A Rare Photo of the Beatles Before They Got Big

Okay, that embarrasses even me.

Regular posting resumes on the morrow.

[h/t Allan Weissman]

Upper West Side Mon Amour

And speaking of Lucy Simon, as we were the other day, I should mention that the reason I was in her touring band (if I may use that phrase for an ensemble that played all of six or seven gigs during its lifetime) is that she was promoting an album she had out on RCA Victor at the time. And I knew somebody who knew somebody at RCA who recommended me for the gig.

It's actually a very nice little album -- very much in the 70s soft-rock style of her sister Carly -- and the songs were fun to play on stage. It's never been on CD, but if you're nice to me I'll burn you a copy I had transferred from vinyl. Here's my favorite track.

In any case, Lucy is a lovely person, despite the fact that she is also -- as they used to say -- Ms. Gotbucks. She had family money, obviously (Simon as in Simon and Schuster) but she was also married to a Park Avenue shrink who obviously was never going to go hungry. And they had the most amazing apartment opposite Central Park. It was the first one I ever saw that occupied its own floor; I mean, when you got out of the elevator at their stop there was no doorbell to ring or a door to knock on -- you were IN their home.

I will finish by sharing a Lucy anecdote I've never told publicly, but I think she won't mind because, well, as I said she's the female equivalent of a mensch.

The short version: a few months after our "tour" she invited me out to lunch in her neighborhood. I was delighted, and not solely because I was jonesing for a really good meal at some ritzy boite that was out of my price range, but also because I was looking forward to seeing her again. Anyway, we had a terrific time and as I was leaving with her, she asked if I was taking a cab. I replied that no, the subway stop a block away would get me home just fine. The following conversation ensued.

Lucy: "You're taking the subway?"

Me: "Sure."

Lucy: "Do you have a subway token?"

Me: "Of course."

Lucy: "Could you show it to me? I've never actually seen one."

Thats a true story, BTW.

I'm Really Proud of This One, Even If I Don't Know If I Still Agree With All of It

From the February 1976 issue of the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review.

Terrific, I think, and it's definitely going into my forthcoming book.

Assholes I Have Met In Showbiz (An Occasional Series)

Let me begin by offering you all a good cheap laugh at my expense with this photo of me (second from left, wearing a really stupid Bruce Springsteen cap) backstage at My Father's Place in Roslyn, NY. With Lucy [sister of Carly] Simon (seated on the floor) and a bunch of other folks who comprised the Lucy Simon Band at the time (Thanksgiving, 1975).

I was playing highly inadequate lead guitar in said ensemble...

...but the other more talented folks on-stage included a couple of my old high school garage band chums and Jerry Marrotta, a very nice guy and thorough-going pro who went on to be the drummer for Orleans. I won't bring up that album cover in which he and the rest of Orleans are posed shirtless, but I'm sure you remember it.

Okay, yes I will bring it up.

Good lord, that's hideous.

In any case, for this particular four day engagement, we were the opening act for Aztec Two-Step, a folkie duo whose second album had just come out (on RCA Records, as was Lucy's then current debut LP).

I knew Aztec Douchebag, as I used to refer to them, from my college days at C.W. Post; they were big, as they say, on Long Island, and they used to play the campus coffee house all the time. I thoroughly loathed them for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that they came off with a major and thoroughly undeserved star attitude, but mostly it was the music that rankled. In particular this little ditty, which was the lead track from their major label debut album in '71. (Said album, by the way, was titled Aztec Two-Step. It's a line from a Ferlinghetti poem, which also ticked me off.)

Seriously, the mere thought of that song made me want to smack them on sight on numerous occasions, although cooler heads prevailed. In any case, as far as I was concerned these guys made Zager and Evans sound like Marx and Engels.

Anyway, on the first night of the billing, those two hippie putzes came off with the same major "WE'RE CELEBRITIES" attitude I recalled from college. But then, after the show, a wonderful thing happened.

I was standing in the wings, smoking a cigarette, and (unbeknownst to them) I overheard their manager talking to them in words to this effect: "Hey -- Rex, Neal; that guitarist with Lucy Simon is a rock critic. Be as nice to him as possible and maybe he'll plug your album in his magazine."

And for the next three days, they kissed my ass with passionate intensity. Although to me, of course, it felt like transparent smarmy insincerity. Which it was.

Also, of course, they never realized that I was smirking inside every time they waxed obsequious.

And needless to say, I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. A lot.

And no, I didn't go on to say something nice about the album, although I did write about the experience (sans reference to Aztec Douchebag) at the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review. Don't worry, though -- I have no intention of inflicting THAT one on you.

Weekend Listomania: Special "It's Still Rock & Roll To Me" Audio/Video Edition

[I originally posted this sometime before the Spanish/American war, but I've been in a very nostalgic mood of late. In any event, I've re-written a bunch of it and swapped out a couple of entries. Enjoy! -- S.S.]

Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Oriental manual catharsis specialist Fah Lo Suee and I are off to...well, actually, truth is we're not going anywhere due to a bizarre picture-hanging accident that I'd really rather not get into, except to say "If you drink, don't drill."

In any case, things are still probably going to be quiet around here for the duration of the weekend, so until Monday rolls around, here's a fun little project to help us wile away the idle hours:

Favorite or Least Favorite Pop-Rock Single or Album Cut of the Skinny Tie Band Era

No arbitrary rules, although we're obviously talking about the immediate post-First Generation Punk period, roughly from the late 70s to 1983 or '84.

