I dig The Jam as much as most of you. Sure, I’ve got my beefs with drummer Rick Buckler, but I have given him props for his running skills. I can’t stand The Style Council, but that doesn’t color my views on The Jam or Paul Weller’s solo career. I’m not a fan of bassist Bruce Foxton’s bass tone, and that does factor into what I’m about to say.
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Elfin, harp-playing indie darling Joanna Newsom has released a triple album, Have One On Me, on Drag City. If you can’t get off on a three-album set of this Lady of the Woods then someone’s been slipping salt peter into your breakfast cereal! Contrary to initial reports, a bonus DVD of performances lacking sound is not being offered. Damn!
For purposes of sincere discussion, I pose the following questions:
I truly hope to gain some insights from fans of Ms. Newsom.
I read this in today’s Washington Post account of Obama’s Nobel peace prize speech and just about did a spit-take:
… Speaking before an audience of 1,000 that included Norway’s royal family and top government officials, as well as entertainment icons Will Smith and Wyclef Jean…
Will somebody please explain how and why washed-up rapper Wyclef Jean manages to show up at gigs like this? I have been flummoxed by his red carpet magnetism for years now. I just don’t get it. I mean, I understand how he could hoodwink today’s aging rock star set into thinking he’s got hip-hop street cred or something, that he’s the 21st-century version of KRS-One. So I understand why he shows up at things like U2 concerts, or benefits hosted by Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt. But what the fuck is he doing at the Nobel peace prize awards? Or at the UN? Or at — hell, I don’t know, the Hague or the International Space Station, or wherever they’ll invite him next? And why does he get invited to these things in the first place?
I want answers!
Please explain the choices made by the director of this 1970 televised performance by Kraftwerk.
Sorry to post and run, but it’s late, and I have a two-bourbon buzz on. I had to get a couple of drinks down my gullet to withstand the jam-tastic wankathon that confronted me at a Little Feat show I got backstage tix to tonight. I want you all to know that the only reason I went is because a number of you — including many whose musical opinions I otherwise respect — swear by these guys.
It wasn’t terrible. I mean, it wasn’t even 20% as bad as the Phish show I got dragged to once. Or 5% as bad as I imagine Dead shows used to be. But it wasn’t really my cup of tea. Fair enough and “big fucking surprise,” I hear you guys moaning as you roll your eyes and lunge for the bong. But, seriously, do me a favor and tell me why you like Little Feat so much. What I heard was an extremely competent roots-rock/jam band, with very, very little of interest to say. Here’s a way to get at what I want to know: why do I love Lynyrd Skynyrd so much, yet find Little Feat so uninteresting?
Before you throw rotten tomatoes at me for trying to get you to say (once again): “because it’s jam-band hippie shit, and you don’t like that stuff, HVB!”, let me just say that there were a few bourbon-fueled moments where I was actually able to nod my head sympathetically to lead guitar player dude’s sextagenerian stratocaster bliss-out, and I was actually mightily impressed with drummer dude’s game. But, really, what the fuck are these guys singing about? Why do I love “Get Up, Stand Up” by Marley so much, yet find Little Feat’s version so lame?
If ever I needed some serious RTH Healing, it’s now. Please explain, so that I may grow and mature as a music listener.
Thank you all, and I look forward to your responses.
HVB
As we once asked regarding Michael Stipe, Is Radiohead’s Thom Yorke an irritating dickhead, or what?
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Any young Rolling Stones fan ready to move onto a deeper exploration of the Stones’ saga will soon confront Marianne Faithfull: sweet young thing of noble breeding, girlfriend of Mick Jagger, protege of Mick, Keef, and Andrew Loog Oldham… This early clip demonstrates the “gimme” in this story: beatiful, young woman with the ability to barely carry a tune and backing from one of the world’s greatest acts.
Soon thereafter, she would descend into a hellish world of drugs, free sex, and Mars Bars. She’d hit rock bottom and then heroically rebound with a voice that made Tom Waits sound angelic and barely a trace of her youthful beauty. Next is a clip of her in mid-fall, still wearing an evening gown but looking much more like one of the women from the final scenes in La Dolce Vita than Julie Christie in Darling. Continue reading »
