Son of the Return of the Attack of Closed For Monkey Business

Hey, I just flew in from London, and boy are my arms tired.

Taking a well deserved day off, but fear not -- a fresh as a daisy Weekend Essay Question will go up first thing Friday.

A Cat Can Look at a King. A Cat Can Look at Queens, Too…

...as in our hometown of Forest Hills, Queens. The cat doing the looking in this case is, of course, our beloved new pal Mickey Six Toes©, who awaits our return from our London vacation tonight, and who could easily pass for the inspiration for The Kinks classic "Phenomenal Cat."

Regular post-vacation musical posting resumes on Thursday, after a certain Shady Dame and I have had a chance to a) unpack and b) bond anew with the Mickster.

Closed for (British) Monkey Business

Having a great, but exhausting, time here in London.

Genuine English music-themed posting resumes on the morrow.

Any Anglophile Pervs Out There? Asking for a Friend…

Greetings from London, everybody; BG and I are having a wonderful time and wish you were here too!

Well, most of you, but we needn't get into the specifics of that right now.

Anyway, we need some help here. We were at the National Portrait Gallery on Friday, checking out the quite wonderful exhibition of Paul McCartney's eye of the Beatlemania storm (1963-64) photography, and came across this shot, which was identified as having been taken in Washington D.C.

The only problem being we can't find any record of a smut film/documentary about Ms. Keeler, the British call girl who helped bring down the Macmillan government in the UK, ever having been released in the States.

Or England either, for that matter.

Anybody out there have a clue? It's worth a coveted PowerPop No-Prize© if you do.

Coming tomorrow: Another travel dispatch from your two innocents abroad.

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "So What If Boris Johnson is an Idiot?" Edition

Okay, BG and I have arrived, safely, in (unsurprisingly) rainy London town, and we're off to the Royal Portrait Gallery to see an exhibition of Paul McCartney's early Beatles-era photography.

Could be a hot one!

That being the case, of course, I can't imagine a more appropriate song to post in celebration of our good fortune than this one.

Ah, Roger Miller. Incidentally, I'm beginning to think a critical reappraisal of that guy is long overdue. I am reminded of the fact that on his eponymous critically acclaimed but short-lived network variety show (which ran on NBC for 13 weeks between September 1966 and January 1967) there was a full-size train set that featured regularly in the show's musical numbers. Miller blew it up on camera during the final episode, and how cool is that?

But now to business. To wit:

...and your favorite (or least favorite) American post-Elvis pop, country, blues, soul, or rock song British artists covered and then beamed back at USA audiences is...?

Discuss.

Oh, BTW, I'm voting for Bessie.

Meanwhile -- have a great weekend, everybody!!! We should have some interesting pictures and stuff to share with you guys on Monday.

An Early Clue to the New Direction: Special "Is the Heather in Bloom this Time of Year?" Edition

Hey everybody -- before we go any further, I just wanted to mention that your humble scribe and a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance will be winging our way across the pond later today.

Destination: London. Where we'll be doing all sorts of fun stuff for the next several days. Of course, I'll try to keep you guys up to date as to what we're up to, British Isles wise, but posting may be, necessarily, a little erratic until we return next Wednesday.

Hey, give BG and I a break. I mean, the bottom line is -- damn, both of us need and deserve this vacation something fierce.

Okay, with that out of the way...From 1965, please enjoy The Beau Brummels and their spectacular cover of The Lovin' Spoonful's John Sebatian-penned semi-obscure ode to "Good Time Music."

BTW, the Spoonful version, which is also wonderful, if lacking that great a capella choral intro the BBs appended to their arrangement...

...can be found on What's Shakin', the fabulous 1966 Elektra Records sampler pictured above.

Which is, BTW, worth getting for Al Kooper's early solo version of "I Can't Keep From Cryin'" (better known today from the remake he did with The Blues Project) all by itself.

You will perhaps not be surprised to learn that one of the proudest moments of my life was when I learned how to reproduce Kooper's piano solo from it note for note. (I can still play the thing, BTW.)

In any case, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded to the first reader who gleans the relevance of both our current travels AND "Good Time Music" to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Essay Question.

Which, you're welcome very much, I was thoughtful enough to have written prior to our departure.

