It's Beach Boys Week: Part III -- Apparently the Surfing is Very Good in Finland

Okay, I know I said I wouldn't, but please enjoy my latest obsession, aka Finnish weirdo rock revivalist Ilkka Heikki, and his sepulchural take on the Beach Boys classic "Dance Dance Dance."

Hey -- at least he gets the guitar and bass parts right, which is more than I've ever been able to do. The guitar solo sucks, however. 😎

Oh WTF, Let's Just Make it Beach Boys Week: Special "Why Didn't I Get the Memo?" Edition

From 1996, and unknown to me prior to last Sunday, please enjoy this absolutely astoundingly wonderful clip of veteran British rockers Status Quo doing a ripping good version of the Beach Boys classic "Fun, Fun, Fun."

With five of the actual Beach Boys -- including Brian and Carl -- contributing harmonies behind them.

And may I add that a) it's wonderful to see the Boys -- and in particular Brian(!) -- having such an obvious good time.

And b) if watching that clip doesn't make you smile from auditory canal to auditory canal, there's no hope for you. 😎

My Last Brian Wilson-Related Post For the Time Being: Special More "Fun, Fun, Fun" from Finland Edition

Attentive readers will recall my recent posting of a bizarre (for want of a better word) cover of The McCoy's "Beat the Clock" by Finnish rock "revivalist"(?) Ilkka Heikki.

And, more to the point, my utter confusion over whether it was a moderately amusing parody or -- and I found this a terrifying prospect -- actually meant straight.

In any case, while researching some Beach Boys stuff last week (for obvious reasons) I stumbled across another clip by the guy that has left me similarly and absolutely flummoxed.

To wit: a performance of "God Only Knows," and I can only say "God Forgive Me" for posting it. 😎

Or maybe I should say "Brian Forgive Me." I haven't got it sorted out.

But seriously -- is there some kind of celebrated Finnish sense of irony I'm not familiar with? Are the Finns noted for being a largely joyful people up there in the darkening shadow of the Arctic Circle? Or what?

Help me out here, friends -- or else I'll post the clips of Ilkka covering "Itchykoo Park," "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" and "It's All Over Now."

And you really don't want me to do that. 😎😎

Brian Wilson: My Long Goodbye

[I originally posted this defense of the Beach Boys in the comments section back here in 2006(!). It was occasioned by NYMary's surprise that I rated them as high as I did in the American 60s pantheon; she didn't agree, although I think she's come around since. Anyway, it's going to figure in my Greatest Hits book, if I ever get around to getting it published, but it seemed appropriate to re-up it here given the sad news we all got on Wednesday. Frankly, I've been pretty much exhausted tryng to wrap my tiny mind around Brian's passing, so I hope you'll indulge me; I promise, there'll be new and hopefully less existentially dark stuff up next time we meet.

In the meantime, have a great weekend, everybody, and stay well. -- S.S.]

NYMary:

I must confess I find it a little odd to be writing this -- the Beach Boys music is pretty much my lingua franca, and the idea that they need defending feels weird to me given how much I love them (although I understand your skepticism, at least in the abstract. After all, Mike Love sucks).

In any event, here's why I think they deserve respect from mere mortals like you and me.

TEN REASONS THE BEACH BOYS ARE SELF-EVIDENTLY ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT AMERICAN BANDS OF THE SIXTIES.

IF NOT THE MOST IMPORTANT.

1. They invented an instantly recognizable sound of their own, one that practically defines a genre. Very few rock artists can make that claim. (Chuck Berry with "Johnny B Goode", The Byrds with "Tambourine Man," the Ramones, and maybe U2). That alone should guarantee the Beach Boys immortality.

2. What Raymond Chandler did for California in prose the Beach Boys did in music. They reflected a place and a time and made a kind of poetry out of it. They were not fake.

3. Five part harmonies, astoundingly gorgeous. And Brian's conception -- mating progressive jazz voicings a la the Four Freshman with classic doo-wop -- was totally unique. Here's a 1965 live clip that proves the point -- and if this a capella version of the Freshman's "Their Hearts Were Full of Spring" doesn't put a lump in your throat, you need to check your meds.

4. From their inception in the early 60s, they were pretty much the only self-contained rock band in America. Wrote all their own songs, produced their own records. Who else was doing that?

5. Kick-ass live act. If you doubt it, listen to Beach Boys Concert, get a video of their closed-circuit show from '64, or find The T.A.M.I Show video, in which -- performing on the same bill with the Stones, James Brown and most of the Motown acts, they tear the audience to shreds. Carl Wilson was a killer surf guitarist, and the rhythm section was as good as anybody in rock at the time.

Here they are in 1965 (from the the aforementioned T.A.M.I Show -- with a to-die-for version of "I Get Around."

6. Contrary to myth, they were not white bread at all. Carl and Dennis Wilson were as soulful singers in the r&b sense as anybody else working in the mid-Sixties. And that includes Stevie Winwood or Felix Cavliere.

7. The car and surf songs are actually quite brilliant. Who else ever conceived of writing love songs to a carburetor? And has any rock song ever conveyed as much sheer teenage elan as "Fun Fun Fun" or "I Get Around"?

8. Brian's best songs from the early period anticipate the confessional singer/songwriter LA genre. "Don't Worry Baby" may be as nakedly emotional and self-revealing as anything Joni Mitchell ever wrote. Ditto "Warmth of the Sun" or "In My Room" or "When I Grow Up."

9. The albums that preceed the sainted Pet Sounds and Smile are masterpeices. The Beach Boys Today, Brian's first real studio concept album, is masterly; "When I Grow Up" isn't even the best song on it (try "Don't Hurt My Little Sister" or the astounding Sinatra goes r&b of "The Back of My Mind" sung by Dennis). It's every bit as good as Rubber Soul in terms of consistency and melodic invention. The follow-up --Summer Days and Summer Nights, of which "California Girls" is simply the icing on the cake, is even better -- it's every bit Brian's Revolver. He never used the studio more impressively than "Let Him Run Wild" or emulated the Beatles with the riffy brilliance of "Girl Don't Tell Me."

10. The album that follows Pet Sounds and Smile is another masterpiece. Wild Honey is one of the handful of great white r&b albums of the period, and if you doubt it check out the title song or Carl's gorgeous reading of Stevie Wonder's "I Was Made to Love Her." And in it's back to basics way, it's very much of a piece with the Beatles White Album.

I could go on about the Beach Boys early 70s output -- you could make a fabulous comp album with songs like "Marcella" (one of their best ever rockers), "This Whole World" (Brian's canniest pocket symphony), "All I Wanna Do"(the most glorious use of reverb in history), "Bluebirds Over the Mountain" (progressive rockabilly, if you can believe it), "Do It Again" and any number of others up through "Trader" on Holland.

The decline after that was appalling, to be sure, but you get my point....the Beach Boys have a huge body of really transcendent work, and Brian wasn't the only big talent in the band.

Have I mentioned that Mike Love sucks?

