{"id":23476,"date":"2020-04-19T13:57:14","date_gmt":"2020-04-19T17:57:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rocktownhall.com\/blogs\/?p=23476"},"modified":"2020-04-19T14:05:02","modified_gmt":"2020-04-19T18:05:02","slug":"the-rolling-stones-12-x-5-the-heroes-with-a-thousand-faces","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rocktownhall.com\/blogs\/the-rolling-stones-12-x-5-the-heroes-with-a-thousand-faces\/","title":{"rendered":"The Rolling Stones’ 12 X 5: My Heroes With a Thousand Faces"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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In second grade, I discovered 12 X 5<\/em> in the attic of a friend\u2019s house during a not-so-interesting sleepover. While my buddy and his parents slept (they were heavy drinkers and always passed out early), I wandered around their museum-like house. Anyone\u2019s good stuff was always in the basements and attics. Unfortunately, the basement was off limits because about a fourth of it was flooded, so I headed for the attic. It was teeming with hippie stuff that his older sisters left behind when they moved out: black-light posters, games like \u201cKerplunk\u201d and \u201cShenanigans,\u201d ripped up copies of Creem<\/em> magazine, and best of all, LOTS of records, the highlight being one with a cover featuring the band members\u2019 faces semi-buried in dark lighting. They looked like well-dressed thugs. Printed in the corner of the cover was the word \u201cLondon.\u201d Man, this was a real find. This thing came all the way from London! Somehow or another, I managed to get it out of the house and home to my white and orange General Electric record player. One spin, and that\u2019s all it took. Each and every visit to the turntable delivered like a roller-coaster ride. From that day on, it was Rolling Stones 24\/7, including dreams, night after night, in which I hung out with them, knowing they were probably up to a lot of stuff that was really, really bad, but disregarding all that because just being in their company was such a thrill. Simply put, they were sooooooo cool! <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

Growing up, the record continued to deliver, especially when my ability to read and comprehend improved. The record more or less served as my gateway to a whole \u2018nother world of music beyond that which was served up on WI00, the local AM radio station. Each track served as a key, unlocking doors to songwriters; publishing companies; record companies; and most importantly performers, who were for the most part black. Black folks were an unknown and forbidden entity in my neck of the Central Pennsylvania woods. Hence, my fascination and drive to find out about all things related to black culture. Let me tell ya, that was some tough gig, especially in the early 1970s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A track by track examination of the LP will most probably best show what I\u2019m getting at.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Side 1<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

1) Around and Around (Chuck Berry) BMI 3:00.<\/strong> This is where reading and comprehension kicks in. Alright, the parentheses below the title tells who wrote the thing. Chuck Berry. Who is Chuck Berry? At the time, the only way you could find out about Chuck Berry was through a much older family member or a purchase at the mall record store. For me that was Listening Booth, and thank God, it was run by a knowledgeable freak more than happy to help out the little weirdo with the bowl head hair cut who kept coming in and asking for records by black artists. The kind-hearted soul steered me away from the Mercury label\u2019s rerecorded greatest hits comp and turned me on to the Chess two-LP gatefold Golden Decade<\/em> collection crammed with all the good stuff. He also threw in Golden Decade volumes 2 and 3<\/em> free of charge. Like the Stones, he delivered, and he was also consistently one hell of a storyteller. And he did it quickly and to the point in less than 3 minutes. All that said, I preferred the Stones’ take on \u201cAround and Around.\u201d With my closer look at \u201cAround and Around,\u201d I began to see that one of Stones\u2019 many talents was to take a so-so song, figure out what could make it better, and turn it into the second coming of Christ. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

BMI? It seemed like all the black records had the BMI initials after the parentheses surrounding the names of the songwriters. BMI was all over the place on the Chuck Berry Golden Decade<\/em> LP. Alright, so BMI is some kind of outfit that handles all the black songwriters. BMI was all over the place on the back cover of 12 X 5<\/em> as well. All the BMI songs were great. Hence, BMI is another thing to keep an eye on. For now, BMI definitely means something like a guarantee of quality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

2) Confessin\u2019 the Blues (Shann; Brown) ASCAP 2:45.<\/strong> Whadaya know? This track was also on one of the Berry comps (and just for the record, nearly every Chess artist took a crack at it), but again, I liked the Stones version better. Through further conversations with the kind-hearted soul, I found out that Shann was Jay McShann, a popular Kansas City bandleader in the ’30s and ’40s whose band featured a very young Charlie Parker<\/strong>. Parker\u2019s first recorded performance also resulted from his stint in McShann\u2019s Band. Brown is Walter Brown, a vocalist for McShann\u2019s band.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