Wait -- Can You Really Say "Surf's Up" When You're Down Under?

And speaking as we were yesterday of wonderful first-generation Australian punk band Radio Birdman -- and boy, was that a big winner with our faithful blog readers(!) -- please enjoy said ensemble's arresting (heh) 1978 single "Aloha Steve and Danno."

As in Jack Lord and James MacArthur, in case you didn't get the teevee reference.

I've been a fan of that song since forever (or when it got reissued in the States on WEA in 1988) but I had never seen the video before last weekend, and I was delighted to find out that it's freaking hilarious.

And I bet The Ventures would have thought so too.

My New Favorite Song (An Occasional Series): Special "Ignorance and Apathy? I Don't Know and I Don't Want to Know!" Edition

From 2006, but more specifically from their just released best-of album, please enjoy Australian garage-punk-power-pop-New-Wave luminaries Young Modern...

...and their wonderfully snotty-and-jangly single "Do You Care?"

God, what I wouldn't have given to cover that song with the Floor Models back in the day. The nasal vocal, the sort of chiming guitars...just fabulous. And they had lots of other songs as good.

BTW, I must admit I was hertofore unfamiliar with these guys (who hail from Adelaide), but when I read in the press release anoouncing the new CD -- "It's Automatic: The Best of Young Modern" -- that they had made their live debut opening for the great Radio Birdman in 1977, I just knew they had to be cool. Hence, I'm sharing, you're welcome very much.

I should also add that I was also vastly taken with the name of the record company that assembled the package -- Half a Cow -- but I'm easy.

In any event, the collection includes a terrific booklet with a complete history of the band, lots of groovy photos like the above, and 23 songs covering, apparently, YMs entire recorded output. You can (and should) stream the anthology over at Amazon HERE; physical copies of the CD can be ordered at the 50 percent bovine label website over HERE.

Your Monday Moment of "And Speaking of Gorgeous..."

From 1981, and his legendary (at my house) CBS demos cassette, please enjoy power pop genius David Grahame and his sublime tribute to the music that trasformed the lives of everybody reading this here blog.

The aptly named "True Believers."

Words fail me. Seriously.

A bit of backstory: David was one of the original McCartneys in the Broadway cast of Beatlemania. Later, he was a member of a Small Faces-ish NYC band (I've written about them before) called The Mix who made one masterpiece of an indie album in 1980 and who should have been mega-stars. And in 1991, he co-wrote Mr. Big's Number 1 hit "To Be With You" (which I won't link to, you're welcome very much).

David also produced a lot of the early home demos for The Floor Models (some of which showed up on our years later CD debut) and he's about as ridiculously talented as anybody I've ever had the privilege to work with in any field of endeavor. I've kinda lost touch with him personally over the last couple of decades, for reasons I'm a little unclear about. He's still alive and well and making music, however; according to Discogs.com, he's made a whole bunch of albums since I last saw him, including one amusingly titled "Emitt Road," and one in collaboration with another power pop legend (and fave of this here blog) Marc Jonson, which I really ought to get a hold of.

In any case -- hey David, you were, and still are, one of my heroes. And if by some chance you see this post, I hope it makes you smile at the very least.

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "The Magic of Cinema" Edition

Oh. My. God.

Look what all of us missed in theatres this week!

A restored version of the Citizen Kane of airborne aquatic predator horror flicks.

I am depressed.

On the other hand, I was previously unaware -- and was immensely tickled to learn -- that the band responsible for the wonderfully Ramones-ish theme song to said flick is named...wait for it...Quint.

As in the character portrayed by the great Robert Shaw in the original Jaws.

Heh.

Okay, and now to business. To wit:

...and your favorite (or least favorite) post-Elvis pop/rock/soul song either written specifically for, or merely utilized in, a movie is...?

Discuss.

Arbitrary rule: And don't give me any of that Barbra Streisand "Evergreen" shit, 'cause I don't want to hear it.

Oh, and by the way -- I'm voting for Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" as heard in a heroin-shooting scene in the 1971 cult classic Dusty and Sweets McGee.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

Closed for Monkey Business

Had a tiring couple of days; let's just say it involved four -- count 'em, four -- separate injections. (Don't worry -- they were all administered by qualified medical professionals).