Goodbye Brian

I'm still having trouble processing the head Beach Boys' passing; all I can really say is that it hit me much harder than I expected, and I suspect I'm not the only one who feels that way.

In any case, the above 2021 cover of one of his greatest songs, by fellow Angelenos Los Lobos, seems like an appropriate tribute.

Brian Wilson 1942 - 2025

This is a true story, swear to god.

This afternoon, while walking home from lunch at my Forest Hills watering hole, an attractive woman (of, as they say, a certain age) who I've never seen before in my life, stopped me on the street and said, out of the blue -- "Brian Wilson just died."

I really don't know where to begin. We looked at each other and just...ah hell.

Anyway, here's a glorious song you might not know from a solo album he did in 1998.

Other than that, I kinda lack the appropriate words at the moment. Maybe tomorrow.

And Speaking as We Were of the Late Great Bob Andrews...

Okay, this is going to be a little convoluted, so please indulge me; it'll be worth it, I promise.

So I was a huge fan of the first two albums by Brit-rockers Brinsley Schwarz, both of which came out in 1970 and were stylistically a sort of expensively produced-sounding mashup of commercial prog and CSN-ish Laurel Canyon hippie shit. I got them for free when I was a baby rock critic at my old college paper, and Nick Lowe's vocals and songwriting did it to me instantly. But above and beyond, the band's secret weapon was the gorgeously lyrical organ playing of Bob Andrews; here, from the debut set, is a song that sort of sums up the band's approach at the time, and as you'll hear, Andrews basically steals it.

I was still at school when the band's third LP, Silver Pistol, arrived. I knew nothing of the backstory -- short version: the Brinsley's management had flown over 100 journalists from the UK to NYC to review the band in performance at the Fillmore East, and hopefully launch the group to stardom; the junket, however was a complete fiasco and widely assumed to be a career ender. So I was also unaware that the new album's stylistic reinvention as what would later be called pub rock was not by itself down to it being recorded under primitive conditions on a mobile eight-track in the basement of the band's communal London home. In any case, the song below -- written by Lowe, but powered by a sublimely Buddy Holly-ish piano part by Andrews -- nailed me immediately, and it's been one of my all-time favorites ever since.

Anyway, as attentive readers are aware, Andrews departed this sad vale of tears last Thursday, at the way too young age of 75. After I posted about him on Sunday, Friend of PowerPop© ChrisE sent me the following video, which was previously unknown to me. Basically, it's Andrews doing a tutorial on how to play his part on the above (and on "Juju Man," another song from Silver Pistol). As you can doubtless imagine, I nearly swooned off my chair when I watched it, and unless you're seriously perverse of ears (and lacking in a soul) I think you will too.

I should add that, as you probably know, I'm a keyboard player (albeit a limited one) myself, with an electric piano device similar to the one Andrews is playing in the clip, and you better believe I'm gonna try to learn that part. I'll keep you posted on how that's working out. 😎

Tuesday's Cartoon Chuckle(s)

Okay, I know the Davis one isn't a cartoon but it cracked me up anyway so cut me some slack.😎

Regular music posting resumes on the morrow, weather permitting.

Capt. Al's 21st Century: Part VIII -- The Shape of Things to Come? Possibly!!!

[As attentive readers will recall, our old friend (and more important, Friend of PowerPop©) Allan Rosenberg, aka Capt. Al, has been toiling on a series about his fave recent artists for a while now. The first installment of these musical musings, about Feist, appeared here back in July. Now, as promised, here's the grand finale! Take it away, you old sea doggie!!! -- S.S.]

Welcome to the “Best Rock&Roll Music of the 21st Century, Part VIII”, by Captain Al!!!

So let me tell you my favorite musical artist of this century! Maybe some of you may have heard of her! I’d hadn’t been aware of her until 18 months ago but well known or not she’s a force of musical nature.

So señoras y señores -- I give you Juana Molina!!!.

She’s Argentinian. Sings in Spanish. She walked away from her very successful career as a comedian whose TV shows were a huge hit all through South & Central America. Think a sort of Saturday Night Live en espanol vibe.

Juana and her family left Argentina in the 1980's because of the oppressive political situation. She fled to the USA, learned to speak English, and upon later returning to Argentina embarked on a musical career that somehow turned into the hugely successful comedic career! How the heck did she become my favorite musician (and hopefully soon yours) of this century? As Steve says: “Let’s discuss!”

As I said, her music is new and forward looking, but most of all fearless in its explorations and methods. Think Sam Phillips (the Sun Records visionary producer, not the singer/songwriter who used to boink T-Bone Burnett) or Jefferson Airplane. Doesn't sound like them, but her music has their same exploratory spirit.

Here's our first example, and let us stipulate that while Juana walked away from her career in comedy she sure learned a lot about how to create compelling videos. This one, in particular, is a real hoot -- funny, spacey and political; for me it’s up there with The Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields." Enjoy!

Now let’s look at how she puts her music together while performing live. Using modern equipment, and a fresh viewpoint at each show, she never performs a song in quite the same way twice. Watch and listen when she constructs her song “Paraguaya“. I think you'll find it pretty amazing.

And let us now stipulate that Juana, as with all of my favorite musical artists, is still capable of surprising me.

So now I’m about to twist your R&R ears around one more time, because Juana is also a prankster. Stay with this video of Juana & her band playing “Paraguaya” quite differently from what we just heard above. Make sure you stay to the end, because she will twist your head around 180 degrees with this performance.

Since she sings all her music in Spanish I don’t have a clue what any of the songs are about, and I slso don’t care! She always looks to creating her music in slightly new ways I’ve never seen/heard before.

Is she the future of rock? I don’t have a clue, but I feel she's the future of quality modern 21st century popular music.

At least I hope so -- for our (and my granddaughter’s) musical sake! And if rock is dead (?) then at least I want to live in Juana Molina’s musical universe for the next several years.

-- Capt. Al

And with that, we bid a fond (hopefully temporary) farewell to our aquatic friend.

So thanks, pal...I enjoyed the above immensely, as I (and doubtless our readers) have enjoyed the entire series.

I gotta admit, Captain -- I'm not sure I particularly get Molina. I found your exegesis intriguing, nonetheless, and I'll be sure to keep an eye on her.

But in the meantime, thanks again Al -- see ya soon, and keep on rockin' in the free world!!!😎😎😎

Bob Andrews 1949 - 2025

Oh hell. My all-time favorite rock keyboardist (alright, tied with Nicky Hopkins) passed last Thursday.

He was my favorite member of Brinsley Schwarz, and my favourite member of The Rumour.

Here he is with the former, performing perhaps the most gorgeously lyrical Hammond organ part in the history of music.

And here he is with Nick Lowe, performing perhaps the greatest insane piano part freaking ever.

I should also add that he produced this.

Okay, I have to add this wonderful story about the guy.

