It's New Year's Rockin' Eve, Baby!!!

And from 1964, and the Beach Boys' epochal Xmas album, here's the ringer of the bunch -- a fabulous version of that Scottish song that's appropriate to tonight's holiday.

That was the closing track on the album, BTW.

In the meantime, have a great weekend everybody, and may 2022 be a significant improvement on the year just past.

Your Thursday Moment of "The Worst Thing in the World"!

Hey -- this is bad.

From his also atrocious 1981 album Breaking All the Rules, please forgive me for posting Peter Frampton's rancid cover of The Easybeats classic "Friday on My Mind," a song I heretofore (incorrectly) assumed was impervious to sounding like shit regardless of who did it.

I had (mercifully) forgotten the existence of the above until yesterday, when I stumbled across a review I'd written of the aforementioned album while doing some research for the forthcoming book of my literary greatest hits (which will be coming some time in the new year, but that's an issue for another posting).

In any case, said album was Frampton's unsuccessful attempt at restoring his squandered rock credibility in the wake of the appalling commercial success of the indefensible Frampton Comes Alive juggernaut. Way to (not) go, Pete,

In any event -- boy, does that suck.

Guaranteed to Blow Yo-Yo Mind

So the other day, purely by chance, I came across a certain TV ad -- previously unviewed by your humble scribe -- that a world famous classical celebrity had done a few years ago....

...and it reminded me of a certain album track I had forgotten, and which I thought I should share.

And so, from their eponymous 1993 album, please enjoy Nashville's The Bis-Quits and their hilarious and rockin' tribute to the Man Himself. Think "Johnny B. Goode" rewritten about a cello player.

In a word -- heh.

I should add that said Bis-Quits album is one of the great lost artifacts of the '90s; do yourself a favor and hie thee over to YouTube and listen to their "Tennessee Valley Girl." Inspirational verse: "I bet you really miss those Reagan years/John Hughes movies and Tears for Fears."

Heh again, obviously.

Closed for Monkey Business

Regular posting -- starting with a hilarious true story about an actual pop star of my acquaintance -- begins tomorrow.

Hey -- It's the Day After Boxing Day!!!

Me First and the Gimme Gimmes doing to "The Boxer" what always needed to be done to "The Boxer."

I must admit, I was totally unaware of these guys until yesterday, but the above is probably the most kickass Paul Simon cover I've ever heard or even contemplated.

Santa Baby: Eartha Kitt Should Only Have Known About His Yule Log

From just the other day, please enjoy friend of PowerPop (and moi) Steve Notis and his fabulous performance of "Glad Tidings." I.e., what is now my favorite holiday season song of all time.

Which Steve wrote, in case you hadn't guessed.

Enjoy the rest of your Xmas, everybody!!!

It's Christmas Eve, Baby!!!

From their fabulous Below the Salt album, please enjoy the greatest Elizabethan rock band of all time -- Steeleye Span -- and a stunning version of the venerable nativity song "Gaudete."

The album came out in 1972, but the carol itself is unquestionably the oldest song ever to make the British pop charts. Nobody knows exactly when it was written, but it was originally published in 1582(!). To put that in perspective, William Shakespeare was 18 years of age at the time.

Have a great holiday weekend, everybody!!!

Those Fabulous Sixties!

From their brand new album of garage-rock covers DiG, please enjoy New Jersey's The Grip Weeds and their astounding remake of "No Time Like the Right Time" by The Blues Project.

That song is one of my favorite Nuggets-era singles, and I must confess I hadn't thought about it in ages. This is a great version, in any case. And fittingly, original Nuggets compiler Lenny Kaye wrote the liner notes for the album.

It Takes Two, Baby!

From their 2007 duet album, please enjoy the incomparable Robert Plant and Alison Krauss (with a little help from T-Bone Burnett), and their absolutely killer version of the Everly Brothers' classic "Gone Gone Gone."

Allow me to add.

1. The record that's from is flat-out fantastic across the board, BTW, and I'm awaiting the arrival of their new Raise the Roof with breathless anticipation.

2. Robert Plant has aged better than any man in history, let alone any 70s pop star. God, I hate him.

3. Alison Krauss, beyond being a great singer, is such a cutie-pie I can't stand it.

I thank you.

Closed for Monkey Business

Had a long weekend.

Regular -- and actually interesting -- posting resumes on the morrow.

Your Monday Moment of Words Fail Me

So the other day I was talking about Camille Saint-Saens with my chum Tim Page (Pulitzer-prize winning former music critic for the NY Times) over at Facebook (pardon me -- Meta). And I let it drop that, when I was a kid, one of my favorite classical records was an early mono LP version of Carnival of the Animals, featuring Noel Coward declaiming the verses Ogden Nash wrote to accompany the piece.

And then another commenter said that he'd also had the same LP as a kid, and loved it as much as I did. Which didn't surprise me particularly, except that the guy turned out to be none other than...Tim Moore.

Yes. The same gentleman who wrote and recorded one of the greatest power pop songs of all time.

As Cristina Applegate said on Married With Children -- the mind wobbles.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words (Part Deux)

The Lovin' Spoonful, circa late 1966.

I had never seen that photo before yesterday, and I don't know for a fact who took it, although I'd bet good money that it was long time Spoonful friend Henry Diltz. In any case, I love that Edwardian look, and as far as I'm concerned that is now my all time favorite posed-in-costume rock band photo.

I should also add that I'm a very lucky guy, in that I got to meet three of the four people in that portrait (not Zal Yanovksy, bottom right, alas) and get to chat with them at various times over the years.

Have a great weekend, everybody!!!

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

And specifically, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded to the first reader who correctly identifies the artist who painted the stunning thingie below.

Let's just say -- we knew the cat was a genius, but this is getting ridiculous already.

Mike Nesmith Explains It All To You

And speaking as we were recently of the late great Monkees auteur, here he is on an LA teen rock show -- just immediately before joining the band that made him famous, and doing business under the nom du disque Michael Blessing -- with an astoundingly good cover of Buffy St. Marie's "Until It's Time For You To Go."

And here -- from some time in the early 80s (around when I met him at the press party I described downstairs) -- here he is being typically deadpan funny on the Letterman show.

Fuck you, Morrissey -- THAT was a charming man.

