Nancy's Record Collection (And Mine): An Occasional Series

From 1994 and his debut solo album Soma City, please enjoy downtown guitar god Kevin Salem and his astoundingly brilliant "Lighthouse Keeper."

Seriously -- that's as perfect a guitar-riff-driven should-have-been smash single as I've ever heard.

I should add that when the album/single (I believe it was on Roadrunner Records) first came out, my brilliant friend and then colleague at Stereo Review Glenn Kenny took me aside and said (I'm paraphrasing) -- "Dude, if you like Television [the band], you're gonna dig the shit out of this one."

Boy, was he right. 😎

A Child's Garden of Kinks

And speaking as we were yesterday of Face to Face, i.e. the Shel Talmy-produced 1966 masterpiece by that quartet from Muswell Hill, please enjoy the opening spoken intro (celebrating a now vanished communication technology) to the album's infectious lead off track "Party Line."

I should add that said spoken intro is provided by the bands' then co-manager Robert Wace. Apparently -- according to John Mendelssohn's sadly out of print 1984 bio The Kinks Kronikles -- Wace was, as they say extremely posh, and the band was known to make merciless class-based fun of the guy behind his back.

I should also add that the aforementioned intro is now the ring-tone for the phone of a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance.

And speaking (again) of Face to Face, I would like to go on record (heh) as saying that its accompanying back-cover essay is, IMHO, the single most evocative piece of writing ever to accompany the posterior of an LP sleeve. Here it is for your enjoyment.

It has been said by mercenary-minded persons that upon setting out along life's road the bread, the filthy lucre of W. Shakespeare of highly regarded memory, would seem to be the thing to go for.

So if you accept the opinion of these aforesaid persons in the spirit in which it is given and get cracking you get the loot.

So what next?

So far on your passage through this vale of tears you have been a hick, a nothing and an unheralded nobody. To be a well respected man must be your next aim, and with the loot in your pocket and the wicked world being what it is, you become a well respected personage ere you know it.

Then comes dedication to the dictates of fashion. The Carnaby Street. The striped natty suiting. Touches of velvet upon the collar. Touches of lace upon the underwear.

And of course ties of polka dot and Persian-originated Paisley pattern.

Next? Country house, yacht, powered by sail and/or steam, with the motor car in lurid colour and with white walls to its wheels smiling in the golden gravel drive.

Ladies of course. Ladies with long legs and little bosom, hair the colour of corn, very mini, very skinny dresses. Status symbol ladies with rich dark sheen in the depths of the skin.

Dwindling in the end to one lady, one Special who gets in among the soul.

The trouble being that the perfect woman becomes a bore, like having Venus de Milo constantly upon one's hands.

As if this is not enough, fate flings its last custard pie.

The taxman cometh.

And you are left with the glass of ice cold beer, and the sun on the uplands with dappled shadows and all, which is much better, as the poet has it, than a poke up the nostril with a burnt stick.

(Now read on).

Raymond Douglas Davies, a musician, not forgetting David, his hith and kin,

Peter Quaife, bass guitar who once wrote a story about an embarrasing affliction from which Ray's grandfather suffered for over forty years,

And Michael Avory, drummer and the possessor of four shoes, two for each foot,

have continued the story. And stories parallel to his sad one.

About the frustration of the telephone, About rainy days and sunny days, about sessions men and dark ladies, about P.V.C. grass skirts in Waikiki, about memories, and dandies, and most of all about the breadwinner who was in the beginning, who lost all, sold his most exclusive residence, and passes into the bosom of his fathers. -- Frank Smyth

Wow. That's just lovely; in fact, I can't think of another jacket essay even half as perceptive, funny and poetic.

BTW, I'd long assumed that "Frank Smyth" was a pen name, but as it it turns out, he was a real person, i.e. a long-time publicist for the band. According to a posting Ray did at a Kinks fan board I discovered in 2011, when I first posted a version of this, the head Kink had lost track of him (after dismissing Smyth and a partner over some imagined slight circa "Lola"), but around the time of Ray's late 90s The Storyteller tour, he tried to get in touch with the guy -- to verify some 60s stories -- only to find that he had just died.

I was also surprised, recently, to learn that Ray absolutely hated the album cover back in the day; thought it was too psychedelic or something. That's as may be -- it certainly has a Yellow Submarine vibe -- but I still think, as I did in 1966, that it's utterly charming and apt. No idea who the artist was, however, so if any of you readers can help me out here...

Shel Talmy 1937--2024

Oh, damn. This guy produced sooooo many of my all-time favorite songs and albums. Classics by The Who, The Kinks, The Easybeats...the list is semi-endless.

Hell, if for nothing else than this 1966 masterpiece of an LP...

...he would deserve to be immortal.

I should add that -- and I was unaware of it until the other day -- he was also at the helm for this little gem, which has a special place in my heart, sentimental old fluff that I am.

Doesn't seem like his style, per se -- you know, like "My Generation" or "You Really Got Me" et al -- but just beautifully, beautifully crafted. A gorgeous pop record.

Okay, now I have to tell a story.

When that Chad and Jeremy song came out originally (in 1964 -- wotta year!), my long time friend and bandmate (of Weasels fame) Allan Weissman was particularly known, at least amongst our high school chums, for his song parodies. I can't remember all the hits Al rewrote satirically, but I recall he did a particular classic, featuring our 11th grade science teacher Mr. Dubin, which was set to the tune of Petula Clark's "Downtown."

Anyway, Al was later inspired to write a take-off on "A Summer Song," which we actually performed in public on a couple of occasions, and it still cracks me up. The revised lyrics (and sing along, won't you?) were...

Planes
Crashing into mountainsides
With a loss of many lives
That's what I like

Soft
Areas of baby's heads
Hit them there and they'll be dead
That's what I like

They say that all good things
Must end someday
Governments must fall
But don't you know
That I like it more
When I read in the news...
That someone got mugged last night
It serves them right

So when your aunt
Goes and takes her landlord's life
And does it with a butcher knife
That's what I like
That's what I like...

Thank you.

And thank you, Shel Talmy. You did good, sir.

Today's Comic Strip Chuckle

Rex Morgan M.D., from 11/16/2024.

Note the album cover art in the panel on the left. (If you can't quite make it out, click on the image to embiggen).

And in the meantime, here's a delightful song from the brand new(!) album in question.

Mr. Lowe still has it, obviously. 😎

And I think it's pretty cool that Rex Morgan artist Terry Beatty is a fan.

Weekend Listomania: Special "The Pen is Quieter Than the Guitar" Edition

[Okay, I originally posted a version of this in 2011 (oy gevalt). As is my wont on these occasions, I've done some rewriting and -- more important -- updated it with a couple of new entries. Enjoy. -- S.S.]

You know, some days we forget that our current fascist dictator first came to our attention through the literary medium, i.e. he had a best-selling hardcover tome called Mein Kampf.

Oops, sorry -- The Art of the Deal.

Anyway, of course, he didn't really write it and Tony Schwartz -- the guy who did write it, and who knows Stupid Hitler© better than anyone alive -- is on record as saying that Trump is a functional illiterate with a vocabulary of (at most) 700 words who has never read an entire book all the way through in his entire depraved life.

