Say what you will about that Kurt Cobain kid, but he must have had a really interesting, eclectic record collection.
Case in point: From 1987 and the band's first live radio broadcast (anthologized on the With the Lights Out box set in 2004), here's Nirvana's cover of Thunder and Roses' thoroughly obscure psych-metal workout "White Lace and Stange."
And here's the 1969 original, which I can only assume Cobain found on a cut-out bin vinyl copy of Thunder and Roses's sole album (on United Artists).
As you can hear, Nirvana's version is a little more frenetic than the original, but otherwise pretty faithful in both note and spirit, I think. As for the aforementioned Thunder and Roses, I know little about them except that they were from Philadelphia and that apparently they've developed a cult reputation since 1969. Also, T&R guitarist Chris Bond, of whom nothing has been heard of in the intervening years that I can determine, is a pretty impressive player, a judgement confirmed by a very accomplished cover of Jimi Hendrix's "Red House" elsewhere on the album (which has never been on CD, by the way).
Incidentally, I was turned on to Thunder and Roses over at the invaluable Redtelephone66 website, which is -- alas -- about to go out of business due to threats over supposed copyright violations. If you get a chance, try to get over there and give proprietor Leonard Los some love for all the fine archival work he's done over the last few years. And tell 'em PowerPop sent you.
Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Oriental lesbian bondgage sex-themed club consultant Fah Lo Suee and I are off to scenic Long Branch, New Jersey, where we'll attend a memorial service for my beloved grandmother Bernice "Woo Woo!" Simels, a wonderful woman who on Monday nonetheless became the the first senior to be killed by one of the new Obama-Care mandated Death Panels.
Ironically, just last week when I visited Nana Bernice I told her (in jest, or so it seemed to me at the time), "Nana -- you're 143 years old. You've had a rich full life. I want my money."
In any case, further posting by moi will have to be sporadic for a day or two as a result.
In the meantime, then, here's a hopefully fun little project for us all:
Post-Beatles Pop/Rock Band or Solo Artist That, From Where You're Sitting, Should Have Been Huge(ly Successful) But For Some Reason Never Was!!!
No arbitrary rules here, except by huge we mean commercially ubiquitous in these here United States, so your Big in Japan (or wherever) faves definitely count. And yes, I'm pretty sure I've done something like this before, but I'm also reasonably sure that most of my nominees this time are newbies.
And my totally top of my head Top Six is -
6. Marah
I love 'em, Nick Hornby absolutely adores them, and their first two albums -- Let's Cut the Crap & Hook Up Later On Tonight and Kids in Philly -- are an absolutely astounding mashup of Springsteen, the Exile-era Stones and The Replacements. They're still at it, of course, but barring an act of God they seem likely to remain a cult band.
5. The Real Kids
Punkish Boston roots-rockers, and as you can see from the above, the real deal on every level. World class frontman John Felice apparently partied a little too hearty to play the kind of career games necessary for stardom on the level they deserved, but when they were on these guys were great sweaty fun.
4. The Kit Kats
A hugely popular live act in the Philly/Jersey Shore area from the mid-60s to the early 70s, these guys made amazing pop-symphonic singles and at their best -- as in the regional hit single above -- they had an unearthly quality that was utterly unique.
3. Starry Eyed and Laughing
A lovely British pub band that essentially chanelled The Byrds -- both their original 60s folk-rock hit-making incarnation and their 70s country-rock model -- with gorgeous aplomb. Really nice guys, too, especially Rickenbacker honcho Tony Poole (the dude with the unfortunate hair singing "Chimes of Freedom" above.)
2. The Red Devils
Hands down, the toughest and most idiomatic young white boy blues band since the Rolling Stones (in fact they backed Mick Jagger on a couple of tracks, although Rick Rubin produced their one and only studio album). In any case, had the usual demons not intervened, these guys could have been the biggest blues-rock breakthough this side of J. Geils.
And the Numero Uno shoulda-been-gynormous rock persons absolutely have to be, I will brook no controversy on this so watch it, buster...
1. The Broadcasters
A punkish/bluesy/roots-rock/rockabilly/garage combo who could absolutely kill live, these guys (their sole, brilliant, album was produced by the MC5's Wayne Kramer in 1987) had boatloads of great songs (like the one in the clip) to go along with the chops and attitude. Why they're not household words is beyond me, frankly.
