An Unusually Early Clue to the New Direction

Off to the city for a screening of What We Do Is Secret, a bio-pic on the seminal LA punk band The Germs starring Bijou Phillips. Could be a hot one!!!

In the meantime, from 1967, here's the original Youngbloods (with the very cool Jerry Corbett singing lead) on American Bandstand with their almost hit single "Grizzley Bear." As you can see, at this point they were hardly the hippie band they've been painted as (and to an extent became, later); they were instead a snazzy, stylish NYC folk-rock band who were thinking about the pop charts, a la their contemporaries the Lovin' Spoonful. Seriously -- if you've never heard their first two albums, you're the poorer for it. (And the third album has the transcendent "Darkness Darkness," which behooves behearing as well).



As always, a coveted Powerpop No-Prize will be awarded to the first reader who divines the clip's relevance to tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.

And My Mind Split Open

If it's Thursday, it must be power pop gods The Wondermints and their fabulous cover of Smoke's 1967 Nuggets classic "My Friend Jack."



For more of these guys, you could do worse than check out their work as the backup band on Brian Wilson: Live at the Roxy Theatre, which is essentially a two hour distillation of pure joy. And their 1996 covers album Wonderful World of the Wondermints, from whence MFJ derives, also behooves behearing, if only for an astounding pop-metal version of ABBA's "Knowing Me, Knowing You."

Low Self-Esteem Theater

Ohmigod. From 1965, it's celebrity scion Gary Lewis and The Playboys with "Count Me In." Not a bad record, actually, especially those fancy piano fills by the then un-famous Leon Russell.



Nevertheless, I absolutely loathe Gary Lewis. Why? Well, back in the day, like many of my contemporaries, I dreamed of looking like a Beatle or a Rolling Stone. So which pop star did I actually resemble?

This putz.

God, I hate him.

Gimme Marty

Sorry for the blogwhore, but my thoughts on Martin Scorsese's Rolling Stones concert film Shine a Light versus the in many ways superior Ladies and Gentlemen, the Rolling Stones -- currently unavailable on DVD -- can be found over at Box Office.

What I didn't mention over there is that there's a certain irony attendant to the earlier film. There's no question that the 1972 Stones in LAGTRS kick major butt compared to their Sixty Something incarnation in the Scorsese flick, at least musically speaking. Still, it's kind of funny that the '72 tour, which pretty much defined/invented rock 'n' roll decadence/wretched excess (Truman Capote and Margaret Trudeau eating truffles backstage) was also the precise moment when the Stones began their metamorphosis from personification of the music's outlaw spirit into the efficient, but by comparison soulless, corporate entity that they are today.

Missed It By That Much!

True story: Back in the mid 60s, my crappy high school rock band used to get a lot of free studio time for demos because our lead guitar player's dad owned a big deal recording complex in Manhattan. The place was called Associated Studios, and it's still there, in the building across from the Ed Sullivan Theater where the Letterman Show is taped. Mostly it was a jingle house, but some hits actually got recorded there, most notoriously They're Coming to Take Me Away (Ha-Ha) by Napoleon XIV. (There's another story about that for another time, but let's move on).

Anyway, one Saturday during the summer of '65, we did another of our crappy demos there (you have no idea how crappy, BTW). In those days there was no such thing as cassettes, however, so if you wanted to take a copy of your latest masterwork home, they would cut what was called an acetate, in most cases a seven inch disc with a big hole in the middle that looked exactly like a commercial 45 rpm single, except it was made out of material much crappier (how appropriate) than vinyl and far more prone to getting scratched up after a few plays. In this case, the acetate they gave us had a flip side of something from another session that had been done at the studio at some point, but whatever it was wasn't identified. When we got it home, however, we were really intrigued. It was a small group playing what sounded like the theme to a hip spy movie, except done for laughs, and we listened to it over and over again all through the summer.

Imagine our surprise, then, when we watched the September 18th NBC premier of a little show called Get Smart and realized that our phantom b-side was Vic Mizzy and his orchestra's now familiar theme for that soon-to-be pop culture classic.



And in case you're wondering if all of that faux nostalgia was merely an excuse for me to post the above silly photo of me and a cardboard Ann Hathaway, the answer is yes.