WEST SIDE STORY: There's a Place for Us. Alas, They Don't Tell Me Where, and Frankly I Don't Have the Room

So as I mentioned, I saw the Spielberg remake of WSS over the weekend, and I was gonna write at some length about it.

However, apart from saying that it's grittier and more realistic than the 1961 version, there's really no point for me to explicate how all the esthetic decisions Spielberg's creative team have made are improvements. For the simple reason that if I did, they would be spoilers.

Just go see it -- its great, you'll love it, the cast is fantastic, and it's the best movie I've sat through in ages.

I should add that I saw the original Broadway version back in 1959...

...so I know what I'm talking about.

Closed for West Side Story Business

Saw the Steven Spielberg remake yesterday -- short version: It's pretty great, but I'm too exhausted to write about it till later today. My think piece thumbsucker will appear on Tuesday, and I promise -- no spoilers, although there's a big one I'm dying to share with you guys at some point.

Goodbye Wool Hat: Part II -- The Floor Models Play Mike Nesmith

From a low dive in Greenwich Village (the Other End Cafe), sometime in late 1981 or early 1982, please enjoy the fabulous Floor Models (featuring a bass player whose name rhymes with Sleeve Nimels)...

...and their convincingly energetic garage band take on The Monkees' "You Just May Be the One." A song written by the late great Michael Nesmith.

In case you couldn't tell, that was recorded on a drunken night by somebody using a boom box directly in front of the stage. Obviously, it's something we wouldn't put out on a record, but the spirit clearly was willing at the time we did it. And in any case, I absolutely adore the song, and I always looked forward to the slot in the set when it was time to perform it.

And therein lies a story.

Sometime around when that clip was recorded, I was fortunate enough to attend a press party celebrating the release of Nesmith's innovative and Grammy-winning long form music video ELEPHANT PARTS...

...at some posh hotel off Central Park (as I recall).

The short version: Nez was there, working the room as they say, and after enjoying some complimentary food and adult beverages, as was the custom back then, I screwed up my courage.

I confronted him -- and I could tell he figured me, rightly, as some kind of obnoxious fan boy -- and I said "Hi, Mike, I think your music is absolutely great."

He gave me The Look, by which I mean he was obviously thinking -- oh god, another one of these pathetic schmucks who haven't gotten over the Monkees TV show. And then I said "I just wanna tell you I'm in a band that plays your "You Just May Be the One" all the time."

And then his eyes lit up, he smiled from ear to ear, and he shook my hand and said "Hey man, that's way cool -- I thank you."

Needless to say, it was one of the great thrills of my adult life.

Goodbye Wool Hat: Mike Nesmith 1942--2021

From his way ahead of its time 1972 album And the Hits Just Keep on Comin', please enjoy the late great Mike Nesmith (along with pedal steel ace Red Rhodes) and a brilliantly minimalist version of Mike's most famous song -- "Different Drum."

This death shit is really starting to bug the hell out of me, I'll tell you that for free.

I Like To Be In America (Although At This Historical Point In Time I Couldn't Tell You Why)

So BG and I are going to see Stephen Spielberg's new film of West Side Story on Sunday. Let me just announce in advance that I'm planning to thoroughly dig it, and I'll have much more to say on the subject on Monday.

That said, please enjoy The Nice, featuring knife-crazy Keith Emerson on keyboards, and their, er, idiosyncratic late 60s take on the musical's anthemic song "America." A version I strongly doubt its authors Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim could have contemplated.

You know, it's not exactly a secret that I more or less loathe everything remotely prog rock, but I gotta say -- that's actually kind of a hoot.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

Closed for Monkey Business

Regular posting -- specifically about the Spielberg remake of West Side Story -- resumes on the morrow.

It Was 41 Years Ago Today

[For obvious reasons, here's my review of John and Yoko's DOUBLE FANTASY, from the March 1981 issue of the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review (AKA Sound and Vision). This was the most difficult thing I ever wrote, so I was actually rather pleased to find upon re-reading it a few years ago that the only thing that embarrassed me were some dire predictions that (mercifully) didn't come true.

Two historical notes: At the time of the Smithereens reference, they were strictly a local NYC band; they wouldn't get a record deal or a hit for another four or five years. And that terribly sad photo of John and Yoko outside the Dakota is the same one that originally ran with the review.

I should also add that a few weeks after the piece appeared I got a very nice note from a woman (the now famous Freda Kelly) who had worked as a personal assistant to Brian Epstein at the height of Beatlemania. She told me that of all the reviews of the album she had seen, it was the one that most resonated for her. That meant a lot to me.]

DOUBLE FANTASY

A few days after the murder of John Lennon, I was at a Village club listening to a wonderful Sixties-influenced power-pop band called the Smithereens. After the second set, the group came back for an encore and suddenly got very serious. "When I was a kid," the drummer announced to the crowd, "there were certain things that were cool. The Man From U.N.C.L.E. was cool. Robert Culp and Bill Cosby were cool. But Johnny Lennon...he was very cool."

As I write, it has been a week since Lennon was killed; by the time you read this, chances are that, unless we're really lucky, there will have been a commercial-cash-in rock circus on a scale that will make the Elvis Boom look like a P.T.A. bake sale. As a media event, his death has been unprecedented. The Russian invasion of Afghanistan, the upheaval in Poland and Iran, inflation, Reagan's election...who cares? They all pale into insignificance. 1980 will be remembered as the year a "wacko" (the word the police used) pulled off the first rock-and-roll assassination. And the tributes will continue. Endlessly. They will range from the genuinely moving to the merely fatuous and self-serving to the downright disgusting, but the end result will be the same: canonization. No matter how many sensationalist details emerge, no matter how many of John's old drug connections sell their memoirs to the newspapers, the last fall-out of Beatlemania will ensure that he's elevated to secular sainthood.

Well, John was a lot of things, but a saint he was not. By his own admission he was a bit of a bastard, and he well may have been; nobody gets to be one of the biggest phenomena in the history of show biz by being Mister Rogers. But I liked what the Smithereens drummer said about him because it's a perception that separates those of us who were there at the time (when he was, in Murray the K.'s immortal phrase, "what's happening, baby") from the younger fans who now haunt Beatles conventions and patronize Beatlemania touring companies. Those kids can't possibly understand that John Lennon was the coolest guy in the universe. Cooler than Elvis (dumb greaser!), cooler than Brando or James Dean or Lord Byron or Willie Sutton or Muhammad Ali or Cary Grant or Robert DeNiro or Bruce Springsteen. Cooler than Elvis Costello, even. Not to mention Travolta and the Fonz.