The short version: So Andrews was, not surprisingly, a huge fan of The Band's keyboard genius Garth Hudson, and was constantly updating his gear in emulation of the Great Man Himself; if there was an effects pedal or amp Hudson used, Andrews would immediately add it to his arsenal, trying to get that elusive Hudson sound. Only problem was, no matter what he did, he couldn't quite achieve total Garth-ness and it drove him nuts.

Anyway, sometime in the 70s, The Band toured the UK and at one point wound up rehearsing at the Brinsley's studio and using their equipment. Garth walked in, said nothing to anybody, turned all of Andrews' keyboards and other equipment on, put his fingers to the keys, and immediately sounded just like himself.

And Andrews, who had been lurking in a corner too awed to even say hello to his idol, literally wept.

Goddamn -- as I am wont to say of late, this death shit is really starting to piss me off.

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out" Edition

So I chanced across this quite fabulously evocative photo the other day.

That is, of course, the pre-Grace Slick edition of Jefferson Airplane, with (now mostly forgotten by history) original gal singer Signe Toly Anderson up front in Grace's slot; it is, apparently, the last official portrait of that lineup, taken around the time of the splendid farewell concert immortalized in the album pictured below.

In any case, I had never seen it before, and it got me to thinking (yeah, yeah, I can hear the jokes...). 😎

And that lead me (and us) inexorably to the subject of today's business.

To wit:

...and the best example of a band that was either significantly better OR markedly inferior after a personnel change is...????

Discuss.

I'm gonna nominate these guys in the former category, and I say that knowing full well that the Peter Green or Danny Kirwan editions of the band were pretty swell in their own rights.

But I mean, sweet jeebus, was that lot to die for or what? (I should add that it is one of the great regrets of my life that the Floor Models never got around to covering "Go Your Own Way.")

But enough of my yakkin' -- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

P.S.: A special coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded to any reader who can tell me definitively whether the partially obscured band member behind Marty Balin in the top right of the picture is either Skip Spence or later drummer Spencer Dreyden. From a chronological standpoint, it should be Dreyden, but I'm just not sure I see it.

Thursday's Cartoon Chuckle(s)

Sorry -- I'm having (non-life threatening) medical problems, and I forgot to post the serious thing I was supposed to put up today.

Enjoy these in the meantime, won't you? 😎

Real stuff goes up on Friday -- promise.

Wednesday's Cartoon Chuckle(s)

Heh. 😎

Actual music posting resumes on the morrow, weather permitting.

Cinematic Notes From All Over: The Best Kept Secret in the West

As you may have noticed, we seem to be living in a Golden Age of rock documentaries. For example, I saw Becoming Led Zeppelin the other day, and trust me -- it was more fun than actually enduring the Zep live in concert. And then yesterday I saw another one, by an artist I actually like, that -- fortuitously -- I can recommend without reservations.

I'm speaking, of course about...

Aptly titled The King of In Between, the film chronicles the remarkable half century-long musical odyssey of Garland Jeffreys, a dreadlocked Brooklyn born and NYC-based singer/songerwriter who never quite broke through to a mass audience despite several major label albums and at least one song -- "Wild in the Streets" -- that was a massive hit outside of the USA. Why isn't he a household name? Well, basically nobody ever quite figured out how to market him, as Jeffries' music and persona straddled genres -- r&b, reggae, Dylan-esque narratives, street punk a la Lou Reed (with whom Jeffreys went to college) -- and influences in a way that inevitably caused the kind of confusion that doesn't easily make for chart success, especially for a mixed-race guy.

The film, deftly helmed by first-time director Claire Jeffreys (yes, the missus) has all sorts of great performance footage, from the downtown late-'70s to some intimate house concerts done before Jeffrey's retirement a few years ago, and celebrity fans like Laurie Anderson, Harvey Keitel, Vernon Reid (who has, as you might expect, some interesting things to say about Jeffreys and race in America) and Bruce Springsteen show up with fond reminiscences of working with the guy. Jeffreys himself comes off as funny, likeable and (surprisingly) without a trace of the bitterness I would have exhibited if I'd had his career (heh).

Bottom line: A must-see; it's playing in theaters now, so if it's near you, make tracks. In the meantime, you can find out more -- including alerts for when it will be available on home video or streaming -- over at the film's official website HERE.

I Don't Think Sibelius Done It This Way

And speaking as we were over the weekend of The McCoys' transplendent recording of "Beat the Clock," I stumbled across this one-man remake of it -- by a Finnish(!) musician named (near as I can tell) Ilkka Heikki -- and I gotta say, it's the most wonderful unintentionally funny thing ever.

Of course, that's assuming it's meant straight, which I'll grant you is indeterminate. I mean the accent alone...he sounds like Madeline Kahn doing Marlene Dietrich, so who knows?

I should add that a) I can find no information about who or what this guy is, so if anybody has an idea...and also b) that if you look on YouTube you'll discover some equally surreal/hilarious Beatles covers by him.

But don't worry -- I'm not gonna inflict THOSE on you. 😎

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "Is That a Derringer in Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Glad to See Me?" Edition

Okay, apologies for the lame title joke.

But in my defense, I got a little freaked out when I heard the recent news of Rick Derringer's passing.

The short version is that back in my teenage years I was a huge fan of The McCoys. And one of the reasons was that front-guy/fab guitarist Derringer was pretty much exactly my age, which I thought was incredibly cool and inspirational.

Needless to say, having him now die at my age is, shall we say, somewhat less thrilling. 😎

Oh well, in any case, I've posted this song before (in 2021), but I absolutely adore it, so cut me some slack. It's from 1967, and it was basically only a minor hit at the time, but it remains one of my favorite things Derringer ever did. I mean seriously -- between the brilliant lead vocal and that fabulous Wes Montgomery-inspired guitar solo (which was major league hip at the time, and still is) Rick would deserve to be immortal if he had never achieved anything else.

And yes, I owned the 45 version.

All of which, to nobody's surprise, leads us inexorably to today's business.

To wit:

...and your favorite (or least favorite) guitar solo on a pop/rock/country/soul single of the Sixties is...???

No arbitrary rules whatsoever. Oh wait, there is one -- nothing by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band need apply in either category. Sorry, I love Mike Bloomfield and Elvin Bishop, but they do tend to go on longer than the rest of the stuff that I hope is gonna get nominated. In other words, I'm prejudiced in favor of more concise stuff, and since it's my blog...😎😎

Alrighty then..."Beat the Clock" is obviously my pick for fave. So what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

The Masses Are Clamoring For More Weasels Music, Comrades!!!

So speaking as we were the other day of my old garage band chums The Weasels, please enjoy their sublimely Fountains-of-Wayne-before-their-time-ish "Silent Treatment."

Cool song, no?

And therein lies a tale and an opportunity.

The short version: "Silent Treatment" was recorded in the Weasels 4-track basement studio in sylvan Teaneck, NJ, and originally saw the light of day on their extremely limited edition (three copies?) album Pop Go the Weasels in 1984. The song was written by my colleague Glenn Leeds (who contributes keyboards), and the remaining credits are Dave (Jai Guru Dave) Hawxwell on vocals and rhythm guitar, Allan Weissman on bass, and Mike "The Drummer" Sorrentino on drums (heh).

