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.
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.
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?
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!!!"
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. 😎
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.
[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.]
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
[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.
Welcome to the “Best Rock 'n' Roll Music of the 21st Century, Part 4”, by Captain Al
Let me remind both you (Simels’ wonderful readers) and myself that these columns are about what I consider my favorite new music of the still new century. Coincidentally, I just happen to think the best has been made by women. And once again I will be throwing you a curveball with today’s selection: Rhiannon Giddens.
Her music (and possibly her) personality is a study in contrasts. She studied to be an opera singer. She is part of a movement to reclaim the banjo as an African-American musical instrument, And she's also a human rights activist.
Getting right to the point -- I think Rhiannon and her music could ONLY have been created in the 21st Century, precisely because of the traditions it draws on (stretching back hundreds of years). Which is to say I feel it could not have been created before now: it needed to percolate its various influences until OUR time.
Okay, let's examine some representative work. First, here she is as roots music creator:
Now let’s check her out on the banjo:
And finally, here are some of her semi-classical/operatic excusions:
Rhiannon presents quite a past and future for music, and I find her artistry both fascinating and beautiful. I wish I had some deep background to explain what makes her so special on a musical level but alas I don’t. So all I’ll say is -- just give into her magic and follow its wonderful paths.
You're right, Capt.; She's really something. I have to admit I was only fitfully aware of her work previously, but wow.
From that just-released Raspberry Park album I've been noodging you about lately, please enjoy the aforementioned Jersey guys and the niftiest cover of a Bruce Springsteen song imaginable.
Seriously -- a sorta tongue-in-cheek pop/punk version of "I'm on Fire"? What's not to like?
COMING TOMORROW: The next installment of Capt. Al's on-going series saluting pop music artists of the current century.
Hint: This one's a gal with folkie tendencies who's named after a fabulous hit song of the 70s.
From 2024, (possibly), please enjoy The Cheatles and their quite brilliant ode to everybody's favorite pre-Russian Revolution tsarist-beloved religious nut "Rasputin."
In case you're wondering, I stumbled across this over at YouTube yesterday, and my jaw still hasn't been seperated from my apartment floor.
From their just released (and brilliantly monikered) Raspberry Park, please enjoy power pop deities The Weeklings and their quite remarkable cover of the Fabs' Sgt. Pepper highlight "She's Leaving Home."
Attentive readers will recall my posting two earlier cool tracks from the album -- specifically, a Buffalo Springfield/Stones mashup and a glorious cover of "I've Just Seen a Face" -- but the above is, I think you'll agree, equally gorgeous and perhaps even more innovative. I mean -- the utterly surprising horns and guitars notwithstanding, I can't recall another cover of the song by anybody -- save perhaps Richie Havens -- that was particularly notewothy on any level.
In any case, having just perused the entire Weeklings album, I gotta say -- it's like totally wowsville and you need to get it now.
[I originally posted a version of this back in 2009 (oh god, oh god). As is my wont on these occasions, I've done some re-writing and made a few entry changes out of sheer guilt. Enjoy! -- S.S.]
Well, it's Friday, and once again I've run out of dumb topical jokes involving my Asian fille du whoopie Fah Lo Suee and the latest Republican/Trump outrage du jour.
Hey -- what can you do?
In any case, posting by moi will necessarily be sporadic for a few days.
But in my absence, here's a fun project for us all to contemplate:
Best or Worst Post-Beatles Song With Either the Word Week or a Specific Day of the Week In Its Title!!!
Self-explanatory, obviously, so no arbitrary rules. Although if you try to sneak in Loudon Wainwright's "April Fools Day Morn," or "Wild Weekend" or something similar, I will come to your house and taunt you unmercifully.
Get it? We're talking songs naming either actual days of the week or including the actual word "week."
And my Totally Top of My Head Top Ten is...
10. Tori Amos -- Wednesday
Not a particularly great song, but I've had a sneaking fondness for this woman dating back to that Crucify EP cover photo she did where she was naked except for a bunch of vegetables around her neck.
9. Elton John -- Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting
God, what a stupid song on every level. Have I mentioned I was never an Elton fan, mostly because of embarrasingly exploitive posturing drivel like this?
8. The Mamas and the Papas -- Monday, Monday
Pretty gorgeous, but mostly I'm including it as a way of repenting for the snide remarks the other day about the out of tune flute on "California Dreaming."
