So I originally did a version of this in 2008(!), back when the world and this blog were young, and if you had told me then that our noble republic would someday be in the hands of a demented short-fingered vulgarian with a vocabulary of approximately 700 words and the emotional maturity of a toddler, I would have suggested you were fucking high.
In any event, it turned out to be true, which is one of the reasons (i.e., I'm really exhausted coping) I've recyled it now. It also seems newly relevant, given that the aforementioned SFV is -- post his occupation of our nation's capitol -- now threatening to send Federal troops into other liberal cities, specifically including the Big Apple.
Hey -- good luck with that one, Donny. To paraphrase Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca -- "There are certain sections of New York, shithead, that I wouldn't advise you to try to invade."
Which leads us, inexorably, to the subject of today's business. To wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite) post-Beatles Pop/Rock/Folk/Soul song/record about/referencing New York City and environs in the title or lyrics is...???
Okay, no arbitrary rules here, but if you nominate any version of "New York, New York" I will come to your house and kill you AND your family. Sorry.
Obviously, NY-themed songs are almost too numerous to mention, but in case you're wondering, my fave(s) is a tie between...
...and...
As you may recall, Fear was a band much beloved of John Belushi, and the song above holds a special place in my heart because they performed it during their legendary SNL appearance, at which they almost literally brought the house down (a story I'll perhaps retell on another occasion).
As for the Tradewinds record, hell -- what could be a more poignant existential dilemma than being the only living surfer boy in New York? 😎
So the other day I'm channel surfing and I chanced across some ESPN kind of thingie and they were talking about an upcoming Yankees/Boston contest.
And I suddenly flashed on a song I hadn't thought about for several decades.
From their self-titled 1968 debut album, please enjoy Beantown band Earth Opera and their obviously conflicted plaint about how "The Red Sox Are Winning."
When you are gone I keep track of the time
In my diary line by line
And the past is behind
It was so long ago
When believing and beauty
Celebrated the birth
It was green, lovely green
We could fly like milkweed
But nowadays no one seems to care
They laugh at me when I ride my bike
Turn away in shame when I fly my kite
I spend my Saturdays
Alone in the mirror
Arranging my hair
In the end, what is there?
To talk of passing time
Should I turn off the TV?
Or go to the race track
And bet on the dogs
And the weather is strange
No summer this year
In the days of the war
But the Red Sox are winning
As you can tell from all of the above, these guys were very echt-late Sixties in their melding of folk-rock, psychedelia and general mishegass. I actually owned the album (and its successor, the even wiggier American Eagle Tragedy -- don't worry, I didn't buy them, but rather stole them from my college radio station). But the baseball song was the only one I played a lot; for some reason its sledgehammer irony really spoke to me at the time (Vietnam, and all that).
In any event, two members of the group -- David Grisman and Peter Rowan (who wrote the song) -- went on to much better things as members of Old and in the Way with Jerry Garcia and Vassar Clements; their self-titled LP became the best-selling bluegrass album of all time.
Meanwhile, if you want to hear more of the Opera guys, the full album can be listened to -- for free -- over at YouTube HERE.
From their 1999 album Hooray for Boobies(!), enjoy (if possible) wiseguy Pennsylvania punk band the Bloodhound Gang and the, er, interesting video for their re-imagining of The Association's 1965 classic "Along Comes Mary."
Seriously, watching that I don't know whether to laugh or cry. And that's just over how they removed the melody from the original song. 😎
I should add that the aforementioned album was actually a Number 1 hit (and "Mary" in the singles Top 10) in...wait for it...Germany. 😎😎
From a fascinating essay by critic Adam Gopnik in the Aug. 4 issue of The New Yorker:
With minimal ingenuity, any historical period can be made to dissolve into the ones around it. Take the rock revolution—that great shift which, emerging in the mid-nineteen-fifties and established by the mid-sixties, definitively separated the Broadway-and-jazz-based tunes that had previously dominated popular music from the new sound. The break ravaged record companies and derailed careers. In the fifties, the wonderful jazz-and-standards singer Beverly Kenney performed a song she’d written called “I Hate Rock ’n’ Roll,” and then—perhaps for other reasons, but surely for that one, too—took her own life [emphasis mine - S.S.].
