Okay, it isn't just rock stars who are dropping like flies. Now it's rock critics.
In this case, one of the handful of that breed who might conceivably have been inhabited by genius.
I didn't know Nick Tosches personally, but for years he was a fixture at a watering hole we shared in the Village, where I used to see him at the bar all the time. I found him an incredibly intimidating figure, for a variety of reasons, and frankly, if anybody had ever introduced me to him I would probably have gone into full humiliating "I'm not worthy" mode.
Which is to say he was sort of an idol of mine, and with good reason, I think.
For starters, this book...
...which began its life as an early 70s series in CREEM magazine, turned me on to scads of great music I hadn't known about. It's also one of the two or three funniest tomes ever written about rock-and-roll.
And this one...
...which is also pretty hilarious, is not only the greatest celebrity biography ever, but quite possibly the most profound, perceptive and eloquent meditation on existential nullity and the nature of fame in the English language.
Seriously, it rises to the level of, dare I say, literature, and if you haven't read it, your life is the poorer for it.
Bottom line: RIP, Nick. You were an irreplaceable original.
So as attentive readers may recall, I'm in the process of readying a solo single -- yeah, right, I know; the masses have been clamoring for that -- the a-side of which is a remake of this amazing Byrds' anti-war folk-rock classic from 1966.
But what I myself didn't recall is that a very interesting but obscure American band of the 60s had already done a cover of it in -- dig this -- the style of The Yardbirds. And that I had posted about it here a decade ago.
The Byrds track is one of my favorite things ever (David Crosby's out-of-the-blue harmony line on the last verse is devastating, I think), but their version (courtesy of Pete Seeger) appropriates the melody of an old Celtic folk song called "The Silkie." The lyrics to both versions, however, are based on a translation of a poem by Turkish writer Nazim Hikmet.
In any case, The Misunderstood's radical re-imagining of it -- as you can hear, it sounds almost Middle Eastern -- really does suggest that these guys could have been a major band if the fates (including the Vietnam War era draft, ironically enough) hadn't intervened.
The short version: The Misunderstood were a Brit Invasion-inspired California garage band with all the usual influences. Then they added a steel guitar player(!), got discovered by the guy who would become British deejay John Peel, moved to England, got signed, and impressed people as being innovators in a league with the aforementioned Yardbirds and Pink Floyd despite the fact that none of their singles sold. Eventually, one of them got called up by Uncle Sam and the whole thing kind of fell apart by early '67.
Most of the rest of their recorded output from that period is equally if not more impressive, IMHO. On the other hand, I'm not sure their failure to break through commercially was simply a matter of bad luck -- their original songs (to my ears) lack that certain something, despite the performances being tremendously imaginative and accomplished.
Still, they seem to be one of the more tantalizing Might Have Been stories from the period, and it's kind of wondrous that you can still stumble across stuff like this unawares.
POSTSCRIPT: I should add that there's a really terrific compilation of their studio work available over at Amazon HERE.
Plus, you can read a very entertaining band history by Ritchie Unterberger over HERE.
Also: Misunderstood pedal steel monster Glen Ross Campbell went on to play with UK blues-bashers Juicy Lucy for a while and also did a stint in Joe Cocker's backup band. He later moved to New Zealand where he is still active in music.
Regular posting -- including reviews of some new albums -- resume on the morrow.
Friday, October 18, 2019
From their 1994 album While You're Down There, please enjoy The Interesting Guys and the most sinister sounding cover version of The Carpenters' "Close to You" you're ever likely to hear.
The specific interesting guy singing that, BTW, is Athens GA. legend the Reverend Connor Tribble, who I knew before he was ordained.
Mine, as you may be aware, is spending vast sums of money I don't have on various musical projects in an expensive New York City recording studio.
Including, ridiculously enough -- given my lack of anything resembling a passable singing voice -- a forthcoming solo single.
Right. The masses have been clamoring for that, comrades.
In any case, Monday night I did an almost final mix -- a few tweaks will be forthcoming later in the month -- for the B-side of the aforementioned single.
The song, BTW, is by friend of PowerPop Peter Spencer, who I have written about here on several previous occasions.
I should add that Pete heard an earlier version of the above track and graciously refrained from hitting me. I think he mostly liked the handclaps near the end.
Oh -- the people responsible for this colossal folly include myself (vocals and keyboards), Glen Robert Allen of the Floor Models (drums), Joe Benoit (guitars), and my pals from The Weasels Allan Weissman (bass), David Hawxwell (guitars and harmonies), and Glenn Leeds (more keyboards). Please don't hold any of that against them.
From 2015, please enjoy the still criminally underrated Tom Jones and his mind-boggling version of "Elvis Presley Blues."
Oh, and once you've absorbed that -- here's the song's author, Gillian Welch, with more or less the original version of the song in 2001.
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
Just a country boy that combed his hair
And put on a shirt his mother made and went on the air
And he shook it like a chorus girl
And he shook it like a Harlem Queen
He shook it like a midnight rambler, baby
Like you never seen, you never seen
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
How he took it all out of black and white
Grabbed his wand in the other hand and he held on tight
And he shook it like a hurricane
He shook it like to make it break
And he shook it like a holy roller, baby
With his soul at stake, his soul at stake
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
He was all alone in a long decline
Thinking how happy John Henry was that he fell down and died
When he shook it and he rang like silver
He shook it and he shine like gold
He shook it and he beat that steam drill, baby
Well bless my soul, bless my soul
He shook it and he beat that steam drill, baby
Well bless my soul, what's wrong with me?
They're both great, obviously, but the Jones version? Good lord.
That couldn't be any further from "It's Not Unusual" if you put a gun to its head.
From 2013, please enjoy the inexplicably obscure Foxes and Fossils, at what appears to be a parking lot outside a suburban Applebees, with an incredibly swell live cover of "I Can't Let Go."
And if I may digress for a moment, I should add that I'm kind of baffled by the sudden Linda Ronstadt nostalgia that's afflicted a surprising number of my critical colleagues of late.
I mean, yeah, her medical problems are very sad and I wouldn't wish them on anybody, but she is and was vastly overrated, and her albums -- with the exception of the trio stuff with Dolly and Emmylou, or the Mexican things -- are mostly sterile and over-produced LA crap. IMHO.
Basically, she was The Eagles' Women's Auxiliary. And I say it's spinach and the hell with it.
Okay, I'm exaggerating to make a point, but let's be clear here: Despite the credit on that video, this is not a cover of a Linda Ronstadt song.
It's a cover of a song written by the great Chip ("Wild Thing") Taylor and originally made famous by Evie Sands (who is far more deserving of household word status than Ronstadt)...
...and then popularized by The Hollies.
As for Foxes and Fossils, apparently they broke up a few years ago without ever achieving the success they clearly deserved.
Here's their gopher website if you want to know more about them.
Attentive -- and perhaps unusually forgiving -- readers may recall that of late, for reasons we needn't get into, I've been using old episodes of the Jack Benny radio show as a sleeping aid.
And that I have unaccountably developed a huge fondness for the Irish tenor song stylings of Dennis Dayas a result.
Okay, I know I said I wouldn't inflict another Day song on you again, but I heard this one -- from a 1942 show -- last night and found myself thinking it was really sweet and really funny.
I hope you agree.
And okay, this time I PROMISE YOU I WON'T DO IT AGAIN.
I'm not kidding, honest.
I should add, BTW, that the song was co-written by the great Jule Styne, who had more substantial success writing "People" and the entire score of Funny Girl. Just saying.
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