Today was just one of those days. I needed a good summer tune. Something that would take me out of the office and into the warm embrace of a hammock in late summer. I immediately thought of this song because Saturday evening Joey started diddling out Jerry's lick on guitar. He even knew all the words. I hadn't listened to the song in a long time, and just hearing him do it live sparked a very reminiscent feeling in me. That night, I immediately added the song to my "Top Picks" (rounding the list out at a cool 2800), and haven't stopped listening to it since.
The song is off of "American Beauty," the fifth studio album by the Grateful Dead. The album itself was recorded between August and September (1970), and it has that end of summer feel to it. Almost like its bringing the perfect end, to something great that has transpired. That being the summer. The country, folk, rock feel that it encompasses blends perfectly with the tales and rhymes of Robert Hunter, who did the majority of the lyrics for this album. Truckin' and Ripple were the singles, but Friend of the Devil was the song that sold me. Altogether its a very relevant album with no lack of hits. Aside from the aforementioned, Sugar Magnolia and Box of Rain are also on it, which gave it enough "hit power" to prompt Rolling Stone Magazine to dub it #258 on the "500 greatest albums of all time" list.
The song itself is an outlaw song, and it reads like a poem really. The lines are left open to interpretation, which is something I always appreciate, because music should be and is interpreted differently by everyone. The acoustic nature of this song (and album) give the lyrics a gentle backdrop to shine over, but its certainly not simple. It's all woven together in what sounds like a very easy and relaxed way. But listen closely and you can really hear the instruments playing off one another. All those little intricacies between the bass, mandolin, and guitar parts, are what make this song so great. Just a little something to ease those Monday blues.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Why Stop At One?
It's all about the Franchise. Studios are almost solely looking to green-light flicks that have the ability for sequels. Obviously there's exceptions, but they are just that. Exceptions to the rule. Most recently, the Harry Potter franchise is the pinnacle of success in this model. It spawned eight different movies, that have grossed close to eight billion dollars, on a total budget of just over one billion dollars. We're talking about a lot of money here. And the studios are uber-aware of this potential. They know it can be done, it's just a matter of tapping into the flavor of the month(genre/story/star-wise), and catering the franchise to that. Subsequent releases should deal with current social themes and trends if possible, within the framework of the original story. After the initial release and the first sequel are successes, you can pretty much bet that the following installments will gross about the same if not more, even if the content is lacking. By this time, your audience is sold. You can almost mail it in. Overall though, it is easier said than done, and though there's a semblance of a template for this strategy now, it's far from a science.
You may not like the Harry Potter movies, but there not altogether bad. Im not a fan per say, but I can tell you that I think they're well cast, nicely designed, and the visually stunning. Acting isn't necessarily top priority with films like this, but even still, I wouldn't say its poor. It started out as a kid flick that had enough going on to keep adults occupied. In franchises geared towards the youth, that's the idea, no? When Shrek first came out it was a movie for kids, that adults found just as fun because of the subtleties, double entendres, and of course, Mike Myers. Harry Potter may not be funny or have Mike Myers, but the effects and story are certainly gripping enough at times. Plus, after the third installment, they upped the ante to PG-13 for the remainder of the films.
This strategy does fail more than it succeeds, though. For every Iron Man, there's a dozen Daredevils. For every Pirates of the Carribean, a Godzilla. And I get it believe me, I do. It's not enough to sign on for a one-off, the studio's want staying power. They want to know that the idea can remain relevant and fresh enough to continue making money long after the first movie is out on video. They plan for sequels right from the get go. It used to be all about the trilogies (Star Wars, Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, Jurassic Park), but eventually they realized putting a number on these things was limiting. Why stop at three when you can make eight? Why stop at Iron Man 3 (slated for 2013), and the second attempt at Hulk in five years, and Captain America, when you can have all those and The Avengers. Even television shows these days look to recreate the success of an original (i.e. Law and Order, CSI, NCIS).
The vampire invasion is a good example of this idea. Underworld is still making sequels, as is Twilight. Other filmmakers have tried to catch a ride on the wings of these supernatural suckers as well, although not as successfully, and believe it or not we're still seeing the advent of some new players in the genre (i.e. Dark Shadows and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter). The HBO hit, True Blood looks like it has legs for at least another couple seasons, and the CW's Vampire Diaries is in a primetime evening slot.
The comic book genre (as I like to call it) has also had some huge successes, and astronomical failures. It's another good way to summarize the franchising idea for good and bad. But perhaps the longest standing tradition of franchising in film is within the Horror genre. Horror fans are like the Metalheads of music, they're loyal. Almost to a fault at times. I'd be willing to bet there's a lot of crossover between the groups too. Horror fans don't always care if the "last one sucked," they'll still go out in droves to catch the next installment. Halloween, Freddie, Freddie vs. Halloween (Jason), all highly successful. Even the shittiest of them often have legs, though "Jason in Space" (Jason X) was a flop, thank god.
The horror genre is constantly doing re-makes, and always banking on sequels. The Scream franchise is essentially what made Dimension Films enough money to support itself and Miramax through all its flops and award attempts (even though they had the overhead of parent company Disney). The same can be argued for the Scary Movie franchise that Dimension fathered (and its revenue supporting Miramax and The Weinstein Company). I think a lot of it does in fact have to do with the genre itself. Horror movies have one goal; to surprise. To shock, to scare, to suspend, and ultimately to surprise you, and catch you off guard. People crave that feeling, and that's what they're looking for. The acting is often secondary, the effects often gore ridden, and the plot can be insincere and full of holes. But again, that's not always what's important to the viewer in this genre, so re-makes and sequels become ideal. To be clear though, they're not all like this. Some Horror films are very well written, acted, and made. But I'd say its not a prerequisite for success.
At the end of the day its about making a buck. And then some. They want to milk the cow long after it's dry. It's a business, like anything else. The music industry too is driven by the dollar, but it's a bit different. You can franchise an artist, but an album? Well, I don't know about that. Sure if it's a successful album you can re-release it, box set it, and try to re-package and build upon it in different ways, but that's hardly comparable to what's happening in film. In music, it's the artist that you're interested in. If they're the talented, trendy, next best thing of the time, then you've got your franchise. Jay-Z is a franchise. Beyonce too. They've got that staying power for now, where no matter what they put out, it's going to get eaten up by the public. That's what the big record companies are looking for.
And if the record companies decide they want to drop an act because they don't think that they have the staying power, or their next album wont bring in the dollars, they can. With comparatively less loss. The film studios can't afford to make a hundred-million dollar franchise investment, and then dump the sequel if the premiere doesn't hit the numbers. I mean, they can and do, but not without a very significant loss. Could you imagine if the original Pirates of the Carribean was a flop? Thats $190,000,000 down the drain. And that kind of thing happens a lot, just not on that scale. Because at the end of the day, art is a gamble. You're putting a price tag on, or creating a monetary goal for, "Art." It's very hard to predict with exact certainty whether something will be a hit or not. In the case of Harry Potter, I think it's safe to say that the popularity of the books lent favor to the idea that it would be successful as a film. The demand was there. And once the first film grossed as high as it did, they knew they had a cash cow that would keep giving. Once the second film topped the first, they knew they could get away with it for as long as the story went on. Frankly, I'm even surprised they stopped at 8.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Track by Track: Rolling Stones "Goats Head Soup"
It's hard to name a favorite Rolling Stones album, but Goats Head Soup is certainly a contender for me. That's saying a lot when the album preceding it is far and wide considered their best; the powerhouse known as Exile on Main Street. You see, Exile gave fans a little bit of everything both genre wise, and instrumentally. It was a diverse album with an amazing amount of variety, yet each track was still given the attention and detail it needed, to sound authentic to the genre and still be relatable to the masses. Songs like Tumbling Dice, Torn and Frayed, Loving Cup, Sweet Virginia, Ventilator Blues, Shine a Light, and Let it Loose(which Dr. John sang backing vocals on), will all go down as some of the best in Stones history. After all, the album is ranked #7 in Rolling Stone Magazines "500 Greatest Albums of All Time." But Rolling Stone Magazine isn't the be all end all. The people are. And they seem to agree. It's release and subsequent re-releases have all been immensely popular and coveted. And though I may be frowned upon for not agreeing that it's their best, I will absolutely recognize that it is an amazing piece of work.
Coming on the heels of this beast however, is Goats Head Soup. It's a force to be reckoned with in its own right, and I intend to prove it. Just take a look at this lineup:
1. Dancing with Mr. D - A gritty rock tune with growling vocals. It's badass, funky, and certainly gets your hips moving. Richards repetitive lick sets the mood for the entire song. Mick Taylors slide guitar (prevalent through the album) lays a nice sweet n' sour layer of sauce over it all, making for a groovy meal of an opener. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_S532DjrZk
2. 100 Years Ago - One of my all-time favorite songs, period. Billy Preston on the clavinet simply makes the song. It's funky, upbeat and airy. Nicky Hopkins piano accompanies it perfectly, and there's even room for a little heavier rock guitar riffing, that doesn't seem out of place at all. It's really a three part song. The first part, is light, up beat and reminiscent in mood and lyrics. Then there's a brief break down with some deliberately slow Jagger jawing before it pops into a funk infused minor jam with some heavy guitar soloing. You can't help but love this kind of Stone's tune. The reflective lyrics deal mainly with aging, and keeping a young heart. "Don't you think its sometimes wise not to grow up?" A valuable lesson in itself. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrciVFFw3iQ
3. Coming Down Again - A ballad to accompany Angie, this song is largely a Keith Richards creation. It's slow but deliberate pace is held together by Watts consistent strokes and simple fills. The vocal melody and harmonies are soothing and repetitive, and it's a great example of Keith Richards lead vocal abilities, and Mick's willingness to be an accompaniment. There's also a great Bobby Keys sax solo. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfPgsNN2EbA
4. Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker) - This was my favorite Stones song for years. The lyrics tell the tale of two urban tragedies; the true story of an NYC police shooting where a young boy was mistaken for a bank robber and gunned down, and the story of a young ten-year old girl who dies of a heroin overdoes on the streets. The imagery is very well crafted. Musically, Billy Prestons clav takes main stage, with Mick Taylors dirty Wah-Wah infused licks mimicking and/or accompanying it perfectly. There's a ridiculous horn section adding to the funk and urban soul feel that is more than icing on the cake. Altogether, this song might be one of the best pieces of music the stones have ever put together period. It stands alone as great example of their ability to capture the complex sounds of their time in one powerful piece. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqUiWpGGCmI
5. Angie - The ballad of love lost. Beautiful string arrangement, gut-wrenching piano. Apparently it's an ode to heroin and detoxing from it, as Keith Richards wrote both lyrics and music, but I'm not sure your average person will, or wants to interpret it that way. The string arrangement gives this piece a new kind of depth, and different kind of flavor. But being that this album was riding on the coattails of the enormous Exile on Main St., its appropriate that it has some bigger feeling pieces so as not to be completely outshone by the former. This was the albums true single. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vj7eWPLMQJ8
6. Silver Train - Great piano, great slide guitar. It's kind of a traditional upbeat early rock piece. The Black Crowes have a great live cover of this tune as well. It's one of the lighter pieces in flavor and text, and certainly just a fun song to move to. It's the perfect piece to slip into the middle of the album, especially after two heavy songs. It's certainly not the most memorable Stone's tune, but it works quite well in the "batting order." That's my opinion at least. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3c2WUVZ9NQ
7. Hide Your Love - This is a familiar sounding tune, that I feel is often overlooked. Continuing the trend of a very piano heavy album for the stones, this song trucks along at a nice easy pace, finally giving us a traditional blues progression. The guitar is what you'd expect, and Mick Jaggers voice and cadence give it exactly what it needs. All in all this tune should not be skipped over, and it would seem to me that it could be a great lesser known song for some newer blues artists on the scene today to cover. I could definitely see our friends at GREENS TUESDAY NIGHT JAM covering a tune like this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xo94dLN_0ZA
8. Winter - Though Mick Taylor apparently contributed the most to this song, it seems he may have been snubbed by Jagger and Richards in credit. This is not an uncommon occurrence in music. Winter is another bigger piece largely due to the string arrangement, just like Angie. But it's subject is seasonal, and where that comes from isn't entirely clear. The album was recorded in Kingston Jamaica, largely because it was one of the only countries that would let all the members in at once (legal troubles were a plague, especially for Richards). Because of that fact alone, maybe this song is more about a reminiscence for the kind of winter they were used to on their home soil? It seems to highlight the negatives of winter in the lyrics, while still capturing a feeling of longing for it. I'm sure there are varying opinions out there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frt_f0eP_Hs
9. Can You Hear the Music - This is the oddity of the album to me. A strange chiming and airiness open the track, with a whimsical piano lick eventually sneaking in, before it breaks into a more familiar sound and progression. The piano's again quite prevalent on this track, and the effected guitars seem to hover between wanting to burst at the seams, and play a background role altogether in the piece. Much of it has a youthful, childlike feel to it, heightened by the piper-esque flute parts that open and close the song almost single handedly. Altogether it's a song that doesn't give or take too much. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RI12bGwmCVQ
10. Star Star - A great way to close this album. Why not write a song about a C-list celebrity slut? Hell why not say "Starfucker" 60 times? Or maybe it was 59, I can't remember. And yes, lets really get some raunchy lyrics in there "I heard about your polaroids, now that's what I call obscene. Your tricks with fruit, is kind of cute, I bet you keep your pussy clean." They even give a shout out to Steve McQueen at one point! Overall its actually a really fun tune. It's got that early rock feel, akin to Route 66. It jolts you out of your seat, making a dance floor out of whatever substance is under your feet. You can feel Chuck Berry in the lead guitar work which is all too appropriate, and when you combine all this with a nicely designed solo, some background vocals, and a great bass line, you get a mighty fine close to an all around remarkable and memorable album. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YD_CSgIkd_k
For any avid Stones fan, this album has to mean a lot. It's got a different feel to it, with different priorities, but is still based in their roots. It's a nicely crafted piece of work, with what I consider to be their best line up (When Mick Taylor was still playing with them). If you don't own it, you need to. I hereby make the promise that you will not regret it.