Okay, I was unfamiliar with Ms. Kenney and her tragic end, so as you can imagine that got my attention.
You can find out more about her over HERE; it's way fascinating, trust me -- she should be remembered for a whole bunch of cool things rather than suicide.
And here's the anti-rock anthem in question.
Seems a little extreme to me, but obviously it was a different time. In any case, I'm a fan of that whole Fifties deadpan cool girl jazz singer genre -- I adore Chris Connor, for example -- and Ms. Kenney is obviously a superior representative of same.
I should add that the above is from a 1958 live performance on the old Steve Allen show, but alas the actual video of it has not made it to YouTube.
Okay, the great climate change hoax NYC weather has been really kicking my ass of late, so while I'm still conscious, let's get immediately to the subject of today's business.
To wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite) post-Elvis pop/rock/folk/soul record that sounds much more like the work of someone other than who it actually is, is...???
Discuss.
Oh, and no arbitrary rules whatsoever, you're welcome very much; as you may have gathered, I lack the energy to posit any. 😎
In case you're wondering, my fave is a tie between...
...the greatest Aretha Franklin record Aretha never recorded and...
...a bunch of bar band guys from Bergenfield, New Jersey doing the best Beatles sound-alike of all time? Who'd a thunk it?
Meanwhile, my least fave is...
U2 without the warmth? Spandau Ballet without the sense of humor? God, those guys suck. 😎😎
So I got an e-mail out of the blue the other day including the video below and the following explanatory stuff:
Hi Steve, hope you're well!
My names Miles, but I'm emailing on behalf of my band Orchidelia. We’re a power pop group from Sheffield, England. We have just released a new single, "You’ll Never Know," but really we’re just emailing to say hello and introduce ourselves. We’re all pretty young, 20/21 [emphasis mine -- S.S.], and we love power pop so it’s great that you’re blogging about it, keeping the torch burning.
There’s not many young bands who play or write this sort of stuff, fewer who market themselves as being “a power pop band”. Most people we’ve spoke to don’t even know what it is, they think it’s a term we’ve invented. It’s a shame because there’s a timeless quality about the music, but it doesn’t seem to be connecting with a mass audience like it once did. It could all change though! But yes, we just wanted to let you know we exist, and we’d love to hear back from you!
Frankly, they had me at "from Sheffield, England." 😎
Seriously, I can't tell you charming I find the above, including the song, which is a terrific piece of earworm pop craftmanship. And the fact that they're youngsters doing stuff like that is, as you can imagine, downright inspirational in my book.
Oh -- I should add that Miles assured me the single "is out everywhere," which I assume means at all the usual streaming/download sites. So what are you waiting for?
From her forthcoming album Fix the World, please enjoy power pop chanteuse extraordinaire Carmen Toth and the video for the infectious lead-off single "Pretty Dresses."
A song, as you'll hear, that has some interesting things to say about the issues of beauty and belonging.
Plus that animation just cracks me up. 😎
Toth, a Canadian who's been doing this sort of thing for going on two decades, was previously unknown to me, but after hearing the above I plan to do the research, as they say.
If you are similarly inclined, you can start to find out more about her, including where and when she's gigging in the future, over at her official website HERE. In the meantime, the album drops, as today's young people say, on October 7; I presume it will be available at all the de rigeur digital outlets, but I'll let you know more as we get closer to the release date.
Okay kids, I know I don't usually post blues stuff (for obvious reasons).