ASCAP? Again, gotta love that kind-hearted soul. It turns out that ASCAP was the organization that monitored performances and airplay of songs, collected royalties, and paid song publishers for the right to use the songs. Before there was BMI, there was only ASCAP. Turns out ASCAP was a little too snooty and a little too greedy with percentages, and that\u2019s more or less how and why BMI came to be. BMI showed themselves to be less snooty, less greedy, and more than willing to take on the disenfranchised. Once again, everything fit together. And like \u201cAround and Around\u2019”s 3-minute time, you\u2019re in and out. Your point is made, and it\u2019s time to move on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

3) Empty Heart (Nanker-Phelge) BMI 2:35.<\/strong> What punk rock sounds like from a band with chops. Dr. Frankenstein\u2019s exclamation of \u201cIt\u2019s alive!\u201d comes to mind here. Probably written and recorded as filler, but winded up being something a whole lot more than that: raucous, rhythmic, and definitely something different. That turned out to be the case for most of the Nanker-Phelge titles. I mowed a lot of lawns \u2018til I finally raised enough money to find out Nanker-Phelge was what was in the parentheses below a song title when the whole band had a hand in the composition. Hence, Nanker Phelge (note they opted to go with BMI and remain in good company with their heroes) titles turned out to be a little more twisted than the usual Stones\u2019 title. A nanker<\/em> turned out to be Brian Jones<\/strong>\u2019 moniker for turning your face into that of a pig\u2019s by using one\u2019s thumbs to pull one\u2019s nostrils northward and one\u2019s index fingers to pull one\u2019s skin below the eyes southward. Not a pleasant site. James Phlege<\/strong> was a Stones\u2019 Edith Grove flatmate in the early ’60s, celebrated for his his pig-like behavior as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

4) Time Is On My Side (Norman Meade) BMI 2:50.<\/strong> Killer. You hear it, you love it. If you don\u2019t hear it, you need to get checked out. Norman Meade? Again, the kind-hearted soul helped me out here. Look, I know you\u2019re sick and tired of hearing about the guy, but there was nowhere else to go for info. At that time Central Pennsylvania was all about fur trapping, spotting deer, Sea Breeze, Wonderbread, Farrah Fawcett<\/strong> (never understood that creepy Barbie thing), feathered hair, greasy hair, Skoal, Wrangler and Lee jeans (definitely not Levis), Fun Dip, the Redskins coming to town to train at Dickinson College\u2019s sports grounds, hot tuna surprise, etc. In a word: hell. Simply put, Mr.Hossenfeffer, one of the clerks at Otto\u2019s Hardware, was not going to know that Norman Meade was a pseudonym for Jerry Ragavoy<\/strong>, who produced gazillions of great soul records, including this winner, which was first done by Irma Thomas<\/strong>. Again, even now, I prefer the Stones track for the same reasons I brought up during my discussion of track one. That said, I actually think I might be in the wrong here. I\u2019m not perfect. And yes, the Stones were always the ultimate cover band, but they were smart enough to know they couldn\u2019t make a career out of that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

5) Good Times, Bad Times (Jagger, Richards) BMI 2:28.<\/strong> Once again, opting for BMI. Very nice, early acoustic blues songwriting effort, effective change of pace, well placed on side 1, right before the final track confirms the Stones\u2019contention that they are indeed the worlds\u2019 greatest rock and roll band. Years later, I wondered whether the song title served as the impetus for Led Zeppelin<\/strong>\u2019s first track on their first outing, but decided the research wasn\u2019t worth the effort. Zeppelin? No thank you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And here\u2019s a fair question: At what point did critics decide it was time for Zep\u2019s critical upgrade?<\/em> During my high school years, me and my Costello-, Jam-, and Specials-loving buddies would have never ever<\/em> owned up to having a taste for Zep. When asked, the pat response was, \u201cI don\u2019t listen to that crap.\u201d And you know what? I still don\u2019t listen to that crap, best summed up as talking loud and saying nothing. That said, I gotta give credit where credit is due. \u201cGood Times, Bad Times\u201d and \u201cCommunication Breakdown\u201d never fail to please. And I\u2019d probably put \u201cMisty Mountain Hop\u201d on my list of favorite rock songs of all time. Lady Gergely<\/strong> and others may disagree, but as far as the rest of their catalog is concerned, I wouldn\u2019t bat an eye if someone dropped a bomb on the vault where the master tapes are currently being stored.      <\/p>\n\n\n\n