Which leads us, as you've probably suspected, to the weekend's thought experiment business.

To wit:

Best -- or Worst -- Rock Biography, Autobiography or Memoir!!!

No arbitrary rules at all, you're welcome very much, and I'm willing to give you a lot of leeway about the definition of "memoir." Also -- band bios are totally kosher in this context.

Oh wait -- there IS an arbitrary rule. You can't include either Keith Richards' or Bruce Springsteen's tell-alls. Yeah, I know they're both great, but I'm just declaring them off limits because they're way too obvious choices. So there.

And my Totally Top of My Head Top Nine is:

9. Boys Don't Lie: A History of Shoes (Mary E. Donnelly, 2013)

A love letter from a fan (the once and future Proprietress of This Here Blog) to a band, and no better group history exists. Obviously, I'm prejudiced (hey, I wrote the foreword) but I happen to be right about this.

8. The Colonel: The Extraordinary Story of Colonel Tom Parker and Elvis Presley (Alanna Nash, 2014)

I wasn't a huge fan of Baz Luhrman's Elvis bio-pic (heh), but say what you will, it got the historical stuff more or less accurately. And the main reason it did is because it was largely and, er, unofficially -- what's the word I'm looking for? inspired? based? -- on my friend and colleague Alanna Nash's splendidly researched-and-written book about El and his sleaze-ball manager. Required reading for anybody who claims to understand the roots of American pop music in the immediate post-WW II years.

I should add that Alanna's one of the most brilliant, and nicest, folks I ever encountered as a result of my tenure at Stereo Review. Hi, Alanna!!! 😎

7. I Slept With Joey Ramone (Mickey Leigh, with Legs McNeil, 2009)

In case you hadn't heard, Mickey Leigh is Joey's kid brother and a genuine musical talent on his own. I figured I already knew everything I needed to know about The Ramones, but as it turns out I was wrong, and then some. Which is to say that Leigh's book is both a fascinating account of the birth of punk rock and a funny and ultimately very touching account of one the great sibling rivalries of our time. Highly recommended, even if you never went to CBGBs.

6. Time Between: My Life as a Byrd, Burrito Brother, and Beyond (Chris Hillman, 2020)

One of the best rock memoirs ever. In the sense that a) Hillman turns out to be a really good writer, and b) that even before he gets around to the music stuff, the chapters on his childhood (in Hillman's case, in Rancho Santa Fe California) are absolutely engrossing and evocative. Note to Byrds fans: Chris gives the true fact lowdown on the real life character who inspired his great Byrds song "Old John Robertson," which in itself is worth the price of admission.

5. Wouldn't It Be Nice (Brian Wilson, with Todd Gold, 1988)

Not really bad, as these things go, i.e. it sounds like Brian's voice. But the pernicious influence of the head Beach Boys' probably evil shrink/adviser/claimer of songwriting credits Eugene Landy is all over it, and after a while you just want to find the guy and smack him.

4. Papa John (John Phillips, 1986)

A very creepy book by an apparently very creepy guy. I read this when it first came out, i.e. years before the really disquieting stuff alleged by daughter McKenzie became public, and even then there were long stretches of the thing where I felt like I needed to take a shower after finishing them.

3. Unsung Heroes of Rock 'n Roll (Nick Tosches, 1985)

Maybe not the best book ever written about rock, but certainly the funniest; Tosches deserves secular sainthood for the chapter on Jimmy "Rocket in His Pocket" Logsdon alone. I should also add that if you haven't read Dino -- his absolutely astounding portrait of the black hole of nullity that was Dean Martin -- you need to get over to your favorite local bookstore pronto.

2. The Lives of John Lennon (Albert Goldman, 1988).

Having deliberately and inaccurately attributed a racist remark to Sam Phillips in his earlier Elvis biography, thus inserting a bogus element of bigotry into the very moment of the birth of rock 'n' roll, the now mercifully forgotten Goldman was moved to pen a life of the martyred Beatle whose theme -- reiterated endlessly -- is that its author has a larger penis than the subject of his research. Truly, one of the most loathsome misuses of dead tree products in the history of publishing.

And the number one best rock literary ego-trip -- c'mon, you just knew this was going to be the clincher -- is...

1. The Simels Report (Steve Simels, [hopefully] 2025)

My combination greatest hits anthology and memoir, and trust me, it's brilliant. My New Year's Resolution is that I'm gonna sell this to a big time publisher, but if god forbid I can't pull that off, I promise you guys I'll get it on-line in some form before 2026, if only to soothe my ego.

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Okay, For Some Reason This Song Seems Awfully Relevant All of a Sudden

Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, from their 1966 debut album, and one of the greatest (for want of a better phrase) topical protest songs of its era -- "Trouble Every Day."

Long time readers are aware that, while I will readily concede that Zappa was a genius, with few exceptions -- like the above -- his music gives me absolutely zero pleasure.

I should add that when I interviewed him for Stereo Review in 1979, he clearly thought I was an idiot. And I wasn't crazy about him either. 😎

Anyway, for some reason I was thinking about him this morning, and "Trouble" popped into my head. Make of that what you will.

Today's Cartoon Chuckle

I think my musician friends know the feeling. 😎

It's True -- the Masses are Clamoring for a Nasal-Voiced Jewish Rock Critic From Forest Hills Singing a Paul Westerberg Song!!!

Okay kids, please enjoy the world premiere of "I'll Be You" -- a cover of the 1989 Replacements classic -- produced and warbled by some guy whose name rhymes with Sleeve Nimels.

Oh, and it has an instrumental b-side. Which that Nimels guy not only wrote, but also plays the left and right channel guitar parts on.

As you can see, both the a-and-b sides are currently up for listening (YouTube) and purchasing (Bandcamp); the complete single will also be up elsewhere -- i.e., Spotify and the rest of the usual youngster-friendly streaming suspects -- in the next couple of days, depending on my work ethic. At some point, I'm probably gonna press up a handful of CD versions, with the actual record company label art reproduced on the disc; I'll keep you posted on that, if any of you are wacky enough to want such an artifact/collector's item.

I should add that the friends and musicians generously supporting me on this Folly of My Old Age include David Achelis, Benny Landa and J.D. Goldberg on the electric and acoustic guitars. Brent McLachlan (who engineered) is on drums. Art direction is by Joan Harrison and a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance. Steve Schwartz, (a prince), is responsible for the YouTube transfer. (I'm on everythig else, i.e. lead vocals, bass and keyboards.)

Thanks, guys -- you did killer work, and cheap!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the thing -- it'll probably be the last recorded representation (at least that I'll share with anybody) of what I laughingly refer to as my musical career, and I gotta say, it's not horrible for a geezer.

Well, This Actually Improved My Mood

From some festival somewhere in 2014, it's Joan Jett and Slash and an utterly infectious version of The Stones song with the title you're not supposed to render accurately.

Hey, since Wednesday, I've not been a big believer in the healing power of music anymore, but the above at least made smile.

Sorry...

...I'm still coming to terms with living in Nazi Germany II: Electric Boogaloo.