But I stumbled across this 2024 video by my long-time hero Dion (who transcends genre) and some drop-dead gorgeous friend of his (lip-synching the part sung on the actual record by Shemekia Copeland) and I just had to share. Sorry, I can only post the link -- if anybody knows how to get the video to show in blogger, lemme know.
From 1968, please behold in breathless wonder not untalented Sinatra-wannabe Frankie Randall and the damndest cover of The Who's classic "I Can See For Miles" ever heard by sentient mammalian ears.
Really -- words kinda fail me on that. I am informed, however, that the album it's from -- The Mods and the Pops -- is a minor masterpiece of similar mishegass, including swinging remakes of The Move's "Flowers in the Rain"(!) and Donovan's "Lelainia."(!!)
In any case, I had completely forgotten that Randall's version had appeared on one of Rhino's Golden Throat compilations, which leads us, inexorably, to the subject of today's business. To Wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite) unintentionally amusing/stylistically inappropriate/or just plain freaking weird cover version of a well known song originally done by a post-Elvis pop/rock/folk/r&b singer is...????
In case you're wondering, apart from the above, my new fave has gotta be this.
I mean -- how surreal is that? He's actually mentioned by name in the lyrics. 😎
From 1986, on MTV's much-missed Basement Tapes show, please enjoy The Silent Types and their lost power pop classic "I Can Live With That."
I know very little about those guys, except that apparently they were playing in Greenwich Village around the same time in the '80s as The Floor Models. Lead singer Tom Scarpino informs me that I actually saw them perform at Kenny's Castaways, but highly potent drugs were probably being consumed at the time and I don't really remember. Which is probably a good thing, since I have no doubt that if I did see them I would have been intensely jealous.
In any event, I'd been meaning to post that video for ages. I mean, that's a genuinely great freaking song; if they were doing that when I saw them at Kenny's, it's even more embarrassing that I don't recall it. 😎
[I originally posted this piece here back in 2007; it remains my favorite thing I've ever written. Have I mentioned that this death shit is really starting to piss me off? - S.S.]
I'm gonna get horribly self-indulgent now, so please forgive me in advance.
Here's the deal: I stumbled across this clip yesterday and I'm finding it difficult to describe just how moving I think it is. A caveat before you watch: The video quality is just barely adequate, but the audio is mostly fine. Listen to it with headphones -- you'll miss the bass, otherwise.
Okay, the backstory: The song of course, is the Kinks' gorgeous "Waterloo Sunset," and the guy singing it is Brit cult figure Terry Reid. If you don't know him, suffice it to say that he's a brilliant songwriter and vocalist (think a more soulful Steve Marriott) who made a couple of wonderful albums in the late 60s and early 70s but alas his career never really took off for all the usual reasons. What makes him slightly more than a fondly remembered footnote to history is that Jimmy Page actually offered him the frontman slot in Led Zeppelin; considering that he's also a terrific guitarist, the fact that he punted on the gig probably changed the world in unfathomable ways. Seriously -- can you imagine what Zep might have been like with a better singer and a twin-guitar attack? Wow. In any case, the clip derives from a series of club shows Reid did in L.A. in 2002; the band is led by longtime scenester Waddy Wachtel, and apparently all sorts of 70s and 80s B-list rockers did guest shots at one point or another.
So -- why do I find the vid so emotionally shattering? Well, the song itself has something to do with it, of course. Longtime readers are aware that I am occasionally of the opinion that it's the most beautiful song written in English in the second half of the 20th century. To my ears, it's about somebody who, for whatever reason, has concluded that they will never themselves find love, but who can watch other people -- total strangers, actually -- who have, and has decided that the solace they get from that is ultimately enough. It's a perfectly observed little vignette that manages to be both heartbreaking and strangely uplifting in its generosity of spirit; it's also, probably, the most revealing thing Ray Davies has ever written (and frankly, I can't think of another songwriter who could have pulled it off).
