Skynstory

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Jun 052007
 

Townsman Rick sent in the following piece.

On Tuesday, June 28, 2005, at 9:00 in the morning, I was in the Family Court, in the J. Joseph Garrahy Building to finalize and formalize the dissolution of my marriage. On Tuesday, June 28, 2005, at 9:00 in the evening, I was about halfway through a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert at the Ryan Center, in Kingston, RI. These two activities may seem to contradict each other, but they’re also more similar than might originally appear.

Despite what I fervently hoped and believed as a child, Family Court is not a tribunal in front of which you could haul your parents when they continued to make you eat overcooked, mushy peas. It’s where divorces are perhaps not made but confirmed, and where the jealousies and betrayals that drive a couple apart are taken out for (hopefully) one last swing, this time with the force of law behind them. The single most important factor in the development of a human being is the time spent with his or her parents, and Family Court is where it is determined how much time your child will not spend with you.

As such, the J. Joseph Garrahy Building is a dingy place for dingy affairs to be conducted, with cinder-block walls and 1970s-era brown tile floors. For all its faults, it gives a look of dour impartiality, which is what you need to feel most when you’re in there.

The Ryan Center is another cinder-block palace that could just as well be set in Kokomo, Indiana, or Las Cruces, New Mexico. Maybe if your building has to play host to Ludacris, the Rhode Island Business Expo, and the Royal Lippizzaner Stallions, this is exactly the kind of drabness it needs. Like the Garrahy Building, it provides an impassive background for strong, loud emotions to be expressed.

Both proceedings began with an introduction of the person or persons we’ve all come to see – whether they be trumpeted as The Honorable (Name Withheld) or The Legends of Southern Rock – and their entrance to a crowd of people all of whom had risen to their feet.

I was brought to the witness stand, and in keeping with the laws of the state I was asked the question asked at all court proceedings – whether I solemnly swore or affirmed to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I replied, perhaps somewhat ironically given the circumstances, “I do.” Current Skynyrd frontman Johnny Van Zant asked the crowd at the Ryan Center the question asked at all rock proceedings, “How you doing tonight Rhode Island?” The crowd responded, “RAWR.” I detected no irony.
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Jun 042007
 

I too was listening to Breakfast With The Beatles this morning and they brought up the “you can hear the air conditioning turn on” thing about the final chord in A Day In The Life. They said you can really only hear it on the wax version. They extracted it and played it and indeed there is something there. They only played it once and I wanted to hear it again so I grabbed my wax and replicated their experiment.

Here is the piano chord as it is played on the original wax. The only change I made was to slowly increase the volume from the beginning to the end so you probably won’t need to crank it up. At about 32 seconds in (3/4ths), you can hear something that just sounds like a pop or scratch:
Take 1

I isolated this bit, maximized the volume and doubled up the tracks and got this. You may need to turn it up a bit to hear it:
Take 2

Interesting right? Maybe, if you’ve never heard this story before. But wait! Then I quadrupled the tracks and slowed them down to 75%. And listen to what is there!:
Take 3

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Jun 042007
 

This interview was conducted with key contributions by Townsman Kpdexter!

A few months ago, Kpdexter wrote about the unique collaboration between Robert Pollard and late-80s Indie Rock band Phantom Tollbooth known as Beard of Lightning. If you’ll recall, Pollard was a fan of the band’s works, and with his combination of fanboy exuberance and cult hero pull he received both a copy of the master tapes of their 1988 album Power Toy minus the vocals as well as the band’s blessing to write and record a new set of lyrics and melodies.

Phantom Tollbooth, “Bonus Track” (original from Power Toy)

Phantom Tollbooth, “The Cafe Interior” (Pollard’s take from Beard of Lightning)

A few of us in the Halls of Rock thought, What a brilliant, nerdy fantasy for Pollard to have achieved! A month or so later, when Phantom Tollbooth’s very own Gerard Smith contacted us to point out an inaccuracy in the original piece (since corrected, thanks), we thought to ourselves, What must it have felt like to be on the other end of a rock nerd’s fantasy come true? To our delight, Smith agreed to discuss the making of both the original Power Toy and the remade/remodeled Beard of Lightning from his band’s perspective. The interview that follows met the expectations of at least two rock nerds. We hope you dig it too.