In any case, regular posting -- either a Weekend Essay Question or a Listomania -- resumes on the morrow.

Restraining Orders of the Gods

From their just released album Another Fine Mess, please enjoy The Collyer Brothers and their hair-raising ode to the rustic pleasures of "Otisville."

Who are these guys? Allow me to quote from (IMHO) the greatest press release of all time:

FOUNDING WEASEL MEMBERS SAY NEVER THROW ANYTHING AWAY

Reunited duo rescues "Another Fine Mess' if only temporarily from the trash heap

In the early 1970s, Glenn Leeds and David Hawxwell, two of the original members of the legendary band The Weasels, got together at FrogDeath Records' Moe's Mountain Studios and recorded a collection of thirteen original songs sans fellow band-mates Allan Weissman and Steve Simels. On hearing the new tracks, an A&R man dismissed the project as "nothing but an ill-conceived, contrived rehash of irrelvent troubadour tropes." The album was quickly shelved and the tapes consigned to a vault.

Fast-forward 50 years...The Weasels are shoo-ins for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Leeds owns the Petomane label, with its stable of very successful so-called "rip-hop"/"gas-rap" artists.

After many years, a chance reunion between Leeds and Hawxwwell leads to a discussion regarding the old recordings. David, long out of the music business and fallen on hard times, prevails upon his former bandmate to acquire the tapes from FrogDeath and release them via Leeds own label. In a remarkable act of generosity, Glenn agrees to distriute the album and donate all the profits to the homeless Hawxwell. The veteran musicians call themselves The Collyer Brothers, a tip of the hat to the legendary New York siblings who never threw anything away.

Will there be a tour in support of the new album? Leeds, now a spry 75, doesn't rule it out. Hawxwell, who is currently involved in resolving some legal issues, says he would happily perform in local venues and he looks forward to a time when he can leave the state.

-----Nick Madascalpo, AlterCocker Press, August 2023

All kidding aside, when I heard that my old bandmate(s) was(were) doing a Glenn solo album, I kinda figured that it would be this huge Abbey Road-ish production, given that Glenn's a) a ridiculously accomplished multi-instrumentalist and b) he's our resident engineer and studio wizard (the gear he's got packed into the Weasels cramped attic facility is truly amazing). So imagine my surprise when the record turned out to be a quiet, contemplative, and understatedly lovely sort of folkie song cycle. I think it's quite wonderful and I think you will too; you can listen to it free (or download it) over at Bandcamp (just type in The Collyer Brothers in the search engine) and it will be available for download or purchase at the rest of the usual suspects -- Amazon, iTunes, Spotify, YouTube et al -- beginning on September 11. I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, kudos Glenn and Dave -- you did good.

Sorry to Harsh Anybody's Mellow, But...Thoughts on the Anniversary of Woodstock

(To paraphrase the immortal words of Ian Hunter, I've wanted to say this publicly for years and years).

1. I didn't go, and didn't regret it at the time or since. It sucked and I knew it was going to suck in advance. Let's just say that I accurately predicted exactly what it was going to be -- three days of rolling around in the mud with lousy sanitation watching vague dots on the horizon providing tribal muzak.

2. What did I do instead? What any sensible person would have done -- stayed on campus, in the air conditioned comfort of my dorm room , getting high, drinking wine, having sex with somebody I had been lusting after for ages, and listening to great music by bands who weren't at the festival on a high end stereo system. Now THAT'S a way to spend a weekend.

3. Oh, and have I mentioned that the movie is the worst concert film of all time? I actually sat through it in a theater, and the three hours plus running time actually felt like three days. If it hadn't been for the five hilarious minutes or so of Sha Na Na towards the end, I would have been the first person in the history of the Paramus UA Cinema ever to open a vein during a screening.

Thank you.

Cahiers du Muswell Hill

From 2023, and the fine folks at the recalled-to-life Jem Records label, please enjoy two absolutely fab tracks off their just released tribute album Jem Records Celebrates Ray Davies.

We begin with Friends of PowerPop The Weeklings having a high spirited go at the sure to be banned in Florida "Lola"...

...and then move on to New Jersey kids The Grip Weeds and their majestically psychedelic take on the haunting "See My Friends."