Alrighty, then -- who would your choices be?
[Shameless Blogwhore: My parallel Cinema Listomania -- Theme: Best and Worst Films Referencing Some Kind of Apparel in the Title -- is now up over at Box Office. As always, you would be too kind if you could get over there and leave some kind of snarkily perceptive comment to impress my bosses. Thanks!]
From 1987, more in sorrow than in anger, here's the most alarming pop music face off since The Paragons Meet the Jesters -- The Fat Boys and The Beach Boys and their utterly inexplicable (why, Lord?) hip hop remake of the surf instrumental classic "Wipe Out."
Words fail me, basically.
In any case, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded to the first reader who can figure out what the clip's relevance is to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.
From 1966, and the first pressing of Buffalo Springfield's epochal debut album, please enjoy the ultra-rare stereo version of the song that was cut from later pressings after "For What It's Worth" became a hit -- Stephen Stills' quite remarkable "Baby Don't Scold Me."
This is the Springfield in rare full-bore powerpop mod, I think (the concluding rave-up and the quote from "Day Tripper" are particularly telling) and it's one of my all-time faves of theirs. The stereo version has never appeared on CD, incidentally (this is the best vinyl rip I've ever been able to find) and believe it or not, the sloppy production sounds even worse in mono.
In any case, I think a smart contemporary group should cover this immediately. I all but begged the guys in my 80s skinny-tie band to have a go at it back in the day, but they seemed to feel the song was a little goofy, so it was not to be, alas.
From 1968 and their mindblowing psych-garage masterpiece The Mystical Powers of Roving Tarot Gamble, please enjoy the pride of Garfield, New Jersey The Queen's Nectarine Machine and their album-opening should have been a hit "Where Are We Going?"
The story of how I discovered this little obscurity, although interesting, must await another time, but until then two pertinent factoids need be mentioned. The first is that the song was produced by bubblegum auteurs Kasenetz and Katz, of "Yummy Yummy Yummy" fame. The second is that the album -- as you can see if you look at the top left of the cover -- bears the ABC Records catalogue number 666.
Coincidence? I think not.
I should also add that the song itself, which I think is infernally catchy, immediately reminded me of another tune that I couldn't for the life of me place.
And then today it dawned on me -- it's a ringer for a certain contemporary jingle for a well-known restaurant chain that's been haunting my dreams, literally, in recent weeks.
Irving Berlin, who knew something about the subject, offered the following advice (paraphrased) to songwriters:
"You should never be ashamed of writing a song that sold a million copies."
"The Greatest Love of All," which has sold quite a few more than a million copies, was written by Michael Masser and Linda Creed and includes, among others, the lines
The greatest love of all Is easy to achieve Learning to love yourself It is the greatest love of all
You know, it has just dawned on me that there have been far too many Rolling Stones-themed posts in the last week or so, so this is the last one for the forseeable future, I swear. Well, at least until I find that tape of me singing "Singer Not the Song" with my crappy 70s band. Which, actually, yes, does exist, but don't worry, I wouldn't be that cruel to you.
In its place, however, here's something that, depending on your perspective, may be even worse.
From 1986 and their ultra-rare cassette-only stem-to-stern remake of the Stones classic Exile on Main Street, please enjoy assaultive noise-punk provocateurs Pussy Galore and their take on "Stop Breaking Down."
Pussy Galore, for our younger readers, was one of those artsy late 80s downtown NYC outfits that were far more influential than their actual accomplishments may have deserved, and their limited edition, deliberately unrehearsed low/no-fi take on Exile was an underground sensation that was much more talked about than actually heard by anybody. I, for one, was never able to find a copy back in the day, and not for lack of trying, but -- and god bless the intertubes -- I chanced across a download link for it just the other day.
The question, of course, is whether the thing was some sort of brilliant semiotical demystification/deconstruction of The Blues/rock stardom/blahblahblah or merely a load of obvious dogshit dished out by the band in the certain knowledge that credulous critics and assorted hepsters would lap it up no matter what. Turns out to be a bit of both, IMHO; most of the album is more or less unlistenable, to varying degrees, but some of it is actually kind of funny or at least has a vibe. The above "Stop Breaking Down" probably represents its high point, although I'm not sure that's quite the right phrase in this case.