Weekend Listomania (Special Got Live If You Want It! Video Edition)

Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Oriental manservant Hop-Sing and I are off to Paris, France, home of the Ignoble Frog, for the first annual Jerry Lewis Pro-Am Percodan Tasting Tournament. Sounds very existential, so just in case I'm having my beret re-blocked. In any case, posting by moi will necessarily be sporadic for a few days.

But in my absence, here's a fun project for you all to contemplate:

BEST POST-ELVIS LIVE POP/ROCK ALBUM BY A GROUP OR SOLO ARTIST!!!!!!!

Briefly -- The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review (a/k/a Sound and Vision) turns fifty this year, and to celebrate they've asked their contributors to list the greatest albums of all time in various categories. Since nobody's individual list is going to be published, I was free to nominate all sorts of things I might not be inclined to share here, but I figured I'd make an exception with this live album roster. Feel free to make as much fun of it and me as you like.

Oh, one brief and not at all arbitrary rule: It has to be a live album by a single artist. Thus, "The Last Waltz," which features other performers besides its nominal stars The Band, is ineligible. Ditto something like the Bob Dylan 30th Anniversary Tribute Concert album.

Also: If I could have added one more album to the list, it would have been Television's "Live at the Old Waldorf."

Okay, that said, here's my totally carefully considered Top Ten:

10. Ritchie Valens -- In Concert at Pacoima Jr. High



At his Alma Mater, not long before the plane crash. Primitive, but a heart as big as all outdoors (actual track from the record).

9. MC5 -- Kick Out the Jams



The only American band of the 60s that could compete with the Yardbirds, the Kinks, and the Who on a sonic level (actual uncensored track from the record).

8. The Who -- Live at Leeds



The hard rock live album template that launched a zillion garage bands (actual track from the record)

7. Bob Dylan -- "The Royal Albert Hall Concert"



I still find it hard to believe that Mickey Jones, the guy playing the drums on this, went on to have a recurring role on Home Improvement (actual blah blah blah).

6. The Beatles -- Live at the Hollywood Bowl



Originally released on vinyl in 1977, and not yet on an official American CD. What kind of sick sadistic world do we live in where this is possible? (actual yadda yadda yadda).

5. The Remains -- A Session With the Remains



Unlike this Hullabloo lip-synch job, the album was recorded live in the studio at ten in the morning as an audition for Capitol Records, right before their gig opening for the Beatles at Shea Stadium. If you haven't heard it, get it immediately. Trust me -- Led Zeppelin only wished they had a sense of dynamics like these guys.

4. The Monks -- Let's Start a Beat



Recorded at two NYC shows in 1999 -- not only their first performances in 32 years, but their first ever in their native country, and yet they sounded exactly like they do in the vintage clip above. The most primal and powerful garage rock imaginable; nobody has ever made noises quite like these guys.

3. James Brown -- Live at the Apollo 1962



A number two album on the Billboard Charts in 1963, which is pretty astonishing when you consider that he didn't get a crossover single hit until '65 (when this was filmed). In any case, it's the Hardest Working Man in Show Business at his performing peak.

2. The Yardbirds -- Five Live Yardbirds



The Clapton edition of the band at their most blues-wailing; the entire concept of the rave-up begins there (and sounding not unlike this contemporary TV clip).

Okay, and the all-time best in concert rock album, it's not even close so don't you dare even think of contradicting me, is ---

1. The Rolling Stones -- Get Yer Ya-Yas Out



This is a slightly different take from the album, but it and the official version were both recorded on a night when the Stones really were the greatest rock-and-roll band in the world. I was there, jack, and this is EXACTLY what they sounded like.

Awrighty now -- what would your choices be?

[Shameless blogwhore: My weekend Cinema Listomania (special stoner idiot edition) is now up at Box Office. As always, if you could see your way to leaving a comment over there, an angel gets its wings.]

An Earlier Than Usual Clue to the New Direction

Off to NYC for a mysterious assignation (again -- maybe it's not as mysterious as I think. Hmm.) Anyway, from 1979, here's power pop gods Cheap Trick with their immortal "I Want You to Want Me" [optional fan cutie edition].

Hello, Budokan!!!!!!!