Indie Rock in the ’80s, though highly inspirational and influential, was rough terrain for a band to operate.

How would you describe Beard of Lightning relative to Power Toy? A variation on a theme, an entirely new work, or something else?

First, I need to tell you how grateful I am to Bob Pollard for voicing his interest in Phantom Tollbooth. His contribution to this project was tremendous.

Beard of Lightning is an entirely new work. If you put them back-to-back, the vocal ideas, lyrics and the mixes are uniquely different. One thing that stands out to me is Bob’s placement of the words. In many instances, he sings in places where Dave or I didn’t and laid back in places where we did. It’s a wonderfully strange parallel to the original. I think BOL is free standing, but I also think that Power Toy still sounds great.

How did this remaking of Power Toy into Beard of Lightning happen? I’ve read some stories about Pollard saying that you would have been huge had he been in the band, and you guys called his bluff. True? Can you give us a taste of the initial discussions and planning and what went through your minds?

Flattery was my first response, though it wasn’t a complete surprise. Bob had expressed his interest in PT for a time long before Beard of Lightning. Over the years I’d heard from friends that we were a topic of his passing conversations. Dave Rick was responsible for making initial contact with Bob through Chris Slusarenko at Off Records. Once the idea came about, we all got into the same space after 15 years, had dinner and came to an agreement. Given our initial relationship as a very tough democratic unit, it was our natural inclination to bring Bob on as a 4th and equal member of this newly conceptualized idea of Phantom Tollbooth.

Bob is a good sport in his praise of what could have been. I also think that had we been more of priorty at Dutch East India (distributor and owner of Homestead Records) we’d have probably reached a wider audience, even without Bob’s assistance. Indie Rock in the ’80s, though highly inspirational and influential, was rough terrain for a band to operate. Factor in the kinds of influences that informed our songs and the crazy, chaotic structures that they were built upon, we didn’t make things any easier. All things considered though, Bob’s redo of the vocals/lyrics make for a smoother listen. Daniel Rey’s remixes are also great.
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Jun 042007
 


Last weekend I stumbled on both a live performance of The Cure on that British show Jools Holland hosts and the song “Friday I’m in Love” on the radio, and I wondered whether this band was due for a Critical Upgrade.

I’m aware that to our chubby, sexually ambivalent, 17-year-old readers, the notion that The Cure would need a Critical Upgrade is preposterous, but it’s time I – and others within the Halls of Rock – re-evaluate our grudging admittance that The Cure is, as one might put it, “As good as that pussy shit gets.”
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Jun 042007
 

I spent three days in Maine this past weekend. I was in the Southwestern tip of the state, in a village called York Harbor, where a good friend got married. I stayed in a turn-of-the-century inn, not far from Kennebunk, slept in a four-poster bed, and ate my fill of lobster. On Saturday morning, as I cast an eye over the clothes I was to wear during the ceremony, I realized I had not packed any cufflinks. No bother — wasn’t that a Brooks Brothers store I passed on my way into town? Yes, I believe it was. Surely they would have a fine pair of cufflinks for me.

I walked out to my convertible, lowered the top, fired up the engine, and pulled out of the Inn’s gravel parking lot. As I merged onto the two-lane road separating the inn from the sea, I reached for my iPod, but it wasn’t there. I knew, however, that there were a few odds and ends in the glovebox I might listen to — mostly two-dollar CDs I picked up during the fire sales that accompanied the death throes of the Tower Records empire. I reached into the compartment and pulled out…Morph the Cat, Donald Fagen‘s latest solo album. Hmm.
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Jun 042007
 

Townsman Hrrundivbakshi sent in the following report from the field.

Part of my upcoming Francophone Thifty Music haul included an album by the “yeh-yeh girl from Paris,” Francoise Hardy. As I gazed at the cover, I knew it reminded me of something… but what?

Something in the way…

Then it hit me!

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