Talk to you next week, maybe.

What -- I'm Supposed to Write About Something as Trivial as Crappy Pop Music at a Time Like This?

I don't think so.

Maybe Friday. But I'm not guaranteeing anything.

Words Fail Me

Sorry -- just learned we're now officially a fascist dictatorship.

Assuming I don't blow my brains out, music stuff returns on Thursday. But don't count on it.

Vote!!!

This fabulous Sha Na Na song is pretty much traditional around here on these occasions.

Have I mentioned -- vote?

Assuming we're not living in a fascist dictatorship by then, music more appropriate to the mission statement of this here blog will resume tomorrow. 😎

My Back Pages (An Occasional Series): Special "Print is Dead!" Edition

And speaking as we were last week of Warren Zevon's Exciteable Boy, here's what I had to say about it in the January 1978 issue of Stereo Review. (If you have trouble reading the below, just click on it to embiggen.)

I think that's a pisser of a review, actually, and -- unusually for me -- in retrospect I'd hardly change a word.

I should also add that I'm particularly amused by the "irony of the beholder" joke. 😎

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "I'm Not Gonna Even Bring Up the Hall of Fame Issue" Edition

From his 1978 masterpiece Exciteable Boy, please enjoy the late great Warren Zevon and IMHO the most beautiful song from same, the haunting "Veracruz."

The reason I mention all this is because...well, okay. I'm gonna get a little verklempt here.

The short version is that Friend of PowerPop© (and moi) Phil Cheese just gifted me the greatest birthday present I've had since I don't know when.

A double album vinyl version of the aforementioned Exciteable Boy LP from Mobile Fidelity. In a pristine, never been played package, cut from the original master, and -- dig this -- pressed at 45 rpm.(!!!!!!)

I really lack the words, but I'll just say -- and you'll have to take this on faith -- that the above version of "Veracruz" sounds absolutely pathetic by comparison with what I just listened to at home thanks to Phil.

Anyway -- bless you, dude, and I owe you big time.

Which brings us now to business. To wit:

...and your favorite (or least favorite if such a thing is possible) Zevon album track (or cover version of same by another artist) is...???

Here's my nominee, in case you were wondering. For least fave.

Wow. Not really very good. But hey -- they meant well, at least.

Alrighty then -- and your choice(s) would be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Where Has This Record Been All My Life? (An Occasional Series): Special "Brussels Beat Rules!" Edition

From 1969 (and previously unheard by moi before last weekend) please enjoy Euro-pop obscurities Wallace Collection and their sublimely symphonic Mamas-and-Papas-ish Daydream.

Not to be confused with the Lovin' Spoonful song of the same name.

Heh.

In any case, like I said, I had never heard that until last Saturday. And why it wasn't as big a hit in the USA as it was elsewhere is beyond me. (BTW: You'll note that the melody is stolen, bigly, from Tchaikovksy and Swan Lake. Hey -- that was the kind of thing they were doing back then.)

I should add that, apparently. said record's been covered successfully on a few occasions since. In fact, the way I first encountered it was at my local Forest Hills watering hole -- the Keuka Kafe -- in an early 21st century sampled version by one of those crappy electronic acts the kids like, aka I Monster.

Which I won't link to, because I consider you all friends. 😎

Anyway, the 1969 version is still a great pop confection by any standard you care to mention, even if the group originally behind it was from Belgium.

[h/t Bekka Sakhno]

Teri Garr 1944 - 2024

Okay, like that's not the cutest thing ever?

Coming tomorrow: An astounding obscure late Sixties pop masterpiece I had no idea existed until last weekend.

Trust me -- it'll be worth the wait.

Hey, I'm So Old That I Remember When Listening to Rock 'n' Roll Really WAS an Act of Rebellion

This just slays me.

American teenagers quickly became obsessed with rock and roll, much to their parents’ alarm. But even if Mum and Dad forbade them from listening to “the Devil’s music” on the family radiogram, they quickly found ways of circumventing the ban.

In the 1950s, RentaRadio in New York rented radios to teenagers for just 35 cents an hour. You had to rent it for a minimum of three hours – more than enough time to catch Alan Freed’s late night radio show Rock ‘n’ Roll Party on WINS.

Hey, I had a transistor that I kept under my pillow for late night listening on school nights.

But I had never heard about that rental thing. Which I think is absolutely fabulous, and just so New Yawk.

Jack Jones 1938 - 2024

And speaking of whom, here he is in a truly lovely performance (on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1971) of Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind."

I must confess that I had been totally unaware of that clip before last Saturday, and seriously -- call me a sentimental old fluff if you will, but if you don't find that as surprisingly touching as I do, you really need to check your meds.

Our Gen Z readers (heh) may be unaware that Jack was the son of a very popular 30's crooner/sex symbol named Allan Jones, who is remembered today mostly for his romantic lead performances in the Marx Brothers' classics A Night at the Opera and A Day at the Races. As for the younger Jones, he was pretty much my favorite Beatles-era pop singer who wasn't a rock-and-roller. He was a fixture on tv variety shows for ages, and back in the day he actually (deservedly) had at least one good hit record -- a version of the Burt Bachrach classic "Wives and Lovers," which garnered him a Grammy in 1964.

Later, of course, he sang the theme from The Love Boat, but don't worry -- I won't inflict THAT on you.

In any event, I always thought he was a very cool guy and a terrific singer, and I'm gonna use his passing as an excuse to recount one of my all time favorite show-biz stories.

So anyway, Jack was on the Sullivan show one Sunday, and during the early afternoon rehearsal (sans audience), after Jack sang his number, Ed called him over (as was his wont with performers when they were done) and ad libbed "So -- is Allan Jones still your father?"

A big laugh from the tech crew ensued (Ed was, shall we say, not known for his sense of humor) and the show's producer said "Ed -- that's hilarious. Make sure you do that when we're on air."

Jack and Ed concurred.

Cut to the actual live broadcast, in front of a genuine theater crowd, later that night.

Jack finishes his number, and Ed calls him over and the following exchange transpires.

Ed: "Hey Jack, c'mon over. That was great."

Jack: "Thank you, Ed."

Ed: [taking a beat] "So -- is your father still alive?"

I am not making that up. Man, what I wouldn't give to find a version of that on YouTube. 😎

And may I say again -- this death shit is really starting to piss me off.

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "Don't Deface My Vinyl, Dude!" Edition

From 1965, and their totally brilliant third American LP Animal Tracks, please enjoy the aforementioned The Animals and their hilarious and totally rocking proto-rap "The Story of Bo Diddley."

Which leads us to business. To wit:

...and your favorite obscure British Invasion album track by a solo artist or group that either had hits in America or didn't is...???

I should add that the above Animals selection, which I have always found aboslutely delightful -- particularly when lead singer Eric Burdon talks about Diddley's "GORGEOUS sister" The Duchess -- was once a topic of some disagreement from my old friend Eric C. Boardman.

[That's him in the pith helmet, stage right.]

Eric once borrowed said Animals record from me when we were living across the hall from each other at a dorm in Lake Forest College in the fall of 1965.