SOD: Rolling Stones "Angie"
I grew up on The Stones. They are my father's favorite band. Among my closest family and friends, we've played and analyzed them time and time again, and I know what each of them considers to be their "favorite" Stones song. It's actually an interesting way to define a person. And everyone knows the Rolling Stones. If somebody says they flat out do not like them, I don't believe them. Their collection is far to vast and expansive for them not to have something for everyone. They started out wanting to follow in the footsteps of their R&B and Blues idols, most notably Muddy Waters. After all, they did name themselves after his song. But it became apparent rather quickly that they would not be limiting themselves to that style alone.
The Rolling Stones are as groundbreaking as a band can be. They're ranked #4 in Rolling Stones "100 Greatest Artists of All Time," but they might as well be #1. Once you get to the top 5 of that list, the rank is pretty much interchangeable between them. The impact that this group has had on the world over is tremendous. The fact that they're still playing together after nearly 50 years is mind blowing. I can't even wrap my head around what that means. Charlie Watts, an original and oldest member, is still hammering away at those drums. I would never have imagined that. He's even still touring with his solo act, playing at the Iridium here in New York in June. The drive of these musicians is astronomically high.
People have thought Keith Richards was going to die for decades now. I've been told that Richards has cost people a lot of money in these Celebrity Death Pools for years now. You'd have to be a fool to think this guy's going to die anytime soon at this point. He's as active as ever, resuming his acting career as well. It's hard to imagine a world without these guys in it, truly. They've always been there (in my lifetime), always putting out new albums both together and seperately. And granted, their new stuff may not be as good as their older work, but the fact of the matter is that these guys actually still sound good. More importantly though, their older work never gets, well, old. I can listen to Goats Head Soup or Sticky Fingers or Exile, cover to cover at any given moment and still love every second of it.
"Angie," is an emotional song about the end of a romance. It's painful and sad, but beautiful and somehow warm. The string arrangement on the studio version, is a huge contributing factor to the emotionality of the piece. Another track off of Goats Head Soup that uses a string arrangement is "Winter." Nicky Harrison did the arrangements on both tracks and Nicky Hopkins played the piano on both. These tracks are less guitar focused, and more about the sound as a whole. They're bigger, and more encompassing of all the instruments, as compared to some of the more rock and bluesy tunes that prominently feature the guitar work of Richards, Wood, Taylor, and Jones, or any combination of them. To me, its a different kind of Stones altogether, one that is less about the flash and flare, and just a bit more personal. Angie's the kind of track that you can close your eyes to, and just get wrapped up in the song itself. It's a real gem, on one of the greatest albums of all time.
The Rolling Stones are as groundbreaking as a band can be. They're ranked #4 in Rolling Stones "100 Greatest Artists of All Time," but they might as well be #1. Once you get to the top 5 of that list, the rank is pretty much interchangeable between them. The impact that this group has had on the world over is tremendous. The fact that they're still playing together after nearly 50 years is mind blowing. I can't even wrap my head around what that means. Charlie Watts, an original and oldest member, is still hammering away at those drums. I would never have imagined that. He's even still touring with his solo act, playing at the Iridium here in New York in June. The drive of these musicians is astronomically high.
People have thought Keith Richards was going to die for decades now. I've been told that Richards has cost people a lot of money in these Celebrity Death Pools for years now. You'd have to be a fool to think this guy's going to die anytime soon at this point. He's as active as ever, resuming his acting career as well. It's hard to imagine a world without these guys in it, truly. They've always been there (in my lifetime), always putting out new albums both together and seperately. And granted, their new stuff may not be as good as their older work, but the fact of the matter is that these guys actually still sound good. More importantly though, their older work never gets, well, old. I can listen to Goats Head Soup or Sticky Fingers or Exile, cover to cover at any given moment and still love every second of it.
"Angie," is an emotional song about the end of a romance. It's painful and sad, but beautiful and somehow warm. The string arrangement on the studio version, is a huge contributing factor to the emotionality of the piece. Another track off of Goats Head Soup that uses a string arrangement is "Winter." Nicky Harrison did the arrangements on both tracks and Nicky Hopkins played the piano on both. These tracks are less guitar focused, and more about the sound as a whole. They're bigger, and more encompassing of all the instruments, as compared to some of the more rock and bluesy tunes that prominently feature the guitar work of Richards, Wood, Taylor, and Jones, or any combination of them. To me, its a different kind of Stones altogether, one that is less about the flash and flare, and just a bit more personal. Angie's the kind of track that you can close your eyes to, and just get wrapped up in the song itself. It's a real gem, on one of the greatest albums of all time.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
The Family Greens
The town bar. That place you want to go to sometimes, where everybody (if not most people) knows you name. And they're certainly glad you came. The troubles you share are the same, at the end of the day, no? But enough with the Cheers song, because life can't be that simple, right? Cheers was a sitcom. Endearing, comical, satirical, thirty-minutes long. Real life is no sitcom, it's a shit-show. It's unplanned, unscripted, and all one long take.
My hometown has had a few Main Street bars come and go in its day. Changes in ownership, name, and clientele have given us a healthy tasting of watering holes over the years. However, I have always gone to the same place, even if the name has changed. Today, the establishment goes by the simple name, "Greens." It's written in black over a red and gold backdrop. Go figure.
An Irish pub by definition, but a rowdy hall by trade, Greens has seen the best and worst of men in its tenure. Currently operated by a man known simply as Benny, Greens has become a headquarters for the weird and a safe-haven for the extreme. It's a place that demands you be yourself, and nothing else. If you want to take your shirt off on a mid-summers night, by all means let it out. Maybe you just want to swing in, say hello, catch the ball game scores. Feel free. Maybe it's been a tough day, and you just want to throw some Dan Hartman on the juke and get nuts. Nobody will stop you. It's a place for all walks to come in and be, just check your insecurities and judgements at the open door.
This alone does not make a bar special. This makes it somewhat common in the grand scheme of things. And though Greens is cleaner and classier than a dive bar, it retains that easy, inexpensive, common-man feel. That's thanks to the patrons and the place. But what makes this bar unique is in fact the people. The regulars. The meat of it. I won't bore you with all the details today, but I'll tell you that its a special group of people that makes up the Greens Family. And they are a family. People come and go, and some family members are closer to the nucleus, others extended, but a family it is, and everyone is treated as such. And oh yea, there's also music.
Most of the nuclear family is involved in what I consider to be the Greens Family Band. There's a good dozen or so guys who are some of the best musicians I've ever seen or heard. No lie, no exaggeration. Anyone who knows me, knows that I've seen a lifetimes worth of professional and local players. Nobody's won over my heart and ears like these guys. Over the years, they've gone by many different names, from the Jon Burns All-stars to the Frank Stalloners. Most recently, after the impermanent departure of their long time guitarist, bassist, and drummer, the band has opened its doors to more members of that Greens family and started a new incarnation of the band first under the name The Union, and now under the name Duck Hunt. I'm unclear as to weather that name will stick, but it's really not important. The players have changed, but the game is still the same.
Greens Irish Pub gave a motley crew of largely self-trained musicians, a stage to bare their wares and souls. A couple years ago, they even started a Tuesday Night Jam (TNJ), opening its doors and mics to any cat off the street with a desire to get wild. This is when the music and the musicians really started taking off. The house band plays the first set, and will play the full four hours if nobody comes up to take a hand. They play because they love it. They play because they need it. I don't know what these guys would be without music. I wouldn't even know how to explain them. Music is the guiding force in everything they do. Sure, most of them work jobs like the rest of us, but their hearts are in the music. They've gigged all over Long Island, NYC, the Tri-State, Pennsylvania, and even an epic weekend in Maryland. They've honed their skills for years now. Their chops are grade A.
They've become far more than a local bar band, that much is for sure. Come to think of it, they were always more than that because they always played more than just the local bar. They play an eclectic variety of music, usually harboring around blues, funk and R&B. But these guys are good enough to pick up anything and run with it. Michael Jackson, Toto, Steely Dan, Albert, Freddie, and BB King, Eric Clapton, Delaney and Bonnie, The Meters, Dr. John, Joe Cocker, Donny Hathaway, The Allman Brothers Band (Lots of Allman Brothers), Little Feat, Warren Zevon, Sly, Van Morrison, Stevie Wonder-ful, Elton John, EWF, Stuff, James Brown...please, tell me when to stop. The list goes on and on. They write and play original music too, and this is not you're average rearrangement of existing songs and styles to create "original" work. It's fresh, and its flagrantly in your face. Sometimes, it's downright beautiful. And no matter what incarnation of the band is up there, they always walk a fine line between completely out-of-control and professionally wild. I mean that in attitude though, the music never suffers.
You see these guys are great musicians, and the music comes first. The level of skill is undebatable. But the reason that they're so gripping is because there's also a unique personality and tenacity to the group. You can't take your eyes off them. Once they start, you feel like you're part of the show, bouncing off the walls and rolling on the floor with them. And it's no act. Talk to these guys when the amps are off, and they're just the same. Fun loving, free falling, wild-men. The entire Greens Family (musicians or not) are cut of this cloth. The authenticity is staggering. The love is genuine. These guys are as close a group as you can get. Sure there's arguments and fights, but they usually start and end with a smack in the head and a glass of beer. It's an amazing thing to get wrapped up in. They're good people at the end of the day. They're kind, open, and especially inviting to all. If you piss them off, you're fucked, but most people don't. It's hard to get under the skin of people like this. They're having too much fun to worry about the assholes or trivialities.
I know I've gone on for far longer than you wanted or I intended, but I am a rambling man (quite different than Dickey Betts version though). Once I get started, I can't stop. So keeping that in mind, I'll be updating weekly (maybe bi-) on our Greens Family. Anytime something new "pops up." Speaking of which, they'll be playing an hour long set this friday (tomorrow). Details are as follows:
Duck Hunt @ The Bitter End
Friday 4/27 11pm - Midnight
Hope to see you there. In the meantime, checkout the Junkyards first Frank Stalloners homevideo. From one of the funkiest festivals in name and nature, it's the Frank Stalloners at Equifunk playing "Tell The Truth"
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Be Your Age
Hey, I said I'd save it for another post. So here it is.
Our society is in need of a serious smack to the back of its head. Why have we made aging such an impending doom? When did experience and wisdom come to mean so little in the face of youthful physicality? We obsequiously buy into the force fed images society provides, and think that it is us, in all our aged beauty, who need to change. Age eradicating procedures are an unnatural and wrong creation. That might seem harsh, but goddamnit it's true. People go into potentially life threatening surgeries to make themselves look younger. That's frightening. And forget the surgeries that wind up getting botched.
Society has been playing this game for a long time now, it's no secret. Young is attractive. This is especially true for women, but in the entertainment world, it's just as true for men. And the best word I can think of to sum this up is, "sad." It's driving people nuts. Lindsey Lohan fell victim to it's tragic song, as will many other young women. They're not even waiting until the wrinkles start coming out before they go under the needle and knife now. It's downright scary. Have we really ingrained so blistering a sense of insecurity into our mothers and daughters, that they can't ever look in the mirror without seeing something wrong?
