pass the salt

PLEASE KILL ME should be required reading for any fan of rock music. It's an oral history that tells “the full decadent story of the American punk scene, through the early years at Andy Warhol’s Factory to the New York underground of Max’s Kansas City and later, its heyday at CBGB’s.” Anyway, there’s this Iggy Pop quote about Mick Jagger that struck me as funny, “he can only sing one note, there’s no tone, and he just goes, ‘hey, well baby, baby, I can be oeweowww…’ Every song is the same monotone, and it’s just this kid rapping.” He’s actually not too far from the truth.

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Hoyt Axton

Making a name for himself as a folk singer in the early sixties and penning songs for other groups (his credits include “Joy to the World,” “Greenback Dollar,” “The Pusher”), Hoyt Axton soon started boozing and snorting and eventually took the country road in the mid-seventies.All country music, to my undiscerning ear, sounds almost the same. With similar rhythms and meters, the use of typical instruments and sounds, and often the same subject matter, the only thing that distinguishes one artist from the next is their style of singing. In Axton’s case, his voice sets him apart from not only his country contemporaries but much of the pop, folk and rock world too. His earthy baritone has an organic feeling to it that rumbles as smoothly as rolling fog, fostering both a sense of comfort and foreboding. On 1976’s Fearless, the album that finds his flexible lower register deeper than a bullfrog’s, he sings with a wry warmth and optimism as he croaks through road-weary laments, sly come-ons, and tough-guy threats. But on “Snowblind Friend,” from the album of the same name, you can hear the longing and regret in his voice as he woefully tells the cautionary tale of the ills of cocaine addiction. Indeed, the malleability of the instrument with which he was born and his engaging style of songwriting have left an indelible mark. Though he died in 1999 and the record companies have yet to properly reissue his material on CD, you can still find it on vinyl.

LISTEN TO HIS COVER OF TOWNES VAN ZANDT’S “PANCHO & LEFTY”

Two dead in Tennessee

A man responsible for a shooting that killed two people and injured seven at a church in Knoxville, Tennessee reputedly targeted the congregation because of its liberal social stance. A letter found in Jim Adkisson’s car spoke of his frustration over being out of work and had a stated hatred of the liberal movement. Adkisson is charged with murder in the first degree after entering the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church during a children’s performance on Sunday and opening fire. No children were hurt. The church is known for its espousal of women’s and gay rights and the founding of an ACLU chapter.

This is a completely senseless act. How close-minded do you have to be to realistically believe that going on a shooting spree will solve or suppress anything, let alone your problems and/or the liberal movement? Even though this reinforces what I perceive as the short-sightedness of right-wing America, I recognize that lumping in all conservatives with this guy is unfair. Still, I guess this is part of the reason why they like gun rights, so they can have the freedom to shoot people with whom they don’t agree.

LISTEN TO NEIL YOUNG

SHUFFLE, ROUND 3

The Beatles, “Happiness Is a Warm Gun”
Equal parts past-recalling doo-wop and ahead-of-the-curve future-rock, this song is a personal favorite and a sing-along classic that a friend and I must tag-team whenever the opportunity presents itself. It’s got four separate pieces (and even more time signature shifts) that somehow fit together to complete a debatable jigsaw puzzle. Is it about heroin? Is it protesting war? Should it be taken literally? Think what you will, just remember to close your eyes and give in when Lennon digs in and goes to his (and my) special place at 2:21.

Elton John, “Bennie & The Jets”
I love that this song is so simple to just lay back and dig on. I’d heard it a thousand times over the years but never really heard it until recently. Recorded in a studio, the crowd noises were added in post-production for whatever reason; I couldn’t imagine the song without them.

The Smiths, “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others”
An unremarkable track that doesn’t really go anywhere, it serves as a vessel for Johnny Marr to repeat a scintillating finger-picked phrase on his guitar, over and over again. Morrissey tosses off some lyrics without much thought, always returning to the title refrain. I don’t exactly know why, but this is easily my favorite Smiths song.

The Yardbirds, “Shapes of Things”
In an apparent effort to capitalize on the fascination with Eastern philosophy that the Beatles were popularizing at the time, this Yardbirds jam has a kind of Indian drone to it and some raga-inspired soloing that somehow translate into a rock song. East meets West on the 1966 single as Jeff Beck achieves nirvana at 1:35, playing a pseudo-Indian descending passage drenched in controlled feedback and fuzztone. Far out!