As you may have noticed, I did not contribute to the production (I was on hiatus from the band, for reasons too complicated and silly to get into here); nevertheless, the guys left a hole in the track -- an instrumental interlude beginning around the 2:16 minute mark and ending, before the return of the last verse/chorus, at approximately 2:40 -- for me to add one of my characteristically mediocre guitar solos. Which I never did.

That being the case, we have decided to do something about it after all these years.

To wit: THE WEASELS ADD A SOLO CONTEST!!!!!

That's right, kids -- you too can be a Weasel, at least if you have access (as I suspect many of you do) to a home recording facility. All you've got to do is take the track and dub a guitar solo of your own in the hole discussed above. It can be any style whatsoever -- imitate George Harrison, Tom Verlaine, that guy from Boston (the band), Chet Atkins, Nigel Tufnel, anybody; just mix it in with the track and send it (preferably in flac or wav. format) to my e-mail -- ssimels@gmail.com.

And then we'll all have a good laugh at your expense.😎

No, actually you'll be proclaimed an honorary Weasel, and we'll post your efforts here for the adoration of a waiting world.

We will also gift you with a copy of the Weasels fabulous 2016 greatest hits CD, the aptly titled Crimes Against Humanity.

And what could be more of a motivator than that? 😎😎

In all seriousness, I think this could be a lot of fun, and I'm willing to bet somebody out there has a really great solo in them.

I'll keep you posted on how this thing develops, for good or evil.

[h/t Steve Schwartz]

Wednesday's Cartoon Chuckle

Heh. 😎

Actual music posting resumes on the morrow, of course.

Publicity Photos of the Gods: Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid

My old garage band chums The Weasels (and me) in our Teaneck NJ basement studio/sanctuary some time in the mid-70s. To the best of our recollection, no drugs were consumed during the production of that photo.

It suddenly occurs to me that I have no idea which one of our friends actually shot that; I'm gonna have to do the research. 😎

Oh, and BTW, the reason I posted it is as a teaser.

Because sometime later this week, I'm gonna be putting up a Bandcamp link (utilizing that picture as the art) to an mp3 of an absolutely fabulous -- and actually power pop(!) -- song by the Weasels. And there's gonna be some possibly VERY interesting potential for reader participation (hint: it involves those of you who are guitarists) as a result.

As I'm fond of saying -- could be a hot one!!! 😎😎

Memorial Day 2025

Okay, this seems appropriate.

The above is, of course, from Bruce's show in England the other week -- the one that drove our batshit insane president even a little crazier than normal, threatening criminal investigations against Bruce, plus Beyonce, Oprah and Bono (who, of course, is not even an American citizen.)

In any case, Springsteen and the band have always done Dylan's song quite splendidly, and this version (just released in a shall we say well-timed CD edition) is no exception.

I should should add that Bruce, pointedly, changes a word in my 2nd favorite line of the song -- "and for each unharmful gentle soul displaced inside a jail."

It was "misplaced" in the original; Bruce's substitution seems poignantly pertinent given that we're stripping people, who are in this country legally, of their habeas corpus rights and then sending them off to hellish foreign gulags for such heinous crimes as writing OP-EDs in their collge paper.

Oh, well -- enjoy your holiday, everybody!!! 😎

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "Timing is Everything" Edition

Okay, by way of introduction, please enjoy latter-day folk-rockers Dawes and their transplendent 2015 gift to the world "All Your Favorite Bands."

I think we can all agree that's one of the loveliest and most generous of spirit songs ever heard by sentient mammalian ears. But its implicit message raises some interesting contradictions, and that -- as you may have suspected -- leads us inexorably to the theme of the day's business.

To wit:

There are bands who fell apart, due to lack of commercial success or other factors, and thus never fulfilled their artistic potential, and there are bands who overstayed their welcome long after they had exhausted theirs. Name your favorite example in either category.

Discuss.

Self-explanatory, I think, and no arbitrary rules whatsoever, so have at it.

I should add, however, that my nominee in the second category is -- and I say this with no happiness at all -- The Youngbloods.

The short version: Their first three albums on RCA, with the Lennon and McCartney-esque team of front people Jesse Colin Young and Jerry Corbitt, are masterpieces. Their later albums (on Warner Bros. and their own Raccoon label), after the departure of Corbitt, are IMHO completely unmemorable and a real slog to get through.

As for the first category, don't even get me started. 😎

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Thursday’s Cartoon Chuckle

Okay -- not the greatest one ever. 😎

My apologies -- I am feeling extremely lousy, physically, today. I won't bore you with the details, but just consider yourself lucky you're not having the same problem.

An actual fab Weekend Listomania goes up tomorrow -- no fooling!!! 😎😎😎

I'm Sorry, I Just Couldn't Resist

Jeez, I don't even want to think what they would have done to Sinatra when he styled himself Chairman of the Board. Or Elvis as The King.

In all seriousness, when somebody sent me the above, I actually wasted time searching the internet to see if it was real. I mean -- Fox News? Seemed credible to me.

The bottom line, of course, is that when we can't tell actual news from parody, we're in serious trouble.

More conventionally music-themed posting resumes on the morrow.

Your Tuesday Moment of Words Fail Me

From 1969 (well, actually, the video is from 1970) behold The Dave Clark Five -- yes, them -- and their gorgeous a-hit-in-Britain version of "Get Together."

I had absolutely no idea that these had guys covered the song, let alone that it went to Number 8 in the UK, deservedly. I should also add that fabulous DC5 lead singer Mike Smith is without a doubt the most underrated vocalist of the Brit Invasion. Seriously, he's just great on this -- soulful, inspirational, and damn.

Oh, and also -- speaking of things I didn't know, please ponder this, which I found at Wikipedia yesterday.

[Dave] Clark was a close friend of Freddie Mercury, whom he had known since 1976. He was by Mercury's bedside when the Queen singer died on 24 November 1991.

Have I mentioned that words fail me?

Monday's Cartoon Chuckle(s)

Heh. 😎

Also hah. 😎😎

Regular -- and very cool -- music posting resumes tomorrow.

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "A Picture May Be Worth 1000 Words, But That's Still No Excuse for Verbosity" Edition

And speaking as we were yesterday of Beatles-related frontispieces, it occurred to me -- and I must confess to being surprised -- that we've never tackled the subject of album covers in any of our weekend excursions over the years.

I know, I know, it seems unlikely, even given my widely celebrated lack of imagination, but it's true. Seriously -- I did the research.

So, of course, this leads us, inexorably, to today's business. To wit:

...and your favorite (or least favorite) album cover on a post-Elvis LP in any genre -- pop, rock, soul, country, jazz, comedy, original cast/soundtrack or classical(!) -- is...???

Discuss.