I haven't heared the whole album yet -- although I plan to momentarily, and I'll get back to you as soon as I do -- but both of the above covers strike me as terrific. I will confess, however, that I kinda miss the power-slide guitar and finger picking from the original Kinks version of "Friends." Then again, I think that's a perfect, once-in-a-lifetime record, so I'm prejudiced.

In any case, you can -- and obviously should -- avail yourself of the album over at Amazon HERE. And toot sweet.

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "Controlled Substances From the Mystic East" Edition

From 1966, please enjoy LA pioneers The Poor and their (for my money) totally addictive psych/pop single "She's Got the Time (She's Got the Changes)."

That's Randy Meisner, who'd go on to be a founding member of both Poco and The Eagles, on bass; the song itself was written by either Brewer or Shipley (of "One Toke Over the Line" fame); the group was managed and produced by the Greene-Stone team that also managed and produced the Buffalo Springfield. I know for a fact that this got a fair amount of airplay in the NYC area in 1966 because I used to hear it a lot on WMCA-AM and, in fact, was moved to go out and buy the damn thing at Sam Goody. Apparently not big in the rest of the country, however.

In any case, why it wasn't anthologized on the original Lenny Kaye Nuggets compilation is a mystery that will never be solved. Unless somebody here knows Lenny and can ask him.

Okay, but now to business. To wit:

...and your favorite (or least favorite) Sixties song that could fairly be described as psychedelic -- or just having a noticeable Middle Eastern/Indian influence -- is...?

Discuss.

Arbitrary rule: And don't give me any of that Ted Nugent/Amboy Dukes' "Journey to the Center of the Mind" crap. Hell, Nugent still denies he knew it wa a drug song at the time he recorded it. Putz.

Meanwhile, have a great weekend, everybody!!!

The Gurus: What if They Gave a Love-In and Nobody Came?

From 1966, please enjoy Greenwich Village stalwarts The Gurus and the A-side of the first of their two singles "Come Girl."

From All-Music:

One of the first rock bands to heavily incorporate Middle Eastern music into psychedelia, the Gurus in fact put more Middle Eastern influences into their sound than almost any rock band of the 1960s. Though the two singles they managed to release on United Artists in 1966 and 1967 were somewhat gimmicky, they were pretty fine, adventurous efforts mixing raga-rock with hypnotic melodies and wailing vocals. However, although a 1967 LP release was planned and even advertised, the album never came out, and the band broke up without having made a wide impact.

I will confess that I was completely unfamiliar with these guys. In fact, I only first became aware of them last Sunday, when a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance discovered the aforementioned 45 single, complete with picture sleeve, in a box of her old vinyl stuff that had been sitting for years in a storage facility in our building in Forest Hills. It was in perfect condition, BTW, but since we don't have a turntable I immediately went to YouTube, which had a lot of the band's material, thus living up to its reputation as the Library at Alexandria of the Modern World.

In any event, the Gurus' album finally saw the light of day (via Sundazed Records) in 2003. You can order the CD version, which includes perhaps the most jaw-droppingly wiggy cover of "Louie Louie" ever heard by sentient mammalian ears...

...or stream it over at Amazon HERE.

BTW, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded the first reader who gleans the song's relevance to the theme of tomorrow's Fin de la Semaine essay question.

Les Cahiers du Monica Vitti

Okay, now that I've got that Jelly Roll shit from Monday out of my system, let's contemplate something more pleasant.

From 1972, and the film of the same name, please enjoy Rosanna Fratello and her Italo-hit "Smetti di Piovere."

That's "Stop the Rain," for those of you who don't speak romance languages.

My younger brother Drew turned me on to this the other day; he encountered it as the credit song for that aforementioned film (English title: The Pacifist) and he found both of them interesting in a period sort of way, as did I.

The film, which didn't make much of a splash here at the time, is one of those sort of existential/viva la revolution flicks which were so fashionable during the hangover from the 60s, but since it stars the drop dead gorgeous blonde Monica Vitti...

...it deserves behooving by definition. Cineastes will of course recall the beauteous Vitti as the star of several classics by Michelangelo Antonioni, most famously "L'Avventura."

"Smetti" isn't in that league, alas, but hey -- it's Monica freaking Vitti. So here it is, in a nice print, in its entirety.