There's no reason that an aging woman should feel ashamed, or less attractive. Some of the most beautiful women in the world are well out of their younger days. I find a quiet and subtle, yet powerful beauty in an older woman who has accepted her age. A confidence if you will, to stand up to society and all the girls and say, "yea, I'm getting older, and it's just fine." Age is only as important as you make it.
Wear your wrinkles with pride, don't try to eradicate them. They're not a disease, or an infection. They're a sign of your experience and perseverance in this tough world. You don't see Bob Dylan or Robert Plant trying to erase them. Life leaves scars and marks everywhere. Time puts it's stamp on anything and everything. Trying to fight that is as futile as fighting the tides. Acceptance is the only answer, but the cosmetic industry certainly doesn't want you to believe that. Nor does the entertainment industry. Because they think age is an adversary. They'd have you believe that it's your age that will be a detriment to your career, but that's simply not true. Insecurity is a detriment to your career. If you age with confidence, than no matter what you look like, you'll have aged with grace.
There are women out there in their 20's getting botox. There are children getting their lips pumped full of collagen because their parents think it'll give them the look they need to get into show biz. If you have to change yourself to meet the mark, then the mark is the problem. And you need to ask yourself, who is setting this mark? Who is manufacturing this ridiculous kind of thinking that makes it difficult for people to naturally progress through life? Accept your age. Look your age. Be your age. I won't tell you to act your age, because everyone's allowed to be a little immature. But understand that age is not a number, it's an attitude. My grandmother is in her 80's, but you'd never know it in a million years. Yes, she's fortunate enough to have good genes, but she's also got spirit and personality that keep her younger than most 60 year olds. So what good is that number besides for candles on a cake? Your as old as you act and feel, it's that simple.
And you know what the thing of it is for me? Plastic surgery, botox, all these things, they don't actually work! Yes, they make you look different. And you may think you look younger. I don't. You just look reconstructed. It's not like people can't tell when you've had work done. So now you're just a plastic surgery case. Does anyone actually think you look better? That's the thing I've never been able to get over. And maybe I'm the exception, but almost never have I seen a woman who's had work done and found her attractive. Maybe it's just the knowledge alone that she underwent that kind of procedure that makes her unattractive to me. I can't say. I'd probably need a few sessions on the couch for that one. But I can tell you with the utmost of confidence that there is no turning the clock back. There is no way to stay young looking. Everyone gets older, minute by minute. How you choose to deal with that speaks volumes to the kind of person you are.
Our society is in need of a serious smack to the back of its head. Why have we made aging such an impending doom? When did experience and wisdom come to mean so little in the face of youthful physicality? We obsequiously buy into the force fed images society provides, and think that it is us, in all our aged beauty, who need to change. Age eradicating procedures are an unnatural and wrong creation. That might seem harsh, but goddamnit it's true. People go into potentially life threatening surgeries to make themselves look younger. That's frightening. And forget the surgeries that wind up getting botched.
Society has been playing this game for a long time now, it's no secret. Young is attractive. This is especially true for women, but in the entertainment world, it's just as true for men. And the best word I can think of to sum this up is, "sad." It's driving people nuts. Lindsey Lohan fell victim to it's tragic song, as will many other young women. They're not even waiting until the wrinkles start coming out before they go under the needle and knife now. It's downright scary. Have we really ingrained so blistering a sense of insecurity into our mothers and daughters, that they can't ever look in the mirror without seeing something wrong?
There's no reason that an aging woman should feel ashamed, or less attractive. Some of the most beautiful women in the world are well out of their younger days. I find a quiet and subtle, yet powerful beauty in an older woman who has accepted her age. A confidence if you will, to stand up to society and all the girls and say, "yea, I'm getting older, and it's just fine." Age is only as important as you make it.
Wear your wrinkles with pride, don't try to eradicate them. They're not a disease, or an infection. They're a sign of your experience and perseverance in this tough world. You don't see Bob Dylan or Robert Plant trying to erase them. Life leaves scars and marks everywhere. Time puts it's stamp on anything and everything. Trying to fight that is as futile as fighting the tides. Acceptance is the only answer, but the cosmetic industry certainly doesn't want you to believe that. Nor does the entertainment industry. Because they think age is an adversary. They'd have you believe that it's your age that will be a detriment to your career, but that's simply not true. Insecurity is a detriment to your career. If you age with confidence, than no matter what you look like, you'll have aged with grace.
There are women out there in their 20's getting botox. There are children getting their lips pumped full of collagen because their parents think it'll give them the look they need to get into show biz. If you have to change yourself to meet the mark, then the mark is the problem. And you need to ask yourself, who is setting this mark? Who is manufacturing this ridiculous kind of thinking that makes it difficult for people to naturally progress through life? Accept your age. Look your age. Be your age. I won't tell you to act your age, because everyone's allowed to be a little immature. But understand that age is not a number, it's an attitude. My grandmother is in her 80's, but you'd never know it in a million years. Yes, she's fortunate enough to have good genes, but she's also got spirit and personality that keep her younger than most 60 year olds. So what good is that number besides for candles on a cake? Your as old as you act and feel, it's that simple.
And you know what the thing of it is for me? Plastic surgery, botox, all these things, they don't actually work! Yes, they make you look different. And you may think you look younger. I don't. You just look reconstructed. It's not like people can't tell when you've had work done. So now you're just a plastic surgery case. Does anyone actually think you look better? That's the thing I've never been able to get over. And maybe I'm the exception, but almost never have I seen a woman who's had work done and found her attractive. Maybe it's just the knowledge alone that she underwent that kind of procedure that makes her unattractive to me. I can't say. I'd probably need a few sessions on the couch for that one. But I can tell you with the utmost of confidence that there is no turning the clock back. There is no way to stay young looking. Everyone gets older, minute by minute. How you choose to deal with that speaks volumes to the kind of person you are.
SOD: Joe Bonamassa & John Hiatt "Down Around My Place" (and then some...)
I was watching Palladia last night (what else is new), and they played an hours worth of footage from a Joe Bonamassa concert at The Beacon Theater. I have a lot of respect for the mans skill, but personally, I'm not a huge fan. Now granted, I'm not well versed in his entire collection, but as far as Guitar Virtuoso's go, the buck pretty much stopped at Jeff Beck for me. I've listened to "Cliffs of Dover", but not much Eric Johnson outside that. I've listened to more Steve Vai, but not consistently. Joe sings also which makes him more unique to the others, but his voice always sounds very "created" and unnatural to me. Almost too cleanly raspy, like they went in and edited out all the inconsistencies. That's not what the blues are about, and he is by trade, a blues man.
But I digress. I watched the entire program, and he had some special guests come on at different points. John Hiatt sang "Down Around My Place," which included a pretty epic guitar solo, and harmony bridge. I like Joe's voice in that capacity and this song was a highlight for me. I can't say I'm a huge John Hiatt fan because I really don't know him well enough. But I respect him as a great American singer-songwriter, and I do love his voice. I learned from his wiki page he's been covered by damn near everyone, and that's only intrigued me to look a little deeper into his catalogue now. And though they're of two different schools, Bonamassa and Hiatt complemented each other well. Somehow it just worked, on that song at least. Just like Dr. John and Dan Auerbach (Black Keys). But you'll never know if you don't take the chance. Give collaboration a shot.
Then Paul Rodgers came out to sing a few tunes. I couldn't watch. I mean I could listen, he actually sounded quite able. But I couldn't look at him. It was uncomfortable. Everything around his face has aged. Which makes his face look absolutely ridiculous. His face has aged too, but then it was contorted by whatever cosmetic procedure(s) he's had done. I'll save my speech on acting and looking your age for another time though. You see, here's a guy who could really benefit from something new. Paul Rodgers is completely trying to recreate his days with Bad Company or even Free. But he doesn't understand it can't happen. Those days are over man, don't you see?
Paul Rodgers still has a voice though. And no matter what he's done in the past, that's the only thing he has going for him today. If he could get himself linked up with a young act, and contribute some vocals on an album of theirs, well that would be the best thing I could think of for Paul. To use his voice to contribute to something new and meaningful, instead of trying to raise the dead. Granted that's easier said than done, but somethings gotta give. He's up there looking like a parody of himself. Swinging the mic stand around, gesturing towards the audience, fist pumping, all at an arthritic and silly looking half speed. So then, to me, it becomes comedic. If he stood up there, tapped his toe, and sang his heart out, it would have been a lot better. He was trying to say, "Hey Mick, you're not the only one who can still move in his old age." What he wound up showing us was that Mick is in fact one of the only ones who can still move in his old age.
I realize I have compiled many ideas into this one post, which was not my original intention. Seeing Joe play a live concert (albeit on television), showed me that he has a great tone both on record and in concert, but I never expected anything less. I'm not sold on his voice, but hey, that happens. I'm not particularly fond of Mike Mattison's voice either, but I still love all the Derek Trucks albums. Joe is a very skilled guitar player, and he's shared the stage with the biggest and best (including Trucks). For me, his guitar does all the talking. Still, Bonamassa has not been someone I regularly seek out, but team him up with the likes of a John Hiatt, and suddenly you've got a combination there that creates a sound I can get on board with immediately. When I heard them play this song together, I didn't think about it, I simply reacted to it. Something worked. And I know I keep mentioning the new Dr. John album, but I had the same reaction to that. It just worked, you could feel it, even in the first pass through.
Artists can be by nature, isolationists. But if that mold is broken, or never conceived in the first place, it opens the door to a endless world of possibility. Though the creative process may be a solitary one for many artists, the performance end of it doesn't need to be. And sometimes, if you let your guard down and allow interference and collaboration from your peers, you may just wind up with the next best thing right there in your lap. I'm hoping that kind of mentality becomes more the trend, and less the exception.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
SOD: Pearl Jam "Garden"
The Pearl Jam debut album "Ten," did nothing short of alter the course of my life. It was the first cd I bought with my own money, and I had to buy it again a few years later because I had worn out the first one. What's funny, is I never came to appreciate the back half of that album until years later when I was in middle school. I got so hung up on the obvious tracks like "Alive", "Jeremy", 'Black" and "Even Flow," that I nearly rediscovered the entire album when I started getting into tracks like "Porch", "Oceans" and "Deep."
"Garden" was a kind of a crossover track. I enjoyed it when I first heard the album, and I re-discovered it with a different pair of ears when I listened to the album obsessively again, years later. It's angry and blistering. And painful. Pearl Jam can be like that. Those goddamned beautiful screams of agony that Eddie Vedder lets loose. It's a bone chilling way to set your heart on fire. And Eddie's got the lyrics to back it up. Though much of his stuff has been comically parodied as indiscernable moans, there is feeling there. There is a life and message, apart from the music, that lives in Eddies head. And though some of it is a bit extreme at times (or political), there's a lot of poetry too. Sometimes the most prolific stuff is conveyed in the simplest form. An example of that would be this song, or Wishlist, or dozens other's that I can't get into now, but I'd recommend everybody get into sometime.
But maybe that boat has sailed for you. For me, it comes back to port to pick me up at some point every year. Whether they release something new, or not.
"Garden" was a kind of a crossover track. I enjoyed it when I first heard the album, and I re-discovered it with a different pair of ears when I listened to the album obsessively again, years later. It's angry and blistering. And painful. Pearl Jam can be like that. Those goddamned beautiful screams of agony that Eddie Vedder lets loose. It's a bone chilling way to set your heart on fire. And Eddie's got the lyrics to back it up. Though much of his stuff has been comically parodied as indiscernable moans, there is feeling there. There is a life and message, apart from the music, that lives in Eddies head. And though some of it is a bit extreme at times (or political), there's a lot of poetry too. Sometimes the most prolific stuff is conveyed in the simplest form. An example of that would be this song, or Wishlist, or dozens other's that I can't get into now, but I'd recommend everybody get into sometime.
But maybe that boat has sailed for you. For me, it comes back to port to pick me up at some point every year. Whether they release something new, or not.
Technological Interference
Old music is a tough sell these days. Dr. John's album which was done in collaboration with one-half of one of the hottest groups out there (Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys), premiered at no. 33 on the billboard 200. The album, Locked Down, is the highest chart debut for the old timer. Rolling Stone says it's his best in four decades. That's how long he's been around for, and his talent is a reflection of that. But he still lands at 33, and I have to say, that's higher than I would have expected. I bet a lot of people don't even know it dropped.
