An idiosyncratic blog dedicated to the precursors, the practioners, and the descendants of power pop.
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From 1988, please enjoy wise-ass Texas roots-rockers (heh) The Wild Seeds and their plaintively wistful "I'm Sorry, I Can't Rock You All Night Long."
I actually reviewed the album that's from at The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review when it first came out, and if memory serves I loved it, especially "I'm Sorry." Nevertheless, I seem to have lost my copy, and until I chanced across the above on FB the other day, I had totally forgotten that the song had ever existed, let alone that it was such a pitch-perfect skewering of 80s hair band machismo.
Inspirational verse:
I'm sorry
So sorry
I can't rock you all night long
It's an interesting idea, baby
But it would be wrong
Lord knows, we've all known the feeling as we age, but it's rarely been expressed so eloquently.
Okay kids, as some of you may know, I had a weird freak accident (a fall in my kitchen, no less) two weeks ago, and as a result I've been in excruciating back pain ever since. So today's business is, necessarily, gonna be something essentially tossed off and not up to my usual standard of excellence. (And if truth be told, I've probably done a variant of it sometime in the blog's dim dark past.)
Hey -- how do you say "cut me some slack, Jack!" in Yiddish? 😎
Anyway, by way of introduction, let me note that yesterday marked the 4th anniversary of the arrival of our beloved pussycat Mickey -- a rescue from the Bronx, thus named after Mr. Mantle -- at our digs in Forest Hills.
He's a real sweeteart, and you'll note that he's also polydactyl, i.e. he has six toes on each paw. Pretty cool, no?
In any case, that leads us inevitably and inexorably to the subject at hand. To wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite) post-Elvis pop/rock/soul/folk record/song
referencing animals either in the lyrics, title, or name of the artist/band is????
Discuss.
In case you're wondering, my nominee is this.
The song itself is sort of a guilty pleasure; it's a tad dated, obviously, but I think I just kinda dig the idea that these guys might possibly have named themselves after the hilarious absurdist play by Ionesco.
Alrighty then -- what would YOUR choices be?
And have a great weekend, everybody! And hope that the Heroin Jr. pills my pain specialist just prescribed for me make my weekend a little more bearable than I'm used to of late.
From 1970 and their sophomore Boppin' the Blues album please enjoy the original five-piece lineup of NRBQ and their hilarious and irresistible "Flat-Foot Flewzy."
As most of you guys know, our good friend Sal Nunziato has been running a "Songs That Totally Rock" sort of contest this week over at his Burning Wood blog and the above song -- which I had not heard or even pondered in five decades -- got nominated. Imagine my pleasured surprise when it turned out to be an absolute unmitigated delight after all these years.
Now excuse me while I go check out both of the Q's first two albums, which I seem to recall as being just chock full of stuff as great as that.
And speaking of one-hit wonders as we were over the weekend, I was reminded of a band who I loved back in the day (I owned both of their albums) but I haven't thought about them in ages. And in any case, they never got the larger kind of critical acclaim I always felt they deserved, probably due to their commercially ill-advised anti-counter-cultural image.
I refer of course to Every Mother's Son, they of "Come On Down to My Boat" fame.
In any event, estimable as that song is, it's not my favorite of theirs.
That would be a cross between this one, from their debut album...
...and this one (from their second and final effort) which was actually a moderate hit in a lot of markets, including my own in the Tri-State area.
I think we can all agree that both of those are exemplary pop/rock confections. The first, I have long maintained, is the greatest Monkees record that the Monkees never made, and it is one of the most poignant regrets of my adult life that the Floor Models never got around to covering it. The second, of course, is merely two-plus minutes of flat-out folk-rock gorgeousness in that sort of baroque/moderately psychedelic style that was one of the genuine pleasures of its period.
I should add that the band's keyboard guy, Bruce Milner, went on to become a very ritzy upscale dentist on NY's Upper East Side; back in the 90s, he was a regular at my then Manhattan watering hole. Very nice guy, but I could never really get him to talk about his days as a minor league rock star.