6) It\u2019s All Over Now (B.&S. Womack) BMI 3:20.<\/strong> Probably the ultimate track proving the Stones are the ultimate turd polishers. Despite what the Marcuses and Christgaus of the world think, the original, by Bobby and Shirley<\/strong>, blows. It wraps a decent story around a very awkward stiff beat that sucks the life out of the thing. The Stones dropped all that and turned it into shit-kicking redneck monster that got airplay regardless of the fact that Mick chose to describe his woman\u2019s games as \u201chalf assed\u201d instead of \u201chigh class.\u201d As a kid, I thought, \u201cWow, they got away with that!\u201d They continually upped the ante.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the way, Bobby later redeemed himself when he wrote and recorded \u201cSweeter than the Day Before,\u201d in 1966, (yet another Chess release – could they do no wrong?) with The Valentinos<\/strong> and  \u201cUp on 110th Street,\u201d in 1972, which marked the high point of his solo career. Undeniably powerful stuff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Side 2<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

1) 2120 South Michigan Avenue (Nanker Phelge) BMI 2:08.<\/strong> It was real good back then, and it\u2019s even better now because it served as the initial background music for my first date, 4 years ago, with Lady Gergely. Despite the fact that I\u2019ve told the story before, I\u2019m gonna tell it again whether you want to hear about it or not. I\u2019m less of an ass these days because of her, and that\u2019s why it\u2019s worth a second hearing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I broke just about every rule in the book when I started dating Lady Gergely. More about that later. I knew I had to make her mine the day I met her. On our first date, I got all gussied up, tried to make myself look like Paul Newman<\/strong> in The Hustler<\/em>, a flawless movie that’s definitely in my Top 5. I also spent a good hour or so agonizing about what music I wanted for the trip. For some reason or another, “2120 South Michigan Ave.” had to be the track playing in the background when I picked her up. I thought it would work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anyway. I hop in the car, drive to the corner (we’ve lived in the same neighborhood for 15 years or so, but never met each other; that all changed after a chance meet up while walking our dogs, recently gotten from the SPCA), and she’s drop-dead gorgeous, looking like Annabella Sciorra<\/strong> during her Jungle Fever<\/em> days. My confidence went right down the john, and I stuttered while saying hi to her when she got in the car. God only knows how I was going to pull this off. I think she realized pretty quick that I was a nervous wreck so she started asking me about the music I was playing, that she liked it, and that her and her older son, the Dylan obsessive I told you about earlier, were really enjoying Freaks and Geeks<\/em>. Then she tells me that she’s not a Deadhead, that she doesn’t get that whole thing, but she loves the song “Box of Rain.” Right then and there, I knew I was going to ask her to marry me, which I did about a month or so later. Right away, she said yes, and I decided that there may indeed be some kind of god after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was right; it worked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

2) Under the Boardwalk (Resnick-Young BMI 2:45.<\/strong> So, I\u2019m 10 years old, and I enter this Father\u2019s Day contest at the mall called \u201cMy Pic of My Pop.\u201d Win and get a free LP from Listening Booth and a free pastel portrait from local artist Paula Pucci! I enter. I draw my dad, and it\u2019s one of hundreds hung up all over the walls between a multitude of stores like Feel Fine, Woolco, and Kinney Shoes, that is, stores that went bankrupt when they refused to believe that your everyday run-of-the-mill Central Pennsylvanian would no longer piss away his\/her hard-earned dollars on inferior products such as NBA basketball sneakers, a \u201cditch the leather and use vinyl\u201d Adidas rip off, which steered clear of copyright infringement by adding a fourth stripe. I win, and my little brother, who also entered the contest, has a meltdown because he\u2019s supposed to the one who\u2019s the family artist. The solution to the problem? Ms. Pucci agrees to two pastel portraits. She successfully morphs our faces into those of monkeys, and over the years, her work is sporadically brought out at family get-togethers by my sister for the sole purpose of humiliation. She continues to have a ball with all this.  Know that my little brother and I still dread the moment during coffee and brownies when she says, \u201cI\u2019ll be back in a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I used the gift certificate for the recently released Band on the Run<\/em>, by Paul McCartney and Wings<\/strong>, hands down the best of the solo Beatle records. It still holds up, something that can\u2019t be said of most of that other solo dreck.  Anyway, after the kind-hearted soul gave me a thumbs up for my taste, he asked me if I was still digging the Stones LP. I was indeed, and I was especially enjoying \u201cUnder the Boardwalk.\u201d  \u201cYeah?\u201d he asked. Miraculously, my gift certificate somehow or another covered the additional cost of The  Drifters<\/strong>\u2019 Greatest Hits<\/em>. I went home, played both LPs continuously with a needle and heavy tone arm that destroyed them, but the Drifters LP won out. The Stones \u201cBoardwalk\u201d was a pale imitation of the real thing. Hard to admit but true. You just can\u2019t win \u2018em all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was good though. Through the Drifters LP, I eventually learned about the Drifter variations, the Ben E. King<\/strong>-led group (he was a Drifter in an earlier version of the group. He didn\u2019t sing lead on \u201cBoardwalk,\u201d but his Drifters tracks were on the LP as well) and the even earlier one led by Clyde McPhatter<\/strong>, which in turn led me to his tracks with The Dominoes<\/strong>, the ones that make the hair stand up on the back of your head: \u201c60 Minute Man,\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s What You\u2019re Doing to Me,\u201d \u201cThese Foolish Things Remind Me of You\u201d\u2026.The next time I have to suffer through one of those hipster bozos telling me doo-wop is boring, I\u2019m gonna reward him for his monologue (there is no back and forth with those clods) with a 2 X 4 across the bridge of his nose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