I hear more and more about the electronic movement and groups like Deadmau5 and Justice, than I hear about any older bands, or even new bands playing older styles of music. The computer has become a bonafide instrument in the new schools eyes these days. Our children will probably have their first encounters with music this way too. There's a good chance they'll never pick up a guitar or tickle any ivory. The computer may just be their all inclusive tool.
I've had a lot of trouble, in my own way, accepting this style as "music." I try to be open-minded about everything, but I won't sacrifice my intrinsic opinions, or principles. I understand that making electronic music is an art form, and it is certainly an auditory creation all its own. It's also certainly music, that comes out on the other end, but I don't consider all the people who make it to be musicians. I guess that's my distinction, and I don't mean it offensively, but I have trouble seeing the computer alone as an instrument. There is a distinct difference to me between a person creating a melody or song on a guitar, and a person creating formulaic beats and progressions on a laptop, at times including samples of previously created work. And I'm not talking about DJ's or remix jockeys. The people who work in this electronic medium are certainly capable and resourceful. They're technologically skilled, and they're certainly aware of the structure of music and song. But this alone does not make you a musician in my book.
I've had this conversation with a few people. Many agree with me, and some are even more passionate and devout in their beliefs than even I. But I tend to discuss these things with people who I share musical tastes with, so its no surprise that we see things from the same perspective. The thing is, I actually like some electronic music, and I've listened extensively to some artists like Daft Punk, Justice, Paul Oakenfold, Moby etc. Some of these guys have been around for nearly two decades now. They're veterans of an ever growing and expanding genre. So, I won't go so far as to say it's not "music." I don't actually believe that. And though I may not be fully immersed in it, of course I acknowledge its effect on people and the industry today.
It's creation is a direct result of a boom in technology. That's what allowed this music to come about and consequently flourish. Electronic instruments, drum machines, sequencers and of course computers gave this music life. Samples and loops suddenly became a common term and tool. Rap allowed for the use of other peoples past work to be used to create new work. All artists are borrowing from their predecessors, but suddenly it was ok to use their predecessors product exactly. Chop it up, use portions and selections, and create a collage of sound to make something new. Just look at A Tribe Called Quest. They were so selective in the samples they used, that they really set the standard and turned it into an art form. They started in the mid 80's and flourished through the 90's. As technology advanced, so did the ability to use, change, and transform the music that existed, to create new music using purely manufactured means.
Computers have become a huge part of our daily lives. I don't know a single person that doesn't use one, and my parents have some very technologically primitive friends. Now granted, we're no third world country, but just think about it. Could you get anything done these days without a computer? We're a technological world, everything we do relies on it. People don't build things from the dirt anymore, they create them from the desk. Entire worlds are created out of thin air, and exist in it. Look at Facebook. And that's what's happened to music as well, as it naturally would. It's created without ever plucking or hammering a string, or banging a drum. It's fabricated perfectly using machines. In live concerts its not "performed" per say, it's "played" or "played-back."
Some artists use a combination. I went to a Mike Snow show about 2 years ago. He had a DJ playing pre-recorded tracks, and a band that played over that. Shit, Steve Earle went on a tour through 2010 where he used a DJ to manufacture all his beats, and he sung and played folk guitar over it. The same was done on the album, Washington Square Serenade (he had no backing band, just Pro Tools). It was something like I've never heard before from Steve. I can't say I want to see Steve Earle go that route again, but I have to recognize the influence of technology in music today if a guy like him goes that far. Even listen to the new Bruce album, and tell me there's not a significant amount of "technological interference" to one degree or another, even if it's after the fact.
I think one of the ultimate results of all this, is I've really come to appreciate when I hear a really stripped down, bare knuckled album. With all it's inconsistencies and beautiful mistakes. I've come to cherish those Bob Dylan and Zeppelin songs that were done in one take, and I've grown to love the old live recordings like Mad Dogs and Englishmen (Joe Cocker), and 11-17-70 (Elton John). I'd say maybe I'm getting nostalgic as I get older, but that's simply not the case. This was the music I was always drawn to. Made by the finest musicians in the world, the best at their craft. And with this electronic and technologic age, comes a new craft. That much is sure. The people who practice it are talented. But can they really be called Musicians like all the rest who did it before them? Before computers became the instrument of choice?
Monday, April 23, 2012
SOD: Dr. John "Revolution"
Nothing in music has excited me more than Dr. John's new album. The anticipation itself was challenging, but now that the album is out, all I want to do is get to the point where I know every single song inside out. It's unbelievably well done.
This album is real. I can't describe it any other way. It's an album by a man that's 100% about the music. Everything these days is surrounded by marketing campaigns, press releases, interviews, and just straight fluff. Anything that will draw your attention away from the music, and to all the other pop-culture surrounding it. That's the nature of the entertainment industry in general. But there is no distracting the issue with this album. The music is everything, from the first note of the first track, to the last chord.
Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys lends his guitar to this album, and though I really do enjoy that band, I was not overly excited about him teaming up on Dr. J's album. It seemed like another one of these contrived pairings to expand the marketability of it. Even if that's what was intended at the start, boy was I wrong. It works better than I could have imagined. Auerbach's guitar adds this stripped down, soulful layer to Dr. John's songs that actually takes it to the next level. These songs are authentic sounding, they're the real deal. And maybe some of the impact comes from Dan Auerbach's producing of the album. Actually, I'm sure that's where a lot of the impact comes from. I feel his influence in the nuances of the tracks. There's that sound in the spaces between notes that makes this album feel and sound like an original piece of the past. It's thick and thin all at once. Young and old. Just like Auerbach and Rebennack Jr.
The first time I listened to it, I looked right over the dichotomy between them. I went straight for the obvious sound that was in front of me, and for the songwriting. But there was no denying in that first listen through, that there was far more to the sound of this album, than the notes themselves. Songs like this one (Revolution) sound like Amy Winehouse tracks almost. The choppy, simplistic guitar chords, the horns and Saxophone, and of course the soul (musically and spiritually) of Dr. John himself. It's a new kind of Dr. John sound, that's more accustomed to the Black Keys. But good music, is good music, and Dr. John is the best at what he does. It just so happens that his style works quite well with Dan Auerbach's sound. It's that simple. I don't know if anyone can predict these things with 100% accuracy, but pairing these two together was a masterful move, and props to Dr. John for being so open minded. The album is truly not a note short of amazing. A follow-up after a few more listens through will certainly yield more insight. But for now, enjoy.
This album is real. I can't describe it any other way. It's an album by a man that's 100% about the music. Everything these days is surrounded by marketing campaigns, press releases, interviews, and just straight fluff. Anything that will draw your attention away from the music, and to all the other pop-culture surrounding it. That's the nature of the entertainment industry in general. But there is no distracting the issue with this album. The music is everything, from the first note of the first track, to the last chord.
Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys lends his guitar to this album, and though I really do enjoy that band, I was not overly excited about him teaming up on Dr. J's album. It seemed like another one of these contrived pairings to expand the marketability of it. Even if that's what was intended at the start, boy was I wrong. It works better than I could have imagined. Auerbach's guitar adds this stripped down, soulful layer to Dr. John's songs that actually takes it to the next level. These songs are authentic sounding, they're the real deal. And maybe some of the impact comes from Dan Auerbach's producing of the album. Actually, I'm sure that's where a lot of the impact comes from. I feel his influence in the nuances of the tracks. There's that sound in the spaces between notes that makes this album feel and sound like an original piece of the past. It's thick and thin all at once. Young and old. Just like Auerbach and Rebennack Jr.
The first time I listened to it, I looked right over the dichotomy between them. I went straight for the obvious sound that was in front of me, and for the songwriting. But there was no denying in that first listen through, that there was far more to the sound of this album, than the notes themselves. Songs like this one (Revolution) sound like Amy Winehouse tracks almost. The choppy, simplistic guitar chords, the horns and Saxophone, and of course the soul (musically and spiritually) of Dr. John himself. It's a new kind of Dr. John sound, that's more accustomed to the Black Keys. But good music, is good music, and Dr. John is the best at what he does. It just so happens that his style works quite well with Dan Auerbach's sound. It's that simple. I don't know if anyone can predict these things with 100% accuracy, but pairing these two together was a masterful move, and props to Dr. John for being so open minded. The album is truly not a note short of amazing. A follow-up after a few more listens through will certainly yield more insight. But for now, enjoy.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
MP FOLLOW UP: Gary Clark Jr.
For some people, music and musical acts are like sports teams. You trade knowledge and compare and contrast your favorites. You even match them up sometimes, and put them in "versus" scenarios (i.e. Page vs. Hendrix). Lineups change, players rotate around, and you find yourself rooting for some over others. It is within this context that Matt and I had become quite curious about the incestuous nature of good music, some time ago.
The whole conversation between us started with Delaney Bramlett, and the fact that he is the godfather of the R&B, rock and blues music we hold most dear. This rather unknown-to-the-masses man taught and convinced Eric Clapton to sing the blues, and helped George Harrison write "My Sweet Lord" in addition to teaching him how to play the slide guitar. And that's just the tip of the Iceberg, there's far more, but I'll save it for another day and another post. Essentially, the man and his band became a haven for R&B and blues musicians in their formative years. The list is endless, including Clapton, Harrison, Duane and Gregg Allman, Jimi Hendrix, Dave Mason, Leon Russell, Rita Coolidge, Carl Radle, Gram Parsons, Bobby Whitlock and King Curtis. There are many more, but that's not my point. It takes a force like Delaney to ensure that the best actually become the best, and he gave them a place to all play and learn together. Just the idea of great like-minded musicians playing together on each other's records, trading techniques and side men, and working and being together is a fascinating concept, and Delaney's greatest legacy.
Matt was kind enough to reiterate this point by expanding on my post about GCJr. See below:
The whole conversation between us started with Delaney Bramlett, and the fact that he is the godfather of the R&B, rock and blues music we hold most dear. This rather unknown-to-the-masses man taught and convinced Eric Clapton to sing the blues, and helped George Harrison write "My Sweet Lord" in addition to teaching him how to play the slide guitar. And that's just the tip of the Iceberg, there's far more, but I'll save it for another day and another post. Essentially, the man and his band became a haven for R&B and blues musicians in their formative years. The list is endless, including Clapton, Harrison, Duane and Gregg Allman, Jimi Hendrix, Dave Mason, Leon Russell, Rita Coolidge, Carl Radle, Gram Parsons, Bobby Whitlock and King Curtis. There are many more, but that's not my point. It takes a force like Delaney to ensure that the best actually become the best, and he gave them a place to all play and learn together. Just the idea of great like-minded musicians playing together on each other's records, trading techniques and side men, and working and being together is a fascinating concept, and Delaney's greatest legacy.
Matt was kind enough to reiterate this point by expanding on my post about GCJr. See below:
We may have talked about this before because we are always talking about the incestual nature of good music. So Doyle bramhall II was the one that discovered GCJr through the Austin scene, and he brought him to Claptons Crossroads festival last year, which is pretty much how he started to blow up. If you don't have that dvd, it's streaming on netflix... it is definitely a must see all the way through.
I learned of this dvd from Matt in a past conversation where he told me the exact same thing. The 2010 festival held in June in Chicago was nothing short of what Matt had promised. Granted I've only seen portions of the dvd, it has hands down the best acts in the business. The Trucks and Tedeschi performance was actually the first footage I saw of them as a group. Matt continues:
The scene where Doyle talks about his(GCJr.) versatility, his ability to play texas, delta, and chicago style blues, along w/ being able to pull off some sweet R&B shit is awesome. Personally, i think Doyle's set steals the show, but GCJr just fucking kills it, and the first time i saw it, especially after Doyle's testimonial, i kind of had a feeling he was something special, even though he is surrounded by some of my heroes. Normally, anyone would be overshadowed in that situation, but this dude just kills it. That's connection 1... (he also sits in w/ derek and susan at that festival). Connection 2 is JJ johnson, the drummer in the SOD video. He happens to be 1/2 of Derek's drum duo, but has also played w/ tons of cats... Doyle included. I think he's an austin guy as well.
And that's why I'm so fortunate to have guys like Matt around to discuss music with. That's the kind of backstory you need on musicians to really understand them and their connections. GCJr's style and place make more sense now. You can see the group he belongs to, and it's one of if not the best out there right now. In this instance, through Clapton's festival Derek Trucks (and his bands) has become a new kind of gravitational force for this kind of music. He's bringing musicians together. And it doesn't end with the festival, it's an ongoing, ever-changing, full of potential kind of machine!
