And speaking as we were on Thursday of Moby Grape's great, tragic Syd Barrett-figure, from 1969 and his beautiful, funny, and occasionally terrifying solo album Oar, please enjoy Skip Spence and the shambolic but haunting "All Come to Meet Her Now."
And from 1999 and the superb Spence tribute album More Oar, here's criminally underrated Brit folk-rockers Diesel Park West and their glittering cover version.
Obviously, the DPW track is far more focused than Skippy's original, but it's essentially the same song and arrangement. In fact, what's really cool about it is that it sounds (to my ears, at least) exactly like how it would have sounded had his old band mates in the Grape ever gotten a chance to bash it out along with him.
Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Oriental F.O.T.W. [Friend of Tiger Woods] Fah Lo Suee and I are off to the Executive Mansion in beautiful Richmond, Virginia, where we'll be joining Governor Robert F. McDonnell [R-Slave Owner] in a ceremony celebrating his proclamation of Nazi Appreciation Month, a tribute to the Third Reich's invaluable contributions to the aerospace industry in the Commonwealth.
In any case, further posting by moi will be sporadic for a few days as a result.
But in the meantime, here's a fun little project for us all:
Best or Worst Mustache on a Post-Elvis Pop or Rock Musician!!!
And my totally top of my head Top Seven is:
7. Bob Dylan
The latter day Bob, of course, and his riverboat gambler look, which is about as cool in an age-appropriate way as you can get. What a character.
6. Sonny Bono
Hey, not for nothing is his most heartfelt record called "Laugh at Me." (And I don't care if he wrote also "Needles and Pins" -- his various mustaches over the years were heinous.)
5. John Oates
A porn 'stash, to be sure, but with so much more going on, subtextually. Let's just say it didn't surprise me when he made an actually very cool record called "Where are the Italian Girls."
4. Bryan Ferry
For somebody with as lounge lizard-ish a personna as Ferry it's kind of surprising that he's been clean-shaven for most of his career, but here he is, circa 1976, during his brief Clark Gable period.
3. Derek Smalls (Spinal Tap)
People thought it was something about their trousers, but I've always considered that magnificent growth on bassist Smalls' lip to be the true secret weapon of Spinal Tap.
2. That wimpy asshole in Fleet Foxes
Have I mentioned how much I hate this band? Seriously -- I hate just about everything about them, including their friends and relatives I've never met.
And the Numero Uno wispy or otherwise facial hair statement by a musician, I'll brook no dissension on this, absolutely is...
1. Ron Mael(Sparks)
Come on -- like it was even a contest? The guy got on Top of the Pops doing Hitler, fercrissakes.
Alrighty, then -- what would your choices be?
[Shameless Blogwhore: My parallel Cinema Listomania -- theme: Best or worst performance by a post-Beatles female pop star in a fiction film -- is now up over at Box Office. As always, if you could find it in the goodness of your heart to go over there and leave a pithy bon mot, I'd probably think nice thoughts about you. Thanks!]
From 2003, please enjoy, if that's the word, the still doesn't know he's a bad joke Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman and his infamous "Suck on This!" video.
As always, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded the first reader who gleans the clip's relevance to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.
More reasons to be cheerful: The archivists over at Sundazed Records are unleashing the first ever over-the-counter official collection of live recordings by the incredibly great Moby Grape. The album drops, as the kids say, on April 20th.
Hardcore fans will have heard some of this before, mostly on inferior bootlegs, but the Sundazed upgrades -- including the Grape's complete (at last) set from Monterey Pop (in significantly improved sound), and the astounding, improvised on the spot 17-minute acid rock masterpiece "Dark Magic," recorded at San Francisco's Avalon Ballroom on December 31, 1966 -- are genuinely overwhelming. I have insisted on numerous occasions here that the Grape were not only by far the best of the Bay Area bands back then, but one of the greatest American bands period, and I think there are moments on Moby Grape Live when those judgements are inarguable.
You can -- and definitely should -- pre-order the album here.
Normally I would post an mp3 from the album at this point, but I think in this case it might be a little tacky. (In any event, you can listen to samples from all 19 tracks at the Amazon link above.)
In lieu of that, however, here's a little tribute to the genius of the Grape's great Skip Spence. From 1985, enjoy downtown supergroup The Golden Palmoninos -- featuring Michael Stipe on lead vocals -- with their, for want of a better word, interesting re-imagining of Skippy's Grape classic "Omaha."
I haven't listened to that in ages, actually; is it just me or is that 80s drum sound really obnoxious?
And now, if you'll permit me, a cautionary tale. Draw what ever moral you may.
On the lovely winter night of October 25, 1978, I happened to find myself at New York's much-missed Bottom Line nightclub for a show by Dave Edmunds, Nick Lowe, Billy Bremner and Terry Williams, who of course were doing business as Rockpile, still the best traditional non-hyphenated rock 'n' roll band that ever trod a stage. There was a more than usually anticipatory buzz in the room, or so it seemed to me, and at some point a friend (the late Ruth Polsky, who went on to book Hurrahs and Danceteria and generally become a player in the New Wave scene in the city) came over to my table and, rather breathlessly, informed me that Keith Richards -- who the day before had beaten the Canadian heroin rap that was perhaps his most publicized drug bust ever -- was in the club somewhere and might be taking the stage. Sounded like fun to me.
Anyway, Rockpile hit the aforementioned stage a few minutes later, and after a couple of songs, Edmunds introduced a special guest, none other than Keef himself. At which point they tore into one of my alltime favorite Chuck Berry numbers -- "Let It Rock" -- which seemed an exciting choice, given that both Edmunds (with Brinsley Schwarz) and Richards (with the Rolling Stones) had recorded definitive live versions of it in the early 70s.
Here's the performance as it went down that night. And let's just say that whatever excitement I felt at the beginning didn't exactly last through the song's raggedy close.
The show was broadcast rather soon thereafter, probably on the old WNEW-FM, and I taped it at the time, hoping it would sound better under the headphones at home than it did in the club that night. It didn't. And ever since then, every couple of years, I've pulled out the cassette, or of late the mp3, and given it a listen, hoping against hope that it would finally seem less of a mess than I remembered.
And speaking as we were yesterday of what must have been Kurt Cobain's interestingly eclectic record collection, please enjoy Nirvana's 1988 Sub Pop debut single -- their kick-ass reimagining of Shocking Blue's 1969 European hit "Love Buzz."
And here's the Shocking Blue original, which I've always figured Cobain learned from a cut-out bin vinyl version of SBs sole American album.
I've enthused about Shocking Blue around here on numerous occasions, and in fact I grabbed a copy of that album back in 1970 after reading Greil Marcus' surprising rave review in Rolling Stone. But "Love Buzz" has always struck me as being one of their kitschier efforts. Maybe that's what attracted Cobain to it in the first place -- there's a story I heard somewhere that he actually had the album on eight-track, although I have no idea if that's true. In any case, the Nirvana version is a flat-out killer, I think, and I'm guessing it stuck out from the rest of the Seattle proto-grunge sludge Sub Pop was pushing at the time like a tarantula on a piece of angel food cake. Seriously -- one listen and you know you're in the presence of a world-class band, if not necessarily a world-class band whose frontman would turn out to be the voice of a generation.
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.
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