3) Congratulations (Jagger-Richards) BMI 2:25.<\/strong> The first of the folk-rock Stones songs. Granted, at that point, songwriting was not their thing, especially something in this vein, but they got very good at this type of writing very quickly, and eventually produced a catalog of folk-rockers much better than the work of the so-called masters of the genre. I equate their work in this regard to Elvis, who really wanted to be Dean Martin more than anything, but wound up being the King of Rock and Roll due to the fact that he was encouraged by producer Sam Phillips to continue that which was more or less a comedy act for his buddies Scotty and Bill during a recording break. God bless Andrew Loog Oldham<\/strong> for telling the Stones to write or die. We would never have had \u201cBlue Turns to Grey,\u201d \u201cThe Singer Not the Song,\u201d \u201cI\u2019m Free\u201d (just writing that title gives me goosebumps; one of the all time great B sides), \u201cTake It or Leave It,\u201d \u201cSittin\u2019 on a Fence,\u201d \u201cOut of Time,\u201d nor the Flowers<\/em> album, thrown together by Andrew Loog Oldham and Lou Adler as a grab for a chunk of that Mamas and Papas market\u2026Again, it wasn\u2019t them, and they may have been (they probably were) laughing all the way to the bank, but a good record is a good record regardless of what\u2019s really behind it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

4) Grown Up Wrong (Jagger-Richard) BMI 2:04.<\/strong> \u201cEmpty Heart\u201d is to \u201cGrown Up Wrong\u201d as Frankenstein is to Son of Frankenstein. Anyone who\u2019s actually taken the time to see Son of Frankenstein knows what I\u2019m getting at. It just doesn\u2019t work. Even the guitar solo is weak, and a weak solo is something you never expect to hear in a Stones song. Believe me, admitting this hurts like hell, but it\u2019s time to let go. As far as I\u2019m concerned, there\u2019s only one truly flawless album, Revolver<\/em>. You can\u2019t win \u2018em all. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My other beef is a common belief of the unenlightened that \u201cGrown Up Wrong\u201d is the very epitome of what the Stones are all about, irresponsible loud slop, which led to the unfortunate formation of countless, embarrassing, calculated Stones rip off bands who never got it and whose living members continue not to get it, including the Chocolate Watch Band, the New York Dolls, the Dead Boys,  the Chesterfield Kings, and yes, the almighty Stooges<\/strong>, whose only listenable album, Raw Power<\/em>, is dissed because there\u2019s an actual stab at craft within the grooves. And just for the record, the Iggy fans are the absolute worst, even worse than Deadheads, something I didn\u2019t think was possible. The younger ones can be forgiven because they haven\u2019t listened to enough music to figure out what\u2019s really good or bad and right or wrong musicwise, but the older ones should know better. I saw a few of them a year ago, when Sloan<\/strong> played at the Haverford music festival (now there\u2019s a band I don\u2019t particularly care for, but they ended up being a real treat). They\u2019re still wearing some leather, drain pipe pants, and a rock like hair cut still sits atop their heads. It\u2019s a dumb look. It\u2019s a look that says, \u201cHere\u2019s hoping the day finally comes when I can drop all this crap and sing along unashamedly to \u2018Your Song\u2019 should I hear it while driving.\u201d Honestly, next time you\u2019re stuck at a party with one of these lost souls, ask them specifics about the Iggy masterworks. They\u2019re always at a loss because there\u2019s never been anything memorable enough on those albums to file in anyone\u2019s long-term memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