From 1997, please enjoy the mostly obscure White Town and his insinuating claim to fame "Your Woman."
From Wiki:
White Town auteur Mishra has said, "I'm a mediocre singer, I'm a terrible guitarist, I'm a pretty good keyboardist, I'm a good producer, not amazing, but good."Noting his status as a one-hit wonder, he said it is "better than a no-hit wonder" and elaborated, "To be a professional musician and to be entertaining people twenty years after my biggest hit, I feel like I'm the luckiest person alive. Just to have one song that connects with people—most musicians dream their entire lives of having that."
Which leads us, inevitably and inexorably, to the subject of today's business. To wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite, however unlikely that may be) post Elvis-20th century pop/rock/soul/folk/or whatever one hit wonder song (and artist) is...???
Discuss.
No arbitrary rules whatsoever, but I've included the 20th century proviso because commercial music in the current era is so built-in forgettable that it just seems unfair to compare to it to an earlier time. White Town being an almost exception that proves the rule.
Oh, and BTW, in case you're wondering, my fave is pretty much this.
I mean, that's so freaking good it kind of boggles the mind they never had another hit.
The good news -- saw my doctor yesterday, and I do not appear to have done any serious damage to my back. The bad news -- I am in serious pain a lot of the time and I'll be getting two MRIs later today. Please forgive ny slacking off on today's post.
Barring the unforseen, regular stuff -- including an amusing Weekend Essay Question -- resumes on the morrow.
The song itself was written by Mick and Keith (in 1963) but the Stones demo remains unreleased; the song was given to Brit popsters The Mighty Avengers by Stones manager/producer Andrew Oldham and their record actually charted in England in '64. The dawn-of-the-'80s version by The Inmates (which was the first one I heard) was a big fave at Casa Simels for a long time; the Inmates themselves were the sort of missing link between pub rock and punk. The Lonely Boys (who were Swedish, and not to be confused with the American Los Lonely Boys, who came later and were something wholly other) were previously unknown to me, as was their version of the song.
I kind of love all of the above in equal measure, although if pressed the Inmates take is marginally my favorite, if only for sentimental reasons.
A pretty fab song overall, though, and it is one of the great regrets of my adult life that the Floor Models never got around to covering it.
Those are my two favorites on the record, but trust me -- the rest of the songs are similarly terrific and will get under your skin post-haste.
Attentive readers will recall my raving about Lance's work in these pages previously, but if you missed those here's the backstory. Lance's day job is as Nashville's savviest music publicist. I've known him in that capacity since the '90s, and over the years (both when I was a small bigshot at The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review and, more recently, as a poor scribbler at this here blog) he's hipped me to a lot of great stuff I might otherwise not have heard (thanks, Lance!). Ironically enough, however, I only vaguely knew that he also had an out-of-the-office secret identity as a singer/songwriter.
The new album is very much of a piece with his earlier efforts, which is to say it ain't a rock record of the type that usually is the subject of my postings here. But however you categorize it-- folk/country/Americana/whatever -- it's inarguably wonderful. Lance's songs are literate, melodically memorable, and poignant on subjects both contemporary and historical (like "William Cooper Smith," an old West saga that touches a remarkable number of bases). And as I've noted before they're sung by him in a deeply affecting Bruised Everyman voice that I'd kill to have. I should add that the instrumental backings are sheer understated perfection; the delicate, almost chamber music-ish acoutic guitar and piano interplay on the opening of the title song is the most ineffably lovely listening experience I expect to have in my apartment anytime in the forseeable future.
But enough of my yakking; you can find out more about Lance, and buy the new album (and the two that preceded it) at his official website OVER HERE.
In any event, all of the above leads inevitably and inexorably to the subject of today's business. To wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite) post-Elvis pop, rock, country or folk album whose arrangements are mostly/largely driven by acoustic instruments is...???
Discuss.
