Another Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame snubbery victim, Cat Stevens is as orignal as it gets. Though I believe his preferred nomenclature these days is, Yusuf Islam. Whatever you want to call him, or he want's to call himself, I call his music something to behold. I won't claim to know any of his more recent work, but I will stand behind his earlier creations. Mona Bone Jakon, released in July of 1970, is and amazing piece of work. The album is named after the nickname he gave his penis, and I can't say much to that besides, "uh, weird man." But the music is the direct creation of a year long stint in bed, as his doctors demanded he stay there to recover from a serious bout of tuberculosis and a collapsed lung. During that year, he created about 40 new songs that would birth three new albums in a 15 month period. Mona Bone Jakon was the first and my favorite, followed by Tea for the Tillerman, another amazing album with his most well known songs, and finally Teaser and the Firecat.
When Cat Stevens recovered, he re-entered the music scene with a brand new sound. He had transitioned from the pop/folk rock sound of his day, to the newly created and coined "singer-songwriter" genre. Most of the songs were significantly darker in tone, and much of his lyrics tended to deal with death, loss, and sadness. The musical arrangements were very stripped down, with bass, acoustic guitars, keyboard and minimal drums. On one of the livelier tracks, "Katmandu", the esteemed Peter Gabriel who was about 20 at the time, plays flute! Go figure...
"Trouble" starts as a softer, pleading song, but grows in intensity throughout, like many Cat Stevens pieces. He sings of trouble as a tangible entity, that he attempts to ward off. It is a warning to death to keep away, and also an admission of how life has broken him down, and there's not much left. Sad, but beautiful, it's a song that often reminds me of my vulnerability. Not to anything in particular, but simply that it exists. An acknowledgement that we're all down at some point, staring our own stripped down truths in the face. How you deal with that is up to you. My father said that in his youth, he and his friends would often listen to this song after a long night of doing whatever it is they did. They'd all be sitting around when "the party" was over, each in some state of reflection, and someone would put this vinyl on the player. The imagery of that scene fits this song. It sounds like the end. Be it of the night, or something far more permanent.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
SOD: The Red Hot Chili Peppers "Snow (Hey Oh)"
Even though the Chili Peppers were just inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and gave heart-warming and genuine acceptance speeches, that's not why I've chosen them. Though subconsciously they may have been on my mind a little more prevalently right now because of the awards show, I've chosen them because I've always had a soft spot for them. To paraphrase Chris Rock, the Chili Peppers have a sound that's a hardcore kind of happy. It's a happy that you had to be sad to get to. I thought that was the perfect description of their music. And though they've gotten a bit softer on the hind legs of their days, haven't we all?
I won't give you a drawn out explanation on this one. I'll simply say this song was fitting to the mood I was in, and nothing more at the time. And sometimes, that's just enough reason to fall in love with a song.
I won't give you a drawn out explanation on this one. I'll simply say this song was fitting to the mood I was in, and nothing more at the time. And sometimes, that's just enough reason to fall in love with a song.
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Part I: "The Rules of Engagement"
It's no secret how much I despise the Grammy Awards. I've been ranting and raving about them for quite some time. Well, it's time to add the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to that list. Congratulations guys, you've also made a sturdy attempt to take the heart out of the greatest form of art in the world, and replace it with your own self-promoting, morally abhorred competition. It's a fucking joke. How anyone can take this seriously is beyond me. And it actually pains me to say this because its co-founder, Jann Wenner, is someone I have come to really respect over the years. And I know that nobody is without their flaws, but christ almighty, this is complete and utter bullshit.