Understandably, this is an aspect of the man that has gotten lost in the shuffle. Right now, in the face of the pointless loss many of us feel, he's being painted as the most wonderful, warm, caring human being who ever wore shoe leather. But cool is closer to what he was. He had wit, style and songwriting genius. He invented the world's most exclusive men's club and made millions of dollars thumbing his nose at the Establishment. He gave countless people joy and in the process changed the world a couple of times, substantial achievements whatever your background might be. I can't think of a neater role model for a teenager and I can't think of my own adolescence except in terms that he defined.

HIS musical accomplishments will probably be debated endlessly. The lingering, mindless fan clamor of the last ten years has done a great deal to cheapen his reputation, and there has been the inevitable critical backlash (ironic when you consider that all us rock critics owe our very jobs to him, for there wasn't any such occupation to speak of before the Beatles). The punks, by and large, have no use for him, though I was delighted to find out that John, for his part, got off on the Pretenders and the B-52s. My guess is that in the long run it's his early stuff -- through, say, Beatles VI -- that will hold up best; in fact, my personal tribute, in response to the gentle homilies of "Imagine" that saturated the airwaves in the wake of the tragedy, was to blast the teenage lust of "Anytime At All" and "You Can't Do That" as loud as I could, and to hell with the neighbors. But his finest work, I think, which includes the first two solo albums and the 1975 Rock and Roll set, constitutes an achievement as personal and innovative and moving as can be found in the history of the music he helped shape. If it takes a senseless crime to make people remember what John accomplished, well, that's unfortunate, but it's also the way of the world.

As for Double Fantasy, the comeback record that now becomes his artistic farewell: in honesty, I hated it before he died, and now that he's gone I find listening to it all but unbearable. The simplistic celebrations of the the love that he and Yoko felt for each other and for their son seem, in retrospect, too painfully sincere to take: the cruelty of his ending intrudes too much. Musically, it shows that he hadn't completely lost his touch. The voice was still thrillingly intact; it's worth mentioning that John Lennon had perhaps the most hauntingly expressive voice in all of rock-and-roll. At least two of the songs -- "Watching the Wheels" and "Woman" -- are, on a melodic level, as fetching as some of his lesser Beatles efforts. Yoko's stuff strikes me as precious. The vaguely trendy "Kiss, Kiss, Kiss" could pass for a minor British New Wave pop hit, and whether time has vindicated her earlier avant-gardisms (as John was convinced it would) I will not venture to guess. The kindest thing to say about Double Fantasy, all in all, is that it wasn't designed as a rock record and shouldn't be judged as one. Its music is what the industry calls Adult Contemporary; I don't think it's successful even within the confines of that bland genre, but I can see that some kind of case could be made for it.

ROCK-AND-ROLL deaths tend to turn quickly into shopworn metaphors of one kind or another -- think of Altamont or Janis Joplin -- and there will doubtless be attempts to grasp some "larger" meaning behind the sad events of December 8. There has already been a spate of "The Sixties are finally over" pronouncements; John, of course, tried to point that out to people ten years ago, but then artists are always ahead of the crowd. Beyond that, what can one say? That we should boyott those who would turn his death into a commercial venture? We're all of us ghouls to some degree; being fans, how could we be otherwise? The Lennon Industry will continute to alternately fascinate and repel us; there will be dignified historical retrospectives and shameless mawkish reminiscences, scholarly rummaging through the tape vaults and flagrant rip-off repackagings. The well-meaning and the jackals will together compete for our attention as long as people remember. There's not much that can be done about that. As for the pain we feel right now...well, Pete Townshend once said that rock won't help you forget your problems, but it will let you dance all over them. That advice seems worth remembering. — Steve Simels

JOHN LENNON/YOKO ONO: Double Fantasy. GEFFEN GHS 2001 $7.98.

Stop the Spiel!

From 2019, please enjoy my old high-school garage band buddies The Weasels (with me on bass and a little noodling around on 12-string) and a song from our most recent album Elder Abuse...

...and its suddenly newly relevant (post January 6) drain the swamp opus "Co-Conspirator."

WE WILL NOT BE IGNORED!!!

Where Has This Song Been All of My LIfe?

From 1965, please enjoy Robb Storme and the Whispers and their minor Northern Soul hit "Where is My Girl".

I hadn't heard this until our friend Sal Nunziato posted it over at his invaluable BURNING WOOD blog last week, but as you can clearly discern some gentleman named Pete Townshend had, and obviously liked it enough to nick it for his classic "Substitute." (Incidentally, I am informed that Pete actually copped to the homage in an early 70s interview with Rolling Stone.)

In any case, the above is not as good as the song it inspired, but it's a pretty cool record nonetheless, you're welcome very much.

Tales From RCA's Studio B in Manhattan (An Occasional Feature): Part II - Beyond the Canyons of Your Mind

From 1968, please enjoy under-appreciated NYC folk/rock/psych band Autosalvage and their beyond haunting single that should have been a hit "Parahighway."

As I suggested LAST WEEK, these guys -- although only vaguely similar (stylistically) to The Youngbloods -- recorded (with the same engineer) in the same famous RCA studio that the Youngbloods used, and if you listen to the song I posted last Wednesday and then compare it to the above, it's quite obvious that the two productions were done in the same room. The drum sound alone is a giveaway.

I should add that the Autosalvage album is great across the board, and it's kind of a mystery why they're not better known. It's been suggested, and I think reasonably, that those guys should have moved to San Francisco; they probably would have been huge at Left Coast ballrooms.

I should also add that Autosalvage bassist Skip Boone is the brother of Lovin' Spoonful bassist Steve Boone, and that the band's rhythm guitarist Darius Davenport, is the son of one of the founders of The New York Pro Musica, one of the first and best original instrument groups performing medieval and early baroque classical stuff.

New Music By People I Know Personally (An Occasional Feature)

From August of this year, please enjoy friend of Power Pop (and moi) Jonnie Miles and his hauntingly insinuating "Girl in the Picture."