But wait, there's more:
I can't believe how much this guy has blown up... I was watching the Knick game on ESPN on sunday and GCJR was playing Bright Lights, Faith Hill style, like on monday night football. He also played at the White House when Obama had his celebration of the blues; it aired on PBS, definitely worth watching. Derek, Susan and Warren were there too, along w BB, Buddy, Mick and Jeff beck.
Goes to show though, this community of musicians that you and I have both gravitated towards, is kind of reminiscent of the Delaney, D&D, Mad Dogs thing, and it's fucking awesome.
Goes to show though, this community of musicians that you and I have both gravitated towards, is kind of reminiscent of the Delaney, D&D, Mad Dogs thing, and it's fucking awesome.
Dead on. Fucking Awesome. It is reminiscent of the Delaney days, and Joe Cocker Mad Dogs and Englishmen performances. This is the new generation of talent, and they're building upon their ancestors work. They really are that good. No flash in the pan, no bullshit. These guys aren't mainstream, cashing in the big checks. They're on the road most of the year, and the top ones may not be scrapping by, but they're not making Hip-Hop Money. They're in it for the love of the game, plain and simple. And because of that, they enjoy collaboration with like minds, and the product is authentic. And to me, there's nothing better than authenticity. That's what mainstream music lacks, and that's what makes these guys, in all there incestuous glory, the best thing happening in music right now.
As always, thank you Matty.
Christopher Park
Christopher Park is a strange place. It isn't really much of a "park" per say, as it is a collection of benches and statues, but what do you expect in NYC. We need places to park, not parks.
There are these life sized bronze statues that are painted white. Apparently they were an ode to the Gay Liberation movement which was essentially started with the 1969 Stonewall Rebellion. But the statues are just creepy and weird. Not because they depict two gay couples, but because they're so white and glaringly apparent. They stick out like a sore thumb amidst the brick path and green vegetation. They also take up space! One of the couples is actually sitting on the bench. Where a real gay couple could have sat. Instead they have to drink their Latte's somewhere else, perhaps on the go, because the seats are taken by fucking statues. I'll never understand that.
But you know what, all that is fine really, who gives a shit at the end of the day. I'm not going to use the park so fuck it. But it's the people that DO use this park that make it really strange.
I was in a cab on my way to a screening on Hudson and Leroy last week. The cabbie took a quick cut-through down Grove St. so I got a good look at the Park in the morning, around 10:30am or so. I actually took out my notebook to make an accurate notation of the scene playing out before me. First of all, there were no noticeable homosexuals in the park. The crowd was much meaner. The collection of men before me seemed hardened by life. Two were clearly vagrants, and had the accessories to go with the style. No shopping cart, but plenty of plastic and garbage bags. There was also one younger male seated in the same group of benches that had a serious heroin lean going on. Though on closer examination "he" could have been a "she." It's hair was long and ratty, it's clothes androgynous and filthy. Every time it looked like it would topple over and off the bench, the he/she would abruptly jerk itself back into a semi-upright position, and begin falling forward all over again. I imagine that continued for several hours.
Sitting opposite them was an overweight Spanish man who's stained shirt was clearly to small, and rode above his belly button. There, a small pug like dog stood perched, backlegs on the mans thighs, front legs placed on top of the mans gut, so that man and mutt were met, eye to eye. He spoke, but it was unclear to whom. The dog? The Vagrants? I'll never know. Next to him were two less dirty looking people (from my vantage point that is), but one seemed to be howling complete nonsense directly to the sky above, and the other was motionless. Standing in between these two seated groups was a 20's something girl with long blond hair, and an Avril Lavigne style of pop-punk. Come to think of it, she could have easily passed for her stunt double. The Avril wannabe was talking to a bald man in gray slacks and a pinkish-red checkered shirt. He was wearing blue boat shoes I noticed, and he looked a long ways out of place.
The whole atmosphere around that park had a taint to it. It was not what I expected to see in that area. Being that it's heavily infested by NYU students, I figured I'd find plenty purple hoods lounging around, pretentiously analyzing the shift from winter to spring. How wrong was I. I guess that's New York City though. You never know who will pop up where, and no matter what you think, you've never got it figured out.
There are these life sized bronze statues that are painted white. Apparently they were an ode to the Gay Liberation movement which was essentially started with the 1969 Stonewall Rebellion. But the statues are just creepy and weird. Not because they depict two gay couples, but because they're so white and glaringly apparent. They stick out like a sore thumb amidst the brick path and green vegetation. They also take up space! One of the couples is actually sitting on the bench. Where a real gay couple could have sat. Instead they have to drink their Latte's somewhere else, perhaps on the go, because the seats are taken by fucking statues. I'll never understand that.
But you know what, all that is fine really, who gives a shit at the end of the day. I'm not going to use the park so fuck it. But it's the people that DO use this park that make it really strange.
I was in a cab on my way to a screening on Hudson and Leroy last week. The cabbie took a quick cut-through down Grove St. so I got a good look at the Park in the morning, around 10:30am or so. I actually took out my notebook to make an accurate notation of the scene playing out before me. First of all, there were no noticeable homosexuals in the park. The crowd was much meaner. The collection of men before me seemed hardened by life. Two were clearly vagrants, and had the accessories to go with the style. No shopping cart, but plenty of plastic and garbage bags. There was also one younger male seated in the same group of benches that had a serious heroin lean going on. Though on closer examination "he" could have been a "she." It's hair was long and ratty, it's clothes androgynous and filthy. Every time it looked like it would topple over and off the bench, the he/she would abruptly jerk itself back into a semi-upright position, and begin falling forward all over again. I imagine that continued for several hours.
Sitting opposite them was an overweight Spanish man who's stained shirt was clearly to small, and rode above his belly button. There, a small pug like dog stood perched, backlegs on the mans thighs, front legs placed on top of the mans gut, so that man and mutt were met, eye to eye. He spoke, but it was unclear to whom. The dog? The Vagrants? I'll never know. Next to him were two less dirty looking people (from my vantage point that is), but one seemed to be howling complete nonsense directly to the sky above, and the other was motionless. Standing in between these two seated groups was a 20's something girl with long blond hair, and an Avril Lavigne style of pop-punk. Come to think of it, she could have easily passed for her stunt double. The Avril wannabe was talking to a bald man in gray slacks and a pinkish-red checkered shirt. He was wearing blue boat shoes I noticed, and he looked a long ways out of place.
The whole atmosphere around that park had a taint to it. It was not what I expected to see in that area. Being that it's heavily infested by NYU students, I figured I'd find plenty purple hoods lounging around, pretentiously analyzing the shift from winter to spring. How wrong was I. I guess that's New York City though. You never know who will pop up where, and no matter what you think, you've never got it figured out.
SOD: Gary Clark Jr. "Bright Lights"
This ones for you Bub.
Anyone who says that rock is dead, is wrong. It's suffered, surely, as has every genre of music since the rap and electronic age have lambasted their predecessors and taken over the youths airwaves. And being that rap is to my generation, what classic rock was to my parents generation, there's not a perfectly shaped box for rock these days to fit into. There's still a lot of people who love it, but dare I say, it's starting to age. But that doesn't mean that there's a lack of talent. Doyle Bramhall II has toured with Roger Waters and was Claptons second guitarist from 2004 to 2009. During certain performances, his solos even outshone old Slow Hands. Derek Trucks, case and point. And there's some younger bucks vying for notoriety as well, like Gary Clark Jr.
Gary Clark Jr. is the nephew of the "Godfather of the Austin Blues," W.C. Clark. The name may not stand out to you, but chances are you've heard him. He formed a Revue in 1975, and played with them through the 80's at venues all over the world. The group had, at different times, James Brown, The 3 Kings (B.B., Albert, and Freddy), Sam and Dave (of Hold On I'm Comin and Soul Man fame), Elvin Bishop, and Bobby Blue Bland. W.C. even wrote "Cold Shot" which went on to become one of Stevie Ray Vaughn's biggest hits. The man is a living legend. If you really love the blues, you know the impact this man had on it. The only full album I own by him is Texas Soul, which is actually more of a R&B/Soul album than a straight blues album overall, but it's a testament to his diversity, and amazing voice and emotionality.
Which brings me back to Gary Clark Jr. This kid could wind up being great. He comes from good stock and he's certainly got a distinct sound. He's been able to pick up on what his uncle hinted at, blurring the lines between genres. The songs that are out there, and the performances on youtube paint an interesting picture. He has the ability to get very deep into the blues rock genre if he wants. Hendrix comparisons have been thrown out there, and some Lenny Kravitz similarities have been pointed out on the more edgy mainstream rock stuff. But he also has a very soft side. "Things Are Changin'" is a simple but beautiful song focusing on lyrics and vocals, as opposed to straight guitar work. It's nice to see that he has some diversity, that will certainly go a long way if he intends on making a career out of it. I'm certainly interested in what's to come. If "Bright Lights" is any indication, he's definitely got the potential...
Anyone who says that rock is dead, is wrong. It's suffered, surely, as has every genre of music since the rap and electronic age have lambasted their predecessors and taken over the youths airwaves. And being that rap is to my generation, what classic rock was to my parents generation, there's not a perfectly shaped box for rock these days to fit into. There's still a lot of people who love it, but dare I say, it's starting to age. But that doesn't mean that there's a lack of talent. Doyle Bramhall II has toured with Roger Waters and was Claptons second guitarist from 2004 to 2009. During certain performances, his solos even outshone old Slow Hands. Derek Trucks, case and point. And there's some younger bucks vying for notoriety as well, like Gary Clark Jr.
Gary Clark Jr. is the nephew of the "Godfather of the Austin Blues," W.C. Clark. The name may not stand out to you, but chances are you've heard him. He formed a Revue in 1975, and played with them through the 80's at venues all over the world. The group had, at different times, James Brown, The 3 Kings (B.B., Albert, and Freddy), Sam and Dave (of Hold On I'm Comin and Soul Man fame), Elvin Bishop, and Bobby Blue Bland. W.C. even wrote "Cold Shot" which went on to become one of Stevie Ray Vaughn's biggest hits. The man is a living legend. If you really love the blues, you know the impact this man had on it. The only full album I own by him is Texas Soul, which is actually more of a R&B/Soul album than a straight blues album overall, but it's a testament to his diversity, and amazing voice and emotionality.
Which brings me back to Gary Clark Jr. This kid could wind up being great. He comes from good stock and he's certainly got a distinct sound. He's been able to pick up on what his uncle hinted at, blurring the lines between genres. The songs that are out there, and the performances on youtube paint an interesting picture. He has the ability to get very deep into the blues rock genre if he wants. Hendrix comparisons have been thrown out there, and some Lenny Kravitz similarities have been pointed out on the more edgy mainstream rock stuff. But he also has a very soft side. "Things Are Changin'" is a simple but beautiful song focusing on lyrics and vocals, as opposed to straight guitar work. It's nice to see that he has some diversity, that will certainly go a long way if he intends on making a career out of it. I'm certainly interested in what's to come. If "Bright Lights" is any indication, he's definitely got the potential...
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
SOD: Levon Helm "Ophelia"
The Ramble at the Ryman won the 2012 Grammy for Best Americana Album. That's after his album Electric Dirt won the inaugural 2010 Grammy for the category. And that was after his 2007 comeback album Dirt Farmer won the Best Traditional Folk Album Grammy.
The Last Waltz version of this classic is one of my favorites. Maybe I like the way it's filmed too. The later look at Levon is really pertinent. I thought he still had that long in the tooth kind of youth paradox, and most certainly his chops. The American did us proud.
The American
Mike reminded me today that Levon Helm is the sole and great American in The Band. I say "is" because I'm assuming he's still alive, but it seems like a minute to minute thing. The family is already making its "final stages of his battle" announcements. Then Matt passed on a Robbie Robertson facebook post to me. It was sad. And Matt said that no grudge is so big that you can't get past it. But that's the kind of guy Matt is. "You'd think he would have learned after Danko and Manny died," he said. But nope. Music is a funny thing like that. It's not just a job, it's everything. It's your soul on display. Every ounce of your emotion is in it. Everything's on the table when your a musician. And so even a minor offense or disagreement, can cause to damage of epic proportion. And oh yea, there's money. My father always said that your best friend will sooner forgive you for a punch in the face, then for stiffing him 20 bucks. Money makes people act funny.