No arbitrary rules whatsoever, but for obvious reasons -- particularly that, post-Sgt. Pepper, the album cover had pretensions of being an art form -- I think we should restrict it to the pre-CD era. I mean, top of my head, I can't think of many small-scale covers that have made much of an impression on me in the last couple of decades. But your mileage may vary, of course, so I'm not gonna be a Hitler Jr. on the subject.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, my favorites are a four-way tie.

Beginning with this splendidly tacky example of 50s/60's classical cheesecake.

Yes, I said classical cheesecake. Trust me, it was a real genre, usually represented on stuff from the smaller, indie, classical labels. I should add that there were countless LP versions of this Rimsky-Korsakov warhorse that were similarly (and some a little more daringly) art-directed than the above. (Think: boobs.)

And then there's this one, which speaks for itself.

And this, which I think remains the most evocative and best art-directed album cover of all freaking time. I mean, really -- forgetting the layout and typography of the thing, I can hear the music and feel the Manhattan summer heat just looking at it.

And then, of course, there's this masterpiece.

What -- you seriously thought I wasn't gonna include something by a band I was in? It is to laugh. 😎

I should add that the above is currently hanging, framed, on the wall of my local Forest Hills watering hole the Keuka Kafe.

If you're in the neighborhood, drop by to ogle it and have the pierogies. Tell 'em PowerPop sent you.

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Mediocre Art Directors Borrow, Great Art Directors Steal

Okay, just when I think there aren't any more cool Beatles stories I haven't heard, along comes this.

From the May 6 2025 issue of American Songwriter:

In July 1964, the Beatles made a triumphant return to Stockholm, Sweden, after their February debut in America. They had been there nine months earlier on tour, where they had been greeted at the airport by only a few dozen fans.

The Fab Four took this in stride, seeing an opportunity to connect with their Swedish fans. However, when they returned, the airport was flooded with thousands of people. Par for the course after the Beatles’ big Ed Sullivan debut.

Among their fans that day was Roger Wallis, a British-born musician and researcher. In 1964, he was a member of the student brass band at the Stockholm School of Economics. The group called themselves Mercblecket, and Wallis often sang and arranged the music for the group.

Wallis managed to speak with Paul McCartney, and after chatting, he shared a copy of Mercblecket’s EP. Titled Mercblecket Beats the Beatles, the EP featured four covers of Beatles songs. It included “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” “This Boy,” “All My Loving,” and “I Saw Her Standing There.”

The cover of Mercblecket’s EP is eerily similar to the cover of the Beatles’ 1967 album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. The group dressed in marching band uniforms and posed around a bass drum. The Beatles, in turn, seemingly recreated this on the Sgt. Pepper cover.

However, many Beatles fans have pointed out that there are more specific references and allusions in the Sgt. Pepper cover. This is most likely more than just a reference to a Swedish brass band. Still, the coincidence is hard to ignore.

In footage taken at the time of the Beatles’ arrival in Stockholm, it’s clear that Mercblecket were in attendance at the airport. Dressed in their uniforms, the brass band regaled the Fab Four with tunes as they exited the plane.

While the similar cover art is probably just a coincidence, many have speculated that Paul McCartney could have had the image in mind when he conceived the original sketch. McCartney was the first to receive the EP, after all.

Oh sure -- it's probably just a coincidence.

Right. And I'm Marie of Romania. 😎

[h/t Jai Guru Dave]

You Wednesday Moment of Why Didn't I Get the Memo?

From 2003, and the soundtrack to Not Another Teen Comedy, please enjoy power-popsters Phantom Planet -- featuring Wes Anderson rep company actor Jason Schwarzman on drums -- and the cover of Jackson Browne's "Sombody's Baby" I always heard in my head.

Seriously, I've loved that song since it first appeared (ironically enough on the 1982 soundtrack to Fast Times at Ridgemont High) but I always thought Jackson's version could have rocked a little harder. In any case, somehow I managed to completely miss the above (which is transplendent) until I stumbled on it last weekend, and I would just like to thank all you bastids for not hipping me to it earlier.

Ingrates!!! 😎

Poppin' the Cherry

Okay, this strikes me as thoroughly unlikely but it is nonetheless true: The Floor Models, i.e. the Eighties 12-string pop band I toiled with, who were world famous in Greenwich Village, have a song on a new box set from Cherry Red Records, aka the World's Coolest Label.

From the promo material:

In 1979, The Knack kicked open the doors for a global power pop explosion, and a year or so later, almost as quickly, the doors closed again, but not before a mass of their contemporaries followed them through. Soon, a bunch of others got caught up in the excitement and the record business relearned the power of guitar-driven pop - the first few years of the '80s were as exciting for power pop as the last couple of the 70s had been, and even when it returned to the underground, the music continued to flow throughout the decade.

‘I Wanna Be A Teen Again’ follows the 80s power pop explosion from its hypocentre early in the decade to its enduring late period gems, exploring both leading and lesser lights, the old hands and new talents who made it such an exciting musical happening. By the middle of the decade, the term power pop had been all but retired, but a handful of new bands found success by avoiding it, whilst new movements, including the Paisley Underground and indie pop, helped keep others alive under new brandings. All the while a small number of holdouts, the pop equivalent of the soldiers lost in the jungle after the war had ended, strove to keep the music and the name alive.

Packed with classic cuts and long-overlooked rough diamonds, and appearing at a time when new outfits like The Lemon Twigs pick through the body of 80s power pop for material and inspiration and some key artists like Redd Kross and The Bangles are celebrated in books and film, ‘I Wanna Be A Teen Again’ is a timely examination and celebration of this action-packed era and its thrilling sounds.

We're on the second disc, in between Marshall Crenshaw and Cheap Trick -- and how fabulous is that?

The set features over 75 songs, neatly alternating between hits and deep cuts from a myriad of name artists/genre faves (I can't believe we're on an album with The Bangles, Rick Springfield(!), The Go-Gos, Shoes and Eric Carmen) and obscure characters like us; you can peruse the complete track listing -- and pre-order the thing, which will be available starting July 18 -- over at the Cherry Red website HERE. I'm told there will be a booklet with extensive liner notes and lotsa cool photos, including one of the Flo Mos; I'm also informed that you'll be able to stream the set over at Spotify, and I'll keep you posted on further details as I get them.

And may I just say, and for the record (as it were) that I'm over the moon thrilled and honored that we're a part of this thing, and my only regret is that my departed bandmates -- 12 string ace Andy Pasternack, who wrote the song, and drummer Glen Robert Allen -- didn't live to see it.

PS: Oh, and here's the compilation's title song, which I must confess I was previously unfamiliar with.

Of course, I am now, unsurprisingly, totally nuts about it.

[cross-posted at Floor Your Love]

Your Monday Moment of Words Fail Me

Hey -- it makes sense to me. 😎

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "There Were Giants in the Earth in Those Days" Edition

Alright kids, right now we're going to venture a little far afield from what are considered the traditional esthetic parameters of this here blog. But it's something I've wanted to do for pretty much as long as I've been your humble host, and since life is short, I'm gonna finally go for it.