In case you were wondering, my candidate for least favorite is the album this is from.
From earlier this year please enjoy Banda AL9 (yeah, I don't get the name either) and their effortlessly effervescent "She Can Do It All."
As longtime reader Dave Leonatti (who turned me on to them recently) observed -- that really checks all the power pop boxes. I mean seriously -- that's the most infectious pop/rock confection I've heard in ages
In any case, they're brothers (no shit, Sherlock) who've apparently been doing this kind of stuff since around 2010, and the above is from their amusingly monikered new album Hey! Hey! We're Banda AL9!. They don't seem to have an official webpage or any online presence that I can find, but I'll keep you posted if that changes.
The short version: Was puttering around in my kitchen last night, had a dizzy spell, lost my balance and fell flat on my back. I am now in so much pain I can barely walk.
Assuming I'm better, regular posting -- (hello, Lance C.😎 ) -- resumes on the morrow.
So yesterday, as you are doubtless aware, our good friend Sal Nunziato at the invaluable Burning Wood blog posted a playlist whose overarching theme was that innumerable 60s songs by The Who were clearly power pop as we understand the term. To which I can only say -- I couldn't agree more.
Which leads us, inexorably and inevitably, to the theme of the weekend's business. To wit:
...and your favorite pre-Big Star/Raspberries proto-power pop song is???
Discuss.
Long-time readers -- by which I mean who've been around since the 'aughts, when NYMary first gave me the metaphorical keys to the car around here -- will doubtless have guessed MY candidate.
I mean -- that drum opening, the chimes and guitar riff on the chorus, the background "oohs"??? Power pop fer sure.
I should add that it's the first cover song the savage young Floor Models learned, and in fact the very first thing we ever performed live in front of an audience (at our sneak audition for a gig at Kenny's Castaways). Alas, no live version of that has survived, but it was a staple of our repertoire for the longest time, and it was an absolute gas to play.
...that was, of course, The Bangles and their hit cover version of Jules Shear's "If She Knew What She Wants."
Long time readers are aware that I consider those kids to be not just (obviously) the most fab/gear girl band ever, but one of the all-time great rock outfits period. That said, I hadn't listened to that song or watched that video in a couple of decades, and when I chanced across it the other day (hence Monday's post on Jules Shear) I was absolutely gobsmacked. Everything about that is perfect -- Susanna Hoff's haunting lead vocal, the ethereal harmonies, the jangly guitars, the rhythmic groove, the overall mood...a power pop masterpiece, in other words. Wow.
I should add that the above motivated me to check out Shears' original, which I had never heard previously.
From 1978, please enjoy New Wave faves Jules (Shear) and the Polar Bears and their infectious "You Just Don't Wanna Know," the lead-off track from their debut album Got No Breeding.
That was a big hit around my office at Stereo Review at the time, if not alas with the public at large. Shear, of course, went on to considerable success writing for other artists like The Bangles; in fact, it was listening accidentally to one of those songs that prompted me to revisit the Polar Bears.
More on THAT, however, will have to wait for Wednesday's posting. 😎
From 1971, please enjoy pub-rock genre-creators Brinsley Schwarz -- featuring auteur songwriter/bass player/lead vocalist Nick Lowe -- and their serenely Buddy Holly-ish folk/rock/pop masterpiece "Unknown Number."
And when I say Buddy Holly-ish that's not an exaggeration; as you may have noticed, the song's riff is pretty much identical to that of "Words of Love."
Which leads us inevitably and inexorably towards the subject of today's business. To wit:
...and your favorite post-Elvis pop/rock/folk/soul/jazz/country song featuring (either by suggestion or literally) a number either in the title or the lyrics is...???
Discuss.
No arbitrary rules, although I'm gonna be pretty annoyed if you chose an album rather than a song. I mean -- none of that Chicago III crap, okay?
And in case you're wondering about my choice -- it's this.
No matter what I try, I can't insert images into Blogger at the moment.