And my totally top of my head Top Eight is/are:

8. The Brains -- Money Changes Everything

The original indie single, not the remake on the Brains' album. I'm not a huge fan of Cyndi Lauper's more familiar version, but she knew a great song when she heard one.

7. Tommy Tutone -- Angel Say No

The greatest song those guys recorded that doesn't have a phone number in its title.

6. Bram Tchaikovsky -- Girl of My Dreams

That 12-string riff! Those harmonies!!!

5. Spandau Ballet -- True

The worst 60s frat party band song ever.

4. The Thompson Twins -- Hold Me Now

The second worst 60s frat party band song ever.

3. Nick Lowe -- She Don't Love Nobody

BUDDY HOLLY LIVES!!

2. Gary U.S Bonds -- Out of Work

You know, that Bruce Springsteen guy is a heck of a songwriter.

And the absolute fucking worst song to pollute the airwaves in the early 80s unquestionably was....

1. Quarterflash -- Harden My Heart.

What an utter piece of shit. I should add that lead singer Rindy Ross is also without question the worst saxophone player in the history of music.

Okay, what would YOUR choices be?

Have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Reviews I'd Forgotten I'd Written About Albums I'd Forgotten Existed (An Occasional Series): Part IV -- Titles With Three "P"s in Them Edition

From the June 1988 issue of The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review, my musings on a Nick Lowe album I doubt I've heard since.

Anybody out there have a copy of this record? Anybody think I got it right?

Reviews I'd Forgotten I Had Written of Albums I Had Forgotten Existed (An Occasional Series): Part III -- Loud Fast Lady

From the july 1994 issue of The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review...

...please enjoy Velocity Girl and their should have been a hit single "Sorry Again."

From the era when everything on SUBPOP was by definition hip and groovy. Still, I think that song holds up. If I was feeling a little more energetic, I'd try to find out what happened to those kids.

Reviews I'd Forgotten I Had Written of Albums I Had Forgotten Existed (An Occasional Series)

[from the January 1991 issue of The Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review]

HINDU LOVE GODS

Warren Zevon(vocals, guitar); Peter Buck (guitar);Mike Mills (bass); Bruce Berry (drums).

Walkin' Blues; Travelin' Riverside Blues; Raspberry Beret; Crosscut Saw; Junko Partner; and five others.

GIANT/REPRISE © 24406-4, ® 24406-2 (37 min).

Performance: Deliberately goofy

Recording: Good

This is a sort of busman's-holiday project featuring the (seemingly) unlikely pairing of elder cult-LA folk rocker Warren Zevon with three members of the college-radio rock institution R.E.M. Given the musical pedigrees of all involved, however, what's particularly odd about the album is the repertory, mostly the sort of blues standards that late-Sixties garage bands used to warm up with. In that informal context, the results are entertaining enough. Nobody is ever going to mistake Zevon or the R.E.M.-sters for real blues players, but as a replica of what you or I or any baby boomer or whoever jammed in his parents' basement might have sounded like if they'd been professionally recorded, then Hindu Love Gods has a certain rough-hewn charm. The standout track -- a metallic first-take assault on Prince's "Raspberry Beret" - - is also something of a ringer, but that only adds to the fun. -- S.S

Another record I'd lost in the mists of memory. That said, when that originally came out, I thought it was somewhere between mediocre and lame. And that Warren and R.E.M. were kinda jerking off.

When I listened to it again the other day, however, I thought -- wow, that's really quite cool.

Reviews I'd Forgotten I Had Written of Albums I Had Forgotten Existed (An Occasional Series)

From the February 1990 issue of The Magazine Formely Known as Stereo Review.

I'll betcha you had no idea this recorded artifact was even a thing.

JEFFERSON AIRPLANE.

Marty Balin, Grace Slick (vocals); Jorma Kaukonnen (vocals, guitar); Paul Kantner (vocals, guitar); other musicians

EPIC OE 45271 (55 min)

Performance: Not so hot

Recording: Okay

According to usually reliable sources, the recently reunited Jefferson Airplane gave the most interesting live concerts of any of the veteran rock acts that hit the road in 1989. Speaking as somebody who frequently saw God during late Sixties Airplane shows, that wouldn't surprise me particularly. But on the other hand, however heartening it may be to have them back, their new album is pretty lame.

Superficially, at least, these oldsters still sound like the Airplane of yore, with their signature three-lead-vocals-in-search-of-a-harmony more or less unscathed by time.

But the rest of what made the band unique and exciting -- the interplay of a thundering rhythm section, stinging psychedelic guitar riffage, and ominous twelve-string -- has been smothered here beneath a host of faceless guest musicians and a production job tailored to somebody's idea of what's acceptable for radio play at the moment.

Meanwhile, the songs and performances are in equal measure generic and mediocre: With few exceptions -- as in the self-consciously soaring occasional Jorma Kaukonnen Ice Age lead guitar lines -- they inhabit an aesthetic space somewhere between obvious throwaways and clumsy agit-prop. A major disappointment. -- S.S.

Hole. E. Shit.

Little Steven played this track from the new Floor Models CD on his SIRIUS XM radio show last night.

Words fail me, except -- as soon as the show is archived, which should be shortly, I'll let you know.

Wow. Just wow.