And now, from some time post-COVID, please enjoy my current fave cover act, the delightful Middle Aged Dad Jam Band and their spirited version of Tommy Tutone's "867-5309/Jenny."
BTW, just for the record (as it were), I should say I'm a huge fan of Tommy Tutone, who are unfairly dismissed as one hit wonders IMHO.
I mean -- c'mon. This one, which was actually the band's first Top 40 record, absolutely freaking slays me.
I should add that back in 1980, when I had just switched from playing guitar to bass (as we were getting the Floor Models together) I used to hone my four-string skills by playing along with that. I mean, what a fabulous groove.
In any case, I bring the whole thing up because it leads us, inexorably, to the subject of the weekend's business. To wit:
...and your favorite (or least favorite) post-Elvis pop/rock/soul/folk/country song with numerals in its title is...?
Discuss.
So -- my favorite?
That's from Steppenwolf's (to me) inexplicably underrated sophomore effort; it's a minority opinion, I know, but I think it's one of the greatest hard rock (in the old fashioned sense) albums ever.
And my least favorite?
Hey -- I like a lot of bubblegum stuff from that period. That song, however? I think the word is "yucky." Especially in the contemporary context of the Epstein files. 😎
And speaking of rock critics performing fellatio, here's the extremely irksome Amanda Petrusich servicing Tame Impala auteur Kevin Parker in the October 27th issue of the New Yorker.
The magic [! - Ed.] of Parker’s music -- what makes his records so restless, dithery, dynamic -— hinges on the minuscule yet crucial difference between perfectionism (endlessly boring) and obsession (endlessly interesting). “Everyone thinks I’m a perfectionist,” Parker said. “That’s the assumed narrative when someone orchestrates a whole album -— the Brian Wilson idea. But if people actually saw me in the studio, and saw how little I cared about so many things...” He paused. “On the backs of my albums, you’ll see a photo of a microphone meant for singing pointing at the kick drum, held up with a wine rack. I’ve just never really given a shit about that. I would love for it to sound better, because I respect a lot of big pop producers.” He added, “You always worship what you don’t feel you are.”
Yeah, right -- magic. And I'm Marie of Romania.
I should add that elsewhere in the piece Petrusich informs us that Parker's music is "shaped in part by the spirit of bush doofs, all-night dance parties thrown in rural, off-the-grid locales," and that the term "doof" started "as a derogatory word to describe club music, because from a distance all you hear is doof, doof, doof."
Apparently, it never occured to her that Parker's music might be characterized in that way because Parker is, in fact, a doofus. 😎
From a surprisingly terrific piece in the NY Times the other day, about the 50th anniversary deluxe reissue of Patti Smith's debut album Horses:
BILLY IDOL There wasn’t a lyric sheet with the original Horses. And “Kimberly,” I had no idea that it was about a sister of hers. I thought that she was singing to, you know, sisters as in feminism or whatever. The interplay of the musicians was fantastic. You can hear it in “Horses,” you can hear it in Television. In England we were watching what was going on in the States, and we wanted a scene of our own like that.
The structure of the song is very classic. All the different parts, the way it builds up, it’s almost got a ’60s thing to it. They’re taking guitar music and refreshing it, but at the same time not falling back on prog-rock. It flows really great, but it has all those different hooks. As the song progresses, each little verse changes it.
JOHNNY MARR The first song that the Smiths ever wrote, “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,” was inspired by “Kimberly.” I knew Patti Smith was our common ground.
Well, THAT's interesting.
Seriously, I listened to Horses obsessively back when it was new -- it's not exactly a state secret that I've been a fan of Smith's since forever --
-- but I hadn't thought about "Kimberly" in ages, in part because I've never really cottoned to John Cale's production of the album. Which struck me then, as now, as being on the anemic-sounding side.
Still, it works on "Kimberly," which I have always found unaccountably and fiercely erotic, despite its subject matter.
BTW, I'm not 1000 percent sure, but I think that picture of Patti and your humble scribe at a Stereo Review Record of the Year party dates from early 1976, i.e. when we were giving Patti an award for Horses for 1975.
And in case you're wondering, the button I'm holding says "Back to Mono." 😎
Oh -- and I should add that the Horses reissue package, which features a newly remastered edition of the original album and lots of studio demos (most of them drummer-less) is available as either a 2 CD or 2 LP package.
If you're thinking of getting me a Christmas present, the vinyl would be nice. 😎😎
Okay, so here's the deal. As you guys know, my alternate watering hole here in Forest Hills, Queens is a wonderful Mexican joint called Mas Tortilla. And from time to time the proprietors there play el rock en español, rather than more traditional normal contemporary Latin pop, on their sound system.