And he returned it to me with the ball-point-pen-written phrase "completely sucks" appended after the title of said song on the back of the album sleeve.

And yes -- we're still talking to each other after all those years, BTW.

Okay -- in any event...what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Closed for Post-Vacation Monkey Business

Spending a day in bed. Normal stuff resumes tomorrow.

Dispatches From Our Italian Vacation: Special “The Remnants of Dignity” Edition

Me, in Florence the other day, making an ass of myself in front of Botticelli's Venus on the Half Shell, or whatever it's called.

Back home tomorrow -- regular music postings resume after I recover from the de rigeur jet lag.

Dispatches from Our Italian Vacation: Special “Copernican Heliocentrism Rocks!” Edition

Still vacationing in Italy, and having an absolutely favoloso time.

So how come I'm posting, of all things, Queen's shall we say overfamiliar "Bohemian Rhapsody"...

...as if it's somehow relevant?

Because it actually is.

See, we were in Florence the other day, at the church of Santa Maria Novella, and we viewed this imposing pulpit...

...which is the actual one that guy-in-the-song Galileo was denounced from for having the temerity to declare, correctly, that the earth revolved around the sun.

How cool is that?

BTW, if you're ever in Florence, make sure you check out the aforementioned church, which dates from the 15th century, as it's like the weirdest damn thing you'll ever see.

Seriously -- it's like this spooky multimedia Jesus Land theme park or something. I'm not kidding about this.

How Do You Say “Vinyl Rules, Man” in Italian?

So as we were wandering around Florence (after seeing Botticelli's Birth of Venus at the Uffizi) Saturday, and what to our wondering eyes should suddenly appear but an actual, fabulous record store, run by obviously kindred spirits.

I'll have more to say about the place -- which is called Contempo Records and has been doing this kinda bizness since 1977(!) -- on a later occasion, but let's just say that they treated two idiot Americans like royalty, and I can't tell you what a kick it was to hear the Floor Models blasting over a Florentine sound system.

Oh, and BTW, it's my birthday today, so if you wanna say something nice, I wouldn't mind.

Le Fine Settimana Essay Question: Special "Oh Right — Like Music is the Universal Language" Edition

Greetings from sunny Florence, Italy, where as you know a certain Shady Dame and I are enjoying a much needed vacation.

And so without further ado -- hey, we've got sights to see -- this leads us to the weekend's business.

To wit:

...and your favorite post-Elvis rock/pop/soul/folk song either referencing a country other than the USA or with lyrics wholly or partly in a language other than English is...???

And in case you're wondering, my nominee -- for obvious reasons -- is this glorious ditty by Oates. (Okay, technically Hall &, but apparently they're not speaking anymore).

Whatever John and Darryl's problems, power pop doesnt come any more insinuating, in my humble opinion. Or should I say "a mio modesto parere"?

In any case -- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!! Dispatches from the land that brought us Verdi and Frankie Valli resume on Monday, or as unexpected events dictate!

Charade, Anyone?

Me, contemplating the lift outside my hotel room in Rome this morning.

Seriously -- the only things missing are Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. 

Chiuso per Monkey Business

Tried to find a translation for "vootie," but apparently there's no valid Italian equivalent.

Seriously, adjusting to our arrival in Rome.

Regular posting, albeit from overseas, resumes on the morrow.

See Florence and Die!

No, today's title does not refer to the charming actress who played the mom on TVs The Brady Bunch.

Instead, it's my way of letting you guys know that a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance and I will be vacationing in Italy -- starting today, and for the next eight days.

Excuse: Much needed vacation.

We'll be digging the scene in Roma, Firenze and Bologna till then, but have no fear -- I've written some music related stuff for later in the week, and I'll be checking in with highlights of our escapades on a regular daily basis until il nostro ritorno.

And in case you were wondering -- yes, we're searching out possible places to repatriate to if the worst happens in the States on November 5.

Anyway -- as I'm fond of saying, it could be a hot one, and wish us well!!!

And ci vediamo presto everybody!!!

How Do You Say "It's the End of An Era" in Yiddish?

Or better still -- not with a bang, but a whimper.

In any case, The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review has published its last on-the-newstand issue after more than six decades.

As you can imagine, this is a very weird moment for me.

I wrote uninterrupted -- I mean like in every issue -- for TMFKAS from late 1972 till 1998 (and off and on for another ten years or so), which is a pretty amazing run. With the exception of Robert Christgau at The Village Voice, I don't think there's anybody else in the rock crit biz who's pulled off a trick like that.

And some of MY stuff was actually good. (Heh.)

On the other hand, as today's youngsters are doubtless asking --

Magazine? What's a magazine?

Now excuse me, I need to take a nap.

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "12 Inches is More Than Enough for a Lady" Edition

So the other day, our long-time good friend/Friend of PowerPop©/Floor Models fan Phil Cheesbrough (AKA Phil Cheese) sent us the following query:

Question for you: Sleeve Nimels walks into a cash-only record store and sees these four LPs in a bin. With only enough money to buy one, which LP, providing he doesn't already own a copy, ends up going home with him?

1) Warren Zevon's Excitable Boy; (2) The Rascals' Groovin' (the original 1967 version); (3) The Cars debut LP; (4) or The Pretenders Learning To Crawl.

I listed these in the order I think you might grab them, but just guessing so please give me your version.

Thank You!

PS: Choose carefully...there's a lot riding on your #1 choice! 😎

Well, and speaking as a born-again vinyl guy -- as a result, as faithful readers are aware, of having been gifted a turntable (my first in decades) for my last birthday -- the above, shall we say, quite intrigued me.

Not to keep you in suspense -- and I suspect said faithful readers will be able to guess -- my top choice would be the Zevon album.

And primarily for this little power pop ditty, which is pretty much my definition of sublime (although I deeply love just about every other song on the record).

BTW, this is not to disparage the other three of Phil's nominees, all of which are killer (and which I would probably choose in the same order. Although I might move the Cars up to number two.)

It's just that I was a total Zevon fan after his splendid debut LP (it doesn't get more astoundingly gorgeous than "Desperadoes Under the Eaves"), but when EB came out, I was particularly delighted that it had as much to do with the then current punk and New Wave stuff happening as it did with the somewhat critically out of fashion LA/Topanga Canyon/Jackson Browne-ish singer/songwriter scene Zevon was primarily identified with.

Anyway, enough of my yakking,

And now to business. To wit:

...and the contemporary or classic album you would most love to have a first-rate vinyl copy of in your personal collection (but don't already own) is...?

Discuss. And I'll let you know what Phil has to say further after today's post.

Also -- have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Your Thursday Moment of Rock en Español!!!

Heard this for the first time ever at my local watering hole yesterday.

Edel Juárez and "Mientras Dure."

I can find absolutely no info about El Artista and the song itself other than that a) he's from Mexico City, b) he's not young, and c) the record seems to date from the current century.

Oh yeah...And the title translates as "While It Lasts."

That said -- what a great groove (oh that drum sound! oh that organ!). And the whole thing could pass for a really cool early 70s Brit blues-influenced band track with production by Jimmy Miller.