Jann Wenner has led a productive, and downright fascinating kind of life. He is the co-founder and publisher of Rolling Stone, which I'll admit is questionable at times, but nonetheless a provocative and simply interesting magazine. Especially for the interviews. Wenner has had a true eye for talent, and knack for motivating people to do their best. He gave Hunter S. Thompson a forum to let loose his imagination on the world, and Cameron Crowe credits Jann with literally giving him his "big break." Tom Wolfe acknowledges him as being the only person willing to serialize his first novel, ensuring that it was actually released, and he's had a hell of a career since. And in 1970 Jann Wenner discovered a 21 year old San Francisco Art Institute student, and hired her as a staff photographer. By 1973, she was head of the department. That woman would go on to take arguably the most iconic celebrity shots in the world. Her name was Annie Leibovitz.
So how did a guy like this, who would seem the perfect candidate to operate something as distinctive and encompassing as a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, get it so wrong? Granted, not all the blame can be placed squarely on his shoulders, there are a lot of other players and factors at work. Among them President Terry Stewart, the nominating committee member, who has actually attempted to explain the Hall of Fame's very questionable induction process:
Nomination and induction into the Hall of Fame is not about popularity, record sales, which label the group is on, or anything other than the process below. The love for, the evaluation of, and the impact of any artist are subjective questions to be answered by the nominators and the voters. Unlike baseball, football, basketball or hockey, statistics are not relevant. Please read below:
Before we do read below, I have an issue with "the above." Is it really wise to make statistics an entirely moot point? I understand not having the numbers count for everything, or even a lot, but to say they're not relevant completely discounts the public, and puts all power in the hands of first, the nominators (Nominating Committee), and then the voters, who are apparently a body of more than 500 "rock experts," but nobody knows what criteria must be met to receive that qualification. All we do know, is that neither of those groups are "the people."
Now I generally operate under the assumption that the general public has poor taste, but that doesn't mean that they shouldn't have a say, and I think the simplest way to exemplify this idea, is with certain figures. At the very least those figures give insight into popular trends and certainly to the staying power and impact of certain artists. Granted, radio may dictate the majority of what people hear, and lord knows they've always been in the pockets of the record companies, but I still think we should at least acknowledge the fact (even remotely) that the sales and chart numbers have to at least be looked at. Terry continues:
The entire nomination and induction process is coordinated by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Foundation in New York City. Individuals can be inducted in four categories: Performer, Early Influence, Non-Performer and Side-Men. The only formal criteria for the performance category is that an artist has to have had their first record 25 years ago. That said, candidates are reviewed and discussed relative to their impact on this music that we broadly call rock and roll. The innovation and influence of these artists is also critical. Gold records, number one hits, and million sellers are really not appropriate standards for evaluation.
Well that certainly explains why KISS and REO Speedwagon didn't make the cut. They sold a shit-load of records, and I believe I heard somewhere in my travels that in the late 80's, REO was the most lucrative band in the world. And I understand what the HOF is trying to do and say with the above, innovation and influence are essential points to base selection on. But the question I must ask is, are the committee members really objective when deciding which bands DO meet their standards? And more importantly, what are the criteria for becoming a member of either the nominating or voting committees!? I think thats just as important as the criteria the artists themselves must face at the end of the day, and it's still not entirely clear to me.
How are we ensured that the voters are not just a hand selected crop of Jann's and Ahmet's closest and most agreeable friends or contacts? Even if they are "industry professionals", how do we know that they were not selected because they shared similar tastes with the bosses? I'm not saying that's the way it is, but are the voters vetted individually each year? Are they rotated out regularly? Are they a diverse group of industry peoples, representing a healthy strata of tastes and knowledge, who are still nonpartisan and fair?