In any event, Pussy Galore's frontman went on to form the eponymous Jon Spencer Blues Explosion in the 90s and enjoy quite a bit of commercial success with a slightly more polished version of the approach pioneered on Exile. So I guess ultimately the joke was on us.
Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my V is for Vavoom! consultant Fah Lo Suee and I will be off to beautiful downtown Dayton, Ohio for a weekend at the private tanning salon of Rep. John Boehner (R-Protozoan). Seriously -- doesn't anybody else think it's worth noting that the current face of the Republican Party is an angry orange guy? I mean what's up with that?
In any case, further posting by moi will have to be sporadic for a day or two as a result.
In the meantime, then, here's a hopefully fun little project for us all:
All-Time Best or Worst Rolling Stones Covers!!!
No arbitrary rules here, but just so we're clear -- we're talking about covers of songs by the Stones, not songs that the Stones covered. Jagger/Richards tunes, in other words, as interpreted by other artistes or miscreants.
And my totally top of my head Top Seven is --
7. Melanie -- Ruby Tuesday
You know, I get a little annoyed sometimes by uninformed anti-Baby Boomer snark from younger friends, but then sometimes I remember -- shit, my generation actually bought this dingbat's records.
6. Rage Against the Machine -- Street Fighting Man
This one totally misses the point, I think, but of course nothing says "Total victory is ours, comrades!" like an album marketed by the Sony Corporation.
5. Bette Midler -- Beast of Burden
Miss M's finest recorded moment, no question. Certainly it beats "Wind Beneath My Wings" all to hell.
4. Social Distortion -- Back Street Girl
I had mixed feelings about this one for the longest time -- the original is, IMHO, one of the Stones' genuine (if mostly overlooked) masterpieces, and SD's punkish take lacks a certain depth and ambiguity. On balance, though, I think it's effective on its own terms.
3. The Dirtbombs -- No Expectations
I'm a huge fan of these guys, but I have to admit, in theory I didn't figure this one was going to work. Frontman Mick Collins' trademark punk-with-soul turns out to suit the song to a T, however (as does the mashup with another Stones classic).
2. Supersuckers with Steve Earle -- Before They Make Me Run
The band is a little clunky, but if anybody has a right to sing Keith's outlaw blues classic it's Earle.
And the Numero Uno, so unbelievably bad it's amazing they were able to go out in public after it was released, Stones cover has got to be...
1. Grand Funk Railroad -- Gimme Shelter
Seriously, this is worse than that kid on American Idol doing "Under My Thumb" last week.
Alrighty then -- what would your choices be?
[Shameless Blogwhore: My parallel Cinema Listomania -- theme: Most Amusing or Alarming Movie Titles! -- is now up over at Box Office. As always, if you could see your way to going over there and leaving a comment, it would make all the difference vis a vis sensitive negotiations between me and management. Thanks!]
From 1970, please enjoy the incomparable Godfrey Daniel and their hilariously retro take on Sly and the Family Stone's classic "Dance to the Music."
This has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the theme of tomorrow's Listomania, BTW. To be honest, I couldn't come up with a musical clue that wasn't a blindingly obvious giveaway, so I'm putting the above up solely for your amusement and mine.
I'll say this, though -- the topic has something to do with some stuff we've discussed here in the last couple of days.
As always, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded to the first reader who figures it out, and if you get it you're good, I'll tell you that for free.
Oh, and for more on Godfrey Daniel, just click here; it's a pretty interesting story in case you missed it the first time.
From 1965 (and, more specifically, the 2002 deluxe stereo reissue edition of their classic debut album) here's The Who and the heartfelt but possibly suspect declaration "It's Not True."
Inspirational verse:
“I haven’t got 11 kids I weren’t born in Baghdad I’m not half-Chinese either And I didn’t kill my dad”
I hadn't even thought about this song in ages, but it turned up yesterday in the latest (characteristically brilliant) entry in my pal David Klein's Numerology series over at the invaluable Merry Swankster and now I can't stop playing it. Sneakily insouciant, to be sure, and like "A Legal Matter," from the same album, it does perhaps provide an insight into an earlier (just pre-The Pill) generation of young hipster guys' anxieties. The Baghdad reference also seems rather prescient, now that I think of it.
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