Which is close to as high praise as I can give, frankly. (BG says nah -- more like Tom Petty. In any event, terrific, no?)

Coming tomorrow -- a pop quiz involving a friend of the blog and some vinyl found at a record store.

Could be a hot one!!!

Your Wednesday Moment of Words Fail Me: Special "Taylor and Alfred Sittin' in a Tree" Edition

Okay, this is the greatest thing in the history of things.

Seriously -- I was totally unfamiliar with the online magazine in question until cover artist Sam Viviano posted the above on Facebook the other day. (Click on the pic to enlarge -- trust me, you'll be grateful).

HITS covers the recording industry in an impudent, sassy manner; its editors like to think of it as the MAD Magazine of the music biz. Since 1986, it has published 38 anniversary issues. I have illustrated the covers for 24 of these, beginning with the fourth one in 1990, making HITS the longest professional relationship of my career, with the exception of MAD itself.

My covers have included presidents, foreign leaders, convicted murderers, pop stars, a bunch of record industry CEOs and, quite often, Alfred E. Neuman (with the permission of MAD’s legal department, of course). This year’s cover nearly killed me. It featured Taylor Swift.

The editors, Todd Hensley and Simon Glickman, loved my comp — everything but my rendition of Taylor. I assured them that this was just a sketch and I would nail it in the finish. I actually thought I did a pretty good job on Taylor in the finish, but the editors didn’t quite agree. So I tried again. Then again. And yet again. No matter how hard I tried — and I did over 30 sketches of her — my clients weren’t happy. I finally decided to do something I had never done before: give up. I wrote to Todd and Simon that I was unable to capture Taylor Swift in a way that would satisfy them. I suggested they find another artist, because I couldn’t do it.

Then I got a call from Todd Hensley. He told me they had full confidence and were not going to give up on me. He also made a suggestion. I had been trying to depict Taylor reacting in horror or disgust or shock at the image of Alfred on her “Reputation” album; Todd said maybe I should instead try that expression of complete and utter surprise that Taylor makes every single time she wins an award. BINGO! I quickly came up with the drawing I posted last week, patched it onto the illustration and sent it off for Todd and Simon’s approval. To my great relief, they gave it — wholeheartedly and enthusiastically.

The moral? One is never too old or experienced or “professional” to get a pep talk, because this one really did the trick for me. I want to thank HITS for their confidence and patience, and I look forward to having the chance to do it again next year. Even if it kills me.

Hey -- let's just say I'm gonna keep on eye on these guys, starting immediately, over at their website HERE.

Bad Taste is Timeless (An Occasional Series)

And speaking as we were over the weekend about people in the rock-and-roll field who might qualify as major dicks, attentive reader M_Sharp alerted me to the existence and relevancy of this Ben Vaughn song and video, which had been previously unknown to me, and which advocates, in religious terms, that offing Mike Love could be a good idea.

Okay, I've gotta admit, yes, I've expressed similar sentiments on some occasions, and yes I laughed -- heartily and out loud -- while listening to the above. And I generally like Vaughn.

That said, when it was over, I felt kind of guilty for enjoying it. I mean, it actually struck me as a little too mean-spirited/wise-guy for words.

So -- your thoughts?

Asking for a friend. 😎

Today's Cartoon Chuckle

Heh. 😎

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "Insert Penis Joke Here" Edition

So there was a very droll little profile in last week's New Yorker on Ken Caillat, the great recording engineeer/producer who did four Fleetwood Mac albums including Rumours.

In any case, it turns out that the current award-winning/smash Broadway hit musical Stereophonic is, shall we say, liberally plaigarized from Caillat's autobiography of a few years ago. And that there may be some lawsuits in the future as a result.

But my favorite bit is this:

Caillat said that he had watched the play in a daze. “I feel like kind of a numbnuts,” he said. “But, yeah, now I feel ripped off!” He did note a few discrepancies between his book and the play: “Lindsey [Buckingham]’s a dick, but he’s not that big of a dick.”

Heh.

Which, of course, leads us to the weekend's discussion. To wit:

...and the biggest all-time dick in what we refer to as the rock-and-roll field -- of any gender -- indisputably was/is...???

Oh -- and in case you were wondering about my nominee, it should come as no surprise to long-time readers that it's the guy singing lead on the verses here.

I mean, not for nothing is he inevitably referred to in these precincts as "the colossal dickitude that IS Mike Love."

Okay -- who would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

POSTSCRIPT: I just have to say, as much as I respect the above-mentioned Ken Caillat, I cannot in good conscience excuse him for having spawned -- quite literally -- this crap.

Really. I hate to attribute the sins of the daughter to the father, but wow -- that song is completely inexcusably disgustingly awful. 😎

Capt. Al's 21st Century (Part V): Special "It Takes Two, Baby" Edition

[As attentive readers will recall, our old friend (and more important, Friend of PowerPop©) Allan Rosenberg, aka Capt. Al, has been toiling on a series about his fave recent artists for a while now. The fourth installment of these musical musings -- dedicated to Rhiannon Giddons -- appeared here on Sept. 12. Now, as promised, here's episode Le Cinquième! Take it away, you old sea doggie!!! -- S.S.]

Welcome to the “Best Rock 'n' Roll Music of the 21st Century, Part 5”, by Captain Al

Shovels & Rope are an example of the 21st Century trend of 2-member bands (think of The White Stripes as an example of how this works). Me, personally, I think S&R are the best current example of this configuration.

Both Cary [Ann Hearst] and and Michael [Trent] are multi-instrumentalists; live, they switch off to the needed instruments throughout their performances, creating a continually varied musical palette way beyond what you would expect from merely two performers. Even cooler, their songwriting is topflight and their vocal blend is simply wonderful.

The short version -- when they create their music together, the combination of the two of them creates a third entity, i.e. “Shovels & Rope”. Which is its own unique thing, taking the music far beyond what you would expect just the two of them to be able to create.

PS: In the studio, of course, they multitrack, which gives the results a totally different flavor than their live work. They’ve created quite a few top studio albums, including their brand new Something is Working Up Above My Head.

But live? They totally kick ass. And if you don’t believe me, check these clips out.

BTW, While researching this piece, I remembered a favorite Lovin Spoonful song -- “Bes’ Friends,” from their masterpiece Hums...

I swear it sounds like a sixty year old prototype for Shovels & Rope.

Hey -- everything is new & everything is old.

Okay, Al -- here's the Spoonful song in question.

You know, I think you're right on the money about this, but our readers can make the call.

In any event, Shovels & Rope -- who I knew nothing about prior to you hipping me to them -- are indeed terrific.

So thanks for the music, pal, and I'm looking forward to future episodes at your leisure!!!

My New Favorite Band (An Occasional Series): Special "How Do You Say 'What a Piece of Pastry!' in Yiddish?” Edition

From the land of ice and snow -- no, actually Toronto, Ontario -- in 2024, please enjoy twang-cuties The Surfrajettes and their thoughly adorable "Easy as Pie".

That's the title track from their recently released second waxing, BTW. You can find out more about them, and purchase their music, over at their official website HERE.