7. The Smithereens -- Groovy Tuesday
Originally heard on Especially For You, which remains one of the great underrated albums of the 80s. This version is a solo performance by much missed head 'Reen Pat DiNizio, from back in 2000.
6. The Velvet Underground -- Sunday Morning
Lou's big Brill Building move on the Velvets' otherwise kinda scary debut LP. Seriously -- this is so pretty, The Monkees could have covered it.
5. Kaiser Chiefs -- Saturday Night
Not a fan of the Chiefs per se, but I thought it might be appropriate to have something originally written and recorded in the current century.
4. The Beatles -- Eight Days a Week
First anthologized, in this country, on the non-canonical American LP Beatles VI. As Cameron Crowe famously said of something else, you still can't buy a better record.
3. Blondie -- Sunday Girl
You know, it's not exactly a secret that I'm a sucker for a woman in a man's dress shirt and tie, but Ms. Harry was really to die for, wasn't she?
2. Small Faces -- Lazy Sunday
One of the most evocative "knickers up at the pub" songs of 60's Brit rock. And those little psychedelic breaks in the middle, with the chimes and organ, are just exquisite.
And the Numero Uno 7 Jours Par Semaine song of them all -- c'mon for a change I'm not exaggerating here and there really can't be any doubt about this -- obviously is...
1. The Easybeats -- Friday on My Mind
Oh puhleeeze -- you knew this was gonna be the one, right? A totally great song, and the amazing thing is that it's not even the Easys' best, although that remains a fairly well-kept secret outside of Australia.
To paraphrase the great Charles Pierce -- Is it a good day to post a classic track by The Smithereens?
It's ALWAYS a good day to post a classic track by The Smithereens!!!
The track in question, of course, is a fab cover of the 1965 proto-power pop masterpiece by The Beach Boys -- think Carl Wilson channeling The Beatles.
The 'Reens characteristically brilliant remake is from their first indie EP, which came out in 1980, i.e. a lifetime before they got signed by an actual national record label in 1986.
I was lucky enough to see the 'Reens do the tune live (at my then neighborhood watering hole, Kenny's Castaways in fabled Greenwich Village) on countless occasions before their commercial breakthrough. And if memory serves, I actually reviewed the EP in the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review.
From 1965, it's Phil Spector(!) on The Merv Griffin Show(!!).
With guests Eartha Kitt(!!!), Wally Cox(!!!!) and a frighteningly young Richard Pryor(!!!!!) on the celebrity couch.
Okay, that is remarkable on so many levels of Sixties Time Capsule that I can't begin to enumerate them. But you'll know what I'm talking about after you see it in its 15-minute entirety.
BTW, I dug up that clip because of yesterday's discussion of an Adele record being annoyingly out of tune.
More specifically, because I seemed to recall seeing Spector on the Merv show in real time, when I was a teenager. And during which Merv specifically asked Spector what he thought about music critics saying his hit records had pitch problems.
That exchange doesn't happen in the above clip, but I'm sure I saw it somewhere/sometime, and I'll keep looking for it.
I should add that, as I recall, Spector's pissed-off reply in said clip (and I'm paraphrasing) was "Hey -- the people who play on my records are the greatest musicians in the world, and they don't play out of tune."
Yeah, right. The Wrecking Crew, obviously. Who DON'T play out of tune.
But which doesn't change the fact that, in the real world, a lot of Spector's unquestionably great records actually SOUND a little out of tune.
I mean, it's not a state secret.
FRIGHTENING TRUE POSTSCRIPT: I met Ronnie Spector at some press party in the 90s, and the next day, the guy who introduced us called me up and said "Hey -- Ronnie thought you were cute. She said you reminded her of Phil."
From 2011, please enjoy endure vastly over-rated Brit chanteuse crime against nature Adele and her ear-piercingly awful "Someone Like You."
Seriously, I myself do not claim to have perfect hearing, especially at my advanced age, but Adele's vocal on that is so egregiously off-key in so many spots that when I heard it the other afternoon at my local watering hole I alternated between shaking my head in disbelief that it had ever been cleared for release and merely shrieking loudly in pain.
I never thought I'd be saying this, but -- where's that damn auto-tune when you need it?
And speaking of which, don't even get me started on Bruce Springsteen's vocal on "Going Down" or the flute solo on "California Dreamin'." 😎
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