I've known and admired Jonnie for ages (as well as a great songwriter and drummer, he's also a hell of a photographer) and attentive readers will recall that I've written about him on a couple of occasions over the years, most recently back in 2018 HERE.

For those of you too lazy to click the link, the short version of his story is that back in the 90s, I used to see him in his abolutely killer outfit The Prostitutes, a classic New York City somewhat underground rock band whose I've described (accurately, as you'll hear) as a cross between The Doors and The Smithereens.

I should also add that in the 70s, before I knew him, Jonnie actually was in a UK band -- the charmingly monikered Albania -- with an album on Chiswick Records, the pioneering British pre-Stiff 70s indie label (they also had The Count Bishops, and cooler than that it does not get).

Here's their single -- a smash in Italy, I'm informed.

I should also also add that Jonnie informs me his new song was inspired by memories of when he lived in a basement flat in London in 1969, and that you can read more about him and his work over at his website HERE.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

It's Official -- the Greatest Songwriter in the English Language of the Last Sixty Years Is....

[I originally posted this in 2013, but I'm putting it up again for reasons that will become obvious down below. -- S.S.]

... and fuck you Lennon and McCartney, fuck you Bob Dylan, fuck you Townes Van Zandt, fuck you Jay-Z (and BTW, extremely fuck you Jay-Z, and this is a subject for a future posting but Jeebus fuck, the idea that anybody takes that hack seriously as a writer or anything else is simply mind-boggling), fuck you Stephen Merritt, fuck you Leonard Cohen, fuck you Holland-Dozier-Holland, and basically fuck everybody else because the winner is...

Mel Brooks.

That's right, Mel fucking Brooks.

Exhibit A, from the soundtrack to The Twelve Chairs -- "Hope For the Best, Expect the Worst."

Hope for the best, expect the worst

Some drink champagne, some die of thirst. No way of knowing which way it's going, Hope for the best, expect the worst.

Hope for the best, expect the worst, The world's a stage, we're unrehearsed. Some reach the top, friends, while others flop, friends, Hope for the best, expect the worst.

I knew a man who saved a fortune that was splendid Then he died the day he planned to go and spend it Shouting, Live while you're alive! No one will survive! Life is sorrow, here today and gone tomorrow Live while you're alive No one will survive There's no guarantee.

Hope for the best, expect the worst, You could be Tolstoy, or Fanny Hurst So take your chances, there are no answers, Hope for the best, expect the worst.

I knew a man who saved a fortune that was splendid Then he died the day he planned to go and spend it Shouting, Live while you're alive! No one will survive! Life is funny, drink your wine and spend your money Live while you're alive No one will survive There's no guarantee.

Hope for the best, expect the worst, The rich are blessed, the poor are cursed. That is a fact, friends. The deck is stacked, friends. Hope for the best, expect the...

Even with a good beginning It's not certain that you're winning Even with the best of chances Fate can kick you in the pantses

Look out for the... Watch out for the... WORST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wordplay, laughs, profundity -- it doesn't get any better than that. Seriously.

I should add that the above song can be found on the CD version of the fabulous late 70s elpee Elektra released of songs from Mel's movies through High Anxiety (which can be ordered over at Amazon HERE), and no finer anthology of popular music can be found anywhere at any price.

But I bring this up because of (and he's 95 years old) his new video "At the Automat"...

...and because you can now order his new literary memoir at Amazon HERE.

Buy both those artifacts and be changed. You're welcome very much.

Oh -- and have I mentioned he's working on History of the World Part II?

Tales From RCA's Studio B in Manhattan (An Occasional Feature ): Part I -- I Think We All Know the Feeling

From 1967 (but actually recorded in late 1966) please enjoy the original iteration of The Youngbloods and their utterly exquisite folk/rock/Brill Building confection "All Over the World (La-La)".

A little bit of history here:

In the mid 1950's, RCA Victor had two studios in New York City for recording music -- studio A and B (sometimes also referred to as Studios 1 and 2). The studios were located on the ground floor of the building at 155 E. 24th Street, on the block between 3rd and Lexington Avenue; A, which was the bigger of the two rooms, was mostly used for orchestral recording (classical stuff, film scores and the like).

By the mid-60s, Studio B had become the first 8-track recording facility in town (CBS Los Angeles had one slightly earlier) which made it a mecca for rock bands, which is why the Youngloods made their debut album there (which still sounds absolutely great, BTW).

My memory betrayed me, however; I thought I had cut a demo in Studio B sometime in the early 70s, but alas no; in 1969, RCA Victor moved to 1133 6th Avenue at 44th St. In the 1980's the building and surrounding properties were acquired by the CUNY (City University of New York) and used by them until the late 1990s.

In any case, I bring this up because, the other day, I got the sort of box set of the first three YBs releases, listened to them for the first time in ages, and flipped.

I should add that on Monday I'll be posting a song by a slightly later New York City folk rock band who also recorded in Studio B, and despite their stylistic differences with the Youngbloods, it's obvious it was done in the same room.

Songs I'd Forgotten I Loved from Albums I'd Forgotten Existed (An Occasional Feature)

From his 1994 album Live...My Truck is My Home, please enjoy power pop god Marshall Crenshaw and a to die for version of his (justifiably) oft covered "You're My Favorite Waste of Time."

Due to the tragic passing of Pat DiNizio, Marshall has been touring with The Smithereens as a stand-in for the group's departed front man in recent years; I saw him with the guys just pre-pandemic (if memory serves) and to be honest, I didn't think he was a good fit.

The above, however, is flat out great, and enjoy!

Your Monday Moment of "Why Didn't I Get the Fucking Memo About This Fucking Album?"

From his 2010 album See My Friends, please enjoy head Kink Ray Davies -- with special guest Jackson Browne -- and the most gorgeous cover of "Waterloo Sunset" imaginable.

Long time attentive readers may recall that I sometimes consider that song the most beautiful written in the English language in the second half of the 20th century, and that I wrote an essay about another memorable performance of it back in 2007 that I remain extremely proud of.

In any case, somehow I missed that See My Friends album at the time of its original release, and nothing I've heard this year has given me more pleasue. I recommend it unreservedly and you should download or purchase it immediately.