Whether this is a glitch in the program or a computer problem on my end I have no idea, but unless I get it resolved in the next hour or so, I won't be posting today,
Whether this will affect tomorrow's Weekend Listomania is anybody's guess, but check this space on Friday and we'll share the news at the least.
Brit/Australian songwriter/actor/comedian Tim Minchin, ladies and germs. As Jack Nicholson famously said of Bob Dylan -- this guy's a riot.
I am embarrassed to admit it, but I was unaware of Minchin until I chanced across the above by acccident over at YouTube the other day. In any case, it's one of the most brilliantly funny things I've encountered in far too long, and there's lots more where that came from. Word to the wise.
P.S.: As you'll notice, the subtitles are almost -- unconsciously, if that is the apt word -- funnier than the actual lyrics.
P.P.S.: Minchin gets extra points from me for the Victor Borge reference near the end. 😎
From 1987, and the evocatively titled In the Heart of the Heart Country, please enjoy Madison, Wisconsin-based folk rockers Fire Town and their sublimely jangly "Carry the Torch."
As is so often the case these days, the song popped into my head unbidden over the weekend. The backstory is that the indie album that it's from crossed my desk at Stereo Review with no advance warning, and it will surprise nobody to learn that the main reason I gave it a spin immediately was due to the Vox guitar posed so enticingly on the right hand side of the album cover.
As for Fire Town, they got signed soon after to Atlantic, who re-released the album; alas, it still refused to sell despite my raving about it in the pages of SR. Two of the band members, however, went on to form Garbage with Shirley Manson, and the rest, as they say, is history.
That said, the whole album is great; I think I have a complete download of it somewhere, so if the above piques your curiosity, gimme a holler and I'll send you a zip file.
And with that bit of vaguely onanistic tooting of my own horn (as it were) out of the way, we proceed directly and inexorably to the subject of today's business. To wit:
...and the best/most apppopriate closing track to a great post-Elvis rock/pop/soul/folk/country album is...???
Discuss.
Attentive readers will recall that two weeks ago we did the (as it were) flip side of this, i.e. best opening track, and as previously, there are no arbitrary rules for this one either. Hey -- if you want to pick something as silly as Abbey Road's "Her Majesty..." go for it. We won't sit anywhere near you, of course, but still -- knock yourself out!!!
In any case, my nominee -- which I suspect some of you will have seen coming down Queens Boulevard -- is this truly astounding piece of gorgeosity.
Ah, "Moonlight Mile." I should add that it's particularly noteworthy for a couple of reasons, starting with the fact that the album it's from opens with "Brown Sugar," which is surely a Top 5 contender for best lead-off song ever. I should also add that it's the only great Stones track on which Keith Richards does not play guitar (yup, it's all Mick Taylor), and that the orchestral arrangement, which to my ears channels Ralph Vaughan-Williams magnificently, is as beautiful as it is unexpected. Damn, that Paul Buckmaster really was a freaking genius.
Plus Jagger's vocal is non pareil. I mean, the melisma is truly melismatic, if you catch my drift. 😎
I mean, is this real? Or is it some bizarre, psychotic manufactured-by-management unholy schtup between/commercial mashup of The Beatles and One Direction?
Perhaps you can make the call after checking out these kids' official website OVER HERE.
In all seriousness, I chanced across the above by accident the other day and for the life of me I can't decide what I think about it. Help me out here, folks!!! 😎
In my defense, commercially she's closer to a cult figure than a household word like Taylor Swift, but still.
Anyway, I just love everything about this, including the lyrics and the wonderful backing band. Plus, let's just say that whatever "it" is, CMAT (pronounced See-Matt, in case you were wondering) has it in impressive quantities.
Bottom line: this has given me more hope for slowing/reversing the artistic decline of 21st century popular music than (almost) anything I've heard since Amy Winehouse joined that stupid 27 Club.
Well, I think we all know the answer to THAT. 😎
In any event, in honor of Independence Day weekend please enjoy Bill Pullman, the greatest president of the United States who was never president of the United States...