As for the nominating committee, I did a little research, and it seems like there's a few repeat names from past years. Guys who were around when Ahmet was alive, and on the committee with him. Jim Henke, the Hall of Fame museums curator is also conveniently on there, which puts him in the employ of Jann and at one time, Ahmet. There's also more than quite a few Rolling Stone employees of past and present, and that doesn't seem objective at all. In fact, that's the goddamned definition of rigged if you ask me. How can we be asked to put stock in that? How can we be asked to trust that? I'll tell you what, I don't and I won't. And I think it's pretty clear that they're trying to pull the wool over our eyes, and there's a little too much of that going on these days in everything else in this cruel and fucked up world. But not with music. Not with my music. You can't take that from me, I won't let you corrupt it like everything else. Because a man's got to draw a line somewhere, and I drew that line a long time ago. But it seems that as we get older, we get more forgiving with the amount of bullshit we'll put up with. It's not worth the fight, you'll say. But this is worth it. This is worth everything to me, and I'll be damned before I let these sneak-thieves and swindlers tell me, who's deserving of honors and who's not in the music I've spent my life listening to, appreciating, and loving. I'll be the judge of that from now on, thank you very much.
Jann Wenner has led a productive, and downright fascinating kind of life. He is the co-founder and publisher of Rolling Stone, which I'll admit is questionable at times, but nonetheless a provocative and simply interesting magazine. Especially for the interviews. Wenner has had a true eye for talent, and knack for motivating people to do their best. He gave Hunter S. Thompson a forum to let loose his imagination on the world, and Cameron Crowe credits Jann with literally giving him his "big break." Tom Wolfe acknowledges him as being the only person willing to serialize his first novel, ensuring that it was actually released, and he's had a hell of a career since. And in 1970 Jann Wenner discovered a 21 year old San Francisco Art Institute student, and hired her as a staff photographer. By 1973, she was head of the department. That woman would go on to take arguably the most iconic celebrity shots in the world. Her name was Annie Leibovitz.
So how did a guy like this, who would seem the perfect candidate to operate something as distinctive and encompassing as a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, get it so wrong? Granted, not all the blame can be placed squarely on his shoulders, there are a lot of other players and factors at work. Among them President Terry Stewart, the nominating committee member, who has actually attempted to explain the Hall of Fame's very questionable induction process:
Nomination and induction into the Hall of Fame is not about popularity, record sales, which label the group is on, or anything other than the process below. The love for, the evaluation of, and the impact of any artist are subjective questions to be answered by the nominators and the voters. Unlike baseball, football, basketball or hockey, statistics are not relevant. Please read below:
Before we do read below, I have an issue with "the above." Is it really wise to make statistics an entirely moot point? I understand not having the numbers count for everything, or even a lot, but to say they're not relevant completely discounts the public, and puts all power in the hands of first, the nominators (Nominating Committee), and then the voters, who are apparently a body of more than 500 "rock experts," but nobody knows what criteria must be met to receive that qualification. All we do know, is that neither of those groups are "the people."
Now I generally operate under the assumption that the general public has poor taste, but that doesn't mean that they shouldn't have a say, and I think the simplest way to exemplify this idea, is with certain figures. At the very least those figures give insight into popular trends and certainly to the staying power and impact of certain artists. Granted, radio may dictate the majority of what people hear, and lord knows they've always been in the pockets of the record companies, but I still think we should at least acknowledge the fact (even remotely) that the sales and chart numbers have to at least be looked at. Terry continues:
The entire nomination and induction process is coordinated by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Foundation in New York City. Individuals can be inducted in four categories: Performer, Early Influence, Non-Performer and Side-Men. The only formal criteria for the performance category is that an artist has to have had their first record 25 years ago. That said, candidates are reviewed and discussed relative to their impact on this music that we broadly call rock and roll. The innovation and influence of these artists is also critical. Gold records, number one hits, and million sellers are really not appropriate standards for evaluation.
Well that certainly explains why KISS and REO Speedwagon didn't make the cut. They sold a shit-load of records, and I believe I heard somewhere in my travels that in the late 80's, REO was the most lucrative band in the world. And I understand what the HOF is trying to do and say with the above, innovation and influence are essential points to base selection on. But the question I must ask is, are the committee members really objective when deciding which bands DO meet their standards? And more importantly, what are the criteria for becoming a member of either the nominating or voting committees!? I think thats just as important as the criteria the artists themselves must face at the end of the day, and it's still not entirely clear to me.