The Triumphant Return of WEEKEND LISTOMANIA: Special "Loud Interjection" Edition!!!

Well, it's the day after Thanksgiving, and you know what that means.

Yes, my Asian turkey-basting specialist Fah Lo Suee and I will be heading off to somewhere and I don't even have a joke to go with it, although perhaps something about brining might be appropriate.

That said, here's a little brain-teaser for all of us to enjoy in the meantime:

Best or Worst Use of the Word "Hey!" in the Lyrics or Title to A Post-Elvis Pop/Soul/Rock Record!

And my top five candidates are --

5. Bruce Channel -- Hey Baby!

A great platter in its own right, but in case you didn't know, it's the inspiration for John Lennon's harmonica on "Love Me Do."

4. The Buckinghams -- Hey Baby (They're Playing Our Song)

Sixties regional (Chicago) pop shlock, but -- to be fair -- good Sixties regional pop shlock.

3. David Bowie -- Suffragette City

It's no secret that I'm not a Bowie fan, but the "hey man" on this one works, no question about it.

2. Little Richard -- Kansas City/Hey Hey Hey Hey!

Bye bye baby so long. In perpetuity.

And the number one sung use of a three letter word in the history of music is...

1. The Beatles -- You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

...John Lennon's "hey!" on the choruses of this utterly gorgeous folk-rock ballad.

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR favorites be?

Have a great weekend, everybody!!!

[h/t Wendy Cohen]

It's Complete Utter Shit Week: Part IV -- Special Pigeon Droppings Edition

MELISSA MANCHESTER: If My Heart Had Wings

ATLANTIC 82444 (52 min)

And if my grandma had wheels she'd be a wagon, but this would still be irredeemable schlock. S.S.

From a Short Take section of a 1993 issue of the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review.

God, that woman sucked. And not in a good way.

It's Complete Utter Shit Week: Part III -- Maybe She's a Good Mom

From 1994 -- found this yesterday while researching stuff from back issues of the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review for my forthcoming Greatest Hits book

YOKO ONO

New York Rock

CAPITOL 29843 (68 min)

Ms. Ono, I worked with Courtney Love. Courtney Love was a friend of mine. Ms. Ono, you're no Courtney Love. S.S.

Heh.

It's Complete Utter Shit Week: Part II -- Duets From Hell Edition

As I mentioned yesterday, I've been going through back issues of the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review. And I found this from a sort of Short Takes feature we ran in the early 90s

PATTY SMYTH

MCA 10633 (45 min).

Smyth's sorry-babe-I-gotta-dump-ya duet with Don Henley, "Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough," has been a big hit for a simple reason: Everybody knows the feeling. Nevertheless, the album is mainstream corporate rock at its most routine and faceless -- well produced (by Springsteen asso- ciate Roy Bittan) but still overflowing with canned emotion and as spontaneous as a Swiss watch. S.S.

I actually kinda liked Smyth (who used to hang at a watering hole in the Village I frequented back in the day) but sorry -- that song totally sucks.

It's Complete Utter Shit Week: Part I -- Mrs. Pigface Sings Brooker/Reid Really, Really Badly

From 1993, please endure the insufferable Sarah Brightman butchering Procol Harum's classic "A Salty Dog."

The reason I bring this up is because the other day I was researching back issues of the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review to find stuff for the forthcoming book of my critical greatest hits, and I stumbled on a sort of short takes feature we used to run (called Quick Fixes. Heh). And here this was, and it cracked me right up.

SARAH BRIGHTMAN

Dive

A&M 31454 0083 (52 min)

Enya on helium? New Age electro-pop from hell? Whatever it is, it's courtesy of the Phantom of the Opera ingenue formerly married to the equally annoying Andrew Lloyd Webber, and I say get it outta here. Docked numerous points for a horrendous cover of Procol Harum's "A Salty Dog," which the without-a-clue chanteuse strips of all melodic interest or drama. S.S.

In any event, more of this stuff from now till Friday.

In the Immortal Words of Edith Prickley -- "Could Be a Hot One!"

Well, this sounds like fun. Going to see The Immediate Family -- the older guys supergroup featuring veteran sidemen Waddy Wachtel, Leland Sklar, Russ Kunkel and Danny Kortchmar -- in Manhattan tomorrow evening.

Frankly, just hearing them tear up that song live will be worth the price of admission. But, adding to the merriment, friend of PowerPop, honorary member of The Floor Models, and all around rock legend Willie Nile will also be performing.

I'll report on Tuesday.

In the meantime, have a great weekend everybody!!!

Closed for Kitty Business

Our beloved pussycat, The Incomparable Eddie, is somewhat under the weather, and we're awaiting a house call from our local veterinary specialists. Regular musical postings resume on the morrow.

Songs I'd Forgotten I Loved by Artists Whose Work I Hadn't Contemplated in Years (An Occasional Series): Special "Nouvel Ami" Edition

From his sophomore 1985 album Easy Pieces please enjoy Lloyd Cole and the Commotions and their sublimely Velvet Underground--ish hit (in the UK) single "Brand New Friend."

What a gorgeous record.

In any case, I hadn't thought about Cole since I can't remember when, but the other day, while going through the Stereo Review archives looking for possible stuff to include in the forthcoming book of my literary greatest hits...

...I chanced across a review of his 1991 album Don't Get Weird on Me Babe, which I thought was a) particularly well written and b) made me want to revisit the CD.

Excuse me now while I head to Amazon; hopefully it's still in print.

Be So Swell You'll Make Me Hate You!

From 2021 -- this month, actually -- please enjoy The John Sally Ride and "The Nicest Things," i.e. the coolest Fountains of Wayne track FOW never made.

The JSR -- who I wrote about on the occasion of their debut record back in 2017 -- features friend of PowerPop (and proprietor of the invaluable BURNING WOOD blog) Sal Nunziato on drums; the guy who writes the fabulous songs (and sings them in his endearingly Chris Collingwood-esque voice) is John Dunbar.

I enjoyed the previous album, but this new one is more than just an incremental improvement -- it's one of the best things I've heard all year, and I say that knowing full well that The Floor Models also made a record in 2021. Obviously, if Now Is Not a Great Time (love the cover art, BTW) made me quote a line from the original 42nd Street for today's title, it's pretty goddamn good, and these guys are fucking great.