...no, wait, in the era of President Inepstein that's not even a particularly good joke.
Sorry.
What I meant to say was please enjoy The Hollies and their killer live cover of Bruce Springsteen's "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)." A song which is something of an annual tradition around these here parts.
And obviously because nothing says "an American holiday" like a bunch of whey-faced Limeys singing in three part harmony. 😎😎
In the meantime -- have a great weekend, everybody! And stay as cool as possible!!!
So last weekend we were at a very cool record store in Worcester, MA...
...and what did our wondering eyes behold but the following. (In case you're visually impaired, they're rubber duckies for the bathtub and you can click on the images to enlarge).
Anyway, they tototally cracked me up. Particularly Aviary Grande. 😎
They're the work of a company aptly called Celebriducks; they cost approximately 20 bucks each, and they are now my official go-to gag gifts for every occasion.
You can order them over at Amazon, and you can see more of them at the official company page OVER HERE.
And no, the above has nothing to do with the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Essay Question. 😎 😎
Preferrably under the headphones, if you live in a thin-walled NYC apartment.
As you have gathered by now, that's The Ventures with special guest twangster Duane Eddy and the most totally rockin' take on the Bobby Fuller/Sonny Curtis classic "I Fought the Law" ever beheard by sentient mammalian ears.
When I originally posted about that (which derives from a 1998 Ventures album) back in 2014, I opined that it has guitar textures that wouldn't have been out of place on albums by Television, and upon relistening to it again for the first time since then I see no reason to deviate from that assessment. In any case, it totally kicks ass and some of the instrumental interplay actually gave me chills this time around.
Now please excuse me -- I'm gonna go do the research (as today's kids say) on that aforementioned Ventures CD, which I suspect will be a fruitful subject for further exploration. 😎
Our good friend and proprietor of the invaluable Burning Wood blog Sal Nunziato linked to this the other day and I just couldn't resist putting it up over here.
I mean, my god -- this is freaking great.
I actually had a copy of the album that's from back in the day; I don't remember anything else from it (although a look at the track listing, which includes a lot of other potentially interesting covers, has intrigued me). But I vividly recall playing the shit out of the above at top volume (under heaphones, obviously) at my office at Stereo Review. And thinking then -- as I still do now -- that it may actually improve on The Who's original.
BTW, I should add that the credits on that are Shaun singing lead and Todd Rundgren and the members of Utopia doing everything else.
Okay, as I mentioned earlier, I've had to go out of town unexpectedly for a couple of days, and consequently I've had to keep my scribbling to a bare minimum until my return.
So without further ado, this leads us inexorably to the subject of today's business. To wit:
...and the best/most immediately memorable lead-off track to a great album is...???
Discuss.
No arbitrary rules whatsoever, although I was tempted to add "excluding the Beatles or Stones". But heck -- if that's the stuff you wanna pick, go for it.
In any case, if you were wondering what I'm going for, it's this (which may surprise you).
To which I can only add -- wow. And the song that opens their previous (debut) album is pretty fucking amazing too. 😎
Had to go out of town unexpectedly for the next couple of days (family mishegass -- nothing too serious) so I didn't have time to write something for today. Mea culpa.
Regular posting -- by which I mean a particularly interesting Weekend Essay Questiion -- resumes on the morrow.
From Second to None, the just-released new album by Toronto's ace jangle-rockers The Get Alongs, please enjoy the band (plus a small but enthusiastic invited audience) live in the studio with the album's killer lead-off track "Come On."
I gotta say, as much as I appreciate that song in the abstract, the video has an old-fashioned (duh) garage band vibe to it that I just find irresistible. I was not previously familiar with those guys, who I'm informed have been around since 2017, but after seeing that I am an instant fan.
I should add that, as charming as the live rendition is, the studio version from the actual album is on a whole other level of great. You can hear it (plus the rest of the album and lots of their earlier stuff) over at their Bandcamp site HERE.