I mean, what the hell...it's not like the Power Pop Police are gonna come after me.

So -- this leads us inexorably to today's business. To wit:

The greatest male vocalist, in any popular music genre, who made hit records in the second half of the 20th Century, was Nat "King" Cole.

Discuss.

And by discuss, we mean starting with yes or no, obviously.

In case you're wondering, I vote yes.

Why? Well, as you can plainly tell from that clip, Nat's magisterial phrasing and sheer vocal gorgeousness simply oozed soul, elegance and sex appeal. And he made it look and sound so easy it felt almost supernatural.

Plus, when he wanted to -- he rocked.

Fun fact: His 1957 recording of "When I Fall in Love" (i.e., the one above) reached number 4 in the UK charts in 1987, when it was re-released in reaction to a version by Rick Astley. Heh.

Okay, look, I'm being a little silly here deliberately; I'm aware that this is all subjective and that of course there's no one greatest singer (or guitarist or songwriter or group).

And "greatest"? What the hell does that even mean?

I mean, c'mon, I'm a professional.

But, and I say this as a life-long rock-and-roll chauvinist: Nat rules, okay?

So have a good time with this, won't you?

And have a terrific weekend, everybody!!!

Fred Armisen Explains It All to You

Specifically, the history of punk-rock guitar strumming styles from 1970-2000.

That's dead-on, and very funny. I particularly like the bit about Sonic Youth.

The Last Shocking Blue Post Ever -- I Promise!!! (Okay, Maybe Not the Last, But We'll See)

So anyway, as attentive readers are aware, Shocking Blue's 1972 Live in Japan album has been a sort of Holy Dutch Asian Grail for me since forever.

Why? Because (1) the original LP version was never released in the States, and (2) for some reason it was never on CD anywhere till 2022 (on some difficult to find non-US label).

Oh, and which, BTW, you can now get from Amazon for...dig this... two hundred bucks.

I mean -- what?

Weird!!!

Anyway: While browsing some Shocking Blue videos the other day, I discovered to my delighted surprise that said album -- complete -- is now up on YouTube for free.

Je repete -- complete. For free. Can you freaking believe it?

Anywhere, here's the link and enjoy! It's actually a really good album!!!

Have I mentioned that YouTube is the contemporary version of the Library at Alexandria? 😎

Overly Subtle Metaphors in Contemporary Popular Music (An Occasional Series): Special "Big in Japan" Edition

From 1972, please enjoy Holland's finest -- Shocking Blue -- and their delightfully infectious but lyrically ambiguous hit "Inkpot."

I've been on a Shocking Blue kick of late, in case you hadn't noticed.

Anyway, I had never previously seen the above video until I chanced across it the other day, and musical merits aside, but may I just say, and for the record, that lead singer Mariska Veres could have had me if she'd played her cards right. I mean -- hubba hubba, as today's kids put it.

But seriously, though -- for the life of me, I can't comprehend what this inspirational verse...

Put some love in your heart
Like you put the ink in the inkpot.
Learn it and you will enjoy it baby
To put the ink in the inkpot.

...could possibly mean.

Oh well, it was recorded, after all, in a uniquely censorious era, when songwriters around the world were forced to take great pains to disquise what they were really talking about. 😎

Great Thoughts of Western Man (An Occasional Series): Special "Pre-Vatican II" Edition

From their sophomore (1965) album, the unimaginatively titled Volume 2, please enjoy The Beau Brummels and their slyly droll trad-Catholic classic "In Good Time."

Inspirational verse:

I'm not one to start complaining
Why am I so sour?
I'm not losing ground, I'm gaining
Why am I so sour?

Everything is going my way
Traffic's moving on the highway
Don't mind eating fish on Fridays
Still I'm feeling sour

I actually owned that album solely for "You Tell Me Why," a gorgeous folk-rock ballad that's one of the great lost singles of the Sixties, but that lyric from "In Good Time" always used to make me laugh when I cranked it up in my college dorm room. I hadn't thought about it in ages, but the other day, with the recent passing of Pope Francis, it (perhaps unsurprisingly) popped into my head unbidden.

I should add that if it came on the radio now, I kinda wonder how many contemporary listeners would even get the historical reference. 😎

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "Flogging a Deceased Equine" Edition

So as you may have noticed, I've been kind of obsessing over that 2006 list of the worst songs of all time that appeared in Blender magazine.

And I finally figured -- oh fuck, let's just go for it.

Which leads us inexorably to today's business. To wit:

...and the worst fucking song/record ever in any pop genre, from the second half of the 20th century to the present day, is...???

No arbitrary rules whatsoever, for obvious reasons, but I will say that if you advocate anything by Staff Sgt. Barry Sadler I will come to your house and kill you.

And in case you're wondering -- this is MY nominee.

And if you're wondering why, here's a 1991 column I wrote for The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review that pretty much lays it out.

MY MADONNA PROBLEM (AND YOURS)

By now, apparently everybody in the world has seen Madonna's "Justify My Love" video and formed some passionate opinion about it.

That this has happened is, to be sure, no small testament to the business smarts of the former Madonna Louise Ciccone. In fact, given that the clip is verboten on MTV, its ubiquity bespeaks a media and marketing savvy demanding serious respect from mere mortals like you and me. And frankly, all the attendant brouhaha (Censorship! The Decline of the West! Bad Haircuts!) really is sort of neat: It means that what passes for art these days can still stir up controversy.

Of course, the irony here is that the artifact in question is hardly worth all the fuss, especially by the standards of Madonna's earlier work. Face it, kids: The song itself is just a functional piece of disco erotica, and the now-notorious video simply sells it efficiently, nothing more, nothing less. Granted, "Justify"'s evocation of polymorphous perversity might be hot stuff if you've never seen a Visconti movie or Duran Duran's "Girls on Film." But otherwise it's notable solely as an indication of Ms. Ciccone's alternately pretentious and pedestrian sexual preferences (translation: she has a thing, as they used to say, for Eurosleaze). In short, no big deal.

And yet, and yet...I've been thinking a lot about Madonna of late, a chore occasioned by the release of The Immaculate Collection, her nearly complete (that is, without "Justify") video retrospective on Warner/Reprise. And the conclusion I keep reaching has kind of brought me up short, especially since it seems to be a minority view, barring Tipper Gore and a religious nut or two. The conclusion, of course, is that Madonna's most hysterical detractors actually have it right, that this woman and the messages she sends are mostly indefensible on a (gasp!) moral level.

I am, I realize, verging on Cranky Old Man territory here. Obviously, there's no law saying pop music should be spiritually uplifting. Equally obviously, much of it -- including stuff I like a lot -- isn't. That's part of pop's appeal. If singles and videos were nothing but humanist pieties with a good beat, nobody in his or her right mind would ever bother with them.