As always, a coveted Powerpop No-Prize will be awarded to the first reader who divines the clip's relevance to tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.

Good Vibrations

So I've been obsessed, in recent weeks, with Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story (and no, if you're curious, you have not lived until a preschooler comes into your living room and announces "I want Dewey Cox!" Just in case you were wondering.) I've even bought the soundtrack, and have been listening to it in the car. But this has led to all kinds of interesting conversations with my newly relicensed teen, who has been picking my brain over the various forms of parody involved in the film and the music. The film, of course, rests its humor not so much on the actual biography of any given artist, but primarily on an intimate knowledge of rock, blues, and country music biopics. Thus it is not necessary (or helpful, in this particular case) to know anything about the actual Johnny Cash: a working knowledge of Walk the Line will serve nicely (seasoned with The Doors, The Buddy Holly Story, Ray, Grace of My Heart, Coal Miner's Daughter, any of the various Elvis and/or Beatles TV movies--you get the idea).

But the music is another matter entirely, and as we listened to the Cox parody "Black Sheep," I found myself trying to describe to her the song "Good Vibrations" and what it meant at the time, to music, to the idea of the pop star as auteur, to the model of the 3 minute verse-chorus-verse-chorus structure. It's harder to describe that sort of thing than one might imagine, even to a relatively receptive audience. (I earned this receptivity through repeated listenings to Metalocalypse, so she can listen to me lecture a bit). So we turn, as we often do, to the internets.



Of course, anything so groundbreaking is going to be parodied multiple times, and I still somewhat prefer The Dukes of the Stratosphear's "Pale and Precious" as a parody, but "Black Sheep" is pretty compelling.



I would also throw in, more for storyline than music, Matt Dillon's terrific turn as Jay Phillips, the Brian Wilson-esque insane genius from the underrated 1996 film Grace of My Heart. Redd Kross, of course, have a brief role as his band, the Riptides, and feature a line which must have occurred to the actual Beach Boys at some point: while listening to Phillips' foray into orchestral rock (can't locate song title in brain, waiting for call back from beloved older brother, who will know), one of them asks "Okay, but how do we play this live?"

Anyway, if you're in the mood for a real lesson in influence, tribute, and parody, try listening to these all in a row. Totally trippy!

Listen Without Ears, Vol. 1

Oh, joy. George Michael is back.

From today's New York Times:

ONSTAGE IN THE U.S., IF NOT ON THE AIR
By Jon Pareles
July 23, 2008

George Michael started his concert at Madison Square Garden on Monday night with “Waiting (Reprise),” a ballad that concluded: “Is it too late to try again? Here I am.” It was the first of two shows there (the second is Wednesday night) on Mr. Michael’s first American tour in 17 years, and he treated it as a vindication.

Mr. Michael’s music since 1990 has received little play on American radio stations, ever since he unsuccessfully sued his label at the time, Sony, to end a 15-year contract he described as “professional slavery.” His lawsuit charged that Sony failed to fully promote the 1990 album “Listen Without Prejudice, Vol. 1” because Mr. Michael was determined to set aside his 1980s image as a smiling sex symbol.

“Artists were losing all control as the biggies got bigger,” Mr. Michael said during a long speech from the stage. “And I didn’t think it was fair that I was on roughly a 30-year deal for £500. Somehow I lost that battle.”

He continued: “Basically I went from being just as successful in America as I was in the rest of the world to having a fantastic career in Europe and almost no career here. That was not because Americans don’t like my music.” The reason, he told the audience, was that no one would “play it to you.”

May I just simply say -- boo fucking hoo? Seriously...this is the guy who penned the line "Guilty feet have got no rhythm" and subsequently failed to die of shame.

Wish I'd Said That

Noel Gallagher of Oasis, telling an interviewer in this month's Mojo that his group's new album won't be one of those back to basics deals:

"There's too many multi-instrumentalists in this band to do anything minimal. Anyway, I don't like concepts following around records, that's the Brian Eno curse. I think a lot of bands fall down on that -- they get the concept first. Travis, for instance...poor lads. Those kinds of bands always end up with fucking Brian Eno pulling out a deck of cards, saying 'Play it like it's orange....'."

Heh heh. U2, please pick up the white courtesy phone....