In any case, you can listen to the thing, gratis, over at YouTube, but don't be a schween -- go buy it at iTunes or Spotify. As Sal points out, 1,000,000 streams and he can afford a handball.

Graeme Edge 1941 - 2021

The drummer of The Moody Blues -- in all their incarnations -- has passed.

It's no secret I was not a fan of the post Denny Laine cosmic version of the Moodies, but Edge did yeoman work for all those years, and if he had played on nothing more than this 1965 Brit Invasion r&b classic...

...he would deserve respect from all who walk upright.

I should add that a year later he also played on the Laine/Moodies most sad and beautiful single "Boulevard de La Madeleine"...

...and that one of the great thrills of my adult life, during my first trip to Paris in 2015, was being able to hang out on the street immortalized in the song.

RIP Graeme. You did good.

Great Lost Singles of the Eighties (An Occasional Series): Special "Keep It Under Your Hat" Edition

Once again, from the 1984 film Top Secret! please enjoy Val Kilmer and his hilarious performance of the most suicidal self-pitying love song in rock history -- "Spend This Night With Me."

I'm sorry to go to the well so often on this one, but after watching this yesterday, I realized I had forgotten how funny it is; I don't know which is my favorite touch -- the railroad tracks, the head in the oven, or those three guys doing that brilliant impression of The Jordanaires.

In any case, more appropriate to the theme of this here blog posting resumes on Monday.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

Great Lost Singles of the Eighties (An Occasional Series): Special "Hush Hush!" Edition

From the 1984 film Top Secret! please enjoy Val Kilmer (as teen idol Nick Rivers) driving the little East German girls wild with his rendition of the delightful neo-rockabilly "How Silly Can You Get".

As you probably know, Top Secret! was the second feature by the guys who made Airplane!, and for my money it's even funnier. Also, it's basic premise -- a Cold War thriller crossed with a cheesy Elvis Presley musical -- is nothing short of genius. (As is the joke where one of the teenyboppers in the audience holds up a sign that says "Velcome, Neek!") BTW, the above song was written for the film by Phil Pickett, who's better known for co-writing Culture Club's "Karma Chameleon."

I should add that the minute I saw Kilmer's rock star impression, I knew he was gonna make a great Jim Morrison in the (then) future Doors movie.

Okay, This is Getting Ridiculous

The Mona Lisa Twins, and an absolutely live guitar-and-banjo(!) version of the Beatles' Rubber Soul classic "I'm Looking Through You."

As usual with those two youngsters, words pretty much fail me. Except I may have to make another pilgrimage to Liverpool the next time they're playing at the Cavern.

The Sounds of Various Different Drummers

So anyways, as I mentioned recently, a certain Shady Dame took me to see The Mickey and Mikey Show, i.e., the NYC installment of The Monkees farewell tour, in honor of my birthday.

The short version: Mike has gotten rather shockingly old...

...but he was charming, funny and still sounded great, and Mickey remained his reassuringly goofy self. Also, the backup band was on the money, and the collective ensemble did pretty much every song I wanted to hear, including this killer new version of "Different Drum" from Mickey's fabulous album of Nesmith covers.

Two surprises: During intermission, I went into the mens room and to my delight discovered that the toilet paper dispenser was named in honor of the band's late bass player.

Also, the guys told a story I was hitherto unaware of regarding how Linda Ronstadt got to do the hit version of the aforementioned "Different Drum." And while researching the details I was knocked out to discover that the original recorded artifact of the song was by Mike's friends/progressive bluegrass band The Greenbriar Boys in 1966.

Yipes, that's great, and you're welcome very much.

Closed for Monkey Business

A tad under the weather. I swear on my parents graves that a regular -- and, appropriately, a Monkees-related posting -- will appear on Tuesday.

I thank you.

Is It a Good Time For Dinosaur Jokes?

To paraphrase Charles Pierce, it's ALWAYS a good time for dinosaur jokes.

That's the winner of the latest New Yorker cartoon caption contest, BTW.

Yeah, yeah, I know I said I'd post some music today, but the above was too good to ignore and I just had to share it.

Have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Bang the Drum Slowly: Special "Separated at Birth" Edition

Leonard Nimoy as Mr. Spock...

...and a certain percussionist from a long-running San Francisco rock band.

Regular music posting resumes on the morrow.

[h/t Steve Schwartz]

The Tooth of Crime (An Occasional Series): Special "Some Days I Really Miss Barbara Hale" Edition

I have been known to say that Fred Steiner's theme for Perry Mason is the best two minute orchestral piece written in the 20th Century. In fact I just said it again.

Here's Steiner explaining how the whole thing came about.

And here it is in all its stereophononic glory as played by The Royal Philharmonic.

I was going to find a rock band cover but I figured -- The Blues Brothers? Not in this here blog, no sirree.

The Tooth of Crime (An Occasional Series): Special "Martinis and Shark-Skin Suits" Edition

From 1977, please enjoy amazing Brit-rock pioneers The Pirates -- featuring genius guitarist Mick Green -- and their killer (heh) rendition of Henry Mancini's theme for the classic early 60s detective series Peter Gunn.

In case you're unfamiliar with those guys, they were hugely influential (particularly on The Who and Dr. Feelgood) and most notably they wrote and recorded the original version of "Shakin' All Over," for which alone they deserve to be immortal.

BTW, the album the above track derives from was their comeback effort, which they did in the wake of the early Brit punk/New Wave movement of the late 70s. I was lucky enough to see them perform that song, and others, live at the old Bottom Line at the time. If memory serves, it had something to do with a Stiff Records tour.

The Tooth of Crime (An Occasional Series): Special "Just the Facts, Ma'am" Edition

From their just released new album Dragnet, please enjoy the incomparable NRBQ and their performance of the title theme from the classic TV cop show of the same name.

Not sure if a rock band has ever covered this previously, but it wouldn't surprise me, given that it was one of the most ubqutious musical artifacts of the 50s. Not to mention one of the most often parodied, as witness this great frame from the Mad Magazine version.

The great Bill Elder, ladies and germs. Let's really hear it for him.

PS: I was just reminded that this was also redone in 1987 by The Art of Noise for the Dragnet movie. Won a Grammy, come to think. I prefer this new one, however.