All that allowed, however, The Immaculate Collection still makes me want to take a shower when it's over, and I think I know why -- it's so nakedly, so honestly scummy. Yes, clip after clip vibrates with subtexts ranging from the distasteful to the nearly evil: porn-palace peepshows as harmless rites of passage ("Open Your Heart"), the Sixties civil-rights struggle as just another pop image to be plundered ("Like a Prayer"), heartfelt odes to unwanted pregnancy ("Papa Don't Preach"), narcissism posing as liberation ("Vogue"), untrammeled greed ("Material Girl") and on an on. And yes, individually they can be (and have been) justified with the sort of arguments (Postmodern Irony! Subversive Ambiguity! She's Only Kidding!) you'd expect to hear in This is Spinal Tap. Unfortunately, when you watch the clips back to back their cumulative impact is anything but ambiguous or ironic. You realize that this stuff is an accurate representation of one woman's sensibility (her soul, if you will), like some ghastly disco version of Advertisements for Myself.

None of this is to knock the music. It's true that if Madonna had been run over by a truck in 1985 the subsequent direction of pop would not have been altered one whit, and it's hard to imagine a young musician somewhere listening to her albums and thinking "Wow, what a cool riff. I oughtta steal it." Still, the best of her singles are, unquestionably, well crafted and damnably catchy, which is why a lot of folks -- particularly feminists and gays desperate for something politically correct to dance to -- seem so ready to overlook or reinterpret what's actually being peddled.

Well, I can sympathize with that. Lord knows there are enough records in my collection that are (at best) guilty pleasures, and I'm hardly advocating some sort of ethical litmus test for pop music. But we shouldn't pretend that this stuff is value-neutral, either. What I guess I'm really saying is, okay, sure, go home and dance all you want to The Immaculate Collection: some nights I might even do the same thing. But when we do, let's at least have the grace to hate ourselves for it in the morning.

Okay, that's my two cents. And yes, as you can tell from the above, I could nominate any number of other Madonna songs for the honor, but I'm limiting myself to just the one in the spirit of fidelity to this week's theme question.

Alrighty then -- What would YOUR choices be?

Discuss.

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

How Do You Say "Vinyl Rules" in Yiddish?

Heh.

A particularly argumentative music weekend posting will be here on the morrow. 😎

Cahiers Du Merde (An Occasional Series)

So speaking as we were yesterday of that Blender magazine list of the 50 Worst Songs of All Time -- you may recall that Lionel Ritchie's "Dancing on the Ceiling" came in at number 20, which I felt was a tad unfair -- I got curious about the rest of the list. And because I love you all more than food, here's a link to it for your amusement. Please take a look before you continue reading the rest of today's poor scribblings.

That chore completed, let us stipulate that said list was compiled in 2006, and thus there's nothing on it by, say, fashionable contemporary mediocrities like Chappell Roan or Morgan Wallen.

And yes, I think we can all agree that most of the songs listed therein do, in fact, suck.

That said, I think it's kinda jive that there's nothing on it pre-Beatles; apparently the people at Blender either believed contemporary music as we know it began in 1965 or else they thought there was no crap whatsoever in the 50s.

Yeah, right.

But speaking of the Fabs, I was also a little irked to note the presence of "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" at number 48. Which, whatever your opinion of the song musically -- I think it's charming -- displays a certain, er, ignorance as to its historical context and significance.

As you can see from this piece from MOJO, which I originally posted after it ran in their September 2008 issue (not coincidentally the 40th annniversary of The White Album).

That summer, race was a much bigger story than the Beatles.

Between starting "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" in March in Rishikesh and the first attempt to record it in Abbey Road on July 3, Conservative Shadow Defence Secretary Enoch Powell gave the notorious "Rivers of Blood" speech on April 20, 1968 (which would have been Hitler's 79th birthday). In it, he prophesied a racial apocalypse in Britain if immigration from the former Empire continued. It was headline news, provoking protests both pro and anti.

So when Paul McCartney wrote what he intended to be a Number 1 hit whose male lead was clearly to be identified as West Indian ("Desmond is a very Caribbean name"), set to music that hybridised British music hall and a ska beat, how could he not be making a point? McCartney was in the business of making points in a publically palatable style: he'd written the Beatles previous single A-side, "Lady Madonna," in solidarity with women's daily struggle. The inspiration for "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" came from a citizen of a former British colony typical of those in the Powellite firing line. Born Jimmy Anonmuogharan Scott Emutakpor in Nigeria, jazzman Jimmy Scott came to England in the '50s, for a while playing congas in Georgia Fame and the Blue Flames; he met McCartney in Soho's Bag O'Nails club. His Yoruba catch-phrase, 'ob-la-di, ob-la-da,' meaning 'life goes on', sparked a hit chorus just as Ringo's stray catch-phrase 'a hard day's night' had with Lennon four years before. And like that 1964 smash, McCartney's new song celebrated workaday romance -- but whose folksiness pictured a friendly face of Britan's controversial new arrivals in a familiar British street setting, the West Indian lilt giddying up a public bar knees-up.

The old joanna [cockney slang for piano -S.S.] intro came courtesy of John Lennon whose "fresh attitude," according to Macca, "turned the whole song around" after it had become bogged down in repeated takes with Ringo and George that totalled 42 hours over seven days.

Vetoed as a single by the other three -- all that effort and ill-temper for "granny music" was their verdict -- the song went to Number 1 anyway as covered by Marmalade, a better version by Leeds-based West Indian musicians The Bedrocks having just scraped into the Top 20.

And Jimmy Scott? He played congas on an early take (Anthology 3), and McCartney later settled a legal bill for him in return for dropping a claim for royalties on the song. Later he joined UK ska revivalists Bad Manners, in 1986 contracting pneumonia on tour in the US and dying after being held for hours naked when strip-searched by immigration officials at Heathrow Airport. McCartney really had a point, it seemed. But not even his fellow Fabs got it. -- Matt Snow

I must admit, that whole story was news to me when I read it in MOJO.

And hey -- its sudden relevance to current events here in the USA will escape no one's notice. 😎

In any event, I've always liked the record, as unfashionable as it may have been to say in rock crit circles, and it's certainly more important than the snobs at Blender gave it credit for.

A Postscript to Friday's Listomania: "Critical Re-Assessment or Mellowing in Your Old Age?" Part Deux

Okay, so I stumbled upon this video the other day...

...and apart from it being fabulous and funny just in terms of the montage, I was suddenly struck by how much better the song itself was than I remembered.

Seriously -- dead catchy, and it rocks. I mean, what's not to like?

So I got a huge chuckle when I looked it up over at Wikipedia and discovered the following:

In the early 21st century, Blender magazine published a list of the "50 worst songs of all time", with "Dancing on the Ceiling" listed at No. 20.

I mean, wow. There's just no pleasing some people, apparently. 😎

Monday's Cartoon Chuckle

Okay, that really made me laugh. 😎

Less self-indulgent actual music posting resumes on the morrow, weather permitting.

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "Critical Re-Assessment or Mellowing in Your Old Age?" Edition

Okay, I think we can all agree this song really sucks.