As for the theme song, which seems to have been a minor European hit, it reminded my brother of "MacArthur Park"; I hear more of a Bond ballad thing, but your mileage may vary. Ms. Fratello was apparently a fairly well known actress and singer in her homeland for many years (including an obligatory disco period) but don't worry -- I'm not gonna make you sit through any of her other stuff.

Coming tomorrow: a fabulously rare and obscure slice of 1966 vinyl recently discovered in the record collection of a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance.

Great Lost Singles of the '80s: Special "Sirens of the Salon" Edition

From 1981, please enjoy The Fabulous Perms and the lead-off track to their indie EP Good Answer, the delightfully catchy slice of New Wave Girl Group revivalism that is "Touch Me."

The song was written by Jersey Shore stalwart (and Bon Jovi collaborator) Jack Ponti, and produced by WPIX-FM deejay John Ogle; the backing band is a bunch of folks out of the whole Springsteen/Southside Johnny Asbury Park Mafia axis (Betty Perm is actually the ex-Mrs. Southside). And in the interest of full disclosure, I should add that Laura Perm, who's singing lead on the track, is an old and dear friend, although I didn't actually meet her until a decade after this was released.

In any case, a terrific record, I think; for more on The Perms, just click on the clipping below for a more readable (i.e., full-size) version of their story, which behooves beholding.

I'm not sure any of that stuff about Finland is strictly true, BTW.

I should add that the EP has never been on CD, alas, but the rest of it -- including a way cool cover of The Exciters' "Tell Him" -- is equally fab, and I'm gonna put the whole thing up on Bandcamp in the next day or two. I'll keep you posted.

[h/t Steve Schwartz]

Today's Edition of “Short Answers to Stupid Questions”

Uh, no.

You're welcome.

I should add that just about everything about this recent (July 23) op-ed on Nashville's newest superstar Jelly Roll gets up my nose, beginning with the Times' credit...

...which omits the more apt descriptive "putz."

Seriously, in the immortal words of Oscar Wilde, one would need a heart of stone not to laugh at shit like this.

At 38 years old, very heavy and sporting a constellation of facial tattoos, Jelly Roll is no Taylor Swift. He is a recovering addict whose life has been riddled by drug-related loss — a theme that dominates his music and defines his stage persona. He openly swears, drinks, smokes weed and has a history of criminal convictions and substance-abuse problems. Yet Jelly Roll hasn’t become a star in spite of those things, but because of them. And that popularity is as revealing about the condition of the American soul as it is about the artist himself...

On this level, Jelly Rollmania makes perfect sense. In a country riddled with crises — the opioid epidemic, mass incarceration, the mental health crisis and gun violence among them — Jelly Roll’s music is an expression not just of musical tastes, but also of a desperate national hunger for healing and recovery.

Disclosure: Jelly Roll’s music makes me cry, too. I am a long-term recovering addict who will never quite heal. I got sober in an Alcoholics Anonymous clubhouse in Nashville circa 1990, where people traded aphorisms and wisdom that sound a lot like the lyrics on [Jelly Roll's album] “Whitsitt Chapel.” Neither my alcoholic father nor my alcoholic grandfather made it to 50. I lost a brother and two stepbrothers to addiction and mental illness: Bob was killed in a drug-motivated shooting in 1984. Adam died by suicide, overdosing on heroin, in 1991. Jim, a teenage addict, was sentenced at 18 to five years for armed robbery (aggravated robbery is also one of Jelly Roll’s convictions), got some prison tattoos himself and started smoking crack when he got out. He died in his 50s, his body compromised by hepatitis, diabetes and heart disease.

After each death, I got a tattoo, to try to permanently mark myself as them...

Oh, boo-fucking-hoo. Cue the violins.

Oh wait -- there aren't any country fiddles on the Jelly Roll song below.

Now, I can already hear you saying -- don't be so mean, Steve. Sure, Sartwell and Jelly Roll have had rough lives, but what about the music itself?

Well, what about it?

Well, forgetting the fact that when you look up the the word "dreck" in the dictionary this video comes up...