I should add that a friend described the rock genre those gals essay as "No-Dick Dale!"

And yes, I'm going to hell for repeating that joke.

Have I Mentioned This Death Shit is Really Starting to Piss Me Off?

So as you may have heard, singer/songwriter/actor Kris Kristofferson passed away over the weekend at the age of 88.

Here's my favorite thing he ever did -- a really cool song he performed live on the soundtrack to Celebration at Big Sur, an otherwise not so wonderful concert film from 1970.

Apart from just being a great lyrical narrative (almost a short story in song, actually), the thing that really gets me about that (and has since I first heard it on a free promo copy at my college newspaper, courtesy of the easily duped people at Ode Records), is the lead guitar work.

If those licks sounds familiar to you, it's because they should -- they're the distinctive and easily recognizable work of the Lovin' Spoonful's great Zal Yanovsky, who was then toiling in Kristofferson's touring band.

Oh, and I know this is perhaps not the way Kris would have liked his cinematic career to be remembered, but here's a very good -- complete -- print of him in Millenium (co-starring Cheryl Ladd!), which is my all-time favorite cheesy sci-fi flick of the '80s.

Trust me, you'll enjoy it.

Nick Gravenites 1938 -- 2024

Gravenites, who was a classic hipster, had all sorts of cool credits -- oh, like writing "Born in Chicago," producing "One Toke Over the Line," helping found The Electric Flag, with Mike Bloomfield and Buddy Miles, and writing the score for Roger Corman's The Trip, i.e. the niftiest counterculture movie ever -- but this 1970 hilarity, which he did with the post-Joplin Big Brother, is my all time favorite.

As I drove down on 65, I was cruisin' down that old Grapevine
Well, I must have been doin' at least about 95
Well out there on the side of the road all broke down
And who do you think was standin' around
But the greatest country singer alive!

I'll fix your flat tire Merle
Don't ya get your sweet country pickin' fingers all Covered with erl
Cause you're a honky, I know, but Merle you got soul
And I'll fix your flat tire Merle

Hey -- as attentive readers are aware, I'm not a big fan of the whole hippie thing my generation was involved in, but let's just say yeah -- I would definitely have fixed Nick's flat tire.

RIP, bro.

Weekend Listomania: Special "And Everybody Knows That an Acuff-Rose is a Rose is a Rose is a Rose" Edition

Well, it's Friday, and you know what that means.

And if you do, you're better off than me because, once again, current events have got me so flummoxed I can't for the life of me come up with a new version of the obligatory jokes about my Oriental manual catharsis supervisor Fah Lo Suee I used to do as intros to Weekend Listomania.

Oh well, I guess we'll have to move directly to business. To wit:

BEST OR WORST POST-ELVIS GROUP OR SOLO ARTISTS' NAME!!!

By which we mean, of course, made up names, although if you care to nominate somebody's cool real-life handle -- like, say, Ersel Hickey -- I'll cut you some slack, rule-wise. But let's be honest -- most bands and/or solo acts spend more time coming up with a smart-ass moniker than they do honing their initial songwriting and performance skills.

And my Totally Top of My Head Top Six is:

6. Teenage Jesus and the Jerks

The only band name I ever laughed out loud at the first time I read it. Don't care for their music, but I must admit to a sneaking affection for their splendidly-yclept lead screamer Lydia Lunch.

5. The Angry Samoans

Those guys were a rock critic's band, if memory serves (guitarist "Metal Mike" Saunders was a fanzine notable, right?). In any case, the name itself derives from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which makes it cool kind of by definition.

4. The Dead Kennedys

I always liked these guys, including their politics, and thought they were really funny, but that said I always found the name offensive.

3. The Butthole Surfers

See above, except I always found the name amusing.

2. The Floor Models

Oh come on -- you had to know I was gonna sneak those guys in there somewhere.

And the all-time coolest nom de rock of all time, it's not even a contest is...

1. The Rolling Stones

Seriously -- it's perfect. And I gotta say, had those guys named themselves after a different Chicago blues song -- as The Pretty Things, say -- I don't think they would have had remotely the same career they've actually had.

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

[h/t Marshall Chapman for the title joke]

Today's Hit Parade of Hell (An Occasional Series): Special "Finally -- a Pop Diva Named After a Racehorse!" Edition

From 2024 and the VMAS, it's appalling 21st century shlockmeistress Chappell Roan and her inexcusable smash hit "Good Luck, Babe!"

Let's see -- how shall I describe the above song/record (and the "live" performance of same)?

By which I mean the butt-ugly auto-tuned vocal and the flatulent/embarrassingly silly chorus-guys production number that probably cost more than enough to feed the starving children of certain third-world countries?

Oh okay, howsabout...oh, I dunno -- charmless, melodically mediocre, sexless, soulless, mass-produced assembly-line crap?

Seriously, the nicest thing you can say about the whole thing otherwise, especially if you merely heard the song on your car radio and were feeling exceptionally forgiving, is that it might be kinda...cute.

Have I mentioned that Roan, as you can hear and see from the above, is essentially a third-rate Madonna clone?

Which is hardly thrilling, given that -- as everybody at this point in music history knows -- Madonna herself almost totally sucked (heh) to begin with?

BTW, I should add that there is an entire school of music journalism today that exists solely to justify this kind of shit. Which is truly reprehensible.

I mean, can you imagine what we'd have been reading if those hacks had been around during the pre-Beatles Frankie and Annette era?

"POP MUSIC IS BETTER THAN EVER, AND THANK GOD BUDDY HOLLY DIED AND ELVIS WENT INTO THE ARMY!!!"

Okay -- enough of my yakking.

And a coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded to the first reader who guesses the relevance of the above to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Listomania!!!

Closed For Monkey Business

Real life bullshit has me metaphorically incapacitated today.

Coming tomorrow: An actual new and popular song -- hey, don't get your hopes up, it sucks -- that's also a clue to the forthcoming Weekend Listomania.

Everybody's a Critic!

From their forthcoming album Melomaniacs, please enjoy Friends of PowerPop© The John Sally Ride and their utterly hilarious and thoroughly rockin' new single "The Band I Can't Stand."

Alert readers will recall my singing the praises of those guys on previous occasions, but I gotta say -- they have thoroughly outdone themselves with this new one.

I try my best to hear what everybody hears
But all I hear is quickly boring me to tears
It seems I am the only one who is appalled
And what they play, I have no idea what it’s called

Heh.

And speaking of art imitating life or vice versa, a few hours before I first heard the above I had decided to start posting a new series tentatively titled "True Confessions," in which I was gonna go on at some length about various sacred cow bands/artists, i.e. ones that apparently everybody else but me loves. I may still do it, but after hearing the above, it seems kinda redundant.

In any case, well done, John Sally Ride guys -- that song really made my week. And I can't wait to hear the rest of the album.

P.S.: I should also add the proprietor of a certain political blog I frequent has a habit of putting up videos by some of the worst bands of all time -- and all of them in a genre whose name I have never been satisfactorily apprised of.

Let's just say I plan to share this post with him. 😎

Happy First Monday of Fall!!!