Robertson owns almost all the publishing and songwriting royalties. The common picture painted is that he and only he made the decision to leave The Band, and set out for a more Hollywood driven path with his new pal Marty Scorsese. The Last Waltz (directed by Scorsese) was his last hurrah, and became an utter ode to Robertson, leaving people like Richard Manuel barely a shot. Helms blamed Robertsons departure and greed for Manny's ultimate suicide in 1986, Robertson blamed Helms pressuring of Manny to join the restructured lineup of the band for the same tragedy. The feud continued for decades. Until apparently Levon is on his deathbed, and Robertson has kind words. Fuck that I say.
Matt was right, no grudge should be that big. Especially after all they had created together. But it was, and neither of them made it right. Amends at the deathbed don't count. That's convenient and cliche. A total copout. Robertson gets to visit Levon and essentially say, "I outlasted you." The consensus says Robertson's an asshole, and maybe he is. But it doesn't change anything, and for Levon it's over.
I'll always remember him as distinctly unique. When I was young he was "the drummer that sang." Not Henley or Collins. His vocal style was soulful but dusty. Old before its time. His drumming was distinctly driven, yet soulful and smooth when necessary. And even after the first bout with Throat Cancer that left him visibly older, he still had that Sandbox Style I love. He'd be hunched over, immersed in his kit with this childlike smile on his face. There's no one else like him. I saw him with Steve Earle at the Beacon theater in late 2010. Levon was front stage right, and we got a great look at him. He seemed pretty damn healthy.
I was pretty damn upset when I heard Amy Winehouse died, but I wasn't surprised. With Levon, I'm not surprised, but I'm shaken. I never got to a ramble upstate New York. I'll forever be disappointed in myself for not having been more proactive about it. Sometimes things slip through the cracks, it happens. But it shouldn't have with that. We'll miss him that's for sure, as we watch another great go from life to legend.
Robertson owns almost all the publishing and songwriting royalties. The common picture painted is that he and only he made the decision to leave The Band, and set out for a more Hollywood driven path with his new pal Marty Scorsese. The Last Waltz (directed by Scorsese) was his last hurrah, and became an utter ode to Robertson, leaving people like Richard Manuel barely a shot. Helms blamed Robertsons departure and greed for Manny's ultimate suicide in 1986, Robertson blamed Helms pressuring of Manny to join the restructured lineup of the band for the same tragedy. The feud continued for decades. Until apparently Levon is on his deathbed, and Robertson has kind words. Fuck that I say.
Matt was right, no grudge should be that big. Especially after all they had created together. But it was, and neither of them made it right. Amends at the deathbed don't count. That's convenient and cliche. A total copout. Robertson gets to visit Levon and essentially say, "I outlasted you." The consensus says Robertson's an asshole, and maybe he is. But it doesn't change anything, and for Levon it's over.
I'll always remember him as distinctly unique. When I was young he was "the drummer that sang." Not Henley or Collins. His vocal style was soulful but dusty. Old before its time. His drumming was distinctly driven, yet soulful and smooth when necessary. And even after the first bout with Throat Cancer that left him visibly older, he still had that Sandbox Style I love. He'd be hunched over, immersed in his kit with this childlike smile on his face. There's no one else like him. I saw him with Steve Earle at the Beacon theater in late 2010. Levon was front stage right, and we got a great look at him. He seemed pretty damn healthy.
I was pretty damn upset when I heard Amy Winehouse died, but I wasn't surprised. With Levon, I'm not surprised, but I'm shaken. I never got to a ramble upstate New York. I'll forever be disappointed in myself for not having been more proactive about it. Sometimes things slip through the cracks, it happens. But it shouldn't have with that. We'll miss him that's for sure, as we watch another great go from life to legend.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
You Can't Handle The Truth Pt.2
Yes, I'm continuing my exploration of this myth called "The Truth." In this instance, I will briefly display to you how the truth is not only inappropriate, but can get you in a lot of trouble. No, it's not dirty.
If you have a significant other, it's often times best not to argue with them in public. I think everyone can agree with that. Especially don't air your dirty laundry, but even small fights can be uncomfortable for everyone. That being said, you don't want to correct or disagree with your partner in those instances when they're wrong, in company. If they say something that is factually inaccurate like, "Montana is bordered by Florida to the North, and Chicago to the West," do not point out the problems. Instead, you are expected to nod your head and pass the lie on approvingly. Failure to do so, will earn you daggers.
Now the reason for this is because the facts don't matter. What was being said doesn't even matter. All that matters is your significant other was speaking and you are expected to support them. Unconditionally. Whether they suddenly announce that they're running for State Senate, or the decide that they want to get all geographical. The appropriate action is to simply approve of everything they do and say, and later on in the privacy of your home, reprimand, correct, belittle, berate, and demean them as necessary.
I learned this quite some time ago. We all have to. One usually has to touch the stove to know it's hot, they can't simply be told. It was a similar story on this issue. I learned first hand, and since then I've circumvented entering those waters again quite nicely. You know, just one small example of why telling the truth is stupid.
If you have a significant other, it's often times best not to argue with them in public. I think everyone can agree with that. Especially don't air your dirty laundry, but even small fights can be uncomfortable for everyone. That being said, you don't want to correct or disagree with your partner in those instances when they're wrong, in company. If they say something that is factually inaccurate like, "Montana is bordered by Florida to the North, and Chicago to the West," do not point out the problems. Instead, you are expected to nod your head and pass the lie on approvingly. Failure to do so, will earn you daggers.
Now the reason for this is because the facts don't matter. What was being said doesn't even matter. All that matters is your significant other was speaking and you are expected to support them. Unconditionally. Whether they suddenly announce that they're running for State Senate, or the decide that they want to get all geographical. The appropriate action is to simply approve of everything they do and say, and later on in the privacy of your home, reprimand, correct, belittle, berate, and demean them as necessary.
I learned this quite some time ago. We all have to. One usually has to touch the stove to know it's hot, they can't simply be told. It was a similar story on this issue. I learned first hand, and since then I've circumvented entering those waters again quite nicely. You know, just one small example of why telling the truth is stupid.
SOD: The Lovin' Spoonful "Summer in the City"
It was in the 80's yesterday. It's 73 degrees right now. NYC is heating up. Skirts, shorts, sandals, and sun. The bars and restaurants open their windows and doors, suddenly everything is more scenic. The heat hasn't been consistent enough as to start the summer smells of this great city thank god. But the simple fact that more and more people are coming out of hibernation leads one to assume that soon enough congestion and filth will accompany them. Yes I know it's only April but Oh, how I love Summer in the City.
You know how it goes:
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head.
The summer days in the city are shit. Plain and simple. I'd give anything to be anywhere else on a hot summer day. The walk to work starts out nice, but 3 minutes in I'm sweating like a rapist. By time I get to the office, I have to change my shirt (as I always keep a spare), and I only wish I could do the same with my underwear. But then, for all intensive purposes, I spend the next nine or so hours in a freezer drawer. I say that, because my office is one compartment in a larger area that's kept around 40 degrees. Industrial air conditioning doesn't work by an on/off switch. It takes time to get that puppy running. They set a temperature in the morning, and the machine takes a substantial amount of time to get there. So naturally, they set the temperature very low, as to get there as quickly as possible. Which means that around 10am its bearable, and by 1pm, its the Arctic. But just in my section of course. The rest of the office hovers around a euphoric 69 degrees. As usual, the world is out to fuck me.
Once I leave, I'm so thankful to have the warm hug of spring on my skin, that I forget within two minutes I'll be suffocated by it, drenched in sweat all over again. But now I'm complaining about that which everyone must endure. The only reason we even put up with it is because the night time, is the right time, baby. As the song continues:
But at night it's a different world,
go out and find a girl
come-on come-on and dance all night
despite the heat it'll be alright
And babe, don't you know it's a pity
that the days can't be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city.
Well put gents. There's nothing like the light of the world at 8 o'clock on a summer night. Everything just feels right. Hey, it's what we worked for all winter. And though we're losing it as soon as we've got it, somehow we all do actually live in the moment, and just appreciate it for what it is. Summer. In all it's glory. Yea the days are tough if you're in the city, but in the nighttime, everyones young again. You get this gusto in your gut. This need to get out and walk with a little kick in your step. You're The Man right now. You feel good. Ain't nothin' gonna stop you. You may just even give a little smirk, or even a wink if you're feeling extra peppy, to the next girl you see comin' the other way. Hell, it's summer for her too and she deserves it for losing the layers.
Cool town, evening in the city
Dressing so fine and looking so pretty
Cool cat, looking for a kitty
Gonna look in every corner of the city
'Til I'm wheezing like a bus stop
Running up the stairs, gonna meet you on the rooftop
And it is a cool town, even if not in temperature. I give NYC a lot of shit, but I'll never say it ain't cool. It's cutting edge, it's trendy, it's pretentious, it's artsy, sometimes folky, definitely mature but with a playful side, if not at times completely immature and raucous. No, that doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's because it's not supposed to. Every different person you see from street to street, village to village, is different. And that's cool. There's a friendly place for everyone to get down in. Summer in the city baby, you know it's coming.
You know how it goes:
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head.
The summer days in the city are shit. Plain and simple. I'd give anything to be anywhere else on a hot summer day. The walk to work starts out nice, but 3 minutes in I'm sweating like a rapist. By time I get to the office, I have to change my shirt (as I always keep a spare), and I only wish I could do the same with my underwear. But then, for all intensive purposes, I spend the next nine or so hours in a freezer drawer. I say that, because my office is one compartment in a larger area that's kept around 40 degrees. Industrial air conditioning doesn't work by an on/off switch. It takes time to get that puppy running. They set a temperature in the morning, and the machine takes a substantial amount of time to get there. So naturally, they set the temperature very low, as to get there as quickly as possible. Which means that around 10am its bearable, and by 1pm, its the Arctic. But just in my section of course. The rest of the office hovers around a euphoric 69 degrees. As usual, the world is out to fuck me.
Once I leave, I'm so thankful to have the warm hug of spring on my skin, that I forget within two minutes I'll be suffocated by it, drenched in sweat all over again. But now I'm complaining about that which everyone must endure. The only reason we even put up with it is because the night time, is the right time, baby. As the song continues:
But at night it's a different world,
go out and find a girl
come-on come-on and dance all night
despite the heat it'll be alright
And babe, don't you know it's a pity
that the days can't be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city.
Well put gents. There's nothing like the light of the world at 8 o'clock on a summer night. Everything just feels right. Hey, it's what we worked for all winter. And though we're losing it as soon as we've got it, somehow we all do actually live in the moment, and just appreciate it for what it is. Summer. In all it's glory. Yea the days are tough if you're in the city, but in the nighttime, everyones young again. You get this gusto in your gut. This need to get out and walk with a little kick in your step. You're The Man right now. You feel good. Ain't nothin' gonna stop you. You may just even give a little smirk, or even a wink if you're feeling extra peppy, to the next girl you see comin' the other way. Hell, it's summer for her too and she deserves it for losing the layers.
Cool town, evening in the city
Dressing so fine and looking so pretty
Cool cat, looking for a kitty
Gonna look in every corner of the city
'Til I'm wheezing like a bus stop
Running up the stairs, gonna meet you on the rooftop
And it is a cool town, even if not in temperature. I give NYC a lot of shit, but I'll never say it ain't cool. It's cutting edge, it's trendy, it's pretentious, it's artsy, sometimes folky, definitely mature but with a playful side, if not at times completely immature and raucous. No, that doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's because it's not supposed to. Every different person you see from street to street, village to village, is different. And that's cool. There's a friendly place for everyone to get down in. Summer in the city baby, you know it's coming.
Monday, April 16, 2012
SOD: Gotye "Somebody That I Used To Know"
I've done something odd here. The SOD is a song I don't like. Is anyone else tired of hearing it? Or tired of being sent the link to the version by "Walk Off The Earth?" One more time now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gtl8K0kO4P4&feature=fvst
It was novel at first. The song and the above performance. But christ, they went on the ellen show! You see, songs like this rarely have a chance in my book. They get smeared across every platform possible including commercials, and they're played, used, talked about, and pushed beyond the limit. Look, I did the same thing by posting it here, so now I'm adding to the problem.
Granted, I never liked the song. The first time I heard it, I changed it before I even got to the chorus. Peter Gabriel wannabe I thought, and I just wasn't in the mood. Then Kimbo told me she liked it. So I listened to it all the way through. I wasn't really entertained. I'm not gonna bash the song to hell because it doesn't deserve that, but I'm not going to lie either. The song is tacky to me. It's a matter of opinion, I'm not judging you if you like it, we're just not going to meet eye to eye on this one.