From January 1967, please enjoy the original (i.e. with Jerry Corbitt as the Lennon to Jesse Colin Young's McCartney) Youngbloods, and their utterly exquisite "All Over the World" (La La)".
An absolutely perfect mashup of Brill Building romanticism and folk-rock; proto-power pop too, come to think of it.
Pardon me for one more day's obnoxious geezer self-indulgence, but I happen to believe that the eponymous debut Youngbloods album, from whence that derives, is an absolute freaking masterpiece on every level. And let's not even bring "Get Together" into the discussion.
In any event, the song seemed like a fitting late coda to last week, in which we argued for the virtues of the Youngbloods contemporaries The Sopwith Camel and Chrysalis. Especially considering that I saw those Youngbloods guys at the tiny Greenwich Village dive the Cafe Au-Go-Go (seating: about 200-300) immediately after the album's release. And that the band sounded exactly -- and I mean EXACTLY -- like the above.
Sometime in the '90s, I suddenly and unexpectedly came into a hefty chunk of cash, and having recently gone through another of the Great Girlfriend Crises that have punctuated my life on numerous occasions since college, I decided to indulge myself. And no, that did NOT mean (as I have no doubt longtime readers are assuming) splurging it all on hookers and blow. 😎
Instead, I planned to go into the recording studio to make a solo album or EP; it was going to be a concept record entitled More Songs About Anger and Embittered Self-Pity (for obvious reasons) and I had a whole list of songs I wanted to cover that fit the bill and some musician friends who were ready to accompany me on the journey.
The short version: Cooler heads ultimately prevailed. After a couple of rehearsals, I decided that the project was kind of silly, and I proceeded to piss away said hefty chunk of cash on...I frankly don't even remember what. Probably just the blow (but not the hookers). 😎😎
Hey, what can I say -- it was the '90s, and we were all a little over the top.
Anyway, that leads us now, inexorably, to the subject of today's business. To wit:
...and if YOU were going to make your own version of More Songs About Anger and Embittered Self-Pity, what songs by which artists would you include?
Discuss.
In case you're wondering -- and this will come as no surprise to the abovementioned longtime readers -- my Numero Uno pick, both then and now, would be this. In fact, I think I actually rehearsed a punkish take on it with a guitarist friend of mine from The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review who could do a very good Johnny Ramone impression. (Hi, Mike!!!)
So this past Monday, in our discussion about sadly underated first-generation SF band The Sopwith Camel, our good friend and faithful reader Capt. Al mentioned another (far more) obscure fave of mine, the upstate (Ithaca) NY band Chrysalis, who made one very interesting album in 1967 and then were similarly lost in the mists of history.
I absolutely adored said album (Definition, released by MGM) and after getting myself over to YouTube and listening to it for the first time in about 40 years, I thought I'd get all self-indulgent and share.
I find both of those genuinely haunting, and IMHO there are several songs on the album at least as good (yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking). That said, if you conclude that their whole gestalt is just insufferably twee, I will not dispute you. I mean, at the very least, it's hard to argue that they were not, shall we say. very much of their time.
I should add that I saw them live (twice, I think) and their songs sounded vastly better in that context; as much as I dig the record, the production is pretty undistinguished/undernourished. I should also add that I think singer Nancy Nairn has one of the coolest voices ever and (you'll have to take this on faith) that they had a lot of charisma onstage.
Self-indulgence now over. More recent music, more suited to the actual theme of this here blog, resumes on the morrow. 😎
And speaking as we were last week of genius producer Erik Jacobsen, here are three songs (recorded in 1966-67) he helmed by unfairly treated by history first-generation San Francisco band The Sopwith Camel.
Pump up the volume on these and prepare to have your tiny minds blown.
Man, where even to begin? 😎
Let me just say, though, and for the record, that one of the reasons these guys aren't as famous as they should be is that the album pictured in the vids above came out -- to my knowledge inexplicably -- almost a year after "Hello Hello", the Top 10 single that made them briefly a thing. A year, of course, is a lifetime in pop music terms, and what the hell were they thinking?