How are we ensured that the voters are not just a hand selected crop of Jann's and Ahmet's closest and most agreeable friends or contacts? Even if they are "industry professionals", how do we know that they were not selected because they shared similar tastes with the bosses? I'm not saying that's the way it is, but are the voters vetted individually each year? Are they rotated out regularly? Are they a diverse group of industry peoples, representing a healthy strata of tastes and knowledge, who are still nonpartisan and fair?
As for the nominating committee, I did a little research, and it seems like there's a few repeat names from past years. Guys who were around when Ahmet was alive, and on the committee with him. Jim Henke, the Hall of Fame museums curator is also conveniently on there, which puts him in the employ of Jann and at one time, Ahmet. There's also more than quite a few Rolling Stone employees of past and present, and that doesn't seem objective at all. In fact, that's the goddamned definition of rigged if you ask me. How can we be asked to put stock in that? How can we be asked to trust that? I'll tell you what, I don't and I won't. And I think it's pretty clear that they're trying to pull the wool over our eyes, and there's a little too much of that going on these days in everything else in this cruel and fucked up world. But not with music. Not with my music. You can't take that from me, I won't let you corrupt it like everything else. Because a man's got to draw a line somewhere, and I drew that line a long time ago. But it seems that as we get older, we get more forgiving with the amount of bullshit we'll put up with. It's not worth the fight, you'll say. But this is worth it. This is worth everything to me, and I'll be damned before I let these sneak-thieves and swindlers tell me, who's deserving of honors and who's not in the music I've spent my life listening to, appreciating, and loving. I'll be the judge of that from now on, thank you very much.
Friday, May 4, 2012
SOD: The Beastie Boys "No Sleep till Brooklyn"
RIP Adam Yauch.
Im not sure what to say or how I want to say it. A man is dead. Should I eulogize him? Talk about how he grew up in Brooklyn and helped form the Beastie Boys (originally a hardcore punk group) at age 17? How he became a Buddhist, and towards the end of his life, a vegan at the recommendation of his buddhist doctors? It all seems too sterile and distant for me. Music is a personal thing, it's not something to be read out of an encyclopedia. To understand the way somebody loves a song or artist, you need to understand what that song or artist means to them.
You couldn't have grown up when I did, and not be influenced or effected by the Beastie Boys. They were everywhere. They were definitely a part of some facet of pop culture, yet they were still edgy and counter culture. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense, but somehow they were able to go mainstream, without selling out, or seeming like they were another fad. They weren't. They were electric, they were controversial, and they were a big part of the beginnings of the hip hop scene as we know it. Their music video's were amazing, I remember taping them with a VHS player so I could replay them over and over. Their songs pissed off parents and infuriated teachers, so naturally they were some of the most beloved stuff. And their look scared the authority, which is always a desired effect in teen and pre-teen years.
I can't say I was or am a devout fan who would die to see them. I never saw them live. But I knew their effect, and when I was young, I found myself very drawn to them and their style. They were really my first foray into the rap world. I continued playing them through college, they were always a party staple, and even to this day, from time to time songs like this one will come on my Ipod and i'll listen to them and love every second of it. Sometimes they're the perfect dose of "get up off your ass." Liscensed to Ill, their first album, was incredible. You heard it, and you knew it was relavent. And I didn't even hear it until probably five years after it came out. Ill Communication came out in 1994 (their fourth album), and that was the first one I heard in "real time." I think there was an entire summer when all I listened to was that album, Pearl Jam's Ten and Aerosmith's Get A Grip. Ah, the good old days.
But after Ill Communication was the album that probably effected me the most upon it's release. That would be 1998's Hello Nasty. I had just turned 15 when the album came out, and it was almost as if the Beastie Boys personally wanted me to raise some hell. Mix Master Mike was introduced to the group for the first time on that album, and the sound was something totally fresh. It blew my mind, and my parents car speakers. "Body Movin" and "Intergalactic" would be played on loop. Constantly. For about a week my answer to every question was, "I'll stir-fry ou in my wok." Tracks like "Remote Control" were like nothing I had ever heard. They were old sound meets new school, my first introduction to thinking I was cool. I still hum that chorus in my head from time to time. And "The Negotiation Limerick File" was simply the most badass thing I had ever heard. If you can listen to that song without moving along to it your a fucking robot. It was a serious groove. Cliche as it may be, it was the sound of a generation. For a time at least.