And in its honor, please enjoy the greatest song/record ever written/committed to magnetic tape about that particular season.

In all seriousness, this may be The Kinks' absolute masterpiece.

"From the dew-soaked hedge creeps a crawly caterpillar/
When the dawn begins to crack/
It's all part of my autumn almanac"...

Come on, that opening lyric is so brilliantly evocative you don't even notice the record's great acoustic guitar riffs, the angelic harmonies and Ray's to-die-for vocal.

I should add that -- courtesy of my college radio station -- I owned a promo American 45 of the above song...

...which came out during the period, approximately from 1966 till the band had an out of left field hit with "Lola," when The Kinks couldn't get arrested commercial-success-wise in the States. And I used to play it obsessively.

And yeah, I still find it the most deeply moving rock record of its era. I mean, I can't think of another single by ANY of the major artists of its time that's better. I'm serious.

So there.

Weekend Listomania: Special "DJ Shaggy" Edition

[I originally posted a version of this so long ago I can't even deal with the guilt. Consequently, I've rewritten a lot of it and swapped in some new entries, and blah blah blah. Enjoy!!! -- S.S.]

Well, it's Friday, and my beloved pussycat Mickey Six-Toes© has survived another week without having been devoured au poivre by marauding non-citizens of Ohio.

Whew. Although who knows -- if I was to nod off even briefly, it could get ugly.

But in the meantime, here's a fun little project to help us all wile away the darkening hours:

Best or Worst Post-Elvis Record Referencing Hair (or Hair Care Products or Hair-dos or Whatever) in Either Its Title or Lyric Or Band/Artists Name!!!

No arbitrary rules.

Oh wait -- if you nominate the crappy theme song (best known in the version by The Cowsills) from the world's crappiest Broadway musical, I will come to your house and slap you within an inch of your life.

Sorry -- that's just the way it is.

And my totally Top of My Head(Hah!!!) Top Eight is/are:

8. Lady Gaga -- Hair

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know Gaga's rip-off of that titular show tune I mentioned above probably saved some poor deeply sensitive kid's life, despite the fact that it's a piece of utter pompous crud in the abstract. But hey -- I felt obligated to include something recorded in the 21st century.

7. Nazareth -- Hair of the Dog

I've had a soft spot for these guys ever since they turned Joni Mitchell's "This Flight Tonight" into a thoroughly convincing piece of pop-metal (I've always wondered what Joni thought about it, come to think). This one, of course, deserves a special wing in the Cowbell Hall of Fame.

6. The Crew Cuts -- Sh-Boom

To this day, I can't figure if this is sad period schlock or some kind of interesting white-guy doo-wop. Your thoughts?

5. CSNY -- Almost Cut My Hair

Very silly stuff, thank you Mr. Crosby, but the Stills/Young guitar interplay is awesome, no?

4. Daddy Cool -- Teenage Blues

"I've been thinking a lot about getting a job, but I'm paranoid about my hair" has to be one of the greatest opening lines not just in pop music but in the entire history of literary endeavor going back to the Greeks. Or so I thought when I originally wrote that; I could be wrong. In any event, it's the work of one of the Great Lost Aussie Bands, and you need to hear the entirety of that album, trust me. Order a vinyl copy over at Amazon for the ridiculously inexpensive price of $8.70 HERE.

3. The Morells -- Growin' A Beard

An ode to the uses and cultivation of whiskers by the greatest party band of them all (they were The Skeletons in a later incarnation). Seriously -- I've said this before, but if I'd had an unlimited budget for a shindig and could have hired any rockers in the world as the featured entertainment, these are the guys I would have hired. And yes, I would have chosen them over NRBQ.

2. Syd Barrett -- Terrapin

"Well, oh baby, my hair's on end about you." BTW, and to give you an idea of just how long ago I first wrote this, I originally referenced the Smashing Pumpkins 2009 cover version and Billy Corgan's sad and pathetic cueball noggin in this slot.

Wow -- is it just me, or does anybody else totally not miss those pretentious putzes?

And the Numero Uno follicularly-fabulous tune of them all is obviously...

1. The Lovin' Spoonful -- Bald Headed Lena

And speaking of cueball noggins, heh heh. That's the late great Zal Yanovsky on lead vocals and "electric gorgle" (or so it says on the second Spoonful album liner notes) BTW.

Alrighty, then -- and what would your choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Nancy's Record Collection (And Mine): An Occasional Series

From 1987, and their brilliant The Sound of Music album, please enjoy The dBs -- with the incomparable Syd Straw on guest vocals -- and the (should have been a massive hit) Peter Holsapple-penned (and sung) country/power pop weeper "Never Before and Never Again."

God, what a great song, and their voices fit together like Gram and Emmylou.

I should add that I had completely forgotten about the above until I stumbled across it online a few days ago, and it reduced me to a puddle of tears.

I think the lyrics had something to do with it.

This is the story of a mixed-up teen
What a dilemma, what a crazy scene
They had it out for the very last time
Never again, they made up their minds

She grew her hair and it changed her style
She wanted to stay that way for a while
She took a step and she didn't fall down
And that was just fine as long as he's not around

She got really small, hardly there at all
It took some days before she'd answer his call
And when she did, it just wouldn't sink in
Never before and never again

Never again and never before
Could two in love try to even the score
Never be lovers before you are friends
Never before and never again

He got a job, became immersed in books
His hair grew too, and that improved his looks
He stayed out nights, sometimes parties till four
Until he'd had enough, never again he swore

He took himself very seriously
He lost some friends and made some enemies
Still there were nights when he'd call out her name
Before he realized it was never again

Never again, she cried never again
We're too far apart and the days will not end
We're too far apart and I've taken the step
I've got a home now, not a place I've just slept

Never again and never before
Can two in love try to even the score
Never be lovers before you are friends
Never before and never again
Never again
Never again

Oh god -- the stuff about their haircuts is so wonderfully tragic/funny I can't even deal with it.

I should also add that there are people who are of the opinion that The dBs never really recovered artistically from the departure of estimable co-founder Chris Stamey.

Those people are -- what's the word I'm groping for? -- wrong.

Your Wednesday Moment of Words Fail Me

That photo was shot around the corner, i.e., a block away from where a certain Shady Dame and I currently live in Forest Hills (aka the Paris of the North East).

None of those store fronts are still there; now it's a Starbucks, a CVS and a Fed Ex, among others.

But I can tell you from first hand -- the spirit lingers on!!!

Oh, and BTW -- I wanna know what happened to those two gals second and third from the left in the front row. Especially the brunette with the big black hairdo.

I bet they were a riot. 😎

You Know, Some Days I Really Have Problems With My Generation

From his forthcoming (momentarily) new album 1967 Vacations in the Past, please dig Robyn Hitchcock and a thorougly lovely remake of The Kinks' "Waterloo Sunset."

"Waterloo Sunset," of course, is at this point pretty widely recognized as being the most beautiful pop song written in English in the second half of the 20th Century; as for Hitchcock's version, let's just say I think he did Ray Davies' creation justice.

As for rest of the new album, it's a mix of (mostly) covers of stuff from the titular year (a nice "Itchykoo Park," for example) and new originals that are thematically relevant to the year in question.