So It Sort of Turned Into Small Faces Week

And here they are -- with an outtake from their masterpiece Ogden's Nut Gone Flake -- and the most spectacular cover imaginable of Brenda Holloway's Motown classic "Every Little Bit Hurts."

Sweet jeebus -- I hadn't listened to or even thought about that in years, but it's even better than I remembered.

Have a great weekend, everybody!!!

There Are But Four Small Faces

Indeed there were, and from their 1968 album of the same name, please enjoy Steve Marriott and company (with the incomparable assistance of P.P. Arnold on backing vocals) and their official video for "Tin Soldier."

I've said it before (right at this here blog, in fact) and I'll say it again: Not only is that clip terrific but a) there were precious few white bands who would have allowed themselves to be upstaged by a black woman back then and b) Marriot's James Brown moves early in the song are just freaking fabulous.

Your Wednesday Moment of How's Old Bert’s Lumbago?

From 2021, please enjoy the incomparable Mona Lisa Twins and their fabulous -- recorded live at the Cavern -- cover of the Small Faces classic "Lazy Sunday Afternoon."

For the life of me, I can not fathom how those two kids -- who really are named Mona and Lisa (and live in freaking Liverpool,fer crissakes) aren't international stars who record for a major label and tour the US of A on a regular basis.

In any event, I will add that over the weekend I bit the bullet and ordered the double CD that song is from. Seemed like the least I could do.

Closed Blah Blah Blah

Sorry, but I promise normal stuff resumes tomorrow and will continue uninterrupted till next week at earliest.

Your Monday Moment of Food For Thought

Just saying.

Closed for Birthday/Vacation Monkey Business.

Regular posting resumes next Monday. Have a great weekend, everybody.

When I'm 64 (Plus 10)

Yes, I turned that old today. How freaking weird.

On the other hand, as the man said, we all lose our charm in the end.

Your Wednesday Moment of Words Freaking Fail Me

I mean, I love Rowan Atkinson, but this is ridiculous.

Heh. Also hah.

Songs I'd Forgotten I Loved By Bands I'd Forgotten I Liked (An Occasional Series): Special "Fidel Baby -- How Are You?" Edition

From 1993, please enjoy Chicago-based hard rock popsters Urge Overkill and their killer single "Sister Havana."

A great song, I think you'll agree, but I bring it up because UO has an album out -- their first in over a decade -- with a single that's a cover of (of all things) a George Michael song.

I'm not crazy about it, but you can check it out at the link HERE.

And don't let anybody tell you I don't post new music here because I do. So there.

Take Out the Papers and the Trash

From 2013, please enjoy Garbage -- featuring the charmingly yclept Shirley Manson (and special guest Marissa Paternoster from Screaming Females) -- and the greatest cover of the Bruce Springsteen/Patti Smith classic "Because the Night" ever heard by sentient mammalian ears.

Words fail me.

Seriously, that song is probably impossible to fuck up, but that version is exceptionally right on.

[h/t dmark]

World Without End Amen

[Okay, kids, please indulge me while I get uncharacteristically serious. And I say this knowing full well that the name of this blog is PowerPop, not Pissed Off Old Leftist Hippie. But the fact is that yesterday I encountered a work of art that affected me profoundly in its terrifying prescience and relevance to our current historical moment, and I would be remiss if I didn't bring it to your attention.

The work of art in question is "September 1, 1939," a poem by W. H. Auden, which I had never previously read (it was posted this week over at the invaluable Hullabaloo blog courtesy of the great Digby), but from which I recognized several references; the line "the normal heart," for example, provided the title for Larry Kramer's great mid-80s play about the Reagan era AIDS pandemic, which suddenly doesn't seem as remote as it once did.

As you can gather, it's about the way the world felt at the time of the title -- Auden actually wrote it a year later, when things were even worse -- which is to say as the forces of global fascism were poised to take over the world. Obviously, anybody with half a brain who wasn't themselves a fascist felt the same as Auden did back then, but because he was an artist he articulated it better than most. As I said, I had never read it before, but because it seemed so familiar, it chilled me to the bone; all I kept thinking after I digested it was a paraphrase of another, earlier and better known, poem: "And what rough totalitarian beast, its hour come at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born."

In any event, I'm sharing it with you now for obvious reasons; this, as far as I'm concerned, is exactly how the United States of America and the world feels right this minute. Let's hope we survive, although frankly I'm not betting on it. -- S.S.]

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939 (W. H. Auden)

Have a great weekend, everybody. Heh.

Pre-Rock Pop Songs Covered By Rock Artists (An Occasional Series): Part IV -- Special "Witches? Well, These Guys Were Sort of From New England" Edition

From 1967, please enjoy Connecticut's The Fifth Estate and their left-field hit version of the recurring theme from The Wizard of Oz "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead."

The song itself dates, obviously, from 1939, and it doesn't seem to have been covered as often as "Over the Rainbow." The Fifth Estate's remake, which reached (to my surprise at this point) Number 11 on the Billboard charts, was essentially a novelty record, and not really typical of the band's more garage-y sound.

I should add that when I was researching this I was convinced that I went to college with a guitarist from the group, but it turns out I was mistaken; I had them confused with some other obscure tri-state area group that had a one-off single around the same time. Can't remember who THOSE guys were, but I think one of my old college bandmates may recall; I'll keep you posted.

Pre-Rock Pop Songs Covered by Rock Artists (An Occasional Series): Part III -- Special "My Glasses Need Cleaning" Edition

From 1975, please enjoy former Forest Hills neighbor of mine Art Garfunkel and his quite lovely lush remake of The Flamingos 1958 hit version of "I Only Have Eyes For You."

The song itself originally dates from the 1934 film Dames, where it was introduced by Dick Powell. The Flamingos version is, of course, one of the great late doo-wop classics. As for Artie's take, which hit Number One in the UK, I must confess that I'm not much of a fan of his solo work, but this particular track is really nice.

Pre-Rock Pop Songs Covered by Rock Artists (An Occasional Series): Part II -- Special "Check Your Timex" Edition

From 1965, please enjoy the wonderful Unit 4 + 2 -- featuring future Argent members Bob Henrit and Russ Ballard -- and their utterly lovely, slightly doo-wop tinged, version of "When I Fall in Love."

