Rock and Roll Love Letter (Part Deux)

As promised yesterday, here's the 1974 Tim Moore original.





Seems I erred on the availability of this one as well; the album it derives from, Behind the Eyes, is indeed available as an import over at Amazon, and unless you're a total schween, you'll get over there and order it ASAP.

Batter Up!

Those who know me are aware that I am possibly the least athletic person on the planet. This is partly because of physical limitations: I was born with double vision (no Foreigner songs, please), since corrected by surgery, which impeded my ability to catch or throw a ball, frequently a large component of athletic endeavors. Similarly, I was, uh, gifted? cursed? with a relatively, well, stacked bod, and thus running is also more trouble than it's worth for me. And my generation of girls was not expected to be athletic, so there was no pressure on that end, either.

But I appreciate the athleticism of others, though I admit, I would not have thought there would be an entire band based around it. Ladies and Gentlemen: The Baseball Project.

Wynn — an immortal in L.A. rock annals for his years helming the Dream Syndicate — loves baseball almost as much as music, and when I caught up with him a few days ago it was to talk about The Baseball Project, a concept-focused teaming with his friend Scott McCaughey, R.E.M. sideman and member of the Young Fresh Fellows and the Minus 5.

On their new album, "Volume 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails," which comes out today on Yep Rock, they’re joined by Linda Pitmon, the drummer from Wynn’s band the Miracle 3, and R.E.M.’s Peter Buck, stirring up a storm of rootsy, thick guitar rock as they range through the baseball lore of the 20th century.

But the songs aren’t sweetly nostalgic valentines to the sport. In "Fernando," Wynn juxtaposes the Dodgers' Mexican pitching star's early '80s popularity with two contrasting episodes: the eviction of Mexican American residents from Chavez Ravine to make way for the stadium, and the anti-immigrant sentiment that has swelled in recent years.

How can anyone not love a record with a song on it called "Ted Fucking Williams"? I mean, I axe ya?




Buy the record here.

Somehow, "Rock and Roll Tweet" Just Doesn't Have the Same Poetry....

From 1979, please enjoy powerpop gods The Records and their quite lovely version (apparently not on CD anywhere) of "Rock and Roll Love Letter."





This was something of a powerpop standard at the time, and it was often covered, most famously (if not most felicitously) by the Bay City Rollers. The Records' version, obviously, is vastly superior, but to my surprise the 1975 Tim Moore original -- which if memory serves is still the gold standard -- is not available on CD either.

In any case, this is a great track which has been brightening my iPod for a couple of weeks now, so I thought I'd share.

Primary-Source Research: Shoes

This is what you look like after five hours with me, bub. Tousled and a little dazed. Taken sometime around 1am last Thursday.

(Actually, they all look great: a little less hair, a few more lines, but these are some handsome guys. Trust me.)

Not So Great Lost Singles of the 70s: Special "Guess the Celebrity!" Edition

From 1970, please enjoy the country rock stylings of the appallingly monikered Carp and their ode to overindulgence, "Drink to the Queen of the May."





I bring this up only because Carp's pseudonymous drummer was pursuing a simultaneous acting career under his real name at the same time, and a few years hence he actually got an Academy Award nomination for his trouble. A coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded the first reader who twigs his identity without recourse to the Google.

Incidentally, I should add that there were lots of bands that sounded like Carp around the time this was recorded, and that those guys, while a tad cloying, were hardly the worst of the lot. At least this lacks the infuriating moronic grinning optimism of Poco, for example.

She Bought a Hat Like Princess Marina

From 1990, please enjoy the amusingly monikered Hindu Love Gods and their garage rock take on Prince's "Raspberry Beret."

That's Warren Zevon, obviously, with 3/4 of R.E.M. Recorded strictly for fun in 1988 during the sessions for Zevon's underrated Sentimental Hygiene album, but not released until two years later.





Incidentally, I'm aware that this one isn't particularly obscure, but fact is I just downloaded it for free and I'm feeling insufferably pleased with myself. So I thought I'd share.

In any case, if truth be told, I thought as covers go it was kind of lame, or at the very least disappointing, when it first came out. Now, it strikes me as thoroughly charming...

Weekend Listomania (Special Occupational Hazards! Video Edition)

Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Oriental unendurable pleasure indefinitely prolonged specialist Gal Friday Fah Lo Suee and I are off to New Canaan, Connecticut, where we'll be joining Fox News commentator and cocaine addict Glenn Beck when he goes to the dry cleaner. Seems Glenn will be having his hood cleaned and pressed, with some repair work done around the eyeholes.