New York Dolls, “Human Being”
Employing the tried-and-true blues scale that formed the basis to many of their songs (mired in muddy distortion on this track), the Dolls kick out a nearly six-minute jam that drips with attitude. Johnny Thunders gets his licks, David Johansen rants about artificiality, and the rest of the Dolls sweat to keep up, hoping their makeup doesn’t run too much.

in the yellow no. 3

African Elephant, Loxodonta africana

 

SHUFFLE, ROUND 2

Them, “Don’t Look Back”
Them, Van Morrison’s first band, didn’t last long. Though they released the garage staple “Gloria,” the rest of the songs on their one and only album sound like they were cut from a different cloth. It’s the typical fare you’d expect from a crew of mid-sixties British islanders: talkin' blues, sufferin' soul, pretty ballads, mod R&B and a chilled-out song called “Don’t Look Back.” The track’s pretty bare save for a somnambulant electric piano, an understated guitar and Morrison’s trademark trilling, taken down a couple notches here. I just really like the mood of the song--comfortably cool and restfully resigned.

Pavement, “Black Out”
I like this band because I get the impression they didn’t really give a shit; they were in their own world and the music they made came from a place to which only they had access. This particular song comes complete with some calmly delivered, batty lyrics (“rattlesnakes were walking,” “spastic grass,” “gauzy thoughts”) and ultra-bright guitars playing phrases that wouldn’t sound out of place in a Radiohead song.

Curtis Mayfield, “Think (Instrumental)”
A very pretty tune, this one’s funky, yet not overtly so. Mayfield was a remarkably competent composer and this song finds him effectively using many, but not all, of the tools at his disposal. It’s got a very slight, sublime guitar part and multi-piece brass and wind sections. To me, the pairing of the clarinet and guitar carries the song, but the percussion and bass tracks are flawless, fluently groovy and not to be overlooked. It’s a very emotional song, somewhat reflective and, fittingly, it inspires 'thought' in the listener.

Mott The Hoople, “Thunderbuck Ram”
This song would be perfect for Jamie Thomas’ part in a Zero video. If you’re not in the know when it comes to skateboarding, that last sentence probably won’t mean much to you.

Nancy Sinatra, “Feelin’ Kinda Sunday”
This one’s a duet with her dad, Frank, and it’s not too bad a tune. I can’t get enough of it because I’m such a sucker for sweet background vocals. When producers double or triple track vocals and compress them a little, the effect can be oh so delightful. It softens the tone while filling it out and giving it a little more punch. This song has some good examples and the “ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oohs” are just too heavenly.

is it in my head

When does a band cease to be a band as you know it? How many members have to quit, die or get the boot before a new name is required to press on? Many, many old bands still tour and/or record under their original names despite the fact that the founding members (or at least the ones that were part of the [arguably] most memorable lineup) aren’t all present and accounted for. Without getting into the details of The Beach Boys, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers Band and the many other groups cruising the state fair circuit late into their heydays, think about The Who.

They’re going to be featured at the VH1 Rock Honors event that will air tonight on the cable channel. The fact that they’re being billed as The Who is somewhat distressing to me because The Who that I know and love is no more. The entire rhythm section, the heavy-hitting one that rattled stages with its explosive power, speed and aplomb and made it okay to play ‘lead’ rhythm, is dead. The iconic drummer Keith Moon died in 1978 and the stoic bass player John Entwistle died in 2002. These two played just as big a role in the band as Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey, helping to distinguish The Who’s sound and adding vital character to the group. After all, a band establishes its sonic identity by combining the respective elements that each player brings to the table and playing as a unit. This couldn’t have been more apparent than in the case of The Who. I’m not trying to say that Keith Moon was The Who or that The Who died along with him in ’78; I’m just saying that they never sounded the same afterward.

I actually saw them play in 2000 and instead of getting rocked, I got disappointed. It was sad to see these old guys churning out the hits, trying to reclaim their past glory and cash in on their legend. Maybe I went in with my hopes too high—I mean, what could I realistically expect? Certainly not The Who of 1968, not the maniacally thrashing unglued rock and roll behemoth of yesteryear. People get old; it’s a fact of life. If the guys want to keep playing, more power to them. I just wish they’d call themselves Townshed & Daltrey or something, kind of like Page & Plant after Led Zeppelin had run its course (and lost a drummer). Ah well, c’est la vie.