I'm cheating a bit here; the song itself -- written by Victor Young (music) and Edward Heyman (lyrics) and introduced in the film One Minute to Zero in 1952 -- is not technically pre-rock, but what the hell; most of the work that made those guys famous was. In any case, it's gorgeous.

I should add that the above was the B-side of the great "Concrete and Clay"; I had the American 45 version and I'm not ashamed to say I wore it out.

Pre-Rock Pop Songs Covered By Rock Artists (An Occasional Series): Part I -- Special "Climate Change is a Hoax" Edition

From 1965, please enjoy incomparable power pop faves The Zombies, featuring the great Colin Blunstone on vocals and Rod Argent on a keyboard solo to die for, and their haunting cover of "Summertime," by George Gershwin and his lovely wife Ira. (Old joke.)

That's from the first Zombies album (which is a genuine classic) and the song itself, from the Gershwin's opera Porgy and Bess, dates from 1935. It's been covered by countless people over the years, in the rock era most notably by Janis Joplin, but I think this is the definitive version if there is such a thing.

I should add -- and I've said this on previous occasions -- that George Gershwin's early death in 1937, at the age of 38, was the greatest tragedy in the history of American music in the 20th century.

A Tinkling Piano in the Next Room

From his soon to be released (in mid-November, which is not soon enough for me) album At My Piano, please enjoy the great Brian Wilson and a solo piano (no singing, no band) version of his ineffably gorgeous "God Only Knows."

As you can hear, apart from being utterly exquisite, the song is being treated as a little classical piece, as it always deserved.

Fittingly, and I never thought I'd type these words, the album it's on is being released by the classical division of the venerable Decca Records. In the immortal words of Dean Martin, who knew about such things, ain't that a kick in the head?

Have a great weekend, everybody!

Ginger Baker: Symptom or Disease?

The short version: He was, indisputably, a great drummer in his way, but none of the music he made, with any of the myriad bands he played with over the years, save for these two atypically pop-ish tracks by Cream...

...gave me any pleasure whatsoever.

I bring him up at this point in time becaue I had forgotten this 1974 ad from the old Village Voice musicians classified section, which totally cracks me up.

And yes, that's the ad Max Weinberg responded to. Heh.

Closed for Monkey Business

Sorry, but do to back injuries -- don't ask -- I lack the energy to post tomorrow. Swear to god, there'll be something utterly delightful up on Thursday.

Great Lost Singles of the Sixties: Special "Songs I'd Forgotten I Love" Edition

From 1967, please enjoy Los Angeles folk-rockers The Poor and their minor hit "She's Got the Time (She's Got the Changes)."

That was written by Tom Shipley of Brewer and; the bass player was a pre-Eagles Randy Meisner. The band itself appeared on the label of (and were managed by) the guys behind Buffalo Springfield.

I actually owned that 45 (which got respectable airplay in New York City back in my youth). I have a best-of anthology of their stuff somewhere that I probably should re-research at some point soon.

It Was Two Years Ago Today...

...that my old band, The Floor Models, performed its swansong/reunion gig. Here's the final three songs from said show (okay, we did one other number after this segment, but you get the idea).

Yes, the performances are a little raggedy -- hey, we hadn't played together in 25 years, and I confess to spending more time figuring out what I was gonna wear to the gig than trying to relearn my bass parts -- but they're raggedy in the right way, and if those four guys aren't having fun I'm no judge of horseflesh.

This is hard for me to write about, for the obvious reason that our beloved drummer Glen Robert Allen -- or as I refer to him, my musical director for the last 50 years -- was very sick at the time of the show, and passed away the following February. I will share one anecdote, however, which speaks volumes about him.

As we were getting ready to go home after the performance, I went up to Glen and said, and I was being heartfelt, "Dude -- thanks. You carried me." And he flashed me a big grin, pointed to the other two members of the band, and said "Nope. WE carried THEM."

Sue Thompson 1925 - 2021

Country/pop chanteuse Sue Thompson, auteur of the 1961 hit single "Norman" and much else, has departed this sad vale of tears at the ripe old age of 96.

My dad's name was Norman, and during that song's run on the charts it was probably the only time he was sexy. (Just kidding, dad).

I should add that I'm mostly posting the song because a certain anti-semite hick nitwit from Maine I'm fond of making justifiable fun of commented on it recently in a way that made it clear he doesn't know the difference between counting eighth notes or remembering the lyrics accurately.

I should also add that the song itself was written by the great John D. Loudermilk, who would deserve to be immortal if he had penned nothing more than "Tobacco Road."

Have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Great Lost Singles of the '80s (An Occasional Series): Special "Wishin' and Hopin'" Edition

From his 1988 debut solo album Talk is Cheap, please enjoy Keith Richards (and his X-Pensive Winos) and the sublimely Stones-esque "How I Wish."

The song speaks for itself, obviously, but I feel obligated to mention that drummer Steve Jordan covers himself in glory on that track. Which is one of the reasons that I was somewhat annoyed last week when purist assholes were saying it was no longer the Stones now that Jordan has replaced the late great Charlie Watts in the band.

I mean gimme a break.

Mel Brooks: Future Oscar Contender at age 95?

From the soon to be released documentary The Automat, please enjoy my all time hero, the aforementioned Mel Brooks, and his musical ode to one of my favorite restaurant chains of all time.

The Automat Song.

The actual video clip is at the link, obviously; sorry there's no YouTube yet, but trust me -- you've got to see this.

I should add that the flick itself recently premiered at the Telluride Festival; needless to say we'll keep you posted.

If Masks Are Outlawed, Only Outlaws Will Be Masked

Hey, I couldnt resist.

Closed for Monkey Business.

Regular non-simian posting resumes on the morrow.

Your Friday Moment of Words Fail Me

And speaking of Ruthann Friedman, as we were yesterday, here's her version of the song she gave The Association.

Jeebus H. Christ on a piece of burnt challah toast, but that's fabulous, and I'm embarrassed to admit I'd never heard it until yesterday. Clearly, this woman will be a topic of further research at this here blog.

Have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Thursday Photo Quiz

A coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded to the first reader who identifies the nice Jewish girl to the left of Joni Mitchell and Stephen Stills.