A litte bit under the weather due to...er, the weather, i.e. this weekend's snow storm here in the Northeast.
Regular postings -- including a couple of songs from a brand new tribute album that has blown my tiny mind -- resume on the morrow. You'll thank me.
From Barry Gifford's Rolling Stone review (1968) of the eponymous debut album by Creedence Clearwater Revival:
“I’d rather hear an old man coughing than listen to their (CCR’s) rhythm section.”
I just looked up Gifford, and he's apparently a well-regarded novelist and writer, although his website and his Wiki entry make no mention of his stint as a music journalist; frankly, if I were him, I'd want people to forget about that too. In any case, and I've been meaning to say this for decades -- Barry Gifford, blow it out your ass.
And you know who else? That moron Jon Landau, who before taking the reins of Bruce Springsteen's career, in 1967 famously wrote (in his Crawdaddy review of Projections) that the Andy Kulberg/Roy Blumenfeld rhythm section of the Blues Project was inadequate to the excitement level required of their music.
Hey Jon, have I mentioned you're a moron? Also -- blow it out of Barry Gifford's ass.
Have a great weekend, everybody!!!
The short back story: Muddy was a member of an absolutely great roots rock/punk band called The Broadcasters whose 1987 album Thirteen Ghosts is one of the great lost classics of that decade. Exhibit A: Their single "Down in the Trenches."
You're welcome very much. More recent stuff by people I know personally tomorrow.
Sorry for the Missing in Action act; regular posting (including great new music from people I know personally) resumes on the morrow.
What you may not know, and which I had forgotten until fairly recently, was that back in 1989, a Brit indie label released a similar project -- albeit with performers more famous than the Flo Mos, and a largely disimilar song list -- that I in retrospect thought was quite enjoyable.
So here's one of the songs on both albums (and one of my favorites written by the Byrds great Gene Clark) -- us doing the gorgeous "Here Without You," with the help of friend of powerpop Peter Spencer, his son Caleb, and some guy whose name rhymes with Sleeve Nimels on bass.
And here's the Brit version of the same tune, reimagined by Richard Thompson, Clive Gregson and Christine Collister.
If truth be told, I like both of them pretty much in equal measure, but obviously I'm not objective. In any case, enjoy!
1. After his music career, he became fabulously successful as a screenewriter. Hollywood types will remember him for having written F/X, the terrific 1986 action comedy...
...starring Bryan Brown and Brian Dennehy, and then the subsequent spin-off TV series of the same name.
2. Sometime in the 80s, Greg did a show at the legendary Bottom Line -- still the greatest music club in Manhattan history -- and got a very nice review from The New York Times (I don't recall who wrote it, and I can't seem to find it at the Times archive, which sucks). In any case, the money quote came at the end: "Mr. Fleeman bears watching."
Some weeks later, Greg had an upcoming gig at some other Village club, and he posted a leaflet on lamposts and walls all over the neighborhood. A cartoon of a guy, circled by grizzlies, with the date of the show and the caption "Gregory Fleeman: Bears Watching" -- NY Times."
3. And this one's my favorite. Also true.
The night John Lennon was murdered (12/08/80) I -- like countless other New Yorkers -- wandered around trying to deal with the tragedy and how we felt about it. In any event, I shlepped downt Sixth Avenue from my 13th street apartment and made my way to Folk City, a Village watering hole of mine and sat down at the bar, which was deserted.
Greg drifted in a few minutes later and sat down next to me.
We looked at each other and did not speak.
Then, after a little whil a beat and said "So, Ms. Ono -- other than that, how did you enjoy the recording session?"
Rest in peace, Greg. And have a great weekend, everybody.
I'm reposting something I wrote about him at the Magazine Formerly Known as STEREO REVIEW back in the day, as well as putting up a video clip of his masterpiece, without question the single most brilliantly funny song in the history of recorded music.
And then I'm going home and having a drink and a good cry.
...Fleeman is a young ex-actor with one of the most warped sensibilities likely to be sprung on an unsuspecting public any time soon. His band is a motley collection of aging hippies, refugees from underground S-&-M clubs and punk/jazz fusion players, and his songs are about the funniest I've heard since...oh, since Tonio K. Take "Touching Myself But Thinking of You," which asks the musical slash cosmic question "If we're all one, who needs you?" Or his children's lullabye about the little men who come out when you're asleep ("They massage your heart/and your private parts/and throw parties in your mouth"); his impassioned love song about the Tappan Zee Bridge; a 40s swing tune called "Wisconsin Moon" ("There's too much beer...here!"); not to mention his soon-to-be-immortal production number, "the song, nay metaphor" he calls simply "ShowBiz" (although it's better known to his fans as "Sucking My Way to the Top").
"I'm gonna swim that mountain...I'm gonna climb that sea."
It doesn't get any better, folks.
Rest in peace, Greg.
I will have more (and hopefully more eloquent things to say about him) tomorrow. In the meantime, this song...about Elvis Presley and Liberace...
...will have to suffice.
From a bunch of mixtapes I was making beginning in 2010 (and sending to my pre-blog pals, which is another story)...
...please enjoy the incomparable Terry Reid, from his eponymous 1968 debut album, and "Without Expression."
That's about as gorgeous as it gets. Seriously.
A great song, obviously (The Mamas and the Papas next to last single), and beautifully recreated (BTW, I was previously unfamiliar with Autoliner).
But now I really want to hear somebody update the M&Ps final record, the utterly gorgeous 1968 "Safe in My Garden..."
...which is one of the greatest lost singles of the Sixties.
Hmm. There's a theme for the rest of the week's postings. Get crackin', Steve.
