Look – complete with perfect ’60s rock hair and the brown suede jackets – is the visual representation of the feeling of running into a friend and smoking an unexpected joint on a September day. Come to think of it, the last time I drank alcohol was on a September day, when a friend, fish-eye lens in tow, shot a roll of film of our band in the woods, trying our like hell to cop a Rubber Soul vibe. You could say the hopelessness of reaching this goal drove me to sobriety.
But what a goal it was, and what an album Rubber Soul is – but it doesn’t get much more obvious than that last statement, does it? As I stated earlier today, I’m a bass man, and this might be rock’s first album to fully capture the potential of the bass. Right out of the gates there’s the archetypal “Drive My Car”, pulling from the bass-fetishist’s favorite version of “Respect” (ie, Otis Redding’s) and mapping out the general bassline that enabled The Jam’s Bruce Foxton to enjoy a brief career of vital mediocrity. Then John’s fine “Norwegian Wood” and Paul’s stunning piece of concise proto-power pop, “You Won’t See Me”. Two songs that make the entire output of The Byrds practically redundant follow, “Nowhere Man” and George Harrison’s “Think for Yourself”. So far, so great!
Then comes “The Word”. I have close friends who will go to the mattresses in defense of this song. “It’s not a great song,” they’ll acknowledge, “but it’s cool!” It’s cool, is it? Let’s first get one thing straight: John Lennon is dead, and if he were living his feelings would not be hurt if you faced up to the fact that the song is a lame, early attempt to express his transition to the Love Generation. Is Hair cool? Is that Cirque du Soleil Love atrocity cool, especially the part when the hippie kids are dancing around the psychedelic VW Bug?
The Beatles had the great taste and good fortune not to release too many songs showing the strain of a given “transitional period,” but this is one of them. It doesn’t meet the quality of a pre-pot Lennon composition, and it doesn’t meet the cool of a post-pot Lennon meditation. “The Word” might as well have been written by a weekend warrior accountant who smoked his first couple of joints on Friday night.
Furthermore, “The Word” has an arrangement way hokier than almost anything The Beatles would release before or after. Beatles fans love to beat the crap out of Paul’s granny numbers, like “Your Mother Should Know” and “Honey Pie”, admittedly for many good reasons, but at least those songs make innovative use of the band arrangements and the studio. “The Word” would be filler on a Hollies album. It’s the kind of Beatles song Eric Burdon probably thought was cool while dropping acid and hanging out with Jimi. It’s also the kind of “hippie” song that every 3rd-rate “sunshine pop” band would rip off as their one “heavy” song. Talk about “as good as that pussy shit gets.” Look at that video. What primal screams would it have inspired in poor John a few years later? John would not look so square in trying to celebrate his new level of hipness until his Somewhere in New York City album, or whatever that dose of too much reality is called.
Rubber Soul quickly gets back on track, and John contributes two of his finest, most soulful songs ever, “Girl” and “In My Life”. Oh brother, I could tear up just thinking of how great these songs are, surely two of the best songs on the album – and enough of you would agree two of the finest songs John ever wrote. How, you may ask, can I hold “The Word” against John and use it in my claim that Lennon prevents Rubber Soul from being my favorite Beatles album? Here’s how I do it, but naming two additional song titles… Continue reading »
Jun 142007
I’ve spent a lot of time with two would-be badass albums over the last month: Grinderman, the boys’ night out stooge-fest by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and the Heartless Bastards’ album, Stairs and Elevators. Both albums come out of the gates looking for a rumble, which is fine by me in these 8-piece, grad school folkie times.