I'm not gonna comment on the latter stuff, but I must say that of the former, this one is pretty freaking awful.

In fairness to Hitchcock, of course, the song itself -- written by John Phillips, and don't get me started -- was a cynical exploitive piece of shit from jump, and the fact that it was conceived that way -- i.e.. as a wanna-be theme song for the bullshit that was the Summer of Love -- makes it all the more unlistenable to my contemporary ears.

Hitchcock may be making the same point, but hey, who knows -- maybe the above is meant straight. I'll reserve judgement on that until I digest the entire album a little more.

Songs I'd Forgotten Existed, Let Alone Loved (An Occasional Series): Special "The Tallest Guy in Rock" Edition

From 1991, and his album Perspex Island, please enjoy frighteningly NBA-sized Brit rocker Robyn Hitchcock (with The Egyptians) and the little power pop masterpiece that is "So You Think You're in Love."

In keeping with last week's Listomania, I should add that the above is a song I listened to obsessively when it first came out (and desperately wanted to cover with the Flo Mos, which was not, alas, to be). Hadn't seen that charming video before yesterday, however.

I should also add that I had more or less forgotten the whole thing until I learned recently that Hitchcock has a forthcoming (October) new album in which he pays tribute to the music made in 1967.

What I've heard from it so far is...er...interesting. Stay tuned for tomorrow's post for an early tasting.

Weekend Listomania: Special "Solipsism is Great, Everybody Should Try It!" Edition

[I originally posted a version of this back in 2009, when I was still 5'81/2" tall (don't ask). Anyway, I've done some rewriting and added some new entries, this despite the fact that I've had a terrible week and I can barely rouse myself. Sheesh -- the things I do for you guys. Anyway, enjoy. -- S.S.]

Well, it's Friday, and we're all still losing sleep over the innocent cats and dogs Donald Trump (aka Donny Demento) has informed us are being devoured au poivre in the wilds of Ohio.

That being the case, here's a fun little project to take our minds off the looming Pet Holocaust -- to wit:

Post-Elvis Singles or Individual Album Tracks That Changed Your Life!!!

Self-explanatory, I think, so no arbitrary rules this time. Except that we're specifically talking here about ONLY singles or album cuts, NOT whole albums (a topic for another time). Also, I'm disqualifying anything by The Beatles on the grounds that there are just too damned many tunes by the Fabs to choose from and that they're a little too obvious choices in any case.

Okay, and my totally Top of My Head Top Ten, in no particular order, is...

10. The Replacements -- I Will Dare

The lead off track from Let It Be. I had never heard a note by these guys before it came out, and the only reason I bothered to listen is that a colleague wrote a rave about it in the Village Voice. Needless to say, my head exploded when I heard it. Really, I couldn't believe people were still making music like that.

9. The Rolling Stones -- It's All Over Now

The Valentinos original of this (featuring Bobby Womack) is superficially similar -- two guitars, bass and drums, and a singer up front -- but if you've ever heard it, you know that it's actually kind of jolly. The Stones rethink keeps the basic arrangement model intact, but the guitars are stripped down to ominous Travis-picking meets scrubbed metal Chuck Berry, and the whole thing is invested with a palpable sense of menace completely unprecedented in pop music at the time. Plus: the concluding fade-out, with those circular guitar riffs altered just slightly each time as the echo creeps in, marks (no doubt about it) the birth of the style and esthetic we'd later call Minimalism. Alas, in the 70s, that moron Phillip Glass went on to adopt it for four-hour operas, thus totally missing the point, but this is what it's supposed to sound like.

Bottom line: Hearing this under a pillow via transistor radio over WMCA-AM is when I decided that Andrew Oldham's liner note claim -- that the Stones weren't just a band, they were a way of life -- wasn't as asinine as it seemed at first.

8. The Byrds -- The Bells of Rhymney

As I have said here on numerous occasions, if there's a more beautiful sound in all of nature than that of a Rickenbacker 12-string guitar well played, I have yet to hear it. In any case, this song -- even more than "Mr. Tambourine Man" -- is where the Church of the Rickenbacker opened. Nearly six decades later, I'm still dropping by for services, if you'll pardon the perhaps inelegant mixed metaphor.

7. The Beach Boys -- When I Grow Up

Obviously, it's melodically gorgeous and the harmonies exquisite. But it's also the first rock song (for me anyway) that combines adolescent angst and something like mature wisdom; when people say that Brian Wilson invented the whole confessional California songwriting school that people usually associate with Joni Mitchell or Jackson Browne, this is the song they have in mind, I think. Although "In My Room" or "Don't Worry Baby" are contenders as well.

6. The Miracles -- The Tracks of My Tears

This wasn't the first r&b record I loved, but it's the first one I bought and played as obsessively as I did any Beatles 45. Everything about it just killed me; the oddly sinister yet lovely sound of the guitars at the beginning, the way the rhythm section falls effortlessly into place, the sensual longing in Smokey's voice contrasted with the almost churchy background vocals...I still can't listen to it without thinking there's some detail I've missed, one that if I could only hear at last then some tremendous secret would be revealed. I suspect I'm not the only person who feels that way, BTW.

5. Jimmy Cliff -- The Harder They Come

A great song and a great voice, to be sure, and recognizably rock-and-roll, but at the same time it was indisputably...well, something else. If Sly Stone hadn't already titled an album A Whole New Thing, the movie soundtrack this astounding song derives from could easily have copped it.

4. Bruce Springsteen -- Spirit in the Night

The first time I heard this, the snare drum and near-mythic sax wail that open it hit me so hard that I thought I'd been wacked upside the head with a 2X4. Then I noticed the lyrics and had the absolutely eerie sensation that Springsteen had been reading my mail. Want to know what it felt like to be a a 20-something with no direction home in the early 70s? All you have to do is listen....

3. R.E.M. -- Radio Free Europe

Some records just have a vibe about them. Here's one (and the same can be said of Murmur as a whole) that has it in spades, a certain indefinable something that simply grabs you (or at least me) and won't let go. First time I heard it, I remember thinking it sounded simultaneously space age modern and as old as the hills. Still an apt description, actually.

2. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers -- King's Highway

From Into the Great Wide Open, and co-produced by Jeff Lynne, which I'd forgotten. In any event, after I first heard this I couldn't be bothered with the rest of the album, estimable as it is; I lost track of how many times I played the song. I should add that I hadn't heard it in a while, but I stumbled on the live version above last week and when Petty sang "I don't wanna end up in a room all alone/ Don't wanna end up someone that I don't even know" I just completely lost it.

And the Numero Uno mind blower, it's not even a contest, so don't give me any shit about this is ---

1. The La's -- There She Goes

Like "Tracks of My Tears" years before, when this first came out I played it over and over and over again in the hope of finally being able to hear into the sheer sonic density of it. I still do, from time to time, and to this day I haven't quite figured out what that twelve-string riff means. Or why Lee Mavers' voice sounds so simultaneously familiar and eerie. Or, finally, who she is and where the hell she's going.

Awrighty then -- what would your choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!