I should add that "Treadin'" was the B-side of the aforementioned Top-Tenner, and I get chills just thinking of the glorious jangly folk-rock guitars that decorate it. I should also add that it was not included on the original Camel LP, and that the stereo version above was not available till a CD reissue sometime in the 90s.
Needless to say, I can still vividly recall my delight when I heard it in all its two-channel glory for the first time. 😎😎
So me and a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance have gotten hooked on/are bingewatching a teevee show called (Sky Arts) Portrait Arist of the Year.
It's been running annually since 2013; the season we're currently enjoying is from 2019. In any case, the format has remained consistent since its premier. Nine artists -- professional and amateur -- have a paint-off portrait contest where they start by doing quick (four hour) studies of live sitters who are mostly B-list (usually British) celebs -- tv stars, actors, comics, pop musicians, sports figures etc -- and then they whittle the contestants down to one.
Who then gets to paint -- over a much longer period, i.e. a couple of weeks -- a 10,000 pound commission portrait of an A-list celeb for a major Brit Art institution. (In the season we're currently watching, the sitter is Sir Tom Jones for a museum in Wales.)
In any event, it's a fabulously entertaining show, and most of the art is world class and brilliant.
Which leads us, inexorably, to today's theme. To wit:
...and the post-Elvis pop/rock/country/folk/jazz/hip hop music star that you personally would most have liked to have painted a portrait of -- from life -- is...????
Discuss.
And if you're wondering who my ideal sitter would have been...
Ah, the late great Ms. Winehouse.
For multiple reasons that I probably don't need to go into. 😎
From their eponymous 1972 debut album, please enjoy (if possible) The Sidewinders and their shall we say interesting instro version of the venerable "Flight of the Bumblebee." Kinda like The Ventures on acid.
The Sidwinders were hugely hyped by their label (RCA) and they had a certain je ne sais quoi in the downtown NYC rock scene of the early '70s. I actually had the album at the time and listened to it often enough that I decided their underground cool did not make up for the crappy production by the young Lenny Kaye. Great album cover photo, however.
In any case, they never took off commercially, and these days if they're remembered at all, it's as the band that launched the careers of power pop deity Andy Paley (credits too numerous to mention) and Billy Squier (before he you should pardon the expression stroked out). 😎
I mean, I know they say that everybody has a doppelganger (i.e. somebody who looks just like them) somewhere in the world, but coming face to face (heh) with mine -- the dude in the middle with the sunglasses -- was not what I expected this morning.
In any case, those guys are a vintage rock tribute band from Santa Fe NM; the picture is apparently a promo for a gig they did seven years ago.
I should add that according to their official website they're still at it (god bless 'em). But in the more up-to-date group photos and vids over there my double now just looks like a generic old guy.
And continuing, if obliquely, with the theme of the Weekend Listomania just past, from 1969 please enjoy Norman Greenbaum's other, better (IMHO) single "Canned Ham."
Forgetting the built-in irony of one of my fellow Red Sea Pedestrians singing an ode to a defiantly non-Kosher product, this record (which, granted, was a sales disappointment) simply slays me; in fact, when the colored girl at the end asks Norman (plaintively) 'When you gonna buy me some canned ham, Greenbaum?", I fall out of my chair laughing every time.
I should add that this (like "Spirit in the Sky," AKA "Norman's Meal Ticket") was produced by the great Erik Jacobsen, who also did brilliant records by Tim Hardin, Chris Isaak and (the classic hits of) The Lovin' Spoonful.
And who is, to our knowledge, another nice Yiddish boy, and definitely somebody who's unjustly fallen through the cracks of history and should be a subject for future research.