I think I can see why people like it though. A catchy enough melody and the guy sounds somewhat like Sting or the aforementioned Peter Gabriel. And it's got that indie factor to it that makes it seem edgy and above the mainstream pop-culture madness. But it's not. The lyrics are good enough I guess, but it's about your same old "break-up and revisit the relationship" type theme. It isn't the worst thing in the world, but whining about it through the chorus doesn't win points with me. Again, personal preference.
I loved Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes' first single, "Home." That catchy little tune did get under my skin, and had me whistling dixie for a solid two weeks. But then, it went mainstream. And mainstream isn't necessarily the problem. Why shouldn't everyone get to hear an awesome tune? The problem is, the second it goes mainstream, suits in their offices think to themselves, "how do I make money off this?" Then it winds up on add campaigns and in commercials of all sorts, and the group goes on talk shows and late night television (as is their right), and the radio can't stop playing it because if they did, then they'd be the only station that stopped playing it and everyone would tune into the other competing stations to catch it every thirty minutes. Once the machine starts, it can't stop. You hear the song in every bar and party. Then you hear the remix by whatever asshole is out there remixing these days, at every bar, club and party. Eventually, it becomes a study in conditioning or behavioral therapy. If the song isn't on, you start to think something is wrong. Suddenly your more aware if the song isn't played, hummed, or even thought about somewhere in your vicinity.
Right now, the Gotye song has damn near 190,000,000 views on youtube I'd have to guess. People are tuned in. They're eating it up. It's not a song anymore, it's a pop culture reference. It's a ring tone, it's a catchphrase, it's a trivia night answer. It's a gauge on how well you keep your finger on the pulse, and a judgement in your taste. If you don't know all the words but your friends do, you're the loser. If you don't belt out the chorus with everyone else, you're the outcast. It's the anthem of the week, maybe two if nobody else is putting something out right now. Oh well, what can you do.
For those of you who love it, enjoy. For those of you who don't, I'm ready to take the fruit, lettuce and tomatoes before being booed off stage.
It was novel at first. The song and the above performance. But christ, they went on the ellen show! You see, songs like this rarely have a chance in my book. They get smeared across every platform possible including commercials, and they're played, used, talked about, and pushed beyond the limit. Look, I did the same thing by posting it here, so now I'm adding to the problem.
Granted, I never liked the song. The first time I heard it, I changed it before I even got to the chorus. Peter Gabriel wannabe I thought, and I just wasn't in the mood. Then Kimbo told me she liked it. So I listened to it all the way through. I wasn't really entertained. I'm not gonna bash the song to hell because it doesn't deserve that, but I'm not going to lie either. The song is tacky to me. It's a matter of opinion, I'm not judging you if you like it, we're just not going to meet eye to eye on this one.
I think I can see why people like it though. A catchy enough melody and the guy sounds somewhat like Sting or the aforementioned Peter Gabriel. And it's got that indie factor to it that makes it seem edgy and above the mainstream pop-culture madness. But it's not. The lyrics are good enough I guess, but it's about your same old "break-up and revisit the relationship" type theme. It isn't the worst thing in the world, but whining about it through the chorus doesn't win points with me. Again, personal preference.
I loved Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes' first single, "Home." That catchy little tune did get under my skin, and had me whistling dixie for a solid two weeks. But then, it went mainstream. And mainstream isn't necessarily the problem. Why shouldn't everyone get to hear an awesome tune? The problem is, the second it goes mainstream, suits in their offices think to themselves, "how do I make money off this?" Then it winds up on add campaigns and in commercials of all sorts, and the group goes on talk shows and late night television (as is their right), and the radio can't stop playing it because if they did, then they'd be the only station that stopped playing it and everyone would tune into the other competing stations to catch it every thirty minutes. Once the machine starts, it can't stop. You hear the song in every bar and party. Then you hear the remix by whatever asshole is out there remixing these days, at every bar, club and party. Eventually, it becomes a study in conditioning or behavioral therapy. If the song isn't on, you start to think something is wrong. Suddenly your more aware if the song isn't played, hummed, or even thought about somewhere in your vicinity.
Right now, the Gotye song has damn near 190,000,000 views on youtube I'd have to guess. People are tuned in. They're eating it up. It's not a song anymore, it's a pop culture reference. It's a ring tone, it's a catchphrase, it's a trivia night answer. It's a gauge on how well you keep your finger on the pulse, and a judgement in your taste. If you don't know all the words but your friends do, you're the loser. If you don't belt out the chorus with everyone else, you're the outcast. It's the anthem of the week, maybe two if nobody else is putting something out right now. Oh well, what can you do.
For those of you who love it, enjoy. For those of you who don't, I'm ready to take the fruit, lettuce and tomatoes before being booed off stage.
Sea of Red
'Bo and I were driving home from a birthday party Sunday night on Long Island. The good old 495 (Long Island Expressway). Obviously there was traffic, people were heading home to their city abodes, gearing up for a big monday. It had just gotten officially "dark" out and the sea of red lights that we sat in reminded me of when I was a young kid. When I was around ten lets say, that sea of red was one of the most amazing things I had ever seen. My family and I would drive back home to the suburbs from Amagansett or East Hampton every Sunday night on the 495. Together we'd sit in that same traffic together, listening to Bob Dylan cassettes, or The Stones. Sometimes Bundell would get her way and slip some Pat Metheny or Steely Dan past the stone cold rock n' roll ears of Old Daddy Dan. Othertimes we'd listen to her recount the last 15 pages of that book she'd read, or the East Hampton Starr. I guess it didn't really matter. It was routine by then, and it was nice to be together at least.
And that sea of red never got old back then. Every time I saw it, I would gaze in amazement at not only how many cars there were, but how bright those lights would get. How they snaked out to the horizon and beyond. So much red, and so vivid. Funny how I never turned around to see if it was the same thing in white, behind us. But it was one of those things that made me wonder about how much I didn't know. It was about that age when I started internalizing the fact that there was a bigger world out there than my own. That were thousands of different people on this same stretch of highway, all going somewhere different than me, with their own complexities and lives. But as soon as that thought entered my brain, it immediately got tangled up and reprocessed because it was far too big for me to wrap my head around then. I'd go back to listening to the music, and everything would be as it should.
Nowadays, that red sets me off like a Bull at a fight. It only means time wasted, staring at the ass of some SUV. You think to yourself, "Shit, I could be at home right now sitting on the couch", as if that's SO different than sitting in the car. You know, they say you spend about 3 years of your life waiting in line. I don't know if traffic was necessarily factored into that equation, but I sure as hell hope so. 3 years of a 70 year life. 3 long years.
That's why music is essential. I'll wait in line for double that time if I've got headphones and a little space to tap my toes. If I'm in a car, forget about it. That's my equivalent of a spa treatment, though I acknowledge that probably doesn't work for the 99%. If I've got nowhere to be, I'll sit in traffic for as long as you want if I've got some tunes and preferably an auxiliary input in the car with cable for my ipod. But hey, no sweat, I always keep a couple burned discs handy in my bag. You never know, right? They don't call me the Music Nazi for nothing, but I'm getting better.
Now chances are you've always got somewhere to be, but that's not my point. When you're stuck in line or traffic, clearly, you're not going anywhere. And why fight it? Can't let that blood pressure get too high, we eat enough salt as it is. It's our own fault anyway. We decided to keep making babies and crowd into congested areas together. You could live in Montana. You don't wait in lines there. But we choose to live in areas where millions of other people do the same exact shit we do. You buy coldcuts, you get haircuts. You have to fill your car with gas, and you have to go to the doctor. You want to watch the Yankees at the stadium and the bar. And we're stuck in line every time we want to do it.
Sure, it can wear on you. It should really. That's why my ipod is a hand-in-the-pocket away, though I have been proficient in working my ipod flawlessly through the pants for years now. I know, you're impressed. I make a "Top Picks" playlists that's about 2500 songs deep, and throw the bitch on random. Depending on the fabric of my pants, I can even work the volume wheel from outside the pocket, but even if I'm in Jeans, I can always work the FWD, BACK, Pause/Play, and Menu functions. Maybe I'm crazy. Fuck that, I'm nuts. But I'm not going to stand, sit, kneel, or hang in line without music.
I'm really not prepared to do anything without music when I think about it. I wake up, throw the ipod in the dock in the bathroom and scrub. Pop the headphones in the jack and walk to work. Start up the Mac, link the ipod to the comp, and listen through the external speakers on my desk. 7pm, what? Closing time? Here we go. Headphones in jack, walk home, Ipod back in the dock, and on goes the Yanks game. Who needs announcers when I've got the new Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes single to overplay. I even made Kimi download it on her iphone...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyzacUdRlx4
Friday, April 13, 2012
Always Button The Toes
Something strange happened to me on the way home from school the other day. I was riding that train, high on cocaine, and I had to check my mirrors to make sure I wasn't being followed. When the Captain told me my stop had arrived, I got on, closed the doors, and proceeded to make a mockery of the pills I took to stay sane. Often times I wonder if I had chosen correctly that day, or if a release valve was found, would it stabilize the pressure? If you'd heard them sing it like I did, no doubt you'd agree it was time for alternating the letters. It can come and go so quickly, if you don't pay strict attention to each part for that moment. "Cheer up." Punch on the shoulder turn kiss on the forehead, shake the hand, bend down, pick up the luggage and choose the street over the sidewalk. Remember to tie each lace twice and button the toes. Always button the toes.
That's how you stay sharp.
I'm guessing you're as perplexed as I was when I first saw this. Cleaning out a bin under my desk, I came across some odds and ends. An old Cherry Chapstick (that made me think of a song), some paperclips, bills, a Weinstein Company budget report I had done for an animated foreign feature called "The Blue Elephant." You know, shit everyone's got lying around. Then I found an old hardbound sketchbook I had. Christ, I thought to myself, I haven't written in one of these since college. And when I opened the cover, a single loose-leaf page fell out. It was perfectly folded in half. I opened it up, and there, written in blue ink, was the above note.
The first thing I noticed was, "this is NOT my hand-writing." Way too neat, way too small. Then I realized, the last line, "That's how you stay sharp." Holy shit. I knew exactly what is was, there was no doubt in my mind. I was now fully immersed in a memory, that I hadn't thought about in a very long time.
Somewhere's around 2002, some people I know (ahem), ate some mushrooms. These mushrooms were not the kind mama cooks with, unless you're mom is fucking nuts which, is probably the case for many of you. So to clarify, these mushrooms were the Psilocybin kind. Now listen, I don't condone drug use at all. Seriously. Most people are way to unstable to handle reality as it is, and they certainly shouldn't be altering it. But for those of you who do partake in the extracurriculars of life, you will be able to relate. You see, everything seems clearer, but nothing makes sense when you're on mushrooms. It's not worth trying to describe the feeling, you either know it or you don't. College was the time to know about these things. It was the time when you could get lost for a night on the streets of Boston, and wake up the next day on a friends couch with peanut butter, nutella, and honey smeared across your face, wearing a mesh shirt, underwear you didn't own, and Mocassins you'd never seen before, and that'd be ok. Frankly, in the eyes of some, that'd be a normal thursday.
Let me quell the uprising in your heads. This was not normal for me. Granted, I'm known to have fallen asleep in some odd places before, but nutella? Come on, I never touch the stuff. But on one obviously eventful night, when we ate a few more caps than we should have, some very odd things went down. This is life. This is experimentation at its finest. Sometimes all the television shows and second hand accounts in the world just aren't enough. You've got to do it for yourself, kids. And that goes for driving stick shift to tripping on mushrooms. Again, I don't condone it. Most of you can't handle it. Obviously on that fateful night, neither could we.
But I think I've made this out to be a bit more dramatic than it was. Most of the night I remember somewhat clearly. There was a lot of singing and music, and brotherly love amongst roommates. There was a lot of laughing, more music, and impassioned discussions of alternate universes, the "Baka" tribe of Cameroon (pygmy's, though that name is no longer considered respectful), and why the removal of "This product contains saccharin, which has been determined to cause cancer in laboratory animals," from Sweet'N Low packets was evidence of a government conspiracy. By the end of the night we all probably agreed there was a cure for cancer, the government just didn't want to distribute it to the masses because it would cause the collapse of the drug companies that owned our country. You know, one of those nights.