“Gray” kicks off the Heartless Bastards album, throwing down a 2-chord gauntlet and making full use of the throaty, 4 Non Blondes’ chick-like lead vocals of dynamo Erika Wennerstrom. The first time I played it in my car I kept inching up the volume, feeling certain I’d reach new song nirvana. Damn, a chorus into the song I felt like pulling up to some asshole at a red light and pummeling him for the sport of it! As the song went on and the inevitable scorching solo section presented itself, however, no one stepped to the fore. OK, was this a deliberate act of post-punk economy and reserve? I tried to play along with the new economy, but every time one of these back-alley songs, such as “New Resolution” and “The Will Song”, came on and I anticipated a stock Johnny Thunders lead part or a Ron Ashton-inspired fuzz-wah solo there was nothing more than a few empty measures. I was reminded of my long-held belief that rock trios are usually a sign of a dysfunctional and socially inept set of musicians. In the case of Heartless Bastards, however, the powerful lead singer is a rudimentary and lone rhythm guitar player. Her drummer and bassist are adequate and committed but not enough for support in a dark alley. Somebody get Ms. Wennerstrom a lead guitarist who can provide that extra muscle that this band’s music so badly requires.
Grinderman, on the other hand, is a visceral blast, an aesthetes’ toy chest of sexuality, brutality, sinning, fuzz-wah solos, and raunchy humor. Leave the women and children at home, my brothers, as well as the poetry, the screenplays, and the piano! Cave sports a badass Fu Manchu for this short album, and his bandmates wear the full he-man beards of their penal colony forefathers. “Get It On” opens the album with Cave’s Mr. Mojo Risin’ voodoo preacher schtick and chain gang backing vocals from his bandmates. It’s more of the same in the album’s single, “No Pussy Blues”. In this song, when I expect to hear an orgasmic guitar solo I do! The album maintains this late-80s Aussie garage vibe through songs like “Electric Alice”, “Honey Bee (Let’s Fly to Mars)”, and “Depth Charge Ethel”, the latter the most fun song I’ve ever heard from Cave. Despite all the macho artifice, this quartet’s ready to rumble.
Jun 142007
So this Saturday, June 16, at Central Park Summerstage is supposed to be the final Television show including Richard Lloyd, who, if you’ll remember from our recent Rock Town Hall exclusive interview with him, is moving onto greater cosmic conquests. Teleivion will be appearing with Apples in Stereo and some other band that combines so many types of music that their press release claims they work in an entirely new genre! Farewell, Richard and the real cast of Television. If, as Lloyd hints, they do carry on with longtime solo Verlaine compadre Jimmy Ripp, they might as well be Tom Verlaine solo. I will invite those of you who care to turn up your noses and say, “Yeah, but they’re not the real Televison!”
Jun 132007
We all know songs that become almost intractably linked with their use in cinema: “Layla” in GoodFellas, “Sister Christian” in Boogie Nights. Like that.
I’m also been fascinated by songs that seemingly become de rigueur in trailers. I have trouble hearing The Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back” or Pete Townshend’s “Let My Love Open the Door” without thinking, “Touchstone Pictures proudly presents! Julia Roberts/Drew Barrymore/Kate Hudson!” (The A.V. Club also recently commented on this trend.)
But that’s not what I want to talk about today. Lately, I’ve been obsessed with the song “Trouble with Dreams” by Eels. I became acquainted with this song through the trailer to one of my favorite films of late, Harold Ramis’ The Ice Harvest. Watch it below; the Eels song begins at the 1:36 mark.
Note that this song does not appear in the film The Ice Harvest. (It is, however, on the soundtrack CD.) Nevertheless, one of the key appeals this song holds for me is that captures the film so well, with its holiday-spirited fatalism. In a weird plot twist, the full song might even capture the film better than the trailer, which emphasizes the wacky caper aspects.
Truth be told, this isn’t the first time the trailer-song has found itself elevated somehow. The trailer for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind featured “Mr. Blue Sky” and probably went some way towards recent re-appreciation of Jeff Lynne (to Epluribus’ delight, no doubt). And again, that song appeared in the trailer and the soundtrack but not the actual film. But many people — certainly many of us who are part of the RTH universe — were already well-acquainted with “Mr. Blue Sky”.
This Eels song is a bit more obscure. I realize it may not appeal to everyone, certainly not if you have an aversion to the Jon Brion School of Pop Production. But it’s too late for me. As far as I’m concerned, The Ice Harvest begat “Trouble with Dreams”; the two are forever linked and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