As a result, I've discovered some pretty amazing non-anglo bands and songs of late, and my favorite is a group called Maná, a/k/a The Police of Mexico. Turns out they've been around since the early 80s, and they're hugely popular -- 45 million records sold, mostly in Spanish-speaking countries. Coincidentally, they got nominated for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year, the first band of their ilk to be so honored, although alas they didn't make the final cut.
Oh well, Quizás el año que viene. 😎
Anyway, I bring the whole thing up for a couple of reasons.
One -- as an excuse to post this Maná song from 1991, which I just heard for the first time at Mas Tortilla last week, and which I think is really cool.
I mean, dig that Rickenbacker guitar.
And two -- as an excuse to set up the weekend's business.
To wit:
Best Post-Elvis Pop/Rock/Folk/Country/Soul Song in English But With a Throwaway Quote, a Couple of Lines or a Verse or the Title, in a Foreign (European or Other) Language!!!
No arbitrary rules here, but I'm gonna enforce the Post-Elvis thing. And yeah, I did a shall we say less fully developed version of this Listomania back in 2007 (yipes!), but I figure the Statute of Limitations has run out on recycling it.
And my totally Top of My Head Top Six are:
6. The Beatles -- Michelle
"Michelle -- ma belle."
Optional Blindingly Obvious Award cheerfully accepted.
A drop dead gorgeous (ah, those mandolins and harp!) song from his Excitable Boy breakthrough. I meant to include this in that list of my favorite Zevons earlier in the week, but my senility precluded it.
4. Jay and the Americans -- Cara Mia
True story: Back when this was a contemporary hit (1965) some wiseguy at my local Top 40 station (WABC-AM) did a tape edit of the song so that the long-held high note Jay Black sings before the finale was extended for like half a minute (which sounded like an eternity). You never knew when that version was gonna be the one that they aired, but it was fucking hilarious, especially the first time you heard it and you briefly thought it might be real. I should add that I have never been able to find an audio clip of it or even any press mention that the prank had ever been pulled.
3. Tonio K. -- Funky Western Civilization
Still the only rock record ever made with a cameo spoken word section -- en français -- by Joan of Arc.
Okay, as attentitve readers will recall, a few weeks ago I had nice things to say about the first track from the new EP The Completely Fictional History of This Great Nation of Canada. By fab Toronto punk rockers The Mendozaz.
But now comes a second video from the EP and all I can say is...Hole. E. Shit.
In a good way, obviously.
Wow. Are those guys a delightful bunch of sentimental old fluffs or what?
“This was the first song written for this record,” says lead guitarist Jonathan Sohn. “It’s based on a very-true Canadian legend that we made up about an expedition of ice fishers being eaten alive by a school of great white sharks near Hudson Bay. I had an old recording of an instrumental jam we did six or seven years ago that I really liked. I channeled my inner Serj and came up with something unlike anything we’ve ever done. When recording the demo our engineer almost fell out of his chair laughing during the blood curdling scream. He’s okay (I think). I needed to be authentic while channeling the plight of the victims of this totally-legit horrible tragedy. Thoughts and prayers.”
Seriously, that song just, er, kills me, and I can't wait to hear the rest of the EP.
Meanwhile, you can -- and should -- find out more about the band (and purchase the EP for streaming) over at their official website.
And for the as yet unconvinced, I should add that clips of the whole new record can be listened to for free OVER HERE.
So as you may have heard, the late great Warren Zevon finally got inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame over the weekend. Yeah yeah, I know we have arguments over why there's even a HOF in the first place, and we'll keep having 'em, but I think we can nonetheless agree that Zevon deserves to be in it if anybody does.
Me, I've been a fan since forever, and to celebrate the induction I thought I'd pick three of my favorite Zevon songs. In chronological order, starting with a track from his self-titled debut album....
...which ends with an ineffably haunting vocal and instrumental evocation of the hum of an air conditioner, a feat of musical onomatopoeia that has continued to amaze me since I first wrote about it (for Stereo Review) back in 1976.
Then there's this piece of gorgeosity from his Exciteable Boy breakthrough.
You don't usually think of Zevon as a power pop guy, but I think the above -- which sounds like the greatest 60s Brill Building pop song never written (and which was hooky enough that it showed up in a neat Patty Larkin cover version at the end of the 1998 rom com Sliding Doors) -- kind of fits the esthetic of this here blog.
And then there's this, which is just a flat out hilarious masterpiece...
..that, in an irony I'm sure Zevon appreciated, turned out to be sadly prophetic.
Anyway, as Zevon famously said -- enjoy every sandwich!
Oh, and once again -- fuck you Jann Wenner!!! 😎😎😎
An idiosyncratic blog dedicated to the precursors, the practioners, and the descendants of power pop.
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