[I originally posted this one back in 2010 (oh my god!) when both this blog and the world were young and uncircumcized. Sadly, though, it seems more relevant than ever to our current troubling times. As is my wont, I have done some re-writing and added a new entry, in my usual ineffectual attempt to convince you guys that I'm not the pathetic slacker I actually am. -- S.S.]
Well, its Friday and you know what that means. In this case, my lovely Oriental hide-the-kosher-salami consultant Fah Lo Suee and I will be recovering from an epic Manischewitz binge occasioned by the latest Cease Something going on in the Middle East.
Which means that posting by moi will be at best fitful until next week.
But in the meantime, consider if you will this excerpt from Nick Tosches' Unsung Heroes Of Rock 'n' Roll, still the only rock book that knows what it's talking about (or so said the late great Samuel Beckett in the Foreword, despite the fact that he was dead at the time):
The history of rock 'n' roll has been obscured by a great deal of misknowing and ignorance, and by a great many lies. There are those who believe that rock 'n' roll was a sudden, magical effusion; that a young man named Elvis Presley one day rose, dipped his comb in water, swept his hair into a duck's-ass, bopped out into the world, and created -- thank God, Alan Freed was there to give it a name -- rock 'n' roll. This is perhaps the most popular and abiding myth. It is merely another lesson learnt from that cherished American history book that taught us that Peary went to the North Pole alone.
At the other extreme, there are those who believe that rock 'n' roll was created by black people, than seized and commercialized by whites. This is merely a lesson from a revised edition of that same cherished history book. One could make just as strong a case for Jews being the central ethnic group in rock n roll's early history [my emphasis]; for it was they who produced many of the most important records, wrote some of the best songs, cultivated much of the greatest talent, and operated the majority of the pioneering record companies.
I happen to think Tosches is right about this, in the main, which is to say that rock-and-roll, more than any other form of American music, has always been a mutt. Of course, you may disagree; if so, feel free to do so in the comment section. In any case, in the spirit of the above, here's an obviously pertinent and yet inclusively diverse little project to wile away the hours until I return:
Best or Worst Post-Elvis Pop/Rock/Soul/Folk/Country Record/Song Either Written By, Performed By, or About Our Jewish and Arab Brothers and Sisters!!!
And my totally top of my head Top Ten (but for you marked down to Top Nine) is:
9. Gene Pitney -- Mecca
My late great comic songwriter friend Gregory Fleeman used to close his club act with a cover of this that was without question the all time funniest thing I have ever seen/heard on a stage.
8. 10cc -- Wall Street Shuffle
Featuring the great Grahame Gouldman (a nice Yiddish kid from England) on bass. And a song about money -- who'd have thunk it?
7. Desmond Dekker -- Israelites
I have no idea what this song actually means, by the way; I've been told it reflects rather unflatteringly on my fellow Red Sea pedestrians, but given its Jamaican patois I've never really been sure.
6. Ray Stevens -- Ahab the Arab
From 1961, when you could apparently get away with stuff like this. Although in the current climate -- who knows?
5. Two Live Jews -- Oy It's So Humid
When we say these guys are def, we really MEAN....etc.
4. The Regents -- Barbara Ann
Regents singer Chuck Fassert, like his brother Fred (who wrote the song) were of Iranian descent, so you can imagine the irony when that asshat John McCain sang this one as "Bomb Iran" during the 2008 campaign. And yes, I know that Iranians -- or Persians, as they're called in that fekakte Disney flick whose title I won't mention-- are not technically considered Arabs. So sue me.
3. Fountains of Wayne -- Strapped for Cash
Another song about money written by a Jew -- what are the odds?
2. The Blues Project -- No Time Like the Right Time
Left to right: Mssrs (Andy) Kulberg, (Al) Kooper, (Danny) Kalb, (Steve) Katz, and (Roy) Blumenfeld. Not for nothing did they call these guys the Jewish Beatles.
And the Numero Uno "Iceceberg, Goldberg, what difference does it make to the Titanic?" hit of them all simply has to be --
1. Gefilte Joe and the Fish -- Walk on the Kosher Side