"No Sleep till Brooklyn" I found fitting for today though. I needed to revisit something from their first album, and the video is too good to pass up. Like them or not, the Beastie Boys are relevant. I felt like if a bunch of Jewish white boys could make it in the Rap game, maybe I really could do anything. Though I learned that's not true, The Beastie Boys still get a hell of a lot of credit in my book, for being some of the craziest but innovative performers of their time. Bear witness to the end of an era.
Im not sure what to say or how I want to say it. A man is dead. Should I eulogize him? Talk about how he grew up in Brooklyn and helped form the Beastie Boys (originally a hardcore punk group) at age 17? How he became a Buddhist, and towards the end of his life, a vegan at the recommendation of his buddhist doctors? It all seems too sterile and distant for me. Music is a personal thing, it's not something to be read out of an encyclopedia. To understand the way somebody loves a song or artist, you need to understand what that song or artist means to them.
You couldn't have grown up when I did, and not be influenced or effected by the Beastie Boys. They were everywhere. They were definitely a part of some facet of pop culture, yet they were still edgy and counter culture. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense, but somehow they were able to go mainstream, without selling out, or seeming like they were another fad. They weren't. They were electric, they were controversial, and they were a big part of the beginnings of the hip hop scene as we know it. Their music video's were amazing, I remember taping them with a VHS player so I could replay them over and over. Their songs pissed off parents and infuriated teachers, so naturally they were some of the most beloved stuff. And their look scared the authority, which is always a desired effect in teen and pre-teen years.
I can't say I was or am a devout fan who would die to see them. I never saw them live. But I knew their effect, and when I was young, I found myself very drawn to them and their style. They were really my first foray into the rap world. I continued playing them through college, they were always a party staple, and even to this day, from time to time songs like this one will come on my Ipod and i'll listen to them and love every second of it. Sometimes they're the perfect dose of "get up off your ass." Liscensed to Ill, their first album, was incredible. You heard it, and you knew it was relavent. And I didn't even hear it until probably five years after it came out. Ill Communication came out in 1994 (their fourth album), and that was the first one I heard in "real time." I think there was an entire summer when all I listened to was that album, Pearl Jam's Ten and Aerosmith's Get A Grip. Ah, the good old days.
But after Ill Communication was the album that probably effected me the most upon it's release. That would be 1998's Hello Nasty. I had just turned 15 when the album came out, and it was almost as if the Beastie Boys personally wanted me to raise some hell. Mix Master Mike was introduced to the group for the first time on that album, and the sound was something totally fresh. It blew my mind, and my parents car speakers. "Body Movin" and "Intergalactic" would be played on loop. Constantly. For about a week my answer to every question was, "I'll stir-fry ou in my wok." Tracks like "Remote Control" were like nothing I had ever heard. They were old sound meets new school, my first introduction to thinking I was cool. I still hum that chorus in my head from time to time. And "The Negotiation Limerick File" was simply the most badass thing I had ever heard. If you can listen to that song without moving along to it your a fucking robot. It was a serious groove. Cliche as it may be, it was the sound of a generation. For a time at least.
"No Sleep till Brooklyn" I found fitting for today though. I needed to revisit something from their first album, and the video is too good to pass up. Like them or not, the Beastie Boys are relevant. I felt like if a bunch of Jewish white boys could make it in the Rap game, maybe I really could do anything. Though I learned that's not true, The Beastie Boys still get a hell of a lot of credit in my book, for being some of the craziest but innovative performers of their time. Bear witness to the end of an era.
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