5) If You Need Me (Bateman-Picket) BMI 2:00.<\/strong> Bateman is Robert Bateman (who also wrote \u201cPlease Mr. Postman\u201d) and Pickett, of course, is Wilson Pickett. There\u2019s a variety of great black versions of this song, and the Stones\u2019 take is on par with the best of them. I found out about nearly all the versions of \u201cIf You Need Me\u201d through my dad\u2019s sisters, my aunts Jane and Paula, who still lived at home in Baltimore (to this day, they swear they saw the Velvet Underground<\/strong> in a club in Philadelphia called the Classroom, which had an elementary classroom decor, but I have yet to find any info anywhere that proves this to be true). Whenever our family paid my dad\u2019s family a visit, I brought my Stones LPs with me. The sisters, too, were big Stones fans, and up in their shared attic room were two twin towers of nearly every decent pop and R \u2018n B 45 released in the ’60s. I told them I liked \u201cIf You Need Me\u201d a lot. They told me to go through the towers and grab every record that had a red and black label with the word \u201cAtlantic\u201d on the label\u2019s top half. And that\u2019s more or less how I found out about and fell in love with Pickett, Aretha Franklin<\/strong>, Don Covay<\/strong>, Percy Sledge<\/strong>, Solomon Burke<\/strong>, etc. The sisters were particularly sold on Burke\u2019s \u201cStupidity,\u201d which hit in Baltimore, but never seemed to click anywhere else. That didn\u2019t make sense to me after I heard it. After I picked out all the Atlantic stuff, they told me to go upstairs and pick out all the records on a light-blue label called Arctic. I thought they were just joking around, but that\u2019s how I found out about and fell in love with Barbara Mason<\/strong>, The Volcanos<\/strong>, and Honey and the Bees<\/strong>. For some reason or another, the sisters had all those records as well, and they weren\u2019t even Baltimore hits. They all came out of Philadelphia, and many of them met the same inexplicable fate as \u201cStupidity.\u201d Lesson learned: never underestimate the stupidity of the American public.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

6) Susie Q (Broadwater-Lewis-Hawkins) BMI 1:59.<\/strong> While I was picking out the Atlantic and Arctic 45s, I found another: \u201cSusie Q,\u201d by Dale Hawkins<\/strong> on Checker, a subsidiary of Chess. The experience was best described as epiphanous. All the twists and turns were coming together, not unlike the solution of a Rubik\u2019s cube. Here was the original version of the song, with a strange chunky, sludgy rhythm and wicked distorted guitar. While I was playing the record, my Uncle Charlie walked in during the guitar break.  \u201cYou like that? The guy that\u2019s playing the solo is Roy Buchanan. He used to live around here.\u201d At the time, Roy Buchanan was one of my older brother Em\u2019s favorite guitar players. Em was super cool. He was one of those \u201cgive me 5 minutes, and I\u2019ll be the best at it\u201d guys. To see him in his element, skating backwards, pirouetting with a perfect landing at the Midway Roller Rink, winning fly fishing competitions over and over again, playing Outlaws<\/strong>‘ solos note for note as the featured guitarist of Appalachia (they backed The Ramones at Dickinson College at one point; yet another case of truth being stranger than fiction; that\u2019s a story in itself) at the Carlisle fair… As far as he was concerned, I was nothing more than an embarrassment. A week or so after we returned to Carlisle, he heard the Buchanan solo from \u201cSusie Q\u201d cranking out from my white and orange General Electric powerhouse. \u201cWhat the hell is that?\u201d he asked. \u201cThat,\u201d I replied, \u201cis your hero Roy Buchanan. It\u2019s the first record he played on. He\u2019s on another cool record I have by a guy named Bobby Gregg<\/strong>. It\u2019s called \u2018The Jam.\u2019 I think that\u2019s the second record he played on. You wanna hear it?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For the first time in my life, I got Em to hang out with me for 5 minutes. At that point in my life, it was my single greatest accomplishment. One last thing, I\u2019m known for being very, very cheap. My beer of choice? Genesee.  Why? It\u2019s one hell of a deal: 30 cans for $13.99. My need to make the most of a buck probably began with 12 X 5<\/em>. Honestly, who\u2019d have ever thought a beat-up old freebie would garner all that?<\/p>\n