"Peanut Duck" by Marsha Gee

A strange song that had me in groovy stitches the first time I heard it, "Peanut Duck" veers from a simple R&B/pop shuffle with gruff (drunken?) vocals to a barnyard freakout as Marsha Gee riffs on the word "quack" and introduces a new dance craze. Reportedly, the track was recorded in the mid-sixties but discovered on an acetate in the late seventies (essentially trashed before making it to the final vinyl pressing stage) and released on a compilation of novelty songs in the early eighties. Where then did the picture/record sleeve below come from? I don't know. I do know that I first heard it on the four-disc box set One Kiss Leads to Another: Girl Group Sounds Lost & Found and fell in love with it's cool backing track and uncomfortably sexual vocal track almost immediately.

There's a lot of speculation about the song, mostly involving the mysterious Marsha Gee, a musical nom-de-plume if you will, whose true identity has never been revealed. It's been suggested that the person singing was an intoxicated celebrity intent on protecting her privacy and sparing herself the embarrassment of being associated with such a peculiar record. Others have postulated that it was the studio’s cleaning woman, loopy and high on the fumes of chemicals and floor wax, that was ushered into the studio and coaxed into getting down with the get down. And get down she does. Though the tune is as generic a tune as any other mid-sixties dance-instruction composition (the mashed potato, the twist, the locomotion, the jerk, the watusi, et al), it really takes off when Gee goes bananas and takes a goofy trip down the improvisational scat path. I can't even begin to transcribe the shit that comes out of her mouth, but the lip-flapping and guttural humming accentuate it and serve as a laughable, danceable exclamation point on an otherwise forgettable dance song.

Joke songs aren't necessarily my thing, but this lady sounds like she's dead serious. And while it is plenty funny, it's also completely irresistible. The piano roots the track as the guitar chimes in time with the drums. It's rhythmic enough to incite movement and if you follow Gee's instructions, you too will be doing the "Peanut Duck" in no time!

weekend listening

It's the weekend, it's warm and you need to get happy and relax! Listen to Dr. Dog's album We All Belong and bask in the comforting glow of their hip n harmonious happening (recorded with ancient analog equipment!).TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES

Fred Cole + added bonus

Fred Cole, man. He sang in this group called The Weeds that was briefly signed as The Lollipop Shoppe in the mid to late 1960s. They recorded an album and toured up and down the West coast before disbanding with no real hits by which to remember them. But with Rhino’s re-release of the infamous Nuggets compilation in a box set with three extra discs of forgotten gems in 1998, interest in The Weeds aka The Lollipop Shoppe was renewed, and their one album was re-mastered and re-released on CD. I stumbled upon it in a stack of used discs at a shop in Portland and thought it was cool that the group had had its picture taken on the fire escape of the Crystal Ballroom nearly 40 years ago. I bought the album and, when I first listened to it, thought it was total shit. The music itself wasn’t that bad; the band was good enough and the songs were about as novel as I’d expected. It was just Fred Cole’s vocals; they grated on me like fingers on a chalkboard. Certainly, he sings with an admirable passion, but his voice can still be discomforting when he wails like an inconsolable mother, grieving over the body of her dead child.

Though Fred Cole has a horrible singing voice, one that calls to mind a tone-deaf drunk caterwauling through the worst karaoke performance ever (EVER), he’s got a great voice for garage rock. And garage rock, by definition, is unpolished. It’s the sound of youth, of inexperience--it’s the candid sound of a guy’s first band with the friends who just picked up instruments because they wanted to get their rocks off and make some noise (and maybe get some girly action in the process). Cole and company embody these things and his voice, at once cringe-inducing and bizarrely sensitive, is the band’s cornerstone. He sets it loose, freeing it from the reins of restraint without letting trivial details like pitch and timbre encumber it or impede his quest for rock and roll action. Seriously, sometimes he sounds like a lost dog, bawling at the moon. Check out “I’m Gonna Be There” at 1:21 and 2:08 or the opening lines in “Don’t Look Back” to hear him [willingly?] disregard musicality and harness the tangible torment of his inner stray. He’s losing himself in the music, and his dedication to it, however harsh and ill-received, is enough to get me excited. Fred Cole knows that rock and roll doesn’t exist to please everyone--it’s more about pleasing yourself…and upsetting squares.

Free ad idea! “Blues’ Theme” by Davie Allan & The Arrows is an instrumental psychedelic romp from 1967 that would fit nicely in a commercial highlighting new technology. The sound is completely dated but belies its age with an inspiring sense of progressiveness and the promise of the positive change that seemed so close and within reach in the late 1960s. The accompanying visuals would do well to be somewhat busy and flashy, leaving as quickly as they came. Narration of course, would be key. I think a grizzled voice with a matter-of-fact tone would be effective in communicating the message that ‘the future is now’ or ‘don’t get left behind.’

the second chance machine

A new bike for me! It's a Jeunet 10-speed. Click the pic!