...but sorry -- an embarassing melodramatic poor-poor pitiful-me lyric delivered with a creepily auto-tuned, awkwardly mashed-up hip-hop-with-a-twang vocal? Try THAT on a Jason Aldean record.

Let alone pitching it to the Lord.

I mean, holy manipulative commercial crap, Batman!

And then of course there's this little confessional at the end.

...Jelly Roll says, “I’ve been a drug addict, I’ve been a loser, I’ve been a stealer” and “My friends in recovery, the first thing they learn is that you gotta find something that matters more to you than you … There’s something out there that can help us.”

I like a good [!-Ed.] Taylor Swift tune as much as anyone, but it’s Jelly Roll I turn to for my musical salvation [emphasis mine] these days. Even as I struggle from day to day, it’s good to know I’m not the only one still desperate for reconciliation and connection.

Right. Got it. Absolutely. Jelly Roll has suffered for his art, and now it's your turn.

Okay, I've said my piece, and obviously I'm exagerrating to make a point. And sure, there's no accounting for taste, even if you do claim to be a philosopher.

But here's the thing.

In the immortal words of (actually I forgot who said it, but it is nonetheless true): It is almost always a bad idea to try and figure out your deep personal hurt and other issues in your life based on the lyrics to popular songs.

And that includes when and if the New York fucking Times is paying you handsomely to do it.

Check, please!

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "Sing Along With Sam Shepard" Edition

From 1970, please enjoy your humble scribe (on guitar) and the proudly stupid mono instrumental backing track (written by yours truly) for "Prisoners Get Out of Your Homemade Beds."

Je répète: That's an instrumental track -- i.e., no vocal!!!

And therein lies a tale. Here's the short version.

In June of 1970 I was getting some extra credits toward my B.A. in a summer theater program at what I usually refer to as An Unidentified College on Long Island. One of the pieces we were doing that month was a tragically avant-garde 1967 one-act called Melodrama Play by the then not-a-household-word Sam Shepard. The work itself, which I barely remember at this point (many drugs were being consumed that summer) concerned a Jaggeresque rock star, his twin brother, an unscrupulous manager and (I think) a murder of some sort. I got cast as the rock star, which is funny on any number of levels, especially considering that I looked like I do above; Jaggeresque really isn't the word that comes to mind.

Anyway, a song by the show's fictional rock star, the aforementioned "Prisoners Get Out of Your Homemade Beds," figured prominently in the script; Shepard had provided shall we say idiosyncratic lyrics, but the music was apparently up to whoever decided to mount a production. The day we started rehearsals, the director (one of my profs) took me aside and said "Come up with a tune for for this. I've got two hours booked in the college radio station on Thursday, and you'll record it then." Considering I had then never written a song in my life this was rather a daunting challenge, as you can well imagine.

Fortunately, The Who's Live at Leeds album had come out a few weeks earlier, and I had been listening to it obsessively; using that as a template, it turned out to be surprisingly easy to come up with a dopey riff and a moronic three chord instrumental track that sort of fit Shepard's somewhat wayward words. Two of my musician friends from my garage band at home -- including my old pal Allan Weissman, who is a day older than me, and has never let me forget it -- happened to be available, and so, with me doing a woefully inadequate imitation of Pete Townshend on guitar, we eventually found ourselves at the recording facilities of WCWP-FM, bashing out the tune in about as much time as it took to rehearse it once. As I recall, the engineer simply hung a single microphone in the vicinity of the band; there was no overdubbing, obviously. The finished product, however, met with the director's approval, and I wound up yowling along to it, karaoke style, on stage when we did the show a week or two later.

Cut to: sometime in the 'teens. I was reminiscing about all this with another old pal, and he let it drop that years back I had entrusted the original reel-to-reel tape of the song (the only one that ever existed) to him, and that against all the odds he still had it. And still playable, apparently.

So -- at great personal expense (actually, fifty bucks to a good engineer I know), here it is these five decades later, in digital form for all to hear. I also found Shepard's lyrics, which I have appended; feel free to sing them in the privacy of your own home, preferably while playing air guitar. You'll notice three strategically placed screams throughout the clip -- those are your cues for the beginning of each verse.

I should add that a version of this track with a vocal by yours truly has survived as well, but it will be available for public audition at approximately the same time that frozen yogurt goes on sale in Hell.