Reason I bring it up is because, for most his career, I could take or leave Billy Joel, but mostly leave. Only album of his I ever listened to for pleasure was Glass Houses, i.e., his New Wave move, and thus atypical; other than that, starting with "Piano Man," I kinda found him embarrassing.

The odd thing is, all these years later I suddenly think he's terrific. I even went to one of his now legendary run of shows at the Garden, and thought it was among the best concerts I'd ever attended.

"We Didn't Start the Fire" still sucks, though. 😎

Which leads us, inexorably, to today's business. To wit:

...and the artist you basically disliked in their prime but have -- seemingly inexplicably -- come to appreciate lo these many years later is...?

No arbitrary rules, and no, it doesn't have to be a superstar of any ilk. Just somebody who you didn't care for in their commercial heyday but now think are kinda cool.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, my choice -- aside from Billy Joel, obviously -- is Queen.

Who -- with the exception of one or two tracks -- I mostly couldn't stand back in the day. And then I saw the movie, and now I'm their biggest fan. Go figure.

I mean -- how did I not get how stone gorgeous this is? I mean, sweet Jeebus -- I can listen to that for the bass and drums alone!!! 😎😎

So -- who would YOUR choice(s) be????

Discuss.

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Spindles Rule, OK?

Attentive readers will recall my enthusiasm for midwest indie-pop rockers The Spindles, whose fab gear cover of The Hollies' "Bus Stop" I enthused about earlier this year.

And now here, from their just released album Wavelength, please enjoy the lead off track, "Getaway."

I think you'll agree when I say -- that is power pop heaven fer sure.

Seriously, the entire album (which, have no fear, includes the aforementioned Hollies cover) is that good, and what are you waiting for? You can order it, either to stream or in physical form, over at their website HERE (not to mention at Amazon, Spotify, Bandcamp and the rest of the usual suspects). You'll also find gig info over there, and man, I wish I could afford a trip to Illinois to catch the upcoming show they're doing May 3rd at International Pop Overthrow Chicago.

Oh -- and about that CD. As you can see...

...it's packaged with an actual spindle attached -- i.e., an adapter for a 45 rpm record -- as a bonus.

Hey vinyl fans -- how freaking cool is that? 😎

Wednesday's Cartoon Chuckle

Hey -- they can't ALL be great. 😎

Actual music posting resumes on the morrow, weather permitting.

Cinematic Notes From All Over: Special "Let Us Now Praise Famous Jazz Guys" Edition

Okay, I realize this is rather far afield from the traditional subject matter of this here blog, but I just saw a music documentary that is so cool I really have to share.

Ladies and germs, may I please present for your attention -- director Brigitte Berman's Artie Shaw: Time is All You've Got.

I'm not even remotely a scholar of the Big Band era, but before seeing the film, I at least knew the bare-bones of Shaw's history -- i.e., that afficianados of his genre are more or less agreed that, musically speaking, his stuff was more interesting than that of his better known contemporaries Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller, and that, on the recorded evidence, his ouevre swung harder than anybody elses. (He was also probably closer than any of them to a contemporary rock star, given his love/hate relationship with his audience, his ahead-of-its time interest in the esthetic of the recording studio, and his understanding of celebrity itself as a kind of Post-Modern phenom). I should add that the film originally came out in 1985; I was thus amused the other day to learn that after it won an Academy Award (for Best Documentary) in 1987, the ever-fractious Shaw sued its makers on the grounds that since it had become more critically and commercially successful than expected, he was thus entitled to a greater share of the film's profits (Shaw lost the suit, BTW).

Anyway, when you see the flick, I guarantee you won't be bored for even a millisecond. Shaw is a resolutely magnetic presence -- funny, articulate, combative -- and he's onscreen (in shot-for-the-film interview footage) for most of the movie. The myriad guest interviewees, many of whom are almost as compelling as the titular star, include Shaw's 8th(!) and last ex-wife, actress Evelyn Keyes (Scarlett's younger sister in Gone With the Wind) and the Velvet Frog himself, the great Mel Torme, neither of whom fail to address Shaw's (er) difficult qualities.

I should also add that there's a particulary wonderful sequence about the making of his 1945 hit recording of Gershwin's "Summertime," featuring trumpeter Roy Eldridge...

...and if you can listen to the finished product without getting goosebumps you need to have your meds checked immediately.

In any event, adding to the fun, the new 4K restoration (supervised by Berman) looks and sounds fantastic. The film has never previously been available for home viewing, so I'm happy to report that you'll be able to stream it at Film Movement Plus starting this Friday; a Blu-ray version goes on sale over at Amazon at the end of next month.

Bottom line: To paraphrase the immortal words of Siskel and Ebert -- four very enthusiastic thumbs ups!!! 😎

And Speaking of Gorgeous (An Occasional Series): Special "Logrolling in Our Time" Edition

From 1987, please enjoy ex-Squeeze guy the great Paul Carrack and his to-die-for cover of The Searchers cover of Jackie De Shannon's "When You Walk in the Room."

I've been a fan of Carrack since forever (i.e., when he was singing "How Long," with Ace back in 1974), but I must confess I had never encountered the above until last week, when Friend of PowerPop© Sal Nunziato posted a link to it over at his invaluable Burning Wood blog.

So I'm sharing it.

And not out of laziness, damnit, and fuck you for suggesting that! 😎

Seriously, the song itself is one of my all-time faves, and while Carrack's neo-Spectorian approach may not necessarily be the way you guys hear it, for me at least, it -- in Sal's phrase -- pushes all kinds of my buttons.

Hmm...perhaps I should check out the album it's from as well.

Oh, and you should be thankful I didn't make an "ex-squeeze me?" joke in today's title. So there. 😎😎

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: How Do You Say "What's in a Name" in Yiddish? Edition

So the other day I became quite insufferably pleased with myself.

Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.

Basically, it started when I was reading about the recent mini-brouhaha over country music mega-star Morgan Wallen walking off-stage during the final credit bow of the episode of Saturday Night Live he had just appeared on. (In case, mercifully, you're unfamiliar with the guy, here he is with one of his performances from the show.)

Anyway, I was trying to characterize the music the guy does, in a way that would sort of sum up my disdain for pretty much all current commercially successful country music, which frankly kinda sucks IMHO.

And then it hit me.

Auto-Twang.

Thank you, I'm here all week. And like I said, insufferably pleased with myself.

Which leads us, inexorably, to today's business. To wit:

...and your favorite or least favorite genre appellation for an offshoot of pop/rock/country/folk/soul music is...????

No arbitrary rules, but the more obscure the better, as far as I'm concerned. And whether you enjoy the genre itself is irrelevant -- we're talking strictly the name (which was, if truth be told, probably originated by some putz rock critic).

Discuss. (Also: A coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded to any reader who coins a genre name as memorable as my new one).

Oh -- and I'l tell you my two least favorites for free.

Death Metal (ugh) and Kraut-Rock (yuck).

And yeah, my favorite is Power Pop, but you obviously already guessed that. 😎😎

Anyway, have a great weekend, everybody!!!