But back to the loose-leaf that made me think of all this. At one point in the night, we all got out our pens and paper, and started writing. I don't know if you'd really call it free association, but it was somewhere between that, and a half-assed attempt to write down all the magical things that were going on in our minds. Twisted? yes. Silly? Most certainly. Worth it? You'd better believe it. So I read that piece of paper now, eight years or so after the events that transpired that night, and had myself a good laugh in private. "That's how you stay sharp," was a line that was ingrained in my head forever. I remember waking up the next day, and saying that line to myself, rather puzzled about it. "That's how you stay sharp," he had said to me, and for some reason, I never forgot it. How I wound up with someone else's paper, I'll never know. Maybe one of the other guys has mine, and the same re-discovery has happened to him. Either way, the moral of this story is that if you're going to clean out your drawers, be prepared for the weird.
That's how you stay sharp.
I'm guessing you're as perplexed as I was when I first saw this. Cleaning out a bin under my desk, I came across some odds and ends. An old Cherry Chapstick (that made me think of a song), some paperclips, bills, a Weinstein Company budget report I had done for an animated foreign feature called "The Blue Elephant." You know, shit everyone's got lying around. Then I found an old hardbound sketchbook I had. Christ, I thought to myself, I haven't written in one of these since college. And when I opened the cover, a single loose-leaf page fell out. It was perfectly folded in half. I opened it up, and there, written in blue ink, was the above note.
The first thing I noticed was, "this is NOT my hand-writing." Way too neat, way too small. Then I realized, the last line, "That's how you stay sharp." Holy shit. I knew exactly what is was, there was no doubt in my mind. I was now fully immersed in a memory, that I hadn't thought about in a very long time.
Somewhere's around 2002, some people I know (ahem), ate some mushrooms. These mushrooms were not the kind mama cooks with, unless you're mom is fucking nuts which, is probably the case for many of you. So to clarify, these mushrooms were the Psilocybin kind. Now listen, I don't condone drug use at all. Seriously. Most people are way to unstable to handle reality as it is, and they certainly shouldn't be altering it. But for those of you who do partake in the extracurriculars of life, you will be able to relate. You see, everything seems clearer, but nothing makes sense when you're on mushrooms. It's not worth trying to describe the feeling, you either know it or you don't. College was the time to know about these things. It was the time when you could get lost for a night on the streets of Boston, and wake up the next day on a friends couch with peanut butter, nutella, and honey smeared across your face, wearing a mesh shirt, underwear you didn't own, and Mocassins you'd never seen before, and that'd be ok. Frankly, in the eyes of some, that'd be a normal thursday.
Let me quell the uprising in your heads. This was not normal for me. Granted, I'm known to have fallen asleep in some odd places before, but nutella? Come on, I never touch the stuff. But on one obviously eventful night, when we ate a few more caps than we should have, some very odd things went down. This is life. This is experimentation at its finest. Sometimes all the television shows and second hand accounts in the world just aren't enough. You've got to do it for yourself, kids. And that goes for driving stick shift to tripping on mushrooms. Again, I don't condone it. Most of you can't handle it. Obviously on that fateful night, neither could we.
But I think I've made this out to be a bit more dramatic than it was. Most of the night I remember somewhat clearly. There was a lot of singing and music, and brotherly love amongst roommates. There was a lot of laughing, more music, and impassioned discussions of alternate universes, the "Baka" tribe of Cameroon (pygmy's, though that name is no longer considered respectful), and why the removal of "This product contains saccharin, which has been determined to cause cancer in laboratory animals," from Sweet'N Low packets was evidence of a government conspiracy. By the end of the night we all probably agreed there was a cure for cancer, the government just didn't want to distribute it to the masses because it would cause the collapse of the drug companies that owned our country. You know, one of those nights.
But back to the loose-leaf that made me think of all this. At one point in the night, we all got out our pens and paper, and started writing. I don't know if you'd really call it free association, but it was somewhere between that, and a half-assed attempt to write down all the magical things that were going on in our minds. Twisted? yes. Silly? Most certainly. Worth it? You'd better believe it. So I read that piece of paper now, eight years or so after the events that transpired that night, and had myself a good laugh in private. "That's how you stay sharp," was a line that was ingrained in my head forever. I remember waking up the next day, and saying that line to myself, rather puzzled about it. "That's how you stay sharp," he had said to me, and for some reason, I never forgot it. How I wound up with someone else's paper, I'll never know. Maybe one of the other guys has mine, and the same re-discovery has happened to him. Either way, the moral of this story is that if you're going to clean out your drawers, be prepared for the weird.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
SOD: Tedeschi Trucks Band "Learn How To Love"
If you thought Hollywood had power couples, then you've been reading to many gossip mags. I mean, what do Hollywood power couples even do together? Adopt foreign babies and make shitty movies like Mr. and Mrs. Smith? I mean, the days of Bogart and Bacall are long before my time, but I tend to treat those kinds of romances with more respect because of the way older people speak of that time. I doubt anyone from our generation will be talking about Gigli with any sense of nostalgia. To Have and To Have Not is a different story.
You see, the true Power Couple is unquestionably in music. The Tedeschi Trucks Band is years of talent, amassed into a group who knows when to cut loose and get nasty, and when to play it straight. Their album, "Revelator," won the grammy this year. It's a very nicely structured album, which focuses on the song. Every musician in this 11-piece group is a master of their craft, but they don't show it off. They each get a little piece of the album to display their "wares", but it's never forced, nor does it every seem out of sync with the song itself. That kind of humility and professionalism is something to be noted.
Thanks to some folks who have their ear closer to the ground than I do, I was able to hear the album just as it came out almost a year ago. I haven't stopped listening to it, no joke. It's another cover to cover album, not a bad track on the disc. It was the first in a while that reminded me that the blues can and should be mainstream, but without sounding dumbed down. It's really well written, and just as well produced.
The album begins and ends with Derek Trucks guitar. The man is a living legend. If you haven't seen him, you've sold yourself short. The question I often ask and answer in a cyclical pattern is, "Who Is Derek Trucks?" Is he an Allman Brother? Considering he's been playing gigs with them since he was 15, and his uncle is a founding member, that'd by a resounding YES. Is he a solo artist? Well, he has 10 albums (1 live) with the Derek Trucks Band, and he's only 32. He's played with everyone (and on their albums) from Eric Clapton to Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. From Buddy Guy, to Sax master David Sanborn (who oddly enough I saw at the Blue Note, just after his album "Here and Gone" came out, which Trucks played on - there was no surprise guest at that show). So yea, no shit he's a solo artist. And on top of all this, he now has a band with his gorgeous (in mind, body, and VOICE) fucking wife. Of course their debut wins a grammy. The simple answer is Derek Trucks is whoever he wants to be at any given moment. He's good enough that his sound can fit into any box you put it in, and usually in doing so, he'll blow the walls off that box and give you something totally new.
I don't have to keep slobbering over Trucks, anyone who knows me, knows I worship this guy. Just mention him next time your around me, and see if you can shut me up. So naturally, I felt a strong sense of paternity for Derek, you know, in his youth. That soft spoken, blond haired beauty was going to step out into the world like some kind of glorious, doey-eyed, bard, and get mauled by the double-x chromosomes of our great country. Of course that would be unacceptable. How would he choose his mate? How would I, a mere civilian, be able to insure that this greco-roman god of the 6-string had made the right choice? Someone to help him blossom a softer side in his playing, yet fill his fierce heart and loins with the boiling blood of love? The feat was tremendous. Naturally, I went to the most sacred place of thought to prepare. The bathroom. My concerns were soon quelled though, and I closed up shop on that endeavor quite quickly once I saw who was to be his everlasting love. The perfect match. A voice as mystical as Derek's guitar work.
Tedeschi is nearly a decade Truck's senior, but age doesn't show on women like that. With a voice like hers, you'd never even notice if she wasn't attractive. Lucky for her, she is. She's a Boston girl, which is a breed I understand. Boston girls go for the throat. They know what they want, and they're gonna take it, or kill you trying. Boston girls don't break nails, they bite them. Boston girls don't drink beer, they pound it. Get my drift? Now I'm sure Susan has a polished side, and as "lady-like" as she may be at times, she's got the heart of a fucking lion in that shell, and you best not forget it. She's my Bonnie Raitt. My Janis Joplin. I grew up on those two women, but one is dead, and though Bonnie is still a fox, she's a solid 20 years out of menopause. A bit past her prime if you get my drift. So I get to have Susan Tedeschi, and as contemptuous as this might sound, I wouldn't trade her in for any other female vocalist. She's got the style, the swagger, all the good stuff. And she's got the soul, and the emotion, the music runs deep in her and you feel it every time she sings.
But she's got something more as well. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it has something to do with that guitar she's got slung around her neck. It's the six-shooter at her side. If she can't sing you into loving her, she'll goddamn play you into the ground. The girls got chops, they all say it. She has a very comfortable sound, easy on the ears, the perfect accouterment to Trucks. Says Tedeschi, "I like a warmer sound. So, if I'm playing a Telecaster it has to be a warmer sounding Tele, not a straight-up maple fretboard model. I like maple fretboards for Strats and rosewood for Telecasters." Well I went from six to midnight after I read that. That's probably the sexiest thing I've ever heard, and I had no idea what it meant. I had to read up on fretboards and rosewood when I first read that interview, just to make sure I wasn't missing something. Have you ever noticed that guitar players talk about 6-strings like gearheads talk about American Muscle Cars? Turns out they're both crazy. Who knew.
But in short (haha), don't pass up the opportunity to hear this. If you even think you like the blues, this album will warm you inside out. And if you don't, then go fuck yourself. When I first saw this video quite some time ago, I was not only struck by the music, but I enjoyed how the video was shot in that epk/behind the scenes style. Its a nice look at the love and music Tedeschi and Trucks share.
EXTRA: Hall & Oates "Everytime I Look At You"
Here's a little something extra for all of you who only graze on the hits. Were you as shocked as me to hear them get this funky? Also, don't sell yourself short. As Johnny told me, "just wait for the banjo."
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
SOD: Hall and Oates "Out of Touch"
You may ask "why?"
I say, "why not?"
Sometimes something a little light, a little cheesy, is just what you need. Everyone knows Hall and Oates, but how many people really know them. That's the realm I'm beginning to enter. I've started listening to some of their more obscure albums like, War Babies (Todd Rundgren played on it and produced it, but it's been tough to get through in one sitting), and Along the Red Ledge (even if it did go certified "Gold"). And at the recommendation of a friend, I revisited Abandoned Luncheonette yesterday and today (Johnny was dead right, "Everytime I Look At You" is a hell of a jam). For the shit that they take from some people who think they're just too "toothpaste commercial," I gotta say, I find myself liking more and more of their work, as I dive deeper. Did you know they have 18 albums! Granted, 2 are cover albums, but 16 albums of original stuff. Seriously.
I've also watched the Daryl Hall / Chromeo videos made in Hall's Garage Studio. The music is pretty groovy, but what a pair! And just take a gander at the ancillary musicians who attended this particular session. Where did they find this group? A "boys only" club in Santa Fe?! Odd, doesn't even half explain: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOE1-2Fza5Q
Nonetheless, you don't have to like them or even listen to them. Just knowing that the've made it this long and are still going (no matter how many plastic surgery's it's taken...yikes Daryl), is proof enough that there's something lasting to their music. After all, 11 of those albums mentioned above went Gold, Platinum, or 2x Platinum! I'd say that warrants a second chance for all you haters out there...
I say, "why not?"
Sometimes something a little light, a little cheesy, is just what you need. Everyone knows Hall and Oates, but how many people really know them. That's the realm I'm beginning to enter. I've started listening to some of their more obscure albums like, War Babies (Todd Rundgren played on it and produced it, but it's been tough to get through in one sitting), and Along the Red Ledge (even if it did go certified "Gold"). And at the recommendation of a friend, I revisited Abandoned Luncheonette yesterday and today (Johnny was dead right, "Everytime I Look At You" is a hell of a jam). For the shit that they take from some people who think they're just too "toothpaste commercial," I gotta say, I find myself liking more and more of their work, as I dive deeper. Did you know they have 18 albums! Granted, 2 are cover albums, but 16 albums of original stuff. Seriously.
I've also watched the Daryl Hall / Chromeo videos made in Hall's Garage Studio. The music is pretty groovy, but what a pair! And just take a gander at the ancillary musicians who attended this particular session. Where did they find this group? A "boys only" club in Santa Fe?! Odd, doesn't even half explain: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOE1-2Fza5Q
Nonetheless, you don't have to like them or even listen to them. Just knowing that the've made it this long and are still going (no matter how many plastic surgery's it's taken...yikes Daryl), is proof enough that there's something lasting to their music. After all, 11 of those albums mentioned above went Gold, Platinum, or 2x Platinum! I'd say that warrants a second chance for all you haters out there...
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