"Prisoners, Get Out of Your Homemade Beds"

Well early one day you got out of bed
And then you decided to go to sleep instead
So early one day you got back in the sack
And you fell fast asleep in your homemade rack
You don't know how you decided this
And all that you know is there's something you missed
But you don't know what and you don't know where
So you just stay put and go nowhere

Oh prisoners get out of your homemade beds
Oh prisoners get out of your homemade beds

Well early one night you got so very uptight
And you said this sleeping it just ain't right
But you couldn't at all decide what to do
But your eyes stayed shut with their homemade glue
But you couldn't hear your own voice speak
And you couldn't walk 'cause your legs were too weak
So you lay in bed crying to yourself
And your life's just out there hanging on the shelf

Oh prisoners get out of your homemade beds
Oh prisoners get out of your homemade beds

And now the night and the day are just the same
And now the light and the dark have no name
And you just lay in bed without no game
You just lay there sleeping without no fame
But when you awaken from your deep deep sleep
That bed will disappear and you won't even weep
You'll walk right outside without no name
You'll walk right outside from where you came

Oh prisoners get of your homemade beds
Oh prisoners get out of your homemade...heads

I must confess, cheesy as the track is, I still kind of dig the blatant steal from The Kinks at the end.

But now to business. To wit:

...if you were drunk and at a karaoke bar, what would be the song you would most like to sing in public?

Discuss.

Meanwhile, have a great weekend, everybody!!!

An Early Clue to the New Direction: Special "Buddy Should Have Lived to Hear It" Edition

From 2004, please enjoy the original Crickets -- with special guests Tonio K. and Peter Case on vocals and harmonica, respectively -- and their fabulous remake of Buddy Holly's never-to-be-forgotten "Not Fade Away."

I must confess that for whatever reason I totally missed this album when it was released; in fact, I had no idea it existed until last week's Listomania, when it came up in the context of great blues harp performances. I have since acquired the album, which is pretty spectacular overall; thanks for the tip, VR.

In any case, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded to the first reader who gleans its relevance to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Essay Question.

Hint: It also has something to do with yesterday's post on "There She Goes." And if you guys get this, you're good.

Songs I'd Kill to Perform Live Before I Die (An Occasional Series)

From 1999, please enjoy Nashville-via-Texas-based alt-rockers Sixpence None the Richer and their utterly infectious version of The La's' sui generis power pop classic "There She Goes."

I had forgotten that the above actually became a hit after it was used on the soundtrack to the better than you'd expect teen comedy Snow Day, although if memory serves the video itself is a stand-alone. (I love the little girl on cello, BTW).

As for the song, what can one say? It's pretty much perfect on every level, as is the eponymous La's album it derives from, and part of its charm -- beyond that unforgettable guitar riff -- is the misterioso that lurks beneath its sunny melodic surface; to this day, nobody has come up with a convincing explanation for what the damn thing is about. Certainly, its auteur Lee Mavers ain't telling (and Mavers is a kind of a weird character himself, which only adds to the fun).

In any case, a really fabulous cover job (although not as good as the original). And as far as Sixpence lead singer Leigh Nash goes..well, in the immortal words of Steve Forbert, "she shore is purty."

Songs I'd Forgotten Existed, Let Alone Loved: Special "In Search of Cohen’s Fashion Optical” Edition

From 1985, and his flat-out masterpiece Rain Dogs, please enjoy Tom Waits, featuring Keith Richards on guitar and wordless (save for one 2nd verse lyric line) backup vocals, and the astounding, it'll-rip-your-heart-out neo-country-blues-rock weepie "Blind Love."

I'm not kidding about Rain Dogs being a masterpieece, BTW; I'd rate it one of the top 10 albums of its decade, and "Blind Love" isn't even the best thing on it. (Actually, that would be "Downtown Train." Or "Jockey Full of Bourbon." Or "Hang Down Your Head." Or...well, you get the idea.)

In any event, I hadn't thought about the song in ages, and after re-listening to it over the weekend, I wound up sitting through the entire album, which blew my tiny little mind something fierce.

Coming tomorrow: an often overlooked cover version of a song that, IMHO, exemplifies the mission statement of this here blog as well as any ever written or recorded.