So posting by moi will necessarily be sporadic for a little while.

But in the meantime, here's another little project for you folks:

Most Memorable Post-Elvis Song or Record Referencing Work or a Specific Job in the Title or Lyrics!!!

And my totally top of my Top Six is:

6. The Godfathers -- Birth, School, Work, Death



The most rousing song ever written about a depressing topic? Hey, what can I tell you -- I've always liked these guys' attitude.

5. Tim Hardin -- If I Were a Carpenter





Tim Buckley's had a revival, deservedly, and I think it's long overdue that the similarly eclectic Hardin gets similarly reevaluated. Maybe if he'd had a kid who looked and sounded like him...

4. Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers -- Ice Cream Man



Hey -- at least the guy's not selling drugs out of the back of the truck, at least that we know of. In any case, Jonathan at his most charmingly childlike, I think.

3. Humble Pie -- I Don't Need No Doctor



The Ashford and Simpson medical classic, via Ray Charles and ultimately this bunch of screaming English midgets. I'm sorry -- I love Steve Marriott, but this particular cover of the song has always cracked me up for some reason. Incidentally, can anybody tell if that's Peter Frampton in the back there or not? Frampton left the band sometime in '71, but I'm not sure if that was before or after this was filmed.

2. Lenny Kravitz -- Mr. Cab Driver



Lenny's classic account of suffering from racial bigotry and monaural recording. Seriously, I kind of like this song, but I'm reminded of what Bob Dylan said after hearing Sonny Bono's "Laugh at Me." "Cat's a drag," Bob noted. "Gets thrown out of a restaurant and writes a song about it."

And the numero uno song referencing a specific line of work, c'mon it's so obvious I'll have to harm you if you disagree, totally is --

1. Warren Zevon -- The Envoy





Warren's ode to special ambassador Philip Habib's shuttle diplomacy during Israel's Lebanon incursion of 1982. Perhaps not Zevon's best, but I think it's safe to say it is, in fact, the only rock tune ever written as a tribute to a foreign service professional.

Alrighty, then -- and what would your choices be?

[Shameless Blogwhore: My parallel Cinema Listomania -- theme: actor or actress who looks the coolest with a sword in his or her hand -- is now up over at Box Office. As always, i'd take it as a personal favor if you could go over there and leave a snarky comment. Thanks!]

An Early Clue to the New Direction: Special Total Victory is Ours, Comrades! Video Edition

From 1973, please enjoy unjustly overlooked Brit folk-rockers The Strawbs with their actually-a-hit-record ode to blue collar solidarity and heinous fashions, the infectious "Part of the Union."



As always, a Coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded the first reader who twigs its relevance to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.

Quick, Henry, the Flit!

From the soundtrack to John Waters' original Hairspray, please enjoy Jerry Dallman and the Nightcaps' greaseball quasi-rockabilly dance classic "The Bug."





The album and the movie came out in 1988, but "The Bug," like the rest of the songs on the LP, was a genuine obscure regional oldie from Waters' personal record collection; as he said in the liner notes, it was part of "the only antidote to today's Hit Parade of Hell," a cure for a malady that has hardly lessened in virulence in the intervening years.

A true story: When Waters was working on the soundtrack, he was in almost daily contact with the lawyers at MCA's music department, who were trying to get the clearances for the songs he wanted to use. Halfway through the process he got a phone call from a Mr. Jerry Dallman. Yes, the singer of "The Bug." Turns out he was now a senior executive in MCA's movie division, and he was as astonished that the song he'd recorded as a teenager was going to be in Hairspray as Waters was to hear from him.

May the Schwarz Be With You!

Okay, this one is seriously wonderful -- none of that Banana Splits, I'm-being-partly-ironic crap.

From 1972, here's the great Brinsley Schwarz and their instantly addictive "Unknown Number." Written and sung by the pre-irony Nick Lowe on their ace Silver Pistol album.





The reason it sounds a little roughhewn is that it was recorded, as you may be able to glean from the album cover, at home. The Brinsleys (with new 2nd guitarist Ian Gomm) had retreated to a communal house (inspired by you know who) to lick their wounds after their first two studio albums bombed in the midst of one of the most disastrous live hypes in rock history (the details are here). Their plan: Move a mobile 24-track recording machine into their living room and try to make music on a slightly more intimate scale.

It worked, as you can hear from this song, although it didn't translate into record sales. In any case, this is Lowe chanelling Buddy Holly's "Words of Love," I think, and it's just hauntingly lovely.