Reid gets all that of course, but he adds a lot more. It's a wonderfully theatrical performance, and at the heart of it is the not so dirty little secret of so much 60s Brit rock, i.e, that as much as the English pop boom owed to blues and r&b, it also owed to that now vanished English institution -- the music hall. The examples are almost endless -- see Sgt. Pepper or the Small Faces "Lazy Sunday" -- and one of the first things that struck me watching the clip is that Reid, singing his heart out up on that cramped little stage, could almost be a tragi-comic version of Archie Rice, the title character from John Osborne's The Entertainer. To really understand that you have to remember that back when Reid was an almost star, he was one of those skinny pretty boy rock god types. Here, of course, he looks like nothing less than one of those slightly puffy second tier expatriate Brit actors at Warner Brothers in the 30s. And he's not posturing like the pop idol he briefly was; instead he's swanning around in that ridiculous ice cream suit like Herbert Marshall in The Letter. It's laughably hokey but it's also quite brave; he's playing the fool and yet it's as if his relationship to the song and the audience and to the whole idea of being a rock star parallels the relationship of the song's narrator to the starcrossed lovers. There's something just enormously compassionate about it, and it just chokes me up.
And don't even get me started on Wachtel's solo or that gorgeous riff he introduces at the end to ride the song out (neither are on the actual Kinks record), or how Reid trails off into wordless falsetto, thus finding an unsuspected link between Davies' teddibly British original and the American street corner romanticism of old Doo Wop and Goffin-King songs.
Alright, I''ve gone on about this for a little too long, and yes, perhaps I'm reading too much into it. In any case, I'm gonna go watch it again, and thanks for stopping by.
PS: I forwarded this to my old pal Eric Boardman (who's a fan and lives in LA), wondering if perhaps he'd been in the audience when it was shot. Just got his reply.
I was not (SIGH) at that show, but have been to Waddy's Monday night jam at The Joint quite often. A great scene as who's-who in rock drop by. Check the concert & club listings as to which bands are in town for the week-end and gamble. For instance, I saw Keith Richards play for an hour, including a few Chuck Berry numbers and a torn-up version of "Down The Road Apiece."
Terry Reid's album with "Horses in a Rain Storm" kept me company summer of '70 along with "After The Gold Rush" and Donovan's "Open Road."
The trailer for Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, i.e. the forthcoming Boss bio-pic starring The Bear's Jeremy Allen White.
I gotta admit -- when that excerpt from White doing "Born to Run" live with (whoever's impersonating) the E-Street Band appeared at the end, I actually got kinda choked up. 😎
I should add that so far I can't determine exactly whether White is gonna be doing a Timothee Chalamet -- i.e., himself singing and playing guitar in emulation of Springsteen -- or rather merely lip-synching actual real Springsteen records. And to be honest, I'm not even sure I actually care.
In any case, it's scheduled to open October 24; I'll keep you posted as things develop.
Or so said pretentious frog auteur Jean-Luc Godard, but what the fuck did he know?
In any case, I bring it up because a certain Shady Dame and I have been bingeing on documentaries of late -- specifically, music/rock-and-roll documentaries. I can't remember all of them, but I do know that in the last two weeks we watched docs on The Cowsills (creepy and sad), The Hollies (lotsa fun), Led Zeppelin (a little dull) and Billy Joel (a must see, even if you're not particularly a fan of either the man or his music. Among other things, it's an amazing time capsule of the last 60 or so years of pop culture).
All of which leads us, inexorably, to the subject of the business at hand. To wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite) non-bio-pic film about a post-Elvis pop/rock/folk/soul/r&b/country group or solo artist is...???
No arbitrary rules here; obviously, I'm talking about documentaries per se, but I understand that, for example, a lot of good music movies blur the distinction between docs and concert flick. So if that's what floats your boat, then go for it!
Anyway, in case you're wondering, my choice in the fave category is this one.
Great story, great music and a charismatic figure at